Is about time.
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http://www.seattleweekly.com/2009-02-11/news/so-you-want-to-hit-on-the-bartender/

So You Want to Hit on the Bartender?
Hitting on a female bartender presents unique challenges. Maggie suggests you ask yourself a few questions before you do.
By Maggie Savarino Dutton
Published on February 11, 2009 at 9:28am


1) What is the cold, hard probability that this woman finds you attractive? Assess your hotness now. I was a very friendly bartender, but you cannot mistake "professional jawing" for flirting. Female bartenders flirt. It's how we pay rent. Don't mistake it for liking you just because there's no pole and we're fully clothed.

2) Are you fully prepared to step in a giant pile of awkward if she says no? We flirt, but there is an unwritten rule that we can flirt, because you're not supposed to call us on it. If this is your regular bar, you are committing a social offense so egregious I almost want to smack you myself. Of course (deadpan), there's always the chance that you're meant for each other. Please see question #1.

3) What's your plan? You have to have a plan. "We should go out sometime" is not a plan. Do the two of you share an interest? Maybe an author or certain music? Bring an appropriate but small gift. How does she react? Positively or politely? (Take a friend for an honest assessment.) Take another baby step from there if you dare.

4) Only ask her out if it's to do something. Dinner's no good. (She works nights, duh.) A bike ride? Kayaking? She has days off; chances are she's got a daytime hobby, so latch on to that. Something that has a clear end time works best, but nothing that could lead to a nightcap. Remember, she witnesses 1:30 a.m. hookups all the time. Put her in that situation at your peril. Whatever you do, don't be eager. She sees through you like glass. It will be like putting the moves on Bruce Lee. So don't try, just be.

The female bartender is perhaps the most jaded, cold, walled-off, and unapproachable member of the female species. Remember, she spends her evenings listening to men bullshit women. She gets hit on by the douche with the popped collar while his girlfriend's in the bathroom. She mentally counts the number of sentences it takes a guy to work sex into the conversation, because they always do. In her mind, men are predictable, ridiculous animals who can rarely be trusted, or worth her time.

You still wanna date a female bartender? Well, you better be a pretty exceptional guy.

Good luck, and duck, you sucker.

Yup, that was me, falling off the runway last night. In all my experience on the runway, or on stage for that matter, I have never, ever fallen... so I suppose I had it coming. The odds were stacked against me.

Oh, I've been embarrassed on stage, definitely. Peed myself during a musical as a child, but no one seemed to notice. I just was chafingly aware of every wet dance routine until I could run off and change before the cast party (where, btw, I got my very first kiss, so the night wasn't a total bust). I also fell asleep in the sun opening day of another musical... giving myself second degree burns and having to perform that night with a face that looked like blistered hamburger meat. Other than that, smooth sailing. I have never fallen on, or off of, a stage until last night.

Maybe now that I have, I've gotten it out of the way and can walk the catwalk again with the assurance of no further disaster. Maybe... but I am definitely feeling stage shy at the moment. I mean, I have yet to crap myself on stage, so that glorious moment could be waiting around the corner.

I am not sure exactly what happened. Perhaps it was the lack of food all day mixed with the few usual pre-stage drinks I had. Perhaps Buddha, Yahweh, Bhagavan, Aten, or whatever powers that be thought I needed an ego check. Or perhaps it was the conversation I overheard while preparing for the show that sent an icy cold grip of fate squeezing my heart... "oh my god, did you see what happened to Tyra? She totally bit it on the runway! I can't stop watching that video clip!". NOT a great thing to hear just before you strut your stuff down a 20' long runway. Well look out Tyra, there's a new sheriff in town.

Whatever the reason, or combination thereof, the fact of the matter is I feel I let my friend, the designer, down. He says that is not true, and to shut up already.

Pros:
1) I landed on my feet, got back on the stage with the deft assistance of my friend/model, and walked that bitch the rest of the way with an "I totally meant to do that" attitude (not that I believe I fooled anybody, but at least I owned my fuck-up).
2) Got an official green light to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the night (and from what I hear, took full advantage of that).
3) Entertained all night by "That was nothing, I not only fell off the stage once, I fell through it" stories.


Cons:
Uh, falling off the fucking runway.

It could have been worse. I could have broken an ankle, landed on my ass, taken a few from the front row out on my way down, or fallen on my face while trying to get back on stage.

Whatever embarrassment publicly suffered, I am a firm believer in the futility and shame of denial, hiding, or burial attempts. I am taking my embarrassment to a wider audience. Why not? It happened, there's nothing I can do about it, and hiding it away just gives it more power over me. Tyra, you should take that shit and run with it. I think an SNL appearance is in order. After all, Rob Lowe did it... twice.

wow... just wow. what do i do with these feelings?

