Thai Lady Girl Sanctuary

For the two or three of you who haven't heard me gleefully pant out "Thailand on Fridaaaaaay, Thailand on Fridaaaaaay", hear me now: I'm going to Thailand on Friday and I won't be back here for two whole weeks.

So, if any of you know Oksana, Mata or Coco personally, please harass them into posting while I'm gone — lazy-assed bitches. (And comments DO NOT count as posts... Oksana, I'm talking to you.)

What? Still lazy?

Fine. Then heed this second warning Ghetto Girls: if you don't post, I'm giving the boys over at ghetto pimp summer your access codes for the expressed purpose of posting outrageously embarassing shyte under your names.

So now that I got that little bit o' housework out of the way, I'm going to dream about my happy place.

Thailand. Ahhhh. This'll be my first time off this rock, aka North America, and I'm feeling a little too mature (hah) for the full-moon party scene.

My happy place now figures me on a remote beach, lying in a hammock, reading a good book, and sipping some girlie tropical drink in a coconut husk, accessorized with pastelle parasols and speared fruit wedges fashioned into replicas of thai boats. (A cabana boy waving a palm frond over me would be a bonus.)

Check out this Thai getaway Mr. 3 recommended I visit: The Sanctuary


Ahhh. Don't you just love the full-cheeze of that name? Sanctuary. I am picturing Michael York as my island greeter, fists waving in the air, upper lip sweating, Logan's Run cauterwauling: "Sanctuuuuaaaaaarrrrryyyyy".

Okay this picture has inspired me to get all romance travel novel on your ass...

I will spot Mr. York off in the distance — acting all extreme-actor-like — drop my backpack on the sandy beach, and run toward him arms akimbo (preferably wearing some sort of a sci-fi smock/sarong hybrid).

As I run to him over the sandy beach (in slow motion and panting breast, of course) ignoring the shells slicing my feet, he will drop out of his yoga pose, anticipating our embrace (see the picture? see the love that could be mine?). I will then fall into his arms and say, "Look Logan 5: There IS Sanctuary and we are soaking in it."

Gay-O-Meter

How gay are you?

I came out 63% gay... I figure it's because:

1. I have been in a street fight — with a boy (I was losing up until I realized words hurt, so I took him down with my steely wit).
2. I DO know how to change oil in a car, jack a flat tire, use jumper cables, and drive a stick shift,
3. And if I didn't, I wouldn't admit it.
4. Plus, I'm cool with lesbian porn.
5. Yes, I think my BGFs are hot babes . . . because they are. I dare any of you to argue me otherwise (see #1 before you think about taking on the dare).

So I'm a happy and well-adjusted het with lesbian tendencies. Not surprising, but rather droll. What I really want to be is a warrior princess.

A more appropriate quiz — suited to my gay tastes — would be titled "Fag, Fruit Fly or Queen?"

Take the gay-o-meter quiz yourself. Let me know how you score.

Go scan violets you chrome

Chic or schtick, I simply can't think of a smarter (packs light) or cooler (retro design) gift from NYC. Leave it to Valentine to find a candy for Violet, accented with pseudo-chrome. I wonder if I could morph "Choward's" into "Chrome"?

If this shitty-looking box office bomb wasn't coming out, I would have styled myself a retro-superhero, named Violet Chrome. And this would be my ride:


Except that it would have wings, nuclear-turbo engines and maybe a honkin' "Violet" logo on the side (because superheros are never faulted for having a healthy narcissistic streak).

Now, what would my super power be?

Right - I should look on the web for a super quiz. (Oh, lorde? Is that my superpower? Lightening-fast Google fact concatenation? Finds information on anybody and anything anywhere in milliseconds?) Fine. I give. My superhero costume now includes thick, black-rimmed glasses. And my superpower is sucking information out of things — a mind-reader, web-weaver of sorts.

So, I've accepted that Violet Chrome, the superhero, wears nerd-chic super glasses, but my outfit will be way cooler. It will look like one of those square metallic security tags (RFIDs) you find in books, except the copper elements will be a metallic Violet. I'll pull those elements off my suit to jack into systems.

And the dark side is always tempting me to join their side with cooler technology that will let me jack in harder and faster (yes, I will pant heavily whenever the bad guys tie me up and torture me).

