I just came up with this in a conversation with a friend in a chat room, I thought I would share with all my zombiephile friends:
(sung to the tune of ‘the Tennessee Waltz)
I was dancin’ with my darlin’ to the zombie waltz
when an old friend, I happened to see.
I introduced her to my loved one
and while they were dancin’
my friend stole my sweetheart from me
I remember the night and the zombie waltz,
now I know just how much she has lost
yes I killed my sweet darlin the night he was dancing
with my friend to the zombie waltz
I was dancin with a new darlin
to the zombie waltz when my old friend,
she tried to eat me
I saw her stagger with my loved one
and while they were lurchin
My friend stole my brains from me
I remember the night and the zombie waltz
now I know just how much she has lost
yes I killed my sweet darlin the night he was dancing
with my friend to the zombie waltz
the beautiful zombie waltz
Why g-strings don’t go in the dryer:
Just the other day, Bubbles Burbujas gave excellent advice over on The Frisky. Sadly, many people didn’t happily take it and, instead, gave the same complaints, in the comments section, about strippers (and others in this industry) that I’ve heard for years. I have heard them when I was stripping, camming, doing phone sex and even showing people my pictures. I think we should talk about a few of them (I paraphrased comments made from Bubbles’ articles, they aren’t direct quotes):
1) “My boyfriend still can’t go to strip clubs!”/”My boyfriend doesn’t need it!”/”I give my boyfriend all he needs.”
I think the moment a person assumes that they are the only thing someone else needs, they need an ego check. People aren’t puzzle pieces and we can’t fill every void left behind in others’ lives by their experiences and biology. It is no secret of nature that men have tremendous sex drives and that women can’t always provide what they want. That being said, it should ultimately be his decision if he wants to go to a club or watch porn or play with a shower head every once in a while. His sexuality is still his to own, no matter who you are! It is also much better to acknowledge this and be open about the possibility of him seeking erotic entertainment than forcing him into a position where he has to hide a part of his sexuality just because he’s afraid of losing you, the one he loves. He knows, like nearly all other men do, that his sexuality is not going to be hinged only on you and what you have to offer. It would help him tremendously if you acknowledged this.
Furthermore, you shouldn’t take it personally. Your sexuality doesn’t hinge on him, either. Your sexuality is as much for you to own as his is for him to own. As a result, if you’re not in the mood, why put yourself in a position where you are obligated to meet his needs?
All that being said, there is room for you and your boyfriend to make agreements on what is OK and what is not. If you two reach an agreement over what is acceptable, that’s an reasonable thing to do as long as one of you isn’t forcing your own idea of what is appropriate onto the other.
P. S. In the wake of announcing that you don’t own another person’s sexuality, I also want to point out that you don’t own his wallet, either.
2) “Complaints? But you’re a stripper!”/”You’re not real so you shouldn’t complain!”
It is a sad reality of the world of anyone in the sex industry that other people in our society seem to think we are on some other rung of the social ladder. As a result, they seem to think that the issues we get to face are acceptable and that we should simply accept them and suck it up. Interestingly, similar arguments were used before the 1920s, when women, housewives, were seen more as property. If their husband beat them, they were sometimes told that they should expect that. Afterall, they were housewives! How can the same argument appear out of such different contexts? Because, it is based on bigotry and a lack of consideration for another human being.
It doesn’t matter what job I have, Entertainer or not. I still deserve my basic human rights. It doesn’t matter if I’m clothed or naked, I still deserve my basic human rights. It doesn’t matter if people give me money to show them my nipples, I STILL deserve my basic human rights! I have the right to tell you that I don’t want you to touch me; I have the right to tell you where you can touch and I have the right to tell you to “fuck off” when you’re being a complete festering anal cyst.
The kind of bigotry that tries to teach an underclass that they deserve to be mistreated is the same kind of bigotry that fuels what hurts us. This bigotry is what lets our abusers get away with beating us; it lets the police overlook crimes against us and it allows us our peers to feel ok about discriminating against us. Our world isn’t innately hellish and our work is not, itself, bad for us. It is when we are thrown into a society in which people exist who think we deserve whatever we find in life because of our jobs that is bad for us and that forces us into a world where more suffering exists than really has to. My work is a great place to get lost in for a while, but the bigots can sometimes make it hell.
