Sunday, April 22, 2012

Words From A Rusty Vagina

Last night I found myself in Long Island City. Before my journey there I had delivered a Hershey Kiss telegram to a fourteen year old girl and her friends who thought I was the greatest thing in the world. It was actually awesome walking the streets and seeing the tulips in bloom. These days I am content where I am. It’s quite odd and insane, for now.
This past week I did an interview in fIXE, a fetish lifestyle magazine. Bondage scares me, but I liked Cary Monotreme and Margaret Cho had appeared in the magazine before me. I also did an interview for Alt Variety, a popular underground website. The interview questions were insane but I think it will turn out funny. I also am now a regular cast member on the Richard Crawdaddy Show. This past week May Wilson was caught having phone sex with Richard and Melissa Gorgia was interviewed. Next week it is Vanilla Ice. To top it off, Panic Girl, a job I got through my so called “man hate,” has been sketched and is set to go up next week.
So excited.
Of course before all this I talked to my parents, both in Nashville for a wedding, and they went to a country western museum. My dad is now convinced I should write a country song. I think I will. Men have burned me and ruined me enough that I have thought about shooting a few and hiding the bodies. Perhaps that will be my theme.
Anyway, back to Long Island City. When I got off the train I saw my friend Joe Dalby’s old apartment building. He is now in Florida. I remember having Monday night potluck with my boys there. Casey and Spring, parakeets in charge, would be squawking up a storm. Casey had a foot fetish, and would often bite my feet whenever I spent the night on Joe’s couch. Joe was like my gay uncle. We talked about life, we gossiped, he cooked for me, and we watched the gayest movies ever. With Joe around it seemed like it made up for the fact that I always felt like a failure when it came to men or career. But in 2010 I started to feel different.
I remember Joe cooked the best steaks. He also cooked burgers that were so good I didn’t care they were medium rare. We would then gossip on the phone with other people about other people. I felt so protected under Joe’s roof. I was shielded from the beauty standard of the straight, hederosexual world where they only wanted big tits and an ample ass. I have an ample ass depending on the time of the month and the diet, but never big tits. We would giggle about the boys we liked and damn the men who hurt us. There were a lot of those in both our lives.
While we both agreed men do lie, Joe did get me to cut them a little bit of a break.
When I passed Joe’s house I saw Cranky’s. I had spent a lot of time there in the summer of 2011 doing a kid’s puppet show. By that time Joe had left the neighborhood. The kids loved the show, but the creator had her head up her ass. Everytime she listened to me things went well. Everytime she didn’t things went to shit. Then again, I work with puppets and children extensively, what do I know? At the same time, I remembered the food and the families in the place. At the show there were a lot of alternative families. There were gay parents who brought their children for example. While I am pro-LGBTQ, most of my gay friends are single, and if they are partnered they don’t have kids. Shocked wasn’t the word, but rather pleasantly surprised. They were like any other family, wanting what was best for their children.
I still remember being outside of Cranky’s and the Israeli web tech for a site I was a talking head for pulled up on his motorcycle with his beautiful blonde wife. I didn’t know him but he knew me from my broadcasts. It was the universe telling me in it’s gentle way that I was doing right.
Killing some time in the hood, I walked up the street passed a venue doing a show. I saw some comedians I knew and said hi. One who is well regarded that I had met during one of my TV tapings waved me in. We were friendly, or so I thought. When we got outside as not to disrupt the show he said, “What’s with this man hate? Who hurt you?”
I hardly call being aware of women’s issues man hate. Yes, I come down hard on men, but not all men. I come down on men  who either demean/abuse women or male politicians who want to take rights away from my gender. I hardly think those sentiments are anti-male.
That’s when he proposed we have an affair. My mouth hung open. The brazenness not only took me aback, but rather the fact that his wife is a comedienne too, and a well-respected one. Did he not think that she might find out about this exchange? There were other comedians witness to this conversation. The second she finds out she just isn’t bouncing him from the house, she is going to want my head too!  Having dreamed up this escape from the missus for sometime, he then informed me that if we were to do any fooling around it would have to be at my house because he lives with his wife and small child. Then he told me after my telegram was delivered I could stop by and we could fool around in his car.
I was so mystified I didn’t know what to say. What is it about a woman who is independent and dosen’t take any shit that is an aphrodisiac for men? Is it because I am a “challenge?” Do they want to prove they are the one who is different? I have news for you assholes, none of you are different.
Perhaps I could blame the damage on the ex-fiance but even that would be a stretch. I have always been painfully aware that men can be lying scum. But women lie too. Everyone lies. At the same time, I am grateful for the relationship with the ex-fiance, because I know never to depend on a guy and never to get too disappointed when he screws up. After all, he is just a man. What do I want? I also know never to depend on a man to carry my burdens, physical, emotional, or spiritual. I know never to depend on a man for financial support. I know that I must stand alone. A man is like a bad mule, bound to fail me eventually.
I went to deliver my second singing telegram, a California Raison to a man on this 30th birthday from his wife. It was a loft walkup. I memorized the Marvin Gaye “Heard It Through The Grapevine” before going up. I called the contact a few times and finally she picked up. The performance went swimmingly, which makes me realize not only do I love my job but I am looking forward to the release of my book, I Came, I Saw, I Sang.
