Carmageddon: The Aftermath

Dear Los Angeles,

So I see you that have survived the feared inferno of “Carmageddon”. You rocked the happy hour specials. You steered your four wheeled vessels clear of the freeways in fear of losing your ever so precious time sitting parked on the freeway for hours upon hours.

You chose to not clutter the streets with aggravation. For a few glorious days, there was a silent peace decorated on asphalt. People were drawn in droves to the otherwise bickered about public transportation. There wasn’t arguing with the hurried commuter in the other car, bike, or motorcycle trying to get to x function. There were no stretched necks as accident after accident piled up to make the drive home from work, play, or errands a little longer. There was less noise and pollution.

The 405 is opening as I type this. It bids one to wonder if the community has learned anything from this exercise. How will the Los Angeles community change? How have you changed for the greater good?

Los Angeles once had the greatest public transit system in the world. Nowadays, people dread the thought of taking a bus, a train, or a bike in lieu of a car. This weekend proved that the community here is so ambivalent to change that, rather than embrace the possibilities of other alternatives, would rather just not participate at all.

This weekend Los Angeles biker community advocates Wolfpack Hustle embarked on a 40 mile race against an airline proved the power of the human versus the machine. In a race won by pedal pushers that generated substantial buzz, why are the Los Angeles bike paths lacking in comparison to other major metropolitan cities?

Now that Carmageddon has come and gone, as a business person, are you going to take heart the relief and production capabilities of a happier worker that has not had to “deal” with traffic for one day? Are you going to provide more of an incentive to take public transit?

As a regular commuter are you going to make a more proactive attempt to take public transit when you can? Will you take an extra few minutes to walk down the street to that cafe for brunch or the extra few blocks to the grocery store?

It’s time the community took a big look at the bigger picture. We have the power to carve this city into something greater if we unify ourselves. Time is a precious commodity but so is a calmer, healthier way of life. Instead of putting one in front of the other, perhaps both are capable of happening. Dare to be a part of the change.

One week of sobriety: A test of self control

Last week was a blur of disappointment and successes, but not for the reasons most might be thinking.

The biggest stateside video game conference had come and gone. It hadn’t been a fun filled week for me as it was for the many that gather here to our great city to celebrate the latest advances in technologies.

I work in two fields: journalism and entertainment. And while video games are a part of my 9-5, they are followed by my true passion: journalism. I have been fortunate to have resided on both sides of the fence. Each has its perks and setbacks.

I did my laundry Sunday. I washed away the remnants of people that I had thought more of before last week, of someone who I didn’t know what to think, of someone whom there exists a war in my head with what to think, and of pieces of myself that I’m learning more and more about.

I waver in between worlds within the spotlight and highlighting those who sparkle under it. But this camera sees a depth of field that…

With any conference comes the after parties. Behind these scenes is where the real magic and disasters occur. It’s the stuff of a million stories that writers won’t write about. It’s the stuff of stories that they probably should write about. It’s stuff that gets compiled into your brain and begs and begs to be released but rarely ever does.  Its the stuff that you wish you didn’t know.  It’s the stuff of stories that can drive you insane due to the lack of ability to release.

It’s the story of someone making an ass of themselves meeting someone for a secret rondevous. It’s the story of trying so hard to impress someone that the only thing that surfaces is the detestable.  It’s the story of having so much alcohol in order to make others tolerable, that a black out happens. It’s the story of [redacted] and the story of [redacted redacted].

When you work in the entertainment industry, you see this in so many instances that eventually, you have two options:
1) Let it overcome you.
or 2)Find a way to overcome it before it consumes you whole.

Life becomes more exhausting than usual. Not only does the weight of your own reality weigh on you, but so does the weight of the people vying for their chance to shine in the limelight of a coveted piece of fifteen moments of fame on the tabloid of choice.