If you think that a person being there for you gives you special rights or that the fantasy involved with my work means you can cross boundaries, you’re wrong. That’s just you making excuses. Do you go to Disneyland and grope Cinderella, too? How about the Pirates of the Carribean? After all, they’re entertainers, giving you a fantasy! Obviously, you probably don’t (unless you really are a disrespectful schmuck). They’re people and you recognize that. If you think that way, the chances are your desire to alter the rules for people in strip clubs is not really because we’re entertainers and getting naked, it is because you want an excuse to misbehave because you know that if you don’t have that excuse then there’s something wrong with you.
Thus, if your excuse for society’s behavior–for people’s misbehavior in a strip club (or anywhere else they encounter a sex worker)–is that I’m a stripper or a camgirl or a phone sex actress, Fuck off, you festering anal cyst.*
3) “I don’t see the point of strip clubs!”
That’s nice, I don’t see the point of turtle races, but I don’t make it a point to tell everyone about it. I just don’t go. Clearly, turtle racing wasn’t meant for people like me just as strip clubs weren’t meant for people like you. It seems a little silly to make a big deal out of how pointless you seem to think it is, though.
4) “Strippers are expensive, ergo, they’re bad!”
Cars, houses, phones, utilities and food are expensive, too, and we still pay for them. In fact, most strippers have some of those things to pay for. We are here to entertain you, that’s our job. If stripping didn’t pay, we wouldn’t be here. I may have talent and I may have an ass that some people like to see, but I won’t do it for free for a bunch of random strangers when I need to spend the time on a way to pay my bills. Stripping is expensive work to do. A stripper is typically expected to pay a stage fee, plus tip the bouncer and the DJ (both of whom don’t get to work the floor and get tips-their income relies on us). We’re not bad or evil just because we ask you to pay for our services. We’re just doing our job. The men who are so grateful for what we do that they simply pay up are our favorite people, too. Afterall, it is nice to be appreciated for a job well done, don’t you think?
5) “You don’t deserve respect because you take off your clothes for money.”/”Get a “real” job.”
Firstly, stripping is not just about getting naked. It is a hell of a lot of work. Not only does a stripper have to always look damn good, but strippers spend the better part of an 8+ hour shift just dancing. How many people do you know of are able to do that? In reality, though, how I spend my energy in order to earn my money shouldn’t matter. If you have some hang up over nudity, that’s your problem, not mine. Taking off my clothes for money is a far better job than working as a clerk at Wal-Mart or mopping the floors at McDonald’s. My work as an erotic entertainer involves me being told, all day, that I’m beautiful, smart, funny and awesome. It is esteem-building. Does yours do that for you?
Stripping is a real job. Just because it involves elements that your work doesn’t or just because you disapprove of it doesn’t make it not a real job.
Typically, the person who looks down on people in the sex industry does so for one (or more) of four main reasons: Resentment, jealousy, social conditioning or offense. Pick one and work on it, examine it. Figure out what is threatening or scary about it and then make yourself better, because those feelings shouldn’t be blamed on another person, they are yours to own. Such judgements are unwanted, unnecessary and promote hatred.
*I really just wanted to call someone a “festering anal cyst.” Ad hominems are not valid arguments but for the type of person described, it is certainly an accurate description, don’t you think?
Note: The character depicted is Super-Dame, she is one of the main characters in C&C and the cape is a part of her uniform.
Originally posted 10-14-08
It has long been the case that women have been taught to be shy of their own genitals. A woman’s pussy has not always been considered her domain. A woman’s pussy has often been considered something that has belonged to others even to the point that basic care of one’s own genitals is left in the hands of others and sometimes even not given sufficient attention by the owner. Much like doing one’s own breast self-exams, getting familiar with your own vulva can help a woman learn more about her body and better know when things are happening that could indicate a problem. Thus, the time has come where doing a vaginal self-exam is no longer something that only vegetarian health-club hippies do, but is instead something that all women do. Thus, for all the women out there, get naked (well, below the waist, anyway), grab a small mirror (try for one with a long handle or one with a base that lets you adjust the angle), some lubricant (if you think you need it), a sanitary napkin or a medical grade latex (or non-latex) glove, feminine wipes and a flashlight. It is time for you to go where few men have gone bef … erm, scratch that, let’s go pussy spelunking!
