Rachel Kramer Bussel

"I have read and performed at hundreds of venues, all over the world— and in terms of sheer class,..."

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 15:48:44 -0500

“I have read and performed at hundreds of venues, all over the world— and in terms of sheer class, generosity, and author-happiness, the only producer who comes close to Rachel, is the British Film Institute. And they don’t have cupcakes.”

- This made tears come to my eyes. Best birthday present a girl could get, from none other than Susie Bright at Huffington Post.

May 16, 2010!

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 15:46:44 -0500

May 16, 2010!

Desiree’s tights and mine, photo by Stacie Joy at sex...

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:27:10 -0500

Desiree’s tights and mine, photo by Stacie Joy at sex blogger calendar party!

Does anybody have a stimulant?

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 16:59:06 -0500

My friend’s suggestion for a book title. I would totally read that. Sadly, I don’t have any, or I’d take them.

At last night’s sex blogger calendar party with my fellow...

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 16:44:44 -0500

At last night’s sex blogger calendar party with my fellow model Desiree. photo by Nick McGlynn of Random Night Out.

Cover of my June 2010 anthology Fast Girls (table of contents...

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 16:43:26 -0500

Cover of my June 2010 anthology Fast Girls (table of contents TBA).

Cover of my May 2010 anthology Please, Ma’am (table of...

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 16:37:46 -0500

Cover of my May 2010 anthology Please, Ma’am (table of contents TBA).

Yes, Sweet in Boston (and Harvard Square) went there AND are...

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:40:50 -0500

Yes, Sweet in Boston (and Harvard Square) went there AND are showing seasons 1 and 2 of Mad Men this weekend!

"I do not know what I am going to be a fan of. I do not know what you do. I added you because I am..."

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:36:23 -0500

“I do not know what I am going to be a fan of. I do not know what you do. I added you because I am most comfortable with dark haired girls with glasses, and light skin. A strange thing you might ask, but my neighbors growing up had your complexion and it really identified woman to me at a young age. Ahh me growing pains. Sorry if adding you seems creepy. We do not know each other. If you ever need a liquor sponsor let me know I am releasing my own liquor next month.”

- I had my awesome assistant Inara (if you need a virtual assistant, I SO recommend her) write to the backlog of strangers asking to be my friend on Facebook and telling them they can join my fan page. It’s weird how apologetic I feel about that but I actually value my friendships, however distant they may be, and I like seeing the people who actually are my friends on there. Not people I don’t know at all.

So this response came in. Now, I don’t care much about my fan page; I don’t think I’m gonna get a book contract or something based on my Facebook fans. It was more so I didn’t look like a giant bitch saying “No, I don’t know you and don’t want to be your Facebook friend.” But this response puzzles me - you don’t want to be my “fan” but you do want to be my “friend”? WTF? And this is why I farm that shit out.

I Enjoy Being a Girl Talker

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:33:00 -0500

Last night four of us piled into a cab - me, Twanna, and Abiola in back and my boyfriend in the front. I got to feel like all the people who give me shit about my bags are stupid last night when I had an extra pair of shoes to lend Twanna, because her feet were hurting (though her shoes were so hot I bent down and kisesd her foot).

Anyway, immediately we, of course, starting talking about boys. It’d be a little hard to recreate the conversation and I couldn’t exactly but it involved flirting, Facebook status updates, debating whether to visit one, an update on an old hookup and general girl talk. The cab ride was maybe 15 minutes but we said a LOT.

That is indeed one aspect of being a girl that I love: girl talk. It’s not that it’s always so gossipy; to me that can encompass really any kind of talking but with my closest friends, like Twanna, I know I can tell them anything, and I mean anything, and not only won’t they judge me, but we can actually talk. Dissect. Giggle. Reminesce. Get advice.

I’ve certainly been in relationships with men where we talked and have guy friends but it’s not the same by a long shot. When we got out of the cab, A was like, “Girls talk a lot. About everything.” And I was like, “Yeah, we do.” And we do. Last night I sent a text to a friend about someone she’d just met that said, “He has a giant penis FYI.” It just seemed like something she should know.

I can’t imagine my life without girl talk. That being said, I also value the things I don’t talk about as much as the things I do. It’s sometimes hard to explain the dynamics of a relationship to someone else who’s outside of the situation, and I realized this year that sometimes, the talking winds up taking precedence over the real thing. Or something (or rather, someone) becomes a story to trot out at parties…”OMG, this one time I hooked up with ____.” And I tried to rein myself in with that because while maybe it is a story and there’s on in particular that is so surreal I still don’t know what to make of it, there are real people who are my friends involved in those stories.

