Why I Hate Self-Expression

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‘I have something to say, and I’m not leaving until I’ve said it.’ Glower, close-up, cut to commercial. I used to watch afternoon soap operas which featured pouty-lipped female characters making such confrontational announcements. I have long waited for an opportunity to take up this assertive stance, but my personal and professional lives are amazingly free of drama. So I will have to settle for writing it here. After all, this blog is about self-expression, right? Wrong. Continue reading →

The Good Girl

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I used to hate being called a girl. ‘I am a woman, dammit. A girl is less than 16 years old.’ But now I like the term and use it regularly, hoping to reclaim it. Oh no, I am endorsing a 1990s consumer invention called girl power. Must repress painful memories of the Spice Girls. Shudder. Just in case any old men are reading this blog, you are still not allowed to call me or any other woman a girl. And if, god forbid, you are that type of presumptuous old guy who thinks that he has the right to talk to all women younger than him–at the gym, the supermarket, in line at Shopper’s Drugmart–making stupid jokes while always expecting a friendly response, I am here to say ‘stop that you wizened jackass because we owe you nothing.’ Furthermore, if you demand that I ‘smile’ I will cut you. But I digress.  Continue reading →

Bodybuilder’s Bitch

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Picture a standard hotel room at the Hilton, with two double beds facing a flat screen TV. Brown stains cover a rumpled sheet that lies across the narrow entrance hallway. A heavyweight female bodybuilder stands on top of it, wearing only a g-string, arms outspread. Two women kneel on either side of her, spraying her skin with tanning lotion, smoothing the smears with a small foam brush. ‘I am going to open your ass crack now to paint inside it,’ says one of the worker bees. Continue reading →

Endorphin Addict

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Well you tried it just for once, found it all right for kicks.
but now you found out that it’s a habit that sticks.
And you’re an orgasm addict.
You’re an orgasm addict.

I used to have this song by the Buzzcocks on my ipod, but it has strangely disappeared. Or maybe it was on the ipod that I lost. In any case, it was fast and funny and great for listening to while sprinting on the treadmill. The results of sprinting produced not orgasms per se, but something rather like them: endorphin rushes. Am I some kind of freak or do other bodies flood with endorphins on such a regular basis? Continue reading →

Eye Candy at the Gym

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Eye candy #1 works out at lunch time every day through the week. He has long girlish hair, a ripped upper body, and a tendency to look at himself in the mirror. Who can blame him? He is pretty hot though he might want to try gazing into a full-length mirror to see that his lower body requires as much attention as his man-sized guns. Newsflash to straight/bi guys: all the straight/bi potentially single women I know like men who have big legs and butts. The hot tamale almost lost her mind when Olympic speed skating was televised. Continue reading →