(Note: Either do this right after you have bathed, or clean yourself up before you start. Trust me, you don’t want to be exploring yourself and then realize that you’re distracted by vagimusk when it could have easily been prevented by a wash cloth and soap. Don’t do this during menstruation and don’t do it after using any vaginal products. Some women use speculums for this, you can buy one, if you really want to.)
(To the men that have read thus far – please tell your wives, girlfriends, confidantes, … moms … about this.)
First and foremost, it is a good idea to get familiar with your own anatomy. Thus, I have constructed a map:
(DO NOT LOSE THIS! You might get lost!)
And, a more detailed map:
1. Mons Pubis
2. Clitoral Hood
4. Opening of the Urethra
5. vaginal opening
6. Labia Minora (Inner Labia)
7. Labia Majora (Outer Labia)
9. Pudendal cleft/fissure (cleft of Venus, kitty cleavage)
Remember: This is for you to use to monitor your health so that you might be able to spot problems early and so that you’ll be familiar with your body – this will not replace an exam by a doctor. Don’t think that if you do this you can skip your next pelvic exam! Do this and also go to all your check ups so that both you and your doctor are well aware of the healthy state of your most adventurous bits.
Wash your hands and find a comfy place (that is really well lit) where you can easily support your back and spread your legs open. (Some women do this while squatting with their back against the wall, but I don’t want a lawsuit because someone tipped over and hurt themselves or ended up with mirror shards in their crotch, so please do this while sitting.)
Bend your knees and spread your legs wide enough to have some working room. Put your feet close to your ass, it is difficult to do this and reach everything if you just have your legs wide and laying flat and straight (most people don’t even have sex or masturbate in that position and you’re trying to access the same parts, so give yourself some room).
The first thing you need to do is to check that the manufacturer sent you all your parts – or, at least, the parts you should be paying attention to at the moment. Please check the maps above and identify each part on the list. If you can angle the flashlight beam so that it reflects off the mirror and onto your vulva, that will help tremendously.
Now it is time to get dirty. You’re going to finger your pussy in a way entirely unlike what your sexual partners (including yourself) have in the past (unless you’ve done this before, you clever girl, you). Use two fingers to spread the outer labia first. If needed, move the inner labia away from the outer labia on one side and then the other to check the area between them. The first time you do this, you’re just getting used to what you look like. You’ve had this area your whole life and it really should be as familiar to you as possible. Next, spread the inner labia apart and try to have a look into the vagina. (Note: the vagina is only the vaginal opening, the part other than the urethra that actually goes into your body and occasionally serves as a baby teleporter. The vulva, which includes the area from the mons pubis to the perineum, is not the ‘vagina’.) In the vagina, look as closely as you can and notice the reddish-pink walls* with little ridges (just like R-r-r-r-ruffles, you have r-r-r-r-idges!). Those are called ‘rugae’ (unlike the musical genre, reggae) and according to many men, they feel good sometimes. Make sure that you don’t have any extra things growing down there. You don’t want little beasties, sores or bumps. If the area is red or irritated, if it itches or if it looks like you sat in a bowl of dry curd cottage cheese then check with your doctor**.
BEFORE you put your gloves on, reach down and touch some of your vaginal discharge and get a sense of what it feels like. Basically, it shouldn’t be lumpy. Some women may find this decidedly icky, but it is your health that you’re concerned with right now. Chances are, there are much grosser things in your mouth than in your pussy and if you’ve got good hygiene habits, you stick your fingers in your mouth every day. Also, you’re going to wash your hands right after this anyway, so you may as well get dirty with it and learn something new. Mentally note what the discharge felt like and then use your feminine wipes to clean your fingers and put on the glove (if you opted for that instead of the sanitary napkin) or just wipe a little discharge onto a feminine napkin. Once you’ve done so, check out what your pussy juices look like. Now, if you haven’t observed this already in the process of being a woman, your pussy juice (a.k.a. nectar, discharge, fish oil, etc.) tends to change some throughout the month. What is to be expected, though, is a musty-ish smell that can range from a vinegarish clover smell to a sweet, light ‘fishy’ smell. If it is stinky, you either need to clean yourself up more or you should check with your doctor. It may be clear or a little white-ish and can be thick or thin. Yes, that’s confusing, but if it is anything but the above, that’s an indicator that you may want to check with your doctor.
Time to feel around a little more. Relax your muscles as much as you can without releasing your bladder (another thing I don’t want is a slew of emails from people saying I was responsible for making them piss on the floor). This shouldn’t be uncomfortable, and being tense might make it so. Please relax. Soreness from something like this may also indicate a problem that you may want to check with your doctor about.