But I will always love those feverishly rushed whispery giggly juicy conversations. Sometimes they are about nothing more than a mood, a cute girl flirting at a party and what almost happened. They’re about the possibilities and I hope that even if I “settle down,” whatever that means, there are always possibilities. And girl friends to talk about them with.

“I Enjoy Being a Girl” - I was severely unimpressed...

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:21:22 -0500

“I Enjoy Being a Girl” - I was severely unimpressed with most of my Women’s Studies classes at UC Berkeley, but I do remember us watching this. Semi-related to next post.

3 days to be 33

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:18:26 -0500

The days before a birthday always feel so fraught. I have 3 more days to be 33 and I sometimes don’t even remember that I am 33. Or in my thirties. It sounds awkward and when someone asks my age I have trouble coughing that up. In large part because I am nowhere near close to all the things I thought I’d be at this age. I still make the same mistakes I’ve made for…ever, really. I have done a lot to work on myself this year but I have much more to go. I am excited for next week, happy to have new people in my life who get me, who have the perfect suggestions and don’t mind all my contradictions. I’m nervous because I have a big interview coming up and feel the pressure of asking the perfect questions, but I’m excited too, like this opportunity, and a few others, are little gifts from the editing powers that be or something.

But yeah, these 3 days feel like I have to try to somehow become more mature and I don’t even know what that means. Well, I do and I think part of me doesn’t want to face it. What’s coming up is damn fucking scary - 2 weeks of strangers in my home, thousands of dollars, and, well, losing the comfort of my mess in favor of something totally new. I can’t even go there yet because I first have to figure out my virginal protaogonist and make her more vivid, make her a real virgin rather than this random hodgepodge of a character I thought up years ago. So yeah, 3 days feels like this crazy amount of pressure to Change Myself. And figure out how to catch up on the last 2 momentous episodes of Mad Men.

To rope bondage or not to rope bondage?

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 10:10:40 -0500

Last night at the sex blogger calendar party, which I was unfortunately late to because of my reading but hopefully made up for that in mingling, I was impressed that rope master Monk knew who I was. And now I am debating going to the rope bondage class after my workout even though I should be writing because I’m sure my back pain, stress, everything will be eased not so much by the Adderall I’m coveting but by finishing my damn book and everything else hanging over my head. So we’ll see…if I get into a writing zone (highly unlikely) I will do that until it’s time to go see my favorite band that’s still around.

But I was thinking about it and realized I’ve never been tied up by rope, not like that. There was this one play party where I got tied up with p., but I remember that somehow my feet were getting tickled and I had specifically said I didn’t want my feet touched, I hate that, and it was not so fun. This could be fun and I’m sure would inspire some writing.

Oh, and the calendar? Stunning. Gorgeous. I am so honored to be in there with such gorgeous, glamorous, beautiful women. I was talking to Lisa Vandever from CineKink last night and that’s when it hit me that I’ve been part of that world for the bulk of my time in New York. Before I was an “erotica writer,” before I’d ever done anything kinky, when I was this nerdy law student trying to figure a lot of things out about herself. It was wonderful to walk around and see so many familiar (and unfamiliar) people and see burlesque and just enjoy the glamour. Photos soon.

Via Sex Blogger Calendar:

When we do things, we do them BIG.

And so, after meeting Monk at the Hartford GRUE and twisting his arm encouraging him to come to the Calendar Party, Diva and I thought it would be amazing if he could do a rope class on Saturday. And he thought so too. So without further ado, Diva and I welcome Twisted Monk back to NYC, to the calendar party and to teach 20 of you lucky kinksters some of his bad ass rope skills. He’ll even be bringing some special rope kits you can purchase for the occasion.

The class will cost $35 (plus an additional $60 if you’d like to purchase the special rope kit, complete with DVD and exotic rope – regular price is $80 – that he’ll be selling) and will be held November 7th at Fontana’s at 3PM to 4:30PM with an hour social and Q&A session upstairs at the bar after the class. Please help us support Fontana’s, which once again is allowing us to use their space for this event, by ordering yourselves a drink or two or three. It’s doubtful you’d be turned down if you offered to buy your hostesses drinks. You do know Diva’s superhero name is Diva DrinksAlot. Just in case, you all know my penchant for Patron Anejo and when was the last time Diva went anywhere and didn’t freaking twitpic a French Martini? There’s a rumor flying around that Monk enjoys a nice whiskey every so often.