There we were... 16 zombies on prom night in a stretch limo, rolling up to Sizzler. Just take a moment to picture it. That alone was worth the time, expense and preparation for the evening. En mass, we shambled, dragged and moaned ourselves through the salad bar. Most people giggled, but did so as they were pulling away from us nervously. One little girl came out of the bathroom to find three of us turning the corner in her direction. Never seen eyes so big, and was seriously worried I'd have to remember my CPR training. Although, reviving to a zombie giving you CPR might just be a tad ill advised. And I'll bet it was that server's first time hearing, "What's the difference between Shrimp, Shrimp & Shrimp and the All You Can Eat Shrimp?" from a girl in a ripped and singed prom dress covered in blood (the zombie next to me dissolving into a helpless fit of giggles). They seated us in the back dining room, safely away from the rest of the customers with the exception of a long row of windows in the partition wall. A family was seated on the other side, and their little girl was in heaven watching us. For her immense pleasure, randomly one or two zombies would throw themselves at the glass and slide slowly down it while staring at her.

Next it was off to the prom. It was, like, the best prom EVAR. WAAAY better than high school, and why wouldn't it be? Everyone there looked like they just stepped out of a George Romero flick. There was a photo booth, there were performers, and there was, of course, the crowning of prom king and queen. Brandon and I entered the contest, and I made a point of attacking people near the front of the stage who seemed to be cheering for rivals. They just looked so... tasty. And besides, our snarling mantra all evening was, "WE WILL BE CROWNED!" We were gonna take down anyone in our way, like good zombies, by going for the head first. I got a little confused on stage about which head (*cough*) for a second, but you know... it can be hard to process that kind of information with only part of a decaying brain. The crowd spoke, moaned and flailed... and the 2009 Zombie Prom King and Queen are... (drumroll, or heads rolling, whichever makes a better sound)...

That's right bitches, Brandon and I are the Zombie Prom King and Queen of 2009!


MORE PICTURES COMING SOON! Stay tuned...

Dirty, sore and content. Lovely boy for a week. We bought stockings together, sang to the Dresden Dolls and recited lines from Withnail & I.
Je l'adore.
Sigh. Whatever to do with myself now?


The ball was delightful!

... observe my Tweets, damn you!

Can someone please show me how to stop and live in the moment? I feel like I'm always chasing time. 12:18 AM Jan 22nd

Again, me, 6:30 AM, shouting at the waterlogged crickets floating in my lizard's 1/2 inch water dish: "I've no respect for your kind!" 6:50 AM Jan 6th

Ah youth... at some point, you will truly learn to shut your mouth. Until then, I'll cackle with the other bartenders in the corner at you. 3:31 AM Nov 29th, 2008

HAHAHA!!! Funniest thing overhead in a long time @ my bar over a shared drink... his friends all masks of horror: No, really, I get these nasty cold sores, in, and all over the front of my mouth... SEE? 3:29 AM Nov 29th, 2008

wondered why drunk guy was staring @ me open-mouthed as he walked into a pole, then realized I was dressed as Madonna, carrying balloons 1:48 PM Nov 22nd, 2008

I can edit documents, I am an artist, I can photo edit, I am a writer, I know my way around law, I can file... even on a contractual basis... anything helps. Actually, contracting or part-time work is preferable, as I want to start school again in the Spring. Know of anything?

So there I was, freshly 16, and sneaking into an 18+ nightclub for the first time in my life on the outskirts of Seattle. Didn't fit in at school... shot up to my full height and cup size by 12, and scared the bejeezus outta all of the boys my age. Hating the world, the popular kids at school, and the color white (except for my moon tan, of course), I entered the club. Almost instantaneously, from the tips of my fingers, to my toes, to the roots of my hair, I felt joy. I was home. I finally found my home, and my chosen family, amongst the goth kids and the deep thumping and droning of (place dark gothy band name here.... because if I do, I'll date myself). These, at long last, were my people.

The above description summarizes the first major turning point in my life. The first time I began to understand and enjoy my identity. There were smaller revelations before and after, to be sure, but this was, without question, life-altering.

I haven't experienced anything of that scale since, until perhaps tonight. Tonight, I entered the Tease-o-rama show at Bimbo's with a sore back, broken spirit, and wounded heart. I walked out transformed. These freaks are my people. The 60+ strip tease artist, the bearded lady, the 20's can-can girls, the flashy Vegas vixens, the well-seasoned fan dancers... I must strip, shimmy, and grind with them, until my bones rattle unceremoniously to the ground. Hallelujah, I am reborn!

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart must stand in the sun, so you must know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy:

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.




Kahlil Ghibran, "The Prophet"

And now I am! Quick! Go to http://www.myspace.com/zombiepinupgirls to see me as a Zombie PinUp! Get your 2009 calendar fast, before they sell out! This calendar is one that's DEFINITELY going up in my house!

Too gruesome, you say? In need of more of a classic pin-up, without the gore? WELL, I am also a Kitten Koffin Zombie! The 2009 Kitten Koffin Girl Calendar is available for purchase NOW in the shop section of kittenkoffinzombies.com and features the winners of this years Calendar Pinup Contests, including yours truly for the month of January! So make sure you get yours TODAY!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO Levil Wishes!

Spent time with family...
Fought about politics...
Lost a dear friend for no good reason...
Found a new one...
Shot with 3 photographers/artists...
Insulted an asshole in public by telling him I was very sorry for his tiny penis...

