Goodbye Julia and Julie

Today I had to return my books to the library, both Julia’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking and Julie Powell’s documentation of her quest to cook the entire book (The contents not the book itself.) And actually, Julia’s book was due 3 days ago, but I just was too lazy after work to got those extra 3miles out of my way to return it.

There is a sense of emptiness about losing these friends. I have perused Amazon for Julia’s tome, but they have strategically listed it at $24.95 making it just under the $25 free shipping bar. One day I know I will add this to my collection which has been growing at an alarming rate lately. Not only do I have two shelves of bound cookbooks covering everything from the latest Food Network stars to cheapies from the 70s that I picked up at garage sales and thrift stores mainly for the kitchy pictures. Underneath these weighted pieces of particle board rest almost 10 years of cooking magazines that are like porn to me with succulent pictures and empty promises of quests unconquered. In addition to all of these, I have shelves of papers in my den with recipes freely printed from a host of Web sites and waiting to be categorized and bound.

But I miss this book. And I miss Julie as well. Her prose and way of speaking about food as if it is the little voice inside my head have been a friendly reminder of my passions. I can see how she, and Julia, saw food as a representation of sex in a way and this has made me in my single-girl time willing to wait for the good stuff over the fast-fling! It has also reminded me of the power of cooking and the lusciousness that each step holds for those willing to put the time in. Chopping, fondling, rinsing, kneading, eating with my fingers and washing away the mess with warm soapy water, all hold sensations that I have been missing lately.

It seems that the impression these books has left on me filters into many other things in my day. For instance, as I was catching up on True Blood (spoiler alert) I watched MaryAnn slice a human heart she had extracted from one of her minions and use it to make a soufflé. I thought of Julie and how brave she was to touch, cook and eat kidneys, livers and such, in fact relishing them. I don’t think I could do that. Then when MaryAnn served her guests Tara and Eggs the Hunter’s Souffle as she called it, they ate it up like animals starved for ages. Very gross in a way, and I thought I had a very open mind.

It was also Julie’s book that opened up the conversation that Farida and I had on the plane to NYC and who knows what else. But like all things bookish, it is time to move on and find another writer to absorb. And of course, I have plenty of recipes to explore. And like Julie, I have a few adventurous friends to share them with making it good for everyone involved.

What’s your favorite cookbook??

Farewell to Marilyn

I was a fan of Marilyn Chambers the porn star. There I said it. Not because of her sucking and fucking everything in sight or because she was once the Ivory Snow girl. I adored her for her fame at a time when that was all she got (instead of money) and her willingness to go on. The story behind the infamous Behind The Green Door was better than the movie itself. Slow and dull, this was done at a time when porn films only used dialogue for filler and expelled anything that was real writing. Like Linda Lovelace and Georgina Spelvin, Chambers reconciled her demons and took a giant leap into the seedy world of adult film, only to be made a legend.

Found in a mobile home in southern California, she died as many right-wingers will say, as she lived; worthless and weak. Of course they won’t bring up that most of those idiots who toss dollars their way are most stupid and inane. It was a sad day and we still don’t know the whole story.

I was interest in Chambers when I was in my 20s. Not much of a porn freak and without the Internet, I discovered her through the old tabloids and in reference to Lovelace who was the mega star until she quit and then went on Donahue to tell her story. Chambers still remained an anomaly choosing to continue in the film business and even making guest appearances in “regular” shows and films. In the late 90s, the brothers Sheen and Estevez made a movie about the brothers that made the original film. Rated X was so much better than the film that made the brothers big names – well not so big, but made Chambers both a household name and a national scorn.

When I saw the original, I actually fell asleep with how slow it moved and how neo-artistic they were trying to be. Later I saw her in Insatiable, a film from 1980 which showed that even though the young ones were out in full force this 30-year old could give them a run for their money. It also has John Holmes in it, which once again made for greater subject matter in Wonderland, than he did in any of his porn roles.

The wife of Chuck Traynor, Lovelace’s ex and the man she said pimped her out and made her do those naughty films, Chambers never acted the victim. She may have been , but we will probably never know. For now, she can rest in peace.