To get to know yourself a little more, put your fingers inside the vagina and feel around for bumps (there should be ridges, but not much more than that in the immediate opening of the vagina – use lube for this if you need to, but don’t wear the gloves, they might inhibit what you’re feeling with your fingertips).
If you’re all clear, then, yay! Put your panties back on, wash your hands and go about your day.
*Pregnant women may have a bluish tint that is noticeable if you’re using a speculum.
**Said curds are often an indicator of a yeast infection.
Originally written 08-25-08
José had a very smooth voice and a heavy Mexican accent. It was so thick, I frequently had to ask him to speak slower. He was very intelligent and articulate but English was his second language and that was sometimes a barrier in our frequent discussions. He was one of those clients that I would eventually consider a friend.
The first time I talked to José, he had called for the same reason any of my other clients call a phone sex line. He was horny and didn’t have a convenient sexual outlet. The introductory routine for that call went very much like any other. I told him my name was “Jamie” (my very first phone sex character, ever, one who I would both love and hate at the same time). Since José had called the ‘Busty Babes’ extension, my description of myself ended up being like the body of Pamela Anderson at the height of ‘Baywatch’ popularity, but black hair and the face of Drew Barrymore. My description was very detailed and included as many adjectives as I could possibly fit into it without losing the attention of my audience. After also describing my clothes and my interests, it was his turn to tell me about himself. The lead to that part of the conversation was automatic, I asked people the same question at least 32 times a day, “what do you look like?”
“Do you know, my sweet Jamie, what an Aztecan looks like?” His accent was amazing and I was a little startled by his question. Very few people know much about the Aztecs other than what media and pop culture has highlighted, even people who are descendants of the Aztecs who have only a few generations’ separation from the culture have a difficult time defining what it means to be Aztec. “I studied the Aztecs as a part of my minor in Mexican History,” I answered. I assumed that in this case, honesty was the best policy. I was, and still am, an anthropology and archeology geek and even if this guy had some odd fantasy about being Aztec, I felt my knowledge may benefit me in the long term. It did.
José would ultimately be caught off-guard by my knowledge of the Aztecs as much as I was by his. My conversations with him were always saturated with information and we became fast friends. If he ever masturbated to my voice, I will never know. After my description of my character’s body, nothing sexual was ever again mentioned unless it was in regard to Ancient Aztec rituals. We talked about Mexican History, Mexican politics, culture, socio-political issues and his beloved ancestry. Our conversations swung between anecdotes and academics in a comfortable, intelligent pattern that was always very pleasant.
José would come to love me as a friend and even though I worked for a company that had no set extensions and disliked girls accumulating regulars, Josè learned how to wade through the women on the line until they finally connected him to me. Even when other girls tried to pretend to be me, he would catch on to their antics quickly and continue his search. When men were picky about girls and bounced between lines to find the right one, we usually considered it a type of trolling. In this case, I didn’t care. I talked to him every other week for nearly a year.
José was my first client who loved me for my brain and my real personality. I mention him because I recently got an email from someone asking me about how my intelligence or nerdy behavior has affected my work in the industry. He wanted to know how my knowledge, which was clearly different than that of most of my peers, affected the work that I do. Alongside those requests for information, he asked how my work affected how I interacted with my friends in academia. I’m not sure I can give a clear image that would answer all of what he wants to know, but it inspired me to at least highlight things that have come up that could only happen to myself and my intelligent peers (I have several friends in this industry who have similar stories).
When it comes to sexual entertainment, very few men seek out something that is both erotic and intellectual. While I know of many nerds who mourn over the lack of nerdy porn, nerds are still not a dominant part of culture, much less a dominant part of the population of people seeking erotic entertainment. As a result, getting paid to be a sexy nerd is a tough business and there are a lot of performers who are able to fake being a nerd for just long enough to snag what clientele there is out there. While I have spent hours upon hours of my paid time as an erotic performer talking about linux, astrophysics, buckyballs, philosophy and socio-political issues, those conversations remain only a minor part of my work week. This is especially interesting when my networking as a performer leads to people getting a very good idea of what my personality is like and so my online peers constitute a majority of people who enjoy me for being a nerd and a minority who care about me for my work (and some people who appreciate me for all of it). I am the only person I know who has impressed scientists to the point of them probing to learn more about me and then promptly stopped talking to me the instant they found out about my work. I am also the only person I know who has been stopped in the middle of a lapdance because when they asked what I was into, I answered, “supernovas.” I guess that wasn’t what he was hoping for.