Here’s the class description. Remember it’s limited to 20 on a first to reserve basis.

“Sensual Rope Bondage for the Not So Vanilla”

Rope, everybody is doing it.

So what is up with all this rope bondage stuff anyways? Seems like everywhere you look online these days folks are tying each other up and having sex. Maybe you have tried in the past, ya know silk ties to the bed posts perhaps, and now you want to know more?

Monk, founder of Twistedmonk.com the oldest and most trusted name in bondage rope, is hosting a once in a lifetime class on erotic rope bondage. More than your run of the mill “rope 101” class with a bunch of frustrating knots you will never remember, this class is all about providing you with the building blocks as well as how to “think” in rope to expand your play options and confidently bring rope bondage into your bedroom.

Topics Include:

Why Rope? Or “So, do you get a lot of chicks with this rope bondage thing?”

Resources

Rope Safety

Single and double column ties and variations

Chest Harnesses with variations

Boy and girl ‘bits” bondage

Incorporating Rope into your play

If you are just starting to explore bondage or perhaps just very curious, this small hands on class is for you.

Class size is limited to only 20. In addition to the class, Monk has a special rope kit for sale. Please go to http://www.twistedmonk.com/rsvp.htm to pre-register and reserve your kit. Supplies are limited.

(cross-posted from Urban Gypsy)

War Paint

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 18:28:06 -0500

Let me preface this by saying that I have so much admiration for the personal bloggers and memoirists that I read, the bloggers, like Stephanie Klein or Heather Corinna, in particular, because they are not looking at events from some happy distance (or unhappy distance). They are in the middle of it, processing it live, in real time. I aspire to that. I wish I could do that. I have obviously learned that I can’t. I’m not only not good at it, I don’t really know how and it seems so precarious, so easy to hurt people without meaning to. I obviously don’t have the guts they have because I hide here where I don’t think many people are reading, where I don’t think my family is reading, though of course they could be. I’m not proud of that, but I do what I can and I don’t necessarily have the need to be posting all the time, but sometimes, I do, and the fearless personal bloggers give me inspiration.

So I meant to write about this when I got up Wednesday, but that is like everything with me lately. I meant to, and didn’t. Of course I don’t really remember everything I wanted to say and it’s faded into mostly insignificance but I will try to capture it, because as I walked to the train I just kept thinking about how I was so nervous and everything went fine.

I have been wearing new makeup and am so used to rushing off that I forgot it would take a few minutes to actually apply it. I’d told my friend J. I’d meet her at this party and felt badly about being late, but also like I needed the makeup. “War paint” I wrote on the train in my journal. I just wanted to make sure I looked good because that at least would be one thing I could hold onto if I started to lose it.

The first thing someone said to me when I walked in (well, aside from, “You can’t leave your bags here, but you can check them”) was, “Do you need a drink?” And to be honest, I did. If at any time I needed a drink, it was then, but I declined. I didn’t realize how nervous I would be, but I was.

And then later, I was still nervous, but I was okay. Not just okay – I had a really good time. I almost forgot that I was “supposed” to be nervous and realized that maybe I’m not. Maybe that’s a cliché and some silly sitcom idea of what I’m supposed to feel. Granted, there were moments I felt like I was in a sitcom, and I realized on my way home, browsing glamorous photo magazines with my friend who I hadn’t seen in a long time, that my choices don’t just affect me, and aren’t all about two, or three, or four people, but a lot of other people. Not as profoundly, of course, but as we walked I almost felt this need to unburden myself and then stopped short and realized how unfair that would be and what I would be asking of her. And that tripped me up a little, but not too much.

I was impressed with myself that I was able, for a little while at least, to let that night’s massive fears go and actually learn something. I was able to be quiet and close my eyes, which is how I listen best, but not always suited for public venues because you look like you’re sleeping. And I totally wanted a drink. I thought about it a few times but instead stuffed my face with hummus and goat cheese (though I ate it pretty daintily with a fork).