Nine Jobs to Ponder

This week’s Writer’s Digest challenge is to write an essay about what you would do if you were laid off right now. Instead of getting upset and panicking, what job would you do if you had the freedom to do it. I had this thought when I was laid off and played with ideas for things I would like to do if money and time were no object. I never acted on them, but for an hour or so it was nice to dream. So today at my one year anniversary at this particular stop in my life, in no particular order, here are 9 jobs I would love to attempt if I got laid off today:

*Ghost writer---A couple years ago, when I was laid off, I got addicted for a week to bad autobiographies, my favorites being Pete Burns and Jodie Marsh (both recent attractions from Celebrity Big Brother 4.) Both books definitely had the sound of the “author’s” voice, but I knew that neither of these D-List celebs actually took the time to put pen to paper. Jodie’s especially sounded like her with an airheaded tone and self-absorbed condescension in each word that I imagined her collagen bursting lips. But wouldn’t it be fun to get to know these people and showcase their “talents” as writers? I would love some low-level starlet or has-been rock star as the topic to poke and prod with questions crafted from lame Internet articles. To quietly live their lives in the background for a week or so (I figured it wouldn’t take long to get 200 pages down) and then watch them on the talk show circuit saying how they slaved as I got 20 percent.

*Cook for a small café---Perfect case scenario: I get hired to help out in a small café downtown doing lunch and dinners for local foodies and the occasional tourist who adores food. I start crafting some of my own delights, cooking for the throngs and bargaining with the suppliers finding only the best products for my customers. It would be whatever attracted me, soup today, salad tomorrow and muffins. Plus comfort foods, casseroles, roast chickens, exotic veggies and chocolates. I would pick the wines, beers and cocktails all with no respect to cost since the owner would be raking it in with a full house every night. I would be the Cinderella story with no professional background, just doing what I love. I could score a cookbook deal from it and maybe even a guest shot on the Food Network. And maybe a date with Tyler Florence.

*Purse designer---So far my designs have been appreciated by friends, but I have thought of expanding to include the general public, but for now the cost isn’t too effective for selling, even in the finest boutiques. Each purse takes about 15 to 20 hours to knit and then the sewing and inspiration take time as well. I would love to spend my days knitting, but after 8 hours a day I know I would regret this choice. If I could sell one or two a week, maybe I would appreciate this expression inside of me. I yet have the pull to make one for me since now other projects are coming to light, but soon.

*Massage therapist for cancer patients---I started thinking about this when I was in massage school. I thought about how nice it would be for those afflicted with cancer to receive a gentle touch after all the poking they usually get when they receive treatment. There are a few forms of therapy that are used for patients and a local hospital, Morton Plant/Mease, is one of the most esteemed cancer centers in the world and they have therapists who use therapeutic touch for cancer treatment. I have been thinking more and more about it since the regular massage field is so oversaturated that it is almost impossible to make a decent living (unless you provide some happier endings than other therapists.) It is still a thought, with the emphasis being now on getting the training which isn’t too cheap. Why does it always come back to cash?

*Party planner---This is a fantasy job, though from watching the witches on TV, I don’t think my kinder sensibilities would help me excel. But I do love planning a party. I love picking a theme, making a menu, doing invitations and decorating. Of course as a professional, I would need to hire a staff, get some PR rolling and deal with divas. On a smaller scale, would be birthday parties for spoiled brats, Sweet 16 parties to rival coronations and, of course, debutante-like soirees for Botox-enhanced, figure-altered trophy wives. But then again that could be fun. Maybe I could interest them in “penning” an autobiography I could write.

*Porn film writer---Being that I am only one county away from one of the hottest adult-film industry locals, it is a thought that crossed my mind. Pasco County has its share of “stars” and “starlets” and it seems ripe, even in this economy to take my pick in the industry. Of course, I wouldn’t want to do the average “movie.” I have thought about writing films that stimulate both men and women with lots of hot sex and action paired with romance and story. What a novel idea. I figured it would suit both minds and make a new field for the industry. Sort of like a historic romance novel meets the Happy Hooker. As a huge fan of well-written (and not so well-written) erotica, I could see this catching on. Add to it cookbooks for the dinner before and novels to go along with 3 or 4 page chapters, I think this could work. But where would I begin?