Fearing an impending overdose on it all, I elected to take a command step forward. Paired with someone to assist in co-miserating the experience, I embarked on a journey into a world of glitz and glamour free of a method of escape. For one week I would be alcohol and smoke free.

Notes: I am not a daily drinker. I drink on a number on an occasional basis: networking parties where everyone has a glass of something in their hands, happy hour with coworkers, dates, and when something is really getting to me. The same generally applies to my smoking habits sans for one additional place it enters. Ah the “joys” of Los Angeles traffic.

Day one was to start when he left. He and I had spent the whole day together booze free. The evening had been cut short unexpectedly. Our plans to disappear into historical places taking roost in fabled haunts with as equally fabled spirits faded into the ether (for the time being).

An hour after he’d left however, I found myself assisting a friend (and veteran featured personality) with an art show she’d curated located within a seedy motel downtown. My time was spent in a bed navigating perverts (read: art enthusiasts) through the graphiti clad thrashed rock themed art room. He and I had talked earlier about me attending the show and I was originally going to stay at home and work on my book, but yet there I was. In the middle of it all, I stayed true to my mission. I remained sober and penned away at a notebook as the crowds waved in and out.

One shocking thing happened from the alt-shock event extravaganza  was not what I was expecting in the slightest. Among the sea of onlookers was one of the artists featured in the show with a very special guest. He was a “short” man.  Five ten with brown hair, scruffy and parker-esque. He had a smile that illuminated the room. His words faultered as he was nudged to “Just ask her”.

He talked to me a few minutes.  He’d wanted to take my picture with this artists work. Both of them were delightful people but there was something more about this gentleman. While talking about how we’d both ended up at the event by way of serendipitous routes, my tale of my mission to be sober for the week came up in conversation. He turned to me and said “I completely understand. I’m sober myself.” Does like energy really attract like energy?

When I arrived home however, it was nearly 2am. I was exhausted from the event. I’d had to help scrub the graphiti off the walls and clean up the aftermath. There had been four of us toiling away that evening cleaning. Being an art curator (or in my case, assisting one) is not always as glamorous as it sounds.

The bar below my apartment had my favorite beer on tap. I immediately walked up the steps and got a glass. But after I’d paid for it and it had been poured in front of me, I began to feel horrible. Day one of sobriety had been going so well. Within an instant, I’d ruined it.

The next day I went to visit family in Huntington Beach. I was intending on spending some time as a mermaid beachside a bit as well. Of course, the outfit I chose as I headed to the beach felt more suiting of the event I was at last minute then what I’d ended up wearing. Cest’ le vie. As I packed my bag my brain immediately went to “cans of beer and smokes”.  I shook the idea off and headed seaside.

Even after I’d arrived to family bbq, the two items I’d left behind were pushed into view. My family helped to make excuses for why it would be alright.  So did friends who’d invited me to return back to the bar below my loft bribing feats of hilarity in kiddie pools.  Everyone seemed to chime in “You can just start tomorrow.”

Remembering the night prior, I stuck true to the goal. It was a bit frustrating but it was nothing compared to the temptations that would follow the rest of the week. One such example happened later that evening when I’d arrived home. My secret guest and I had limited ability to enjoy our weekend as my roommate (who isn’t usually home and isn’t home as this is being written) was home for the entirety of it. However she’d had a guest that evening. I wanted nothing more than to go downstairs and have a beer. No can do.

I found myself as the week progressed, and as life continued to rapid fire bullets of everyday flies in the ointment, running a gammit of emotions from intensely frustrated with my lack of easy escapism, to rationalizing the act, to… undeniable clarity.

I went to my first networking event without the escapism. At one point, I’d thought that the booze was necessary. You need a glass in your hand in order to be approachable after all right? Almost right. The event had been a test of wits. It forced me to modify the way I went about my interactions. With the sobriety came more clarity and control over myself in navigating the event than I’d remembered experiencing for a long time.