I really felt when I was slathering on this new Urban Decay primer and then eye shadow and then glitter eyeliner and mascara and foundation (which I rarely wear but my face was bright red) that I needed some kind of mask, I needed something to make myself feel beautiful. That sounds so shallow and petty, and perhaps it is, but it worked. I went to two events and I felt like I sparkled. I felt at peace and somewhere along the way I realized that I wasn’t dressing up for anyone else, or at least, not primarily. That it was for me and that I was entitled to that. I’m wearing the same outfit, with different tights, tonight to the calendar party, and just hope I can be sparkly and happy and bubbly again. So I have no idea what point I wanted to make on Wednesday, or today, but I just know that as I walked to the train and ogled SoHo windows and collapsed into bed, I felt like I had done something I was a little afraid of. It wasn’t something I’d be dying to do again and I stepped back from it when it would have been too much for me but it was not what I had thought it would be and I was glad I found that out, because I almost didn’t bother.

Last night, after my vodka lemonade, I was all, “I loooove...

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 17:42:45 -0500

Last night, after my vodka lemonade, I was all, “I loooove french fries.” (Even though I didn’t have any last night.) I was thinking and even said out loud, “I want to start a blog, Fuck Yeah French Fries.” Lo and behold, it already exists. Food porn indeed.

fuckyeahfrenchfries:

ffoodd:

gluttonyisabliss:

(via Tom Spaulding)

Garlic Fries

Naked "Touch"

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 14:21:03 -0500

So often I forget about stories I’ve written, perhaps deliberately, to make room for new ones and, well, some of those true ones are a little too close or painful or nostalgic to want to recall. But since I’m editing my own anthology Naked (title may change) for Cleis Press and just saw this post about an Amazon review praising my story “Touch,” I thought I’d share a snippet of this ooooold story.

J. Kelley from Macon, Georgia wrote on Amazon:

I read Rachel Kramer Bussel’s piece ‘Touch’ first. It’s the story of two female lovers and the appreciation for the heat between them. Only way I can describe it: the honesty of every sentence just stunned me. I recommend the book just because this story is sultry, thought-provoking, wise and romantic. And because I can’t adequately describe how good this story is - you just have to read it.

And yes, I am channeling Tristan Taormino’s “Caution: Sharp Object” here - “The boys on tv” are from a segment I’ve taped and long since forgotten the details of and because I’m Miss Disorganized am not even sure I have a clip of, but whatever. Part of why I don’t have files and clippings and scrapbooks like a good media whore is that I’m so much more focused on the future than the past. Anyway, part of “Touch” from Alison Tyler’s anthology Naked Erotica. I’m trying to get many of my older stories posted in the writing samples section of my site - that’s a goal over the next few months. I didn’t really think anyone was reading them so didn’t update for years and now there are enough stories that I think are decent that I feel okay about adding some. Once upon a time I bought a voice recorder and thought I’d do podcasts; I’d still theoretically love to do that or vlogging, but who knows? When I have all that mythical free time, perhaps.

The boys on tv ask me how they should touch a woman, seeking some magic formula that will make them the perfect lovers, bring their girlfriends to surefire orgasms, but the truth is I have no idea. When I’m with her I’m no longer any kind of expert, I barely even know my name except when she says it, all deep and throaty and needy. Most of the time I don’t know what I’m doing, don’t know where I’m touching her, don’t have a technical name for it or a recalled memory of reading or writing about this. I couldn’t, because I’ve never felt or done anything like this before. With her, I’m not a sexpert but a sorcerer, a magician feeling my way along, teasing, testing, probing, hoping.

Every time I touch her, I do so by instinct, and if I were to stop and think about it I’d be wracked by insecurity, yet with her it all makes perfect sense. She used to say to me, in that breathy, high-on-sex kind of way, “you know exactly how to touch me,” and I thought it wasn’t true, or an exaggeration. I didn’t feel like I knew; it was maybe a happy accident, but maybe my body knew before I did, instinctively. At first I wasn’t sure what to do with her, what to do with this sensual, beautiful woman with the body of a girl, all slim and thin and seemingly fragile. I didn’t know that I could put as many fingers as I want inside of her, and she’d eagerly claim them, didn’t know that instead of being fragile she is infinitely strong; in fact, it’s a challenge to break her, to make her shake and shiver and moan, to give up some of that strength to me. I didn’t know that sliding my fingers inside of her, something as seemingly simple as that, could bring tears to my eyes, could make me want to stay there forever. I didn’t know that being the one doing the fucking could bring me to the same heights as being the one getting fucked, could make me feel so free and high and happy.