*Wine store clerk---Take another love of mine, well make that two or even three, and let me sip as well and I could be very happy. I used to study wine with vintages, varietals and tasting notes to share with my friends in a wine club that we had created. I would research the wines and write notes on them for every one to enjoy and even considered doing a Web site (with Mich’s help), but the group fell apart and my tastes changed when I no longer really had a pal to wax poetic about wine with. But I did think it would be great to research and teach others all while pairing the wines with food and meeting new folks to hang with (never know who could be there????) There is a local shop that I used to frequent weekly getting to know some of the other patrons and staff, but as my wallet got lighter so did my tastes, plus I felt like a desperate single chick going there alone with all the old men and couples.

*Travel writer---I love to travel. I love to write. So what could be better? Plus I could get it paid for. I would write about the locale, the food, the experience and take notes for a variety of travelers to enjoy. I jotted down notes in my journal while on my various trips, but never spent the time refining their style. Yet I would love to share my food experiences cooking in Tuscany, the plethora of things to do in Portland, eating cheese and wine on a train from Amsterdam to Brussels, walking around Paris alone and loving it, sitting on the cabin porch in the woods listening to nature speak, searching for the perfect shell on Sanibel Island and so much more. Though I would get tired of not being home, especially with my new addition, I could maybe cut paths for dog lovers in the travel world.

*Photographer---I have been taking pictures as a thrilling hobby since I was 13 and I am pretty good at it. I have been told by two separate photogs that my work is extraordinary and rivals some who have studied, with a natural sense of seeing and a simple lack of too much technical knowledge. Even with the advent of digital and the fun and ease it provides, I still love my 35mm Minolta and film. Those little mistakes are genius sometimes and I always saw the photo in my head perfectly before it was ever developed. I am trying to fall in love with my digital, but it isn’t the same, sort of like a first love-though I had to move on and I appreciate the simplicity of the newer model, there isn’t anything like the first. “The First Cut Is The Deepest.”

What would you do??