My eyes were wide open.  I saw everything.  I was better able to gauge who would be the best conservators. I met more valuable, more mature and more truly talented people than I might have had I not been completely sober. I immediately was able to see how I could make their businesses better.  I was more on point with statistical and competition information.  I felt empowered by my lack of a barrier to readily access that information.

The main rationalization I’d previously turned to for the reason to do it “I deserve it” became the reason not to do it. It evolved. Perhaps I did a little in the process as well. And while I may not go completely sober or smoke free right now, I will continue to follow this path. The lessons that I have learned from this week shall not disappear into the ether. I highly encourage each of you to try this for yourself. You don’t have to have a huge problem for it to be effective.

Why?  Because “You deserve it?”  Almost.  It’s because “You deserve more.”

If you or someone you love is experiencing a debacle great or small with alcohol or any other substance, don’t be afraid to seek help with it. You are not alone. For more information on support centers and other outlets, or if you just want to attend a meeting to see what others are saying to see for yourself, feel free to look into the following link at your leisure:

Alcoholics Anonamous

Reply

Oh but a lady never tells… everything m’dear 🙂 Names are rarely relevant (though this star eyed pair have…)

Absence of color.
Sparks.
But one shade of something “fake” yet so real it makes you…
something something.

This will probably make little sense beyond nonsense to… but if in the know, and well, you will know if you are, it will land on a chord that few know how to play. Fore Cinderella’s Mr. Midnight clothed himself in a fasade that nothing matters…
Always put together.
Always wearing that same nonuniform.
Always going to that same bar.

Always. Always. Always.

Routines.
Entrances.
Exits.

When he arrives, you may fight it at first… a girl has to know better than to care about this one, even in the slightest. But at that point it may already be too late.

“I don’t belong to you.” He told her.
“I know.” she said.
And in her mind said the same thing aloud.
Were they lying to themselves? Or did they just not belong to even themselves?
“We’re in the same place.”he said.
And in her mind she said the same thing aloud.

…This can’t be happening.

Names are rarely relevant (though this star eyed pair have…)
He is the Mickey to her Mallory.

Absence of color. Sparks. And but one shade of something “fake” yet so real it makes you… something something.

No. No No.

“I want to bring you somewhere.”
Road trips. Mixtapes.
“Don’t do that.”he said.
“Don’t do what?”
“I am just going to fall in love with you.”

This will probably make little sense beyond nonsense to… but if in the know, and well, you will know if you are, it will land on a chord that few know how to play. Fore Cinderella’s Mr. Midnight clothed himself in a facade that nothing matters…

“Are all of your friends going to watch me?”
“He’s looking out for me.” she told him.
“That’s a good thing.”

Always put together.
Always wearing that same nonuniform.
Always going to that same bar.

Always. Always. Always.

One morning trying something different. One left turn.
We are exactly where we should be.

“We’re in the same place.”he said.
And in her mind she said the same thing aloud.

…This
can’t
be
happening.

When random becomes…

“Why are you introducing me to all them?”
“Because you’d fit in. You’re one of the tribe.”

Routines.
Entrances.
Exits.

.Jena Red.

Absence of color. Sparks. And but one shade

.Mr. Midnight.

of something “fake” yet so real it makes you…

This will probably make little sense beyond nonsense to… but if in the know, and well, you will know if you are, it will land on a chord that few know how to play.

Tipped cups. Sunrises. Sunsets. Sunrises again.

Oh but it all started at Midnight. With one reply. One smile. And one more left turn.

“Don’t do that.”he said.
“Don’t do what?”
“I am just going to fall in love with you.”

When he arrives, you may fight it at first… a girl has to know better than to care about this one, even in the slightest. But at this point…

And he plays his guitar as

I sit there cross legged in front of him and look in his eyes… and I know this will probably make little sense beyond nonsense.. but when you know, and well you will know if you know, it lands on a chord that few have known how to play.

I aspire to be a cat burgler minus the cat and the burgler-ing

In the silence, come the answers.

