Alternative Title: Your Life is Country Western Song

I was sitting in my new bar having a soda (seriously no liquor) when Charlie who flew fighter jets in 'Nam starts talking to me about his marriage.

"Well I got a divorce in 1980. She shot me. In the leg. With my own gun."

"She shot you?"

"Yeah she had taken up with some other guy. You know, they took my truck and cleaned out the bank accounts. Now you want to run off, hey, I understand, but I needed that truck. So I found them, and I was going to take the truck. She ran in and got my gun. She's wavin' it around. I didn't think she would shoot me, but she did. Then the sherriff arrested me. I mean I went to the hospital first, but once I was healed they threw me in jail. I even showed them the paperwork. Well I got the truck in the end."

"Jesus, you're life is a country western song."

"Yeah, it is. But now you know why I like being single."
Well I was down yesterday so the time has for more audience participation and this time with a cheap sexual twist.

I was cruising Joe Flirt's site, and a commenter had linked to a "male vibrator" or as one of my friends calls it a Mangina. So I followed the link...

Oh brave new world

I don't want to seem all prudish but lord I had no idea what the sex toy industry has been up to. For example the array of sex dolls available now is stunning including the MILF doll
or the 360 dollar Jesse Jane’s Decadent Latex Love Doll.

Not for you, how about the Ejaculating Dildo? I have to admit I was disturbed by the, uh, "cum recipe" suggested in the site which recommended a combination of condensed milk and egg whites. Can't think that's very hygienic. Although the alternatives espoused, one including yogurt, disturbed me even more.

There is also the "squirting vagina and anus."

yeah, I can't even come up with a joke for that one.

But here's the real fun of the site, there are customer reviews featuring fabulous lines like:

The moveable balls are a great feature (Yes, would that they were.)

Worst vagina I ever bought! ( Is it wrong that I want to make a t-shirt that says this? And incidentally, it also begs the questions how many rubber vibrating vaginas does one need?)


I just broke up with my fiance two weeks ago, and I don't miss her anymore! I don't know why I put up with her and her family's crap for so long! This thing is all the woman you need, minus the bitching, drama, stress, financial obligation, etc. that accompany the real thing! I'd go so far as to say that this thing gives me added confidence at the bar. You don't want to come home with me? Fine! I'm getting laid anyway! LOL! (Do I even have to comment?)


women are in trouble this thing is awsome . the best 30 bucks i will ever spend.(Great now I have to compete with a rubber vangina in order to score with some guy who hasn't mastered capitalization? )

Well now that I've revealed myself as a total puritan who must mock the sex toys I'm guessing that some of you out there have some sex toy humor or anecdotes you'd like to share with the class.

Yes you know you do.

Well, I'm pissed at the world in general as well as myself and to make myself feel better, I'm not going to wait on Icons of Fright anymore. They've had their time to print my reviews, and they still aren't up. I wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that the reviews are for films that really need support. The first film, 39: A Film by Carroll McKane, is directed by cult icon Gary Sherman (Dead and Buried). I'll post my review of LovecraCked tomorrow.

39: A Film by Carroll McKane

Meet Carroll McKane. A late twenties, early thirties white male who works in a camera store. He has a girlfriend who loves him despite his ambivalence about her. He’s a great lover. He has a good sense of humor. His boss thinks he is a great worker and likes him as a person. His hobby is making movies.

He’s also a serial killer.

And not just any serial killer. He’s so effective that he has gone completely undetected for the last ten years killing 36 people during that time.

Unfortunately, the power of killing, even killing with impunity, has lost its appeal to Carroll. He wants to be admired for what he has done, which unfortunately means revealing himself.

The idea of the serial killer who desires adulation by the public and thus orchestrates a rather dramatic and bizarre way of revealing himself isn’t new. John Doe in Seven turns himself in so that he can become the final victim of his demented morality play. In the Last Horror Movie, Max, a professional wedding videographer uses the rental of a cliché horror film to select his next victim after revealing to them his murderous hobby.

And Carroll McKane has decided to abduct a famous forensic psychiatrist and make him into a killer in order to reveal his greatness.