That’s when I decided again that I would not be having that extra-marital affair that I was proposed earlier. I had seen the couple I delivered the telegram to. They were happy, they were healthy. Now who was I to come between two people like that?
What’s even worse is that I have been the other woman. I know how it turns out, despite the presents and the promises you always end up being the bad guy. In this case I would definitely be the bad guy. He would be fine, being a man in the male dominated realm known as standup comedy, where women often get the shaft. His wife would go out of her way to let everyone know I had been the one to wreck her home, even though it was her husband’s idea. I am inching up on the ladder, and in this male dominated realm sex can be used as a weapon. Nothing good can come of this career wise or spirit wise.
That’s when I decided I wouldn’t tell him the answer was no but rather show him by not going back to the club to meet him in the backseat of his car. To think, he didn’t even buy me presents.
For years I have been labeled by bookers and comedians, mainly male, as a man hater because I talk about my nasty breakup with my ex-fiance. I have been called bitter. I have been called a “rusty vagina” because whenever I see mistreatment or abuse of a woman in my vicinity I call it out.  
Believe it or not, many of my fans are male and feel the same way I do, women are not put on this Earth simply to satisfy a man. At the same time, for as many comedians and bookers who want to throw labels on me and make snap judgments, there are many young people who look up to me, male and female. There are many bookers, mainly male, and many comedians, mainly male, who take a chance on me because of my talent, my hardwork, and my fearlessness to be myself. Many of my fans, as I said, are male. Many of my friends, gay and straight, are male. Do these things make me a man hater or painfully aware of the reality that we live in?
Yes, sex is used as a weapon in my industry but it is this way at any job. Now it is your choice whether or not to succumb. You can fuck your way to the middle, but never to the top. I have known many women, sick and tired of the pressures of being kicked aside in favor of those less talented, who have caved in and did sexual favors for stage time. It got them some good spots, maybe even a TV spot or two. But either they didnt have the goods to deliver and eventually their star faded or they pissed off the person they were sleeping with and that person, being higher on the food chain, sought to blackball them. And them, being the woman, was painted as the harlot in this exchange, not the older male horn dog.
In the past I have mused in my blogs about wanting to sleep my way to the top because I knew women doing it. There has even been word on the street that I have done it. For the record, I stopped dating comedians long ago with the exception of my last fling. Truth is, male comedians are happy to date another woman comic when she is lower on the food chain and not doing as well career-wise. But either when her natural talent surpasses his or she gets breaks he doesn't professional and personal jealousy rear their ugly heads. Suddenly, his manhood is being threatened and she must go back to the kitchen and cook. I knew if my last fling went any farther it would be a disaster and he would never be happy for me despite what he said. Men say they will be but never are when it actually happens. That's why none of my boyfriends, no matter what they do, ever know about my career.
I have had a man who tried to take my career away from me. He pretended he was proud of me only to eventually try to silence me, my message, and my voice. I know that my ex-fiance is a sick man, a jealous man. That is why it not only is important that I show the world who I am for my own self-preservation, but to show all young people, male and female, that guess what, be who you are. The world needs original thinkers. And if there is no space for you in the world per se, make one. Even if you have to use a metaphorical bulldozer. 
They need to know that there is someone in this world who does the right thing and doesn’t succumb to the pressures put on them due to their gender. They also need to know that there is someone in this world that stands up for themselves regardless of what others in the so called majority might think.
A female comedian friend of mine pointed out that there has not been a great feminist icon in sometime. There has been Gloria Steinem, Betty Freidan, Ani DiFranco, and maybe it’s my turn next. Maybe I will be the ass kicking type who comes with stilettos, lipstick, puppets, and a want for all to be protected.
According to many men being independent and self-sufficient means that I am the following: rusty vagina, man hater, bitch, feminazi, etc.
If being fair and aware make me such things I will wear those labels regardless of their truth. I just know that at the end of the day, the moonlight guides my path and the trees light meaning that I am doing the right thing.
I’m okay
I would have engaged in the extra marital affair sir, but  somethings got in the way. For instance, my fishnets snagged and I am really uncoordinated when it comes to giving moron's lap dances. 

April: But May, he kept telling me he wanted to come to our place to fool around
May: April, no can do. Pinnochio is coming over at seven and besides, where did he get you your presents from? The   Lost and Found like Darren?
April: Actually, he didn't get me any presents. He just wanted me to jump in the backseat of his car and fool around.
May: No presents no affair, you know the rule. And the presents have to be 200 dollars and above. And no 200 dollar presents that he got for free as a result of job perks.
April: You have a really good point. No wonder I keep you around. You are so smart. You aren't just a pain in the ass who turns tricks.
May: And one more thing you schizophrenic with her hand up my ass, when you said his name I didn't know him. There is no way he could ever advance our career. 

This is my job. I look cute. I can get validation  from my talent and my mind,  not  by what some man feels he can gain from using my person like a rag doll. 

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