If you really want to get an idea of how someone’s life is, you can just go inside their home and let the stuff do the talking. They say that you can tell alot about a person by their home.  What they don’t tell you is that this is a pretty good gage at how their life really is.

You see, things contaminate our every existance.  The collection of ones “junk” and organizational systems show you more than you would ever imagine if you only pay attention.

For me, today marks a new direction of sorts.  You see, I didn’t end up in Los Angeles originally because I wanted to.  At least, it wasn’t my first choice.

After leaving San Diego and on to Bakersfield (the armpit divider between southern and northern california) I vowed that I would move back to the one place, despite having grown up in an entirely different state, that I was able to call “home.”  I even kept the same area code on my cell phone.  If you see the 858, that would be me.  I will always be an 858 girl.  Except now, I will also be a 310.

After my divorce, I struggled quite a bit.  I had been that “stay at home mother” working jobs that I could do from home and then when I hit the ground running, he just stayed in place.  It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that had met us or even see us together.  I was that wild horse and he was just… not the running type.

I remember the day it happened… or well, the “it’s time to realize that no one is going to give a crap about you but you” moment.  After I got let go from my game mod job due to being late because of spousal abuse, he hit me again.  This time, it was with an eviction notice.

You see, my ex husband fled to be with his new girlfriend that he’d met in a video game while I was away at a conference trying to find my next job.  I wish I was kidding.  Unfortunately, I am not.

A little bit different than your "average" Love tap

He’d promised me a lot of things when first got together.  And I believed every single one of them.  Why?  Because I was an idiot.  Even after all was said and done he’d made me yet another promise-to pay the rent for the remainder of the lease.

Liar liar pants on fire.

I guess I should have saw that one coming.

I had so little money then.  I was but a broke artist, though when I was with him, I rarely was able to create.  But that’s another story.

I was a victim then because I allowed myself to be one.  While it is a part of my past, and thus, a part of my identity, I’ve come to peace with it.  There are so many stories that proceed this.  So many tales that I am forever thankful for being able to experience.  Even if it took a man hitting me for me to wake up, get started on the road to independence, and really live life again.

Dead eyes. Lost inside. Circa marriage 1.

When I moved to Bakersfield, it was rushed.  I never wanted to move back there.  I fought it as much as I could.  But it wasn’t time for me to be home yet.  And at the time, San Diego didn’t feel like home anyway.

I remember how much disarray my apartment was.  I moved from a 2 bedroom condo in a upper middle class area of San Diego (Tierrasanta to the locals) to a studio hole in the wall in Bakersfield. Why there? Nepotism.  My cousin was the landlord originally.

While I wasn’t completely unhappy in my time there, you could tell that inside I was miserable and my apartment showed it.

I looked for things to make myself happier.  The things that had the greatest effect were those of which were most childlike in nature. One of which, won me the nickname of “the mermaid” as this curtain hung over my bed (which ironically, is still over my bed to this day) because, well that was the only thing I could find to cover up the institution-like window.

These are a few of my favorite things

I found it in a box one day somewhat randomly.  It had been something that my dad had given me for my first apartment years before I got married.  My husband and I thought it was too ridiculous to ever use.  I’ve come to realize that he was just a stick in the mud.

That curtain got me into trouble too.  I hung it in the window of my street facing apartment.  When the blinds were open or up, it was no mistaking which unit was mine.  In the mornings the sun would shine through it and the colors would pop.  Trudging along in Bakersfield, it would make me smile to come home to my one piece of sunshine.  My landlord didn’t agree.  She thought it was tacky.  She also dresses like shes ready for the nursing home and she’s not even 30.

While living in the apartment, I serendipitously met a wonderful pair of friends- Drew & Leah.  (Ironically, they lived across from my soon to be future bat from hell landlord.)  They helped to make that place somewhat bearable.  But unfortunately, they couldn’t make that place home for me.

beach balls are serious business

Because only the raddest dare rock bling on their coffee mug

My grandmother is a packrat.  She has amassed a great amount of wonderful junk.  So much so, that she has 2 houses full of it.  They say this behavior is generally inherited.  Hands raised for being a statistic.  I wonder if there are meetings like AA.