In the beginning of my walk into the world of phone sex (during the first week or two), my knowledge about human anatomy served as both a benefit and a curse. I didn’t know how to talk dirty and I had a natural tendency to be skeptical and as honest as possible. This was especially a problem when I encounterd people with SPFs. SPF, in the fetish world, stands for Small Penis Fetish. These are men who are aroused by the idea that their penis is small and (usually) undesireable. The introduction of these calls would often include a man saying that their penis was small and then telling me an approximate size. Wanting to give my clients consolation, and understanding that penis size is an average of 5.1-5.9 inches (rather than the commonly believed 6 inches), I was over-eager in giving them the right information. “Aw, don’t worry, your penis sounds pretty normal to me, and I like it,” was a sentence that got me hung up on several times before I understood the fetish. Alongside my troublesome honesty, I also had a tendency to want to fix people who appeared to have real problems. A cross-dresser afraid of being beaten up was often met with my peer-counseling training instead of with their desired fantasy of forced sex and more than one closet bisexual missed the opportunity to talk about sucking my boyfriend’s cock because I had the wrong impression and thought they just needed encouragement after they expressed that they felt alone. The phone sex world was not really the world that I thought it would be and I had to adjust quickly (which I did).
On the phone, you can often get a feel for when it is good to mention something non sexual or intelligent. Through just conversation with a client, one on one, you can learn very quickly about their interests and what level of communication you can get away with. Sure, mistakes are made, but not very frequently. I eventually would find that the same is not true of a camming job, where the conversations include multiple people in a (sometimes crowded) chat room. My very first camming job was extremely short-lived. I worked for that contract for less than a week, part time. I won’t name the company here, but it was a fairly large camming site and when I investigated how busy each chat room looked, it seemed like a good choice for a contract. I applied and was quickly accepted. I talked to my clients in my chat room using a combination of the skills I had learned from doing phone sex and the way I usually talk to people. I was more comfortable on cam than I was on the phone so I assumed this would never be a problem. Within two days, my clients and visitors caught on to the idea that I wasn’t just a pretty girl looking for a quick buck. I was different. I was so different, they wanted more than what they could get in a chat room. They wanted to read my blogs and my articles. The site I worked on only had two ways of communicating with clients, chat rooms and an on-site messaging system. Linking to anything outside the site was forbidden in the rules and would get you instantly banned. Thus, I had to take the request to the site owner. I explained what my clients wanted and asked him if there was any chance that the performers could have blogs or if I could link my clients to a blog that would also redirect people to my webcam. My requests were turned down, the owner told me, “This is a business and you are not paid to be smart.” I requested my paycheck and began looking for a new contract. The story didn’t end there, that particular website also had a policy of not sending out paychecks to anyone until they had earned at least $100 (many internet-based work contracts do that). I had earned $104 in only about 9 hours of logged-in time (for the starting of a contract, that’s actually very good). The next day, a deduction showed up on my transactions page for a refund of $5, the admins claimed that one of my clients wanted a refund, in exactly the amount it took to prevent me from getting a paycheck. Just like they said, I wasn’t paid to be smart.
My current work attracts far more intelligent and articulate clients than I have ever had before. I think this is because it is easier for guys seeking intelligence in their fantasies to find me and so I continue to simply wear my brain on my sleeve in order to make my job more pleasant (and educational). But how does my work affect how I interact with those I know in academia? Well, it varies. I have lots of very well educated friends with whom I share mutual admiration, but I also have encountered a fair number of intelligent and educated people who run from anything sexual at all. It is not uncommon for a peer to learn about my work and instantly mention (regardless of the context) that they have a wife or girlfriend and I recently had someone I really admire who is of scientific importance right now write to me and ask what I was about and who immediately shied away from me, apparently because of my association with the sex industry. Thus, the way my work affects my peers in academia varies and it is my guess (which I have only a little evidence for, admittedly) that this is more due to social and cultural reasons than anything else (thus, I hold no grudges against those who show bias as long as the bias is harmless).
As a final note: I would like my peers in the sex industry to use the comments section to share their stories that may be similar.