There has to be a quiz out there somewhere that will help me discover my innner super power. I'm going to call on my Google powers...now. SHAZZAM!: what's your superpower? and KACHAW!: what would your superpower be? See how fast I am?

Dangit. My superpower is "Super Strength" - like He-Man - and my superpower would be "Animal Wrangler". Great. I can move mountains and talk to the animals. Why do I always end up looking like a hippie? I think I'll cultivate my own uban superhero personna.

So, Valentine? What's your superhero?

GB Road Pops

"Ghetto bitch" must be a marketable psychographic (there goes my ICRS )... because Coppola has developed a drink that seems to strategically target us. That's right, I'm totally willing to sell-out to:

Sofia Mini Blanc de Blancs sparkling wine

Sparkling wine ? Fabulous.
In a can? Oh yes - road pops.
Drinking it through a straw? Mmm hmm - It's kitschy, like juice boxes for adults.
Sophia as our patron saint of class-trash? Hells yah, we love her films.
Hot Pink? Of course.

... I'm so sorry Ms. Klein. Most of my life is no logo (minus the Mac 'n' Sony). Going local is the plan - I try not to buy Starbucks, I don't eat McDonalds - but I can't stop myself from fetishizing this brand. I am simply too weak-in-the-knees to fight this brand's power.

Masturbation is the new politic

>>WARNING: ALL THESE LINKS LEAD TO SEX-RELATED SITES. IF YOU CLICK THEM, YOU WILL BE WITNESS TO DILDOS, REFERENCES TO SEX - THE ACT AND THE TOYS - AS WELL AS SOME TRULY BAD PUNNING.

Seems that masturbation is the new online politic, which is a relatively pro-active and pleasurable politic. It's great for those of you who hate protesting in large groups.

Comon' kids it's so easy and it's still hands-on, but you don't have to quest for a partner ("make love not war"). Hell, you don't even have to get out of bed. It's your own private politic: Masturbate for Peace.

If you're more Dionysian, then Dildo Art may charm you (but isn't Salvadore Dali's art already filled with fantabulously floppy phalluses?) Or, you can run away and join the cant circus.

Looking to learn the facts? Find yourself a sex tutor. Or read over the top 5 cunning linguist tips, as well as tips from men and women.

Back in Black

Dang. Dang. Dang. Gotta dye the mop top back to black for a job interview. When it comes down to brunette vs. blonde ambition, brunette wins.

Ghetto Spheres

Being a sworn ghetto bitch, I may never own a home, but, dammit, I swear that I will own one of these fairy-land tree houses created by the Vancouver Island company, Free Island Spheres.

(Hmm. I wonder what sex would be like in one of these? Rather swinging I bet.) Check out its plush interior :

Glossolalia

UbuWeb is an indie resource dedicated to all strains of the avant-garde, ethnopoetics, and outsider arts: www.ubu.com.

I can nerd out on this site for hours - Samuel Beckett, Gertrude Stein, Lacan... see you in a few weeks.

I'm digging the ethnopoetic section. Nice to see a little hommage to 'ole Gertie. I've been a fan of her for years. Her punctuation-less rumination on writing is amazing.

Wondering what the image is all about? Well, it's a Shaker drawing. They documented their "visions" in this manner. I like pictographs - sometimes our alphabet limits, expecially when you're trying to capture something as ephemeral as a "vision".

Shakers, I'm just finding out, are a fascinating offshoot of the Quaker movement. But unlike the Oat Heads, Shakers aren't about marriage and kids, and their rituals consist of trembling, shouting, dancing, shaking, singing, and glossolalia (this is one of my favourite words along with word salad.) And they invented all these nifty items: the screw propeller, Babbitt metal, the circular saw, the clothespin, the flat broom and the wheel-driven washing machine. What a great Christian cult.

White Pump Music

Ah, the always brilliant and witty Sister Slush provided me with this comprehensive music review stylesheet... It's a biting and too true reveal.

The last recommendation might be difficult to implement though - I don't own white pumps, and my hair's too short to tease.

rebopper© mindwash

Does anyone else think it's tacky that Reebok - er, make that "RBK" - created a limited edition run of Basquiat-inspired running shoes, sold exclusively at the MOCA? (Apparently not on the web.)

I mean, Basquiat was rather, um, dis/interested in copyright. And now? Should his art live on in a $$$ corporate sneaker?!? It just doesn't feel right.