I later made  a brief stop in Claremont- suburbia upper middle class Los Angeles near the dreaded 909.  It was my dad’s compromise to not sending me back to San Diego, despite challenging me to find an apartment there in a few hours and well, I won that bet.

Claremont was… alright.  The village was a bit like a mini San Francisco.  Except San Francisco has a ton more and is a place I would actually consider living.

City of numerology

It hosts… the number 5.  Looking around you will see that it repeats numerous instances throughout the town.  There are 5 colleges.  There are 5 movie rooms at the theatre.

This is where I started to get a bit of OCD cleaning traits.  Part of me believes it may have been a positive after effect from my volatile relationship that I had with Big (the obsessive compulsive cleaning emotionally unavailable guy from San Diego).

I dumped quite a bit with the last move, and this one as well.  My roommate was also an artist (read: slob).  But here I found myself cleaning up after her.  Frankly the mess bothered me.  That, and she had animals.

And while I was happier there than I had been in Bakersfield, you could tell in my eyes if you were paying attention, that it still wasn’t quite right.

Porch sweeper, dream sleeper

As my lease came to a close I knew that I no longer wanted to be there.  I was working my ass off and reaping nothing in return.  I barely had time for me.  It was work work work.

“When you pay your own bills you can live wherever you want to.” dad told me.

“I already do pay my own bills dad.  I’m going home.  I’m not happy here.”

He shoved a pennysaver in my hand.

“There’s apartments in your price range right here.  Do it.”

But I’d already met Steve (my roommate) then.  Another after effect from dating that same OCD douchebag many of you all know and sometimes love.  I’m only half joking of course.  He’s got a good heart when he choose to share it.

But enough about failed romances, back to my roommate!  Little did I know from that fateful night- the tweetup in LA hosted by Greg Barnett, that I was on the way home.

Why hi, nice to meet you soon to be roommate!

Yes, I said it.. home.

I’ve lived here a year and yet, you wouldn’t know it from my room.  There are still quite a few bins out.  Clothes strung everywhere.  My closet is full of hangers.  My dresser is near empty.

Today is the day that that changes.  Consider me booked with being boring for the interim.  I was due for a responsible day or 3.  Have to balance with the karma and all.  I secretly aspire to be more boring (but never really boring) anyway.

I didn’t want to move here when I first got here.  I wanted to be in San Diego.  It is the one place that I’ve been able to call home.  But I know now, that it will not likely be where I hang my… wigs.

Dear San Diego,

I must profess my undying love for you.  You are the lover I will always come back to.  But you are also the one where I won’t end up with until possibly the end of the movie when my ashes are sent among the city after I expire.

I have fallen capture to Los Angeles.  It’s “cesspool” of fun carried me away.  My childhood dreams and fantasies… never forgotten but evolved into things you just can’t give me.

I’m “unpacking” today finally.  It took me a long time to get here.  This is my home now.  You will always have… pieces of my heart, but I’m afraid you will have to share me.

Ours is a tale that will live on forever.  Written in granite amongst the waves and never to be washed away.

Yours Always,

Jennifer

***

Dear Los Angeles,

I just broke up with San Diego.  I let her down easily.  I think she bought it.  She doesn’t know I’ve just been toying with her.  She’s wonderful but it just wasn’t working out.  I’m a terrible person.  Comfort me?

By the way, I have something else to tell you:

You have yourself another lifer now.

Cheers,

Scandalous

It’s time to take more ownership of my stuff and not the other way around.  But hey, at least I’ll have plenty of junk to send my mother right?