A snapshot: She is lying across the queen size bed, her head hanging off the side of it, spread out before me like the most delicious buffet. I have been away for a weekend that feels like much longer, and I look at her and it’s almost like I’ve never seen her before. I am nervous and ravenous at the same time, and watching my fingers move over and around her hot pink lips, I shiver, unsure whether to try to control myself or to let myself go. As I slide my fingers into her, first one and then two, and then more, until I have most of one hand pressed deeply inside of her, I marvel at the way she feels. I am touching skin and heat and pressing up against bones and flesh and she asks me what I’m doing to her, and I kiss her instead because I don’t have an answer for her. She is more mysterious than any boy will ever be, holding so many more secrets inside of her, ones I live to unearth.

Free 24-karat gold vibrator November 19th at In The Flesh Reading Series

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 12:35:07 -0500

Yes, it’s true, in addition to tons of other prizes and 10 fabulous readers, we are giving away a $325-value 24-karat gold Little Gold vibrator at the 4-year anniversary party/reading at In The Flesh Reading Series on November 19th courtesy of JimmyJane! One lucky winner will get to take this valuable sex toy home. Here’s the stats on it:

LITTLE GOLD
Waterproof, Silent, Everlasting Vibrator

Sleek, silent and waterproof, this 24k gold vibrator is decadence distilled. Take it in the pool, chill it in the fridge - or ride your bike in the rain with one in the basket.

Details

* The vibrator’s frequency is tuned to provide a deep, resonant sensation.
* Our vibrators all feature our exclusive, patented replaceable motor system.
* Our vibrators are 5.25” long, and 0.67” in diameter.
* All materials are medical quality, body safe and dishwasher safe.
* Three Year Limited Warranty.

It’s also a great chance to get a 2010 NYC Sex Blogger Calendar and get it signed by Rachel, Tess Danesi, Desiree, Abiola Abrams and possibly other lurking models.

And don’t forget the 300 FREE cupcakes from Baked by Melissa!

IN THE FLESH EROTIC READING SERIES
4-YEAR ANNIVERSARY, SPANKING STORIES, SEX BLOGGER CALENDAR & MORE!
November 19th at 7:30 PM (doors at 7; note early start time)
AT HAPPY ENDING LOUNGE, 302 BROOME STREET, NYC
(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey or F/V to 2nd Avenue, http://www.happyendinglounge.com)
Between Forsyth & Eldridge. Look for the hot pink awning that says “XIE HE Health Club.”
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676
http://www.inthefleshreadingseries.com

We’re celebrating 4 years of sexy smut with a party and reading galore! Bringing back memoirists Lily Burana (I Love a Man in Uniform, Strip City) and Isobella Jade (Model Life, Almost 5’4”), Erica Kennedy (Feminista, Bling), Abiola Abrams (BET, author of Dare), Jennifer Peters (Penthouse Forum), Desiree (contributor, The Mile High Club) along with Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories contributors Tess Danesi and Rosalind Christine Lloyd. You will also hear from the organizers of the 2010 NYC Sex Blogger Calendar, which Tess and host Rachel Kramer Bussel (Peep Show, Spanked, Bottoms Up) posed for! Copies of authors’ books and the calendar will be for sale. 300 free cupcakes from Baked by Melissa will be served. Prize giveaways include: 24-karat gold vibrator Little Gold ($325 value) from JimmyJane, paddle and slapper from Extreme Restraints, $100 Babeland gift card from Beyond the Birds and the Bees, 2 copies of the 2010 Sex Blogger Calendar (featuring Tess, Rachel, Abiola and others), Abiola Abrams’ novel Dare, XXX porn film Afrodite Superstar and hot word game SexySlang.

Matt and Maddy in India

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 12:03:15 -0500

Matt and Maddy in India:

Single dad Matt Logelin (read his story on the site) has taken 1,400 photos of his trip to India with his daughter Madeline. They’re stunning. Here’s a blog post with one that is adorable, where he writes “maddy still goes crazy when she sees a cow or a monkey.” I can only hope that by the time I have kids I know how to work a camera like this…and have as cute a kid(s) as Maddy. I like that he puts his camera info up as a separate section. Of course…not only don’t I know anything about photography, about a month ago I bought a new digital camera to replace the one that’s in the lost far reaches of my apartment, and still haven’t used it. Maybe tonight.

Whenever I drink, it almost always means I’m having a moment of...