The script has some spectacularly funny moments like the scene in which Carroll mocks Ted Bundy as a pussy for claiming pornography was responsible for his acts and admonishing the psychiatrist for not calling Otis O'toole and Henry Lee Lucas what they really are “moron faggots who like eating people.”

But the greatest accomplishment of this film is that the leading actor had to manipulate 9 cameras all while staying in character. There was no camera crew except for the actor playing Carroll, Martin Cummins. During intense and chaotic torture scenes, he not only had to manipulate special effects, but also remember the detailed choreography of dealing with multiple cameras all while not breaking character.

Despite this accomplishment, there are some problems with the film. One of the biggest holes in the script is the editing issue. Carroll’s videotapes of his kills only explain why the kills were taped, but what moviegoers see is clearly edited and in such a way to highlight Carroll’s power. In the Last Horror Film, the editing problem is explained by the videotape selection process, but in this film there is no answer to who edited the film and why. There are two possible solutions to the problem.

Solution One: Simply tack on a line or two of text at the beginning of the film explaining that after the events and subsequent trial involving the murders, the films were edited in order to present to the viewing public a truly unique look into the mind of a serial killer while he is actually in the process of killing. Unfortunately, this undermines the title “a film by Carroll McKane”

Solution Two: In keeping with the premise of the film, that Carroll has made this entire film, show Carroll editing the footage at one point while he is outside of the room. There is a point where he is briefly shown in front of a camera claiming he is going to edit. But this doesn’t explain the final sequence unless what he does is edit up that point and then have the final sequence be one long uncut shot. In a sense, the last scene would be edited in camera.

One of the other problems with the film is that it goes on way too long without any killing or serious torture. After while I was bored with watching the psychiatrist get kicked in the stomach and stuffed in a closet. I didn’t sign on to watch a film about a serial killer because I wanted to see a shrink wet himself repeatedly. Although I could have handled the wait, if the actual kills depicted hadn’t been such a disappointment. They were over quickly with a little bit of gore, disappointing for such an angry killer who seems bent on driving another man to murderous rage.

And as amusing and charming as Carroll is, may I ask why it is that American serial killers are so polite? Did their abusive mommies make them read Miss Manners as punishment for bedwetting? And why is it so many cinematic serial killers are into making movies these days? Doesn’t anyone go to poetry readings anymore? Karaoke night?

Scrabble tournament maybe?

Despite its flaws, however, 39’s successes far outstrip its failures. Hopefully soon horror fans will be able to meet Carroll McKane and witness his magnum opus for themselves.

My students often wonder, but here is a classic example: The government argued that the program is well within the president’s authority, but said proving that would require revealing state secrets.

Now, I'm rarely political on this site, and I'm not going to be, I'm just point out that the "uh yeah we have evidence but we can't show you" is only slightly less sophisticated than the exuses I get from my students about bibliographies full of nothing but wikipedia entries.

Speaking of students, go check out that miscreant Office Elf. He's on the front page of NY Sports Day. (The article entitled "Is It Time To Panic?"

And because I'm drama queen and it's supposed to be all about me, can I say I spent this summer trying to push my writing, and this twit is now on two websites while I've been waiting for Icons of Fright to put up my reviews of Lovecracked and 39? And he hasn't even graduated? I'm so getting put in his aknowledgements when he writes his book.

Damn it.

Incidentally, I'm going to put both reviews up here tomorrow.
There are some who have questioned why I remain anonymous considering the content of the site. I may, in Orionoir's estimation at least, be one of the finest sex bloggers out there, but my writing about sex, well, you haven't read a lot of it, have you? That's because it's mixed in with less than spicy analyses of Peter Pan, travelogues about going to Vegas with my gay husband, and waxing homicidal about my students, administration, other professors, and the general state of education in the US.

Considering how small my readership is and the likelihood of exposure, my response to having my first name used in my comments field a few weeks ago may have seemed, well, shall we say-over the top? Operatic in its scope?

When I ran sweating to Kinko's because my wireless was down, I kept telling myself it wasn't that big of deal. Of course, all the while thinking of people who were fired for their blogs even if the blogs didn't detail any activity that was against company regulations.