I’m not a pervert, I’m a beauty enthusiast: the sensalization of video game characters in the modern era

Memorial Day has come and gone and with it brought the sun out not just for those outdoor beach nuts, but also for the nerds.  Nerds from across the country have been waiting for these sacred moments.  Ah, yes to count down the days before the two biggest conferences of the year: E3 and Comic Con.

A couple of weeks ago, there was a Pinup Fundraiser featuring Diablo Cody and burlesque pinup queen Masuimi Max.  The fundraiser was to help raise funds for military wives.  The women there, were of that 50s quality that exuded looks reminiscent to Betty Paige and Marilyn.  Even the crowd was hot.  Looking around, you were surrounded by lounge lizard dreams and Varga dames.

The same night however, on another side of town, was another burlesque show.  In fact, it was something entirely different.  It was a unique spin catered to my generation of nerds.   Instead of your standard rockabilly divas, cosplay clad women dressed (and undressed) in your favorite video game character outfits.  The light shined down yet again.  Video game burlesque had been born.

Blood Rayne (via LA Weekly)

The cast of characters was short.   Most of which stayed true to that of the 8 bit stylings that have swept the art stream- therefore appealing to a wider potential crowd.

Every gamer’s wet dream came true at Bordello on May 9 as Devil’s Playground presented Video Game Girls burlesque. The dancers arrived armed and outfitted for an arcade battle, and included Super Mario Bros. Princess Peach, Metroid’s Samus Aran, Street Fighter’s Chun-Li, The Legend of Zelda’s Link and Princess Zelda, and BloodRayne’s Rayne.

From what I’ve seen on the LA Weekly, and among the talk from friends, I would venture to say that the show went well.  I was among the first to catch wind of the story in my circle of friends and twittered immediately about my disappointment for missing the debut.  The grip, as well as my best friend Mo, all discussed it more.  Mo and I were determined to see it.

Thankfully there is still hope.  For the others like me, and those who are in town for the conference this week are open to attend an encore showing this Tuesday Night at the Bordello- the same club as it was previously.

flyer for the encore presentation of Videogame Burlesque

I’m not a pervert, I’m a beauty enthusiast.

So, hot girls wearing cosplay costumes stripping down… is bad how exactly?  You wouldn’t think so due to the ever popular and already existing erotica aimed at geeks, Nerdcore.  Nerdcore depicts pictures of girls covered in video games, to super heroes, to sci-fi true geek warefare attire…. and nude.  It has been the epicenter of nerd porn juxtaposition previous to newer alternative sites like Zivity that cater towards a more digitally connected technophile.

Nevertheless, I was reading a blog on my friend Alex’s site Girl Gamer, to see that a few people were unhappy about the burlesque show.  Strange, because most everyone I’d talked to personally (both male and female) had said relatively nothing to say beyond praise about the whole concept of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I love cos-play as much as any other geek out there, but when fantasy turns to reality in a degrading manner for female gamers just to satisfy some male fetish, I have a problem. How can the dancers arrive “armed and outfitted for an arcade battle”, when all their gear comes right off? I guess Princess Zelda has powers I’ve never heard of, and I don’t even want to ask where Princess Peach will be pulling out those mushrooms from. I have to wonder, as decade-old characters that we all grew up with, is this what we have reduced them to, and is this how we now portray them? I doubt our delicate Princess Peach would ever participate in a burlesque show, and don’t think Link or Mario would ever see the princesses as “fairest” anymore.

I’m sorry, but it’s the video game industry.  Do you really think those game developers made the characters the way they did so that you wouldn’t come back for more? It’s the entertainment industry for Christ Sakes.

Sex sells games.

That’s why there are successful game series like the Leisure Suit Larry and Dead or Alive.  Hell, in the game I tested for SOE, Untold Legends 3, if you look closely, the main playable female character’s breasts actually pulsate.  Game developers and players alike are perverts.  It’s natural.  Back in the days before it was less pop for females to like video games, the target demographic was… (drum roll please) men!

Ok, so you want to get into semantics then?  Sure, I can do that.