40 Things I Love About St. Pete - It's A Torturous Town

This was going to be one entry, but it has turned into two since I think both need some exposure. The first being that St. Petersburg is not “God’s waiting room” as I have heard so often. Even a couple years ago when I was returning from Italy through JFK, the customs guy said, “Aren’t you too young to live there?” “It has changed, a lot,” I replied and grabbed my crap from his hands.
No. St Pete is really becoming a great place for people of all ages, and that includes all types of people. There are flashy condos downtown for the upwardly mobile; faux fancy restaurants for the young hipsters wanting to be seen; posh bars with a plethora of fab music; street fairs and markets for artists and foodies; dive bars for the losers like me who just want a drink; and music and tastes of all sorts and all kinds. This brings me to Friday night and the Genitorturers concert. I have been following the band for only about 7 years and was drawn to them when I saw one of their adult shows at The Castle, a goth club in Ybor City.
Full of debauchery and salacious perversion, the band encompasses not only hard rock-and-roll, but a performance that draws me every time. Their adult shows include forms of sadomasochistic torture, with willing volunteers and enough nudity to keep the strip clubs closed for an evening. And that is both the audience and the crowd. Gen, the lead singer is a strutting siren belting out the likes of AC/DC and Divinyls covers, as well as their own original slapped-jawed raw rock.
To be honest, the music is only a minute part of the draw, it is the costuming and performance art that keeps me coming back for more. Friday night they played our renowned outdoor venue, Janus Landing for an all-ages show (meaning no real bondage and discipline, just acting out – right.) No old folks were there, I promise. The crowd included people like me, old punksters dressed all in black, but comfortable and Ronn who had the perfect opportunity to wear his Family Guy tee advertising the size of the Peter on the shirt. But then there were the party queens, goth models in leather, latex and electrical tape prancing through the crowd to latch on to their mohawked boyfriends’ arms. It was lovely. Once I wanted to be them and at the last show I did deck out in the vinyl corset, mini and fishnets, but it was just too cold to try that again.
Ronn loved the eye candy and I can’t blame him. On stage Gen drove those lost men to their deaths with her mistress motif and brash condemnations. Her backup dancers, if you want to call them dancers just to give them a title, relished the cool air clad only in electrical tape over their nipples and barely there thongs. Nothing was really left to the imagination as Gen molested and sodomized them on stage with the freakiest dildo I ever saw. I loved it. It was like a sex show in Amsterdam, but of course way tamer and it left me wanting more.
Sparks flew as one of the girls used a sander on her metal g-string and her moans of orgasmic bliss rocked down upon us. I couldn’t help but sing along to “I Touch Myself” and drive Ronn into even a further frenzy, and I liked it. I used to be all into the goth and D/s scene, but then along came a real job, a few more pounds and the lack of will to work that hard.
One man I used to date was a whip maker, leather and such, and had created whips and other art pieces for the band. He referred to himself as a sensual sadist, but I am not sure where sensual came in. Needless to say, but I will say it anyway, that didn’t last long, though I did get a mini flogger out of the deal. I know the band follows this alternative credo, but I am not sure how much of the audience were imbedded into that way of thinking and playing. I have a feeling that a few just had extra cash to shop at the easily accessible Hot Topic (we didn’t have it so easy when I was 20, but I won’t go into a Michael rant.)
So there you have it, not all retirees. There are young punks, submissive sluts, matronly mistresses, perverse gentlemen, excited exhibitionists and very satisfied voyeurs in St. Pete, you just have to look for them, if you are really interested.
As a side note, that same night there were two other events going on, allowing for different aspects of our town to wander. Ribfest hosted STYX (ugh) and the Dome was housing the Home Show. It takes all kinds to make a cool town like this.

A Good News Day - 23

I love when there is something in the news besides Olympics, Conventions and Hurricanes. They are still all there, but have been deposed as the kings of the hill by the latest tidbits that caught my eye. Firstly , and not to straggle to far behind last week’s political brouhaha, there is McCain’s choice of a running mate. I laughed, I got mad, I laughed again. What a doofus. Oh excuse me, his team is such a doofus team. Let’s blame it on them since if this man wants to be the president he better learn to make better choices or his Cabinet will be more like an Aryan rally than a democratic body. McCain says this is not a way to pander to those disillusioned Hillary supporters, but that is an even more transparent lie than “we did not have sex”.

As a Hillary supporter, and now a backer of Obama, I find his choice a farce that constitutes a backlash of the 1950s. Yes I did say previously that clearly defined roles would be nice, but I will define them, not some old fuddy-duddy. I used to like McCain, back in 2000. He would have given Gore a real run for the money and may have actually won, instead of being appointed like our current Monarch. But this is such a slap to me as a woman that I really am starting to hate the man. If he thinks that just because she is a woman I will vote for her then he is even more of an idiot than Georgie Porgie. I didn’t vote for Hillary because she was a woman. I voted for her because of experience, knowledge and as a new opportunity.

Palin is as far away from whom I would ever vote for that she is on the other side of the globe. I love Alaska and even hope to one day live there for 4 months out of the year, but even Alaskans will tell you that they are a weird breed. So she suits all the staunch, back woods-thinking conservatives with her anti-abortion stance, her NRA membership and her beauty queen image, but enough already. Is that what makes a Veep? I appreciate her ability to hunt for her own food, her stamina as a mother of five and her perfectly formed cheekbones, but isn’t that more a movie than reality. Every redneck and militia man, and a few women, are creaming their pants in high hopes of this woman, but not I. As Mo Rocca said, this at least ties up the caribou vote for the old man. These beasts of the wild will be given the right to vote any day now and America watch out. Even though she would prefer to shoot them than to get her picture taken with them, the vote will be unanimous for Palin from that particular demographic. http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/08/29/palin.bio/index.html