For those who think I over re-acted, you might want to head here, Abby Lee (pseudonym) wrote her very popular sex blog and book under such anonymity even her publishers didn't know her real identity...that is until a London newspaper published not only her identity; but her birth certificate; her address; and her mother's name, profession, and location.

Now even if you could claim that there is a public interest in revealing the identity of the author, an identity she went out of her way to hide, how can you justify revealing her mother's address?

And of course, this is mainly why I keep myself anonymous, to protect others, like my mother, who have no contact with the blog whatsoever, but should my real identity be revealed could certainly cause a bit of scandal for her.

"Uh," you might say," you don't have two million readers and a nice book for sale." Well I don't now. But who is to say in the public I might not? Or write something under my real name which I don't necessarily want associated with my exploits in Paris?

Yeah, so just keep your traps shut.
I was reminded of this recently because of Kiss Kiss, who, as much as he is a great writer, has a certain phrase that I have heard so often from him that I am thinking of choreographing some interpretive dance to it, just so I have something interesting to do the next time I hear it.

When I was younger, just after my parents divorced, my father who had been fairly perfectionistic before became utterly impossible to please. That I went to an academically competitive private school-he hated and made fun of it. My friends who he never met-hated them too. Despite having a more rigorous physical education plan, he claimed I was out of shape. You get the idea.

In response to his demanding claims, whenever he would get into one of his huffs, I would simply say, "Go ahead and be that way. See if I care."

For whatever reason, he hated that phrase as well. But I was god damned if I was going to change how I talked as it seemed clear to me that no matter what I did, it wasn't going to please him.

It got to a point that when my father started to get in a huff, he would make fun of the phrase before I said it. He would mimic me in a high voice, "Go ahead. See if I care." Being made fun of by my father at that point was pretty standard, and so I simply ignored it as I ignored most of his behavior. He would often tell me that one day I would eat my words.

After about a year of this, he took me out to lunch one day. I was seeing him about every six months or so at that point. Trying to limit my exposure to his insanity after he accused me of ruining the major reconstructive surgery that I had undergone instead of accepting the diagnosis of one of the premiere orthopedic podiatrists in the country-that I should have never had the surgery. I was a poor candidate, and the surgery's failure was not the fault of anyone except the doctor who thought it was a good idea.

At lunch, he made a big deal about saving room for dessert. I rarely ate desserts even then. I liked candy but not pastry. Still he ordered for himself coffee and tea for me and demanded that the dessert menu be brought.

Instead, they brought a chocolate cake that had white frosting spelling out, "Go ahead. Be that way. See if I care."

And damned if I didn't eat it.

Still didn't change my attitude though.
So tonight I went to the Pioneer theater to see the 10th Anniversary of Tromeo and Juliet.

So first off, Lloyd and Debbie, who both showed, are so nice. When I told Lloyd that I hang out at the coffee place where his daughter hangs as well he said, "Oh, oh you should have told me. I would have paid for your ticket."

You have to love the good Jewish boys with the bad taste, questionable sense of humor, and gallons of Karo syrup in the basement.

And Debbie signed my Terror Firmer DVD "Bunni is a goddess of love." It's like she knows me! I have to say there's something incredibly, I don't know, just sweet about her. I just wanted to give her a hug and the way she acted I had a feeling if I had asked she would have been completely fine with that.

My whole day had been about this movie. I went down to UPS to pick up my copy of Terror Firmer because they can not be trusted to deliver when they say they will. Then back uptown to Dylan's Candy Bar for the correct assortment of Heartbreakers and Gummi Brains. All the way to the apartment for a late lunch and pick up my date, Marv, cos you can't be going to that film alone.

Got downtown and walked into the theater, and it was odd. All this craziness and of course no one to share it with. And no one I knew there. Just a bunch of male horror geeks staring at me because I'm wearing a t-shirt with a rhinestone encrusted skull and cross bones.