Don’t you also think it’s kind of odd that Princess Peach was being pursued and saved by two brothers?  Their occupation being plumbers.  Let’s be realistic.  Princess Peach was likely a slut getting her plumbing fixed by the both of them.  Toadstool was the equivalent of either her gay friend or some kid with a crush on his teacher.  And her name” Peach?”  Hmm, I wonder what that might be referring to.

Why Mario really saved the Princess repeatedly

The other thing is that when you add the fetish world to the equation, and the fact that the I am 8-Bit gallery exhibits and the steady stream of retro gaming energy drinks and merch of various kinds (like this blooper keychain I got last week) lining the shelves,  and graphiti making headlines and the pinup subculture gaining more appeal and this was bound to happen sooner or later.

Burlesque is a tasteful, classier, and artistic approach to making the dreams of millions come alive.  I think the cartoon above is 10xs more offensive than real women enacting pixelated fantasies on stage for fun.  Sure it’s not technically accurate to the games entirely.  It’s an artistic strip show.  They’re on the stage prancing about and dancing.  They’re not getting plunged right on the stage.  And if you’re thinking there isn’t porn out there catering to that crowd, you’re naive- especially if you live in LA or have been to any metropolitan area.

As far as the entertainment factor goes, I’m for equality. What happened to including a shirtless Rayu or Tidus? If you add men to the mix I’ll be at the front of the stage drooling.

Personally I really couldn’t get into the whole male stripper community.  Chipendales never did anything for me.  I guess because they didn’t seem real.  My idea of the perfect man… let’s just say for now that it’s not a Chipendale. I like a fit and athletic man, but honestly, beefy guys generally lead me to those 80s meathead stereotypes.

Is that hypocritical psychology?  Probably.  But no one in their right mind would say that they watched a Van Damme or a Schwartzeneger movie because they were portrayed to be intellectually superior.  It was all about the “ooo muscles” factor.

As far as the entertainment factor goes, I’m for equality. What happened to including a shirtless Rayu or Tidus? If you add men to the mix I’ll be at the front of the stage drooling.

Well, for one, Tidus was gay.  That whole thing about falling in love with Luna was likely a coverup.  I mean, look at how he was in the storyline.  Straight men just aren’t that sensitive.  Not when they dress like that.  It screams “I’m a closet homosexual.”  Which is perfectly fine and.. dandy.  I can’t bitch about it because I’m a one calorie fag too.

That said, they really should do something like this for the gaymer community. I’m sure that there’d be hordes of all walks that would love to see men dressed like Link or Ash from Streets of Rage.  I read an article awhile back that Link was voted the hottest game character by the gay community.

Ash- Streets of Rage 3 Japanese Version

So sure, let’s make it even playing ground.  I think it would be awesome and everyone wins.  But then again, that’s what I thought about the female version.  I guess I must be a bit biased.  I mean, I’m typically “one of the guys” as far as mindset goes.  I’m open about my sexual prowess. The line of what I find being tasteless vs artful may be a bit off the conventional path.

I know that by writing this, I run the risk of potentially being seen in a very negative light.  On one hand, I’m more than likely a hero for saying what many didn’t want to say in public.  On the other, I’m sure it could be construed that I’m an asshole sexist pig.  I am willing to face the consequences.

I’m just sick and tired of people whining about every damn little thing.  The internet is evil.  Television is evil.  Wa wa wa… evil evil evil evil.

No, it’s not cheapening my experience or appreciation of the games.  I repeat the obvious, they’re for entertainment value.  So if lines of paying patrons of both sexes want to line up in droves (and I have a hunch being that it’s during E3 festivities, there will be quite a few people there) why complain?  I’d go to it regardless of the sex- regardless of my sexual preferences.  The concept melts two fantasies for me.  Beats the hell out of ren faires.

Again this is nothing compared to what they could be doing.  Open minded individuals, I’ll see you there.  I’ll be that “cool chick” with my guy friends enjoying it.  Let the flaming commence, I’ll go grab a cigarette.