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 11:30:00 -0500

Whenever I drink, it almost always means I’m having a moment of social awkwardness, and last night was no exception. I felt kindof guilty for ditching my boyfriend, wasn’t sure who I’d know at the party we were going to, was with people I didn’t know. It’s been a kindof trying week and I have so much work to do and it felt good to sortof let all that go. The problem is…I excel at ignoring work/problems/life. I’m so good at it that I have a trail of dead projects, books that should’ve been and never materialized (and essays and stories) all because I was too lazy/scared/fucked up to follow through. So I’m trying not to do that. I think it comes out in other ways—sex, drinking, shopping can all be that same vice/crutch. For me, certainly, they are all ways I can focus on something other than my life. And who doesn’t appreciate a little escapism? But I try and out of those, I drink the least, it’s very rare that I actually go from fantasizing about having a drink to having one.

This week has been challenging, to say the least. It seems to have flown by in a way, but also not. I feel like I barely accomplished anything, and have just had a lot to think about, not all of which I want to think about, because it’s too confusing to make sense of and I think sometimes when you go “off script” in your own life, it’s hard to get back on track and figure out where you’re supposed to be and what you’re supposed to be doing. Too often in the past few months I’ve felt like I’ve been looking at myself from afar, watching passively and letting someone else make decisions for me because I don’t necessarily want to own up to those decisions. Not because they’re wrong per se, but they are just not who I thought I would be at this stage of my life.

I have a ton of ideas for writing but of late haven’t really implemented them, save for a few stray sentences flung across a Word document here and there, which is frustrating, to say the least. I finished one story, but can’t submit it until I finish another one, and I want to go to ABC Carpet and research it…stuff like that. My mind spins in endless circles until I have to leave and go to some event somewhere rather than be at one with my computer. I did finally turn in my anthology Please, Ma’am, and have been doing well at the gym with my training. I need to start going more, but I’m proud of myself for making and keeping those appointments and trying to give it my all while I’m there. We usually do half hour sessions but have been incorporating some hourlong ones and it’s good to get my ass kicked like that, to keep going when I don’t think I can. I need to be that way about my writing because as soon as I finish the novel I can move on to other, more fun, projects. But we’ll see. I’m very glad the weekend is almost here. And I don’t really plan to drink more, maybe on my birthday. I’m not exactly excited about turning 34 though I did figure out where to go for the perfect ropa vieja pizza and good company.

Last night, like perhaps the best NYC nights, wasn’t what...

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 11:01:00 -0500

Last night, like perhaps the best NYC nights, wasn’t what I thought it would be. I was supposed to have a date with my boyfriend. We tossed around various ideas, and were planning to see Tracy Bonham, but then got free tickets to this show You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up. I of course get all mixed up in Tribeca, and had put on my crazy tall heels which I realized weren’t going to get me over a footbridge. I finally got there. Best moment: my publicist Joanna sticks her hand out and is like, “Hi, nice to meet you” to him…and we were all at her party last week.

So we go in and see various comedy types I know. The show had its moments, but imo, the whole “husband wants sex, wife doesn’t” is just a little overdone, and by “a little” I mean it’s the biggest fucking cliche ever. We ate a fabulous meal (I tasted someone else’s fried mac and cheese!) and I wound up having a drink (vodka lemonade with grenadine) and then was of course wasted, or wasted for me. Anyway, tipsy, we wended our way to Seth Herzog’s birthday party, where my old-school blogger friend John Carney was chatting with my friend Hitha. I figured they were bonding over conservative politics, but it was kindof a bizarre sight. My big takeaway of the night is that the reason I’ve lived here 13+ years and never see celebrities is because I can barely recognize them when we’re in the same room. Seriously, I maybe glimpsed Ed Norton or Zooey Deschanel and wasn’t really that impressed because Joanna had just told me she went on vacation with people in Velocity Girl and was in an early version of Tuscadero and continued to wow me. I was also a little starstruck by Elna Baker, author of The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance, “a coming of age story about Elna Baker’s experience as a practicing Mormon in New York City,” which I haven’t read yet but want to. I debated for like 20 minutes whether to say something, because I’d just admired her book trailer, and finally tried to say hello but failed miserably. I realized that writers and music people tend to impress me way more than random actors. Not to say that I wouldn’t have been all fangirl in other circumstances. I finally wound up going home alone, which also hadn’t really been in the cards, but we are having a makeup date tonight after the calendar party.

And now I can’t stop listening to Velocity Girl. Concert footage of my favorite song, “Drug Girls.”