Heartbreak, tenderness, shouting, love, regret, booze and fake blood... that about sums it up.

Exhausted, but so happy to be home.

How do ya like me now?

How do I know when I have subjected myself to enough silence?

When does a gesture mean something?

Can I trust any feelings?

I am alone, mostly because I choose not to embark upon the exhausting journey of seeking comfort. I am finding it exceedingly difficult to believe sentiment from others, or simply to trust my own interpretation. I don't like asking for things, and when I do, I don't believe in the authenticity of the response.

This spiral is giving me motion sickness.

Note to self... 60 mentally challenged adults in a karaoke restaurant is about as good of an idea as a bald speaker at a Tourettes convention.

The first hour was funny... the next two the restaurant held us captive were excruciating. I fantasized about shoving ice picks in my ears. No amount of alcohol helped. I finally barricaded myself in the bathroom while we waited for the check.

Wine tasting was lovely... and while we couldn't do it by camel back due to the HAIL, we managed to find a knowledgeable escort who toted our drunk asses around by van, showing us jewels of wineries buried within McLaren Vale valley. Australia has BY FAR some of the best reds I have ever had in my lifetime. Going to try to smuggle a bottle back with me...

Flew into AU yesterday to visit an old friend. The flight felt longer than anything I have ever had to endure in my life, including my life. Sleep for me on a plane is near impossible, so my ass was dragging all of yesterday up until 15 mins before my goal time of unconsciousness... 8pm. A first for me... I am never asleep before the clock strikes midnight (reverse Cinderella syndrome). But let me just share some observations my addled little brain was able to squeak out before it completely fell out. Adelaide... could be the states, really, except everyone talks funny and drives like a NY taxi driver - fucking terrifying. Oh, and they have dog food called "Chum". Once I recovered from my fit of hysterics at the grocery store (much to the distaste of the "locals"), I fought the strong desire to purchase a can as a future dust collector on my shelf. I am bringing back all of the weird candy, or "lollies", I can find, and some Vegemite for a drastically mislead friend (you know who you are - tastes like vomit)... any other requests?

More to come... stay tuned for more adventures from Adelaide...

Remember my "why is it so difficult" post? Uh... never mind. *grin*

Hot, and like-minded ... intelligent, sarcastic with a healthy touch of the wicked, and filthy, filthy, filthy. To all those claiming I was looking for a unicorn... it seems to be grazing in my back yard.

I've been told I think like a man, and more recently, like a gay man (fickle as fuck)... but I could stand this for a while. I know there isn't a third arm anywhere, but, Dear God... fingers crossed there aren't dead bodies in his cellar (unless, of course, he purchased them from the Bone Room), he doesn't get hit by a bus, and his gf doesn't boil my cat.

Off to AU to hunt wallabies. And perhaps, more unicorns...

Yes, I know, insatiable. *wide grin*

The nasal tonality, the obscenity of squeaks and grunts, all distract and derail. I had no idea how much until last night. The clarity that emerges in silence is like a puff of air to the strangled. Thank you Eli.

OK, so these aren't pictures of him, exactly, but they are almost perfect likenesses.

Got him yesterday from the vivarium with Peter. Peter got a scorpion he named Nicolai Tesla. They sold Grimme to me not apparently knowing how venomous he might be, but at a discount for the inconvenience... for the possibility of infection, paralysis, or sudden death. Didn't deter me though... nope. Never, and I mean NEVER underestimate the power of cute. I stared at him all last night... I am in love.

GRIMME IS MADE OF CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cutest damned snake ever... in the history of snakes...
EVER.
I don't think you understand Grimme's powers...
Beware his powers of cute or you will be in love too...
Maybe wear some protective lenses or something...
Viewing with the naked eye is inadvisable, otherwise you will be transfixed, uttering tiny squeals of joy, for an eternity.
He is WAY more cute in person, but picture-viewing holds far less danger of the dreaded catatonic luv stare.
If you ever meet Grimme... you'll know... YOU'LL KNOW.

No worries, after conducting a bit of my own research, I now know him to be harmless to humans, unless you happen to be a wee tree froggie. He is an Elegant Bronzeback - a Malaysian rainforest tree snake. He eats lizards and frogs. He is frigging CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...not any of it. Why can't I find balance? Why must there always and eternally be something seriously lacking? When can I feel confident I am not the ongoing target of some cruel puppeteer's jape? I am pursuing the things that bring me life, I am. I am trying to grasp the reins of my existence more tightly. But obstacle upon obstacle bring me right back to that defeated and weary state, and it is so difficult to navigate out of that sense of persecution.

Just a little sunlight, please, for a bit longer than the life-cycle of a gnat...

Thanks.

It is the nest of seething termites quietly chewing.
It is the mass of cracks in the foundation.
It is the snarl of roots underground, silently straining.

It is the insatiable worm ever burrowing.
It is the hoard of aphids on the stem.
It is the relentless beetle, boring through the bud.

It is the cancerous cell efficiently dividing.
It is the asbestos leaching from the wall.
It is the toxic drip, drip, drip of the pipe into a stream.

Words unspoken are the only words I know to be true.
Words unspoken are all I can trust from you.