Kk thnx bai.

The list blogs: Lessons learned on my first night ride out

It’s been awhile since I’ve graced the grid.  The beast is huge, ridiculous to park, and a gas guzzler.  It makes for yet another annoyance whenever I want to go anywhere in LA.  I am grateful for it, but it comes with consequences.

I’ve been doing some major cutting back on social networking events to hone in on responsibilities and ongoing tasks.  Fret not, there’s much in the pipeline… I have confidence that I’ll be fine.  I appreciate your patience in the interim.  Until then, anything that I go to will be extremely limited so that I can conserve financially and get back to the point where I can do even more than I did before.

With the newfound “joy” of being on the job market again there really needs to be.. well a sheet that I have in the works for you.  Stay tuned for that in a later edition.

I took 2 time outs for myself yesterday.  I met up with a gentleman for some food and conversation.  I must say that I had a good time.  It was nice to get out and laugh a bit without any pressure.

It’s been awhile since I’ve been out with the girls though.  Last night I was invited out to 2 things: a “passion” party a friend was having and have drinks with 2 lovely ladies that I haven’t seen in what seems like forever.  In order to avoid a cliche irony of “the day I get divorced I go to a Mary Kay sex toy party” I decided on the latter.   Sorry to the friend who got roped into hosting that party.  No pun intended.  (Ps, please send me the catalog and let me know what I missed)

I was eager to get there and catch up.  It was only in Century City- a whopping 4 miles from me.  But I get lost in a paper bag.  It’s another reason why I don’t care for using the truck if I can avoid it. (Sounds like another list blog in the works)

Here’s what I learned from my first night ride out on my new scooter:

• Always write down the number, level, and color of where you are parked in the Century City shopping center (wow what a maze) because if you thought finding a car was difficult, a bike is that much worse.
• My full faced helmet will not fit in the trunk of my scooter.  So the likelihood you will see me pull up in one to an event later is pretty small.
• Hot tattooed guys notice biker girls.  Especially redhead small ones with two extremely attractive women walking with them, regardless if they have a big jacket on or what.
• U turns are really not that bad
• Cars are annoying and they’re impatient.  That said, I’m glad I’m on my bike because it lets me get away with having to be less patient and at the same time more aware of my surroundings which will make me a better driver in my car.
• going through cars is pretty exhilarating.
• In a worst case scenario, you really don’t need to bother paying at those gates on a bike.
• I know exactly who I can call in a worst case scenario at 12am to ask for directions or questions with my bike.  (Thank you Baron for helping me get home last night.  Sorry I fell asleep on the phone after I got home, but you can understand why.)
• The ride might be quieter, but is amazing for reflecting.  Anytime I get down about anything I “pray” it isn’t raining.  I know where I will be… on the road on my bike taking a time out.
• Getting lost is more cost effective on a bike.  Apparently I get 60 mpg and it cost me a whopping $4.04 to fill up in Beverly Hills.  That’s… well wonderful.

Sometimes in life you just have to get the courage to do things.  It might be scary at first, but that’s what life is really about in the end.  A little bit of fear when tapped on correctly will enhance the experience and make you stronger.  I’m going to learn this city just yet… and thankfully it won’t cost me a ton to do it 🙂

Despite.

Despite:

* my truck breaking down
* the DAY it decides to pour rain here after a gorgeous day yesterday
* my wonderful Vday “date” going wrong for reasons unknown
* in said truck
* on the way to work
* & being late for work today
* because of it [the truck not the boy stuff]
* and a million other things I can’t/won’t say right now…

The whole time I haven’t been able to do anything but smile and wish for 2 things:

I wish I

* had bought a pair of gloshes last week like I’d been thinking about for at least 2, for fashion & well because I’m just weird like that.
* & how much I couldn’t wait to get home
* to ride my bike
* and dance some more in the rain.

…To be continued…