I can see it now, a rehash of 2000, except this time it will be the Salmon Republic’s fault instead of the Banana Republic. (And I am not talking about the store, I am talking about the coincidence that the President’s brother was the governor of the state that had all the “issues” and therefore the meathead was appointed to office.) Yes I see it, ballots pleading for McCain as president from a largely ethnocentric Native American Alaskan group with names that can’t be pronounced by any guy in Missouri, but since they voted for the old sleeper, it is OK. Funny how those who respect the land of their ancestors would vote for open oil drilling to pollute that land, unabashed destruction of the flora and fauna and increased global warming. Sort of like the group of Jewish ladies in West Palm who voted for Buchanan in 2000. Something smells fishy and I don’t think it is the halibut.

We’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe his stick-figure Stepford wife will become jealous, have an over exposure to Botox and collagen and he will have to pull out of the race in order to bring her back to health a la Pete Burns. http://www.awfulplasticsurgery.com/archives/000253.html


But it wasn’t all politics yesterday, let’s move on to sex. David Duchovny went to rehab for sex addiction. As I saw it on Extra I sighed and Ronn read my mind, “If only he had you.” Yes David me. I know my friend Sara is saying the same thing since she was totally in love with the man. I first saw D in The Rapture, with then Tom Cruise wife, Mimi Rogers. It was a hot film, until the zealous religious message took over. Then of course there was Twin Peaks and X-Files, not to mention Red Shoe Diaries. Now who wouldn’t have known that Duchovny was really into sex with those. All kinky and exotic, and oh so erotic. On the X-Files, Mulder was a phone sex regular with the names and numbers stored in his paranoid brain along with dates for several alien invasions. http://www.reuters.com/article/entertainmentNews/idUSN2835847820080829?feedType=RSS&feedName=entertainmentNews

I once wrote an erotic story as an X-Files episode and now I wish I would have sent it to him, at least he may have used it as a self-pleasure enhancement. The tale I imagined had Mulder meeting up with an old flame from Oxford who was a dominatrix, and he rightfully her slave back then. Old habits die hard as she helps him investigate some strange goings-ons while of course rehashing old times. Scully also finds out a little bit more about herself and her likely lesbian tendency in this adaptation. It was definitely an X-rated story, but by today’s standards, and proper editing for cable, it could be done.

The news didn’t say what exactly constituted his addiction, but only that he is getting help. I wish him all the best and will now have to watch Californication to get a better idea of what may be more truth than fiction.


And lastly, a story that was found by a co-worker earlier this week on CNN.com. Happily married and wanting a divorce, sounds like fun. It was a major discussion among the baklava-making crowd on Tuesday (that will be another entry). It really was a call to the reality of relationships, you can still be in love, yet want to be apart. Since I am the single in the group, it was nice to know I am not totally weird when it comes to having my cake and eating it too. There is no prince charming, and if you think you got him, then you are a perfect voter for McCain and the beauty queen.
http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/08/26/o.divorce.dreams/index.html

I always thought a perfect marriage for me would be having my beloved live next door since I like having my own house and space. I would also keep my own friends since those couples that only have couple friends are in a bad state when one leaves the other. You have to admit boredom can set in really quickly and then you are sunk, whether a man or a woman. What really stood out for all of us was the “My husband is my best friend “– translates into “I have no friends.” I have been fortunate to have not lost any friends to this disease, but I realize there are a lot of those kinds of ladies out there. It’s an awful lot of pressure to be the end all be all for your mate. Or it could just be narcissism like in Guy’s case. I have friends to chat with, friends to drink with, friends to eat with, friends to knit with, friends to bitch with and friends to go to the market with. Doesn’t mean my relationship is any less with Ronn, I just have many options, as does he.

This article appeared mean to some, but to us, happily married and happily single, it expelled the lies and opened up opportunities for these lost women. However, if they are comfortable, more power to them. At least it’s not me.


But it was a good news day and I am thankful for those days. I am also very grateful that I can say anything I want about a political candidate, even the old man; to talk about sex in public and to stand on my soapbox about relationships. We've come a long way - let's not slide back too far.