After the movie, I was walking home, and this obese 15 year old girl stopped me with this whole story about needing money for her dance troupe. The truth was I didn't have any cash on me. I told her I didn't have money, but asked if she had a website or some other way for me to donate at a later date. She kept going on and on about no they were collecting money TONIGHT and couldn't I go to an ATM or something? They don't have emails or websites. Finally, I was like "Well, sorry."

Then she started asking where I had been. I told her the movies. "You went to the movies alone? Why?"

It never occurred to me tell her none of her business because I couldn't imagine why she wanted to know.

Well she wanted to make me feel awful about being alone since I wouldn't give her money. That was it. When I pointed out to her that the best way to fundraise isn't by insulting the potential donor's lifestyle choice she said, "Yes it is."

Well who could argue with that logic?

Now considering that I had just watched a troma film, she's lucky I didn't vomit fizzy green stuff on her.

If I was on my game, I would have said, "Well since you're such an expert fundraiser, you'll reach your goal in no time without me."

Instead, I explained AGAIN that I couldn't give money, I was being honest, and she didn't have a viable alternative for when I could give. Finally she asked for my cellphone number. I told her no. Then she offered hers. I said, "OK" mainly just so I could finally keep walking. So then she says, "Are you really going to call me?"

And which point I just said, "Jesus fucking christ, this is just too much trouble."

She shouted her cellphone number at my back, and I kept walking.

Of course, by the time I hit the 6 I was in tears. Sure I could have struck back by pointing out the unlikeliness of an obese girl succeeding at dance.Sure I could have pointed to the fact that although she was collecting money for her troupe, she couldn't even come up with the troupe's name. Not even a well thought out scam. But no I took the high road. And for my pains, I end up in tears.

Thank You NY for all the Good Times.

Luckily I had a special DVD preview of Poultrygeist in my bag.There is absolutely nothing that a musical number featuring zombie chickens and splatacular meat grinder death scene can not make better.



"Whom the gods destroy, they first teach crochet" first draft of Oedipus Rex

It started with a joke to Bakerina. She was concerned if the present she was knitting would be pretty enough, and I remarked, "You know that if you made something that looked like Cthulhu had knitted it after a night of drinking tequila, he/she would love it."

And thus I decided an hour later that if I ever started selling my crochet designs that I would market them under the name Drunken Cthulhu. At the present I was working on a 100% original Bunni designed potholder. ( I can't reveal anything about it at the present, but it's almost finished and looks better than I anticipated. )

Of course, then, I realized I would have to have Cthulhu products.

I don't know why but the first thing I thought of was a Cthulhu oven mitt. I guess I thought it would be relatively easy to design, but then as I pondered I thought I could also make a Cthulhu pocketbook. ( Which I'm still going to make for the Halloween season.)

By this time, I had started sharing my plans with others, and I found out that there is a huge market for Cthulhu pocketbooks and oven mitts. Of course my friends are odd people, but still it was encouraging how excited they were at the prospect of crochet Cthulhu items.

And then yesterday, in the shower, I came up with the ultimate Cthulhu product: a bath mitt. If I could make an oven mitt, a bath mitt would be even easier because it wouldn't have to be two-ply.

OK so now I'm making a bath mitt. Unlike with a pocketbook, this eliminates a lot of questions like what kind of yarn should I use? I have to use cotton. I'm not going to take angora into the bath with me.

Of course, then I have some new design questions like what color should Cthulhu be? Sea green? Kelly green? Emerald green? I'm not sure. There is something to be said for the vibrant Emerald Green, but still I think that a soft kind of subtle sea green is something more in keeping with my idea of him.

And what about the design itself? I could make the fingers into the tentacle and the hand part into it's face with wings on the side or I could make more of a mitt with the thumb and picky sticking into the wings with the tentacles adorning the wrist. And how to make the tentacles? and eyes?

It seems the curse of the elder ones has just begun. But fear not dear friends, much like Randolph Carter in The Dream Quest for the Unknown Kadath I shall not be dissuaded.

There shall be Cthulhu bath mitts. Even if I should have to battle night-gaunts and stare down the hideous Nyarlothotep, there were will be Cthulhu bath mitts.