Behold: here are some of Basquiat's tags. I think they point to why I'm feeling a bit queasy about RBK's Rebopper campaign:

SAMO© as an alternative to mindwash.
SAMO© as a neo art form.
SAMO© as an end to to mindwash religion, nowhere politics and bogus philosophy.
SAMO© as an escape clause.
SAMO© as an end to playing art.
SAMO© as an end to bogus pseudo intellectual. My mouth, therefore an error. Plush safe.. he think.
SAMO© as an alternative 2 playing art with the 'radical chic' sect on Daddy's $ funds.
SAMO© saves idiots.

Who makes the cash? His family? Meh. I doubt it.

SAMO©, would not approve of such a copy-rip-off. Then again, maybe he would be cool with it, as I'm guessing that it's going to be a bevvy of daddy's little boys who will be $uckered by RBK© and MOCA© (then again, SAMO© is supposed to save idiots). But in any case, if SAMO© isn't the one getting paid, I just don't think this campaign is all that cool.

Advice from Sister Slush

Sister Slushpile: what was your recipe for writing music again?

You know - something about being mean, ironic and bitchy. It cracked me up... and I need to use it.

• Fully marketable rock star image generator
• Learn how to play a "lock and loll" rhythm...

Smartest Blonde Ever

Ah, I think this may be the smartest blonde joke ever...

The REALLY Ugly Side of Beauty

Now here's a little wakeup call for all us Ghetto Bitches. Try running the cosmetic products you use through this excellent online database created by the Environmental Working Group.

As we know but often forget, the cosmetic industry and cosmetic ingredients are all but unregulated in North America; most of the products we use (even those of us who try to be all-organic, as of course us byatches do) often contain things like acrylamide, (found in foundations and lotions, it is strongly linked to mammary tumours) and dibutyl phthalate, an industrial chemical known to damage the liver, kidney and reproductive systems, disrupt hormonal processes and increase breast cancer risk. Not to mention, feminise boys.

My favourite nail polish brand, OPI, for example, is labelled Higher Risk. Its ingredients scored as the following: cancer hazard, reproductive/developmental toxicity, unsafe for use in cosmetics, illegal ingredients (EU only--unregulated in the good ol' US of A), potential for harmful impurities, ingredient(s) not disclosed on label, estrogenic chemicals and other endocrine disruptors, irritants - eye, skin, or lungs, persistent/bioaccumulative, immune system toxicants (allergies, sensitization), classified as toxic, no safety information in 37 regulatory/toxicity data sources.

Of it's 61 ingredients, 28 "raise health concerns" and 5 carry "violations, restrictions or warnings."

Nice.

I think I'm going to spend a wee bit of time on this site getting informed. Then sending my "beauty" products out for incineration.

The Modern Girl's Fairy Godmother

I have always had a thing for Cinderella and her brand of girl (be she Pretty Woman or Bridget Jones). It is a sad commentary on my life and speaks volumes if you know my particular story. Recently this particular fable has once again taken hold of my sub-conscious.

I have figured out that Cinderella's fairy godmother is alive and producing results for many a modern girl...and her name is Botox.

You look fabulous for the ball, she affords you confidence and opportunities that may not have been available to you in your work-a-day, hum-drum guise but late in the evening the clock's ticking begins to sound loudly in your ears. You are still the same sweet loveliness underneath but at midnight (or in 4-6 months in the case of Botox) the spell will be revoked and all the wages of all your sins will be returned promptly to your face like the pumpkin it is. Only this time there is no glass slipper with which to identify you.

Perhaps the moral of the story for the modern girl is that you are responsible for making your own glass slipper...

Or perhaps you just keep begging that syringe-touting bitch of a fairy godmother for just one more hit of that sweet sweet spell...

The Source Bitch

I would need the limbs of Kali to count the individual digits comprising the tumid phalange of talent enrapting me in kultcher, so I'm going to take the "girl crush" angle to narrow down my hommage to the creative and interesting beings surrounding me.

But first, I'm going off topic to rant about Kali - I've just realized she's GBs god mother, and I have decided that girl crushes are rivulets of her being. Because...

Kali's a classic ghetto bitch.

And according to Wikipedia, she just may be THE source bitch - our archaic mother out of whose primordial trailer park we all slithered.

Born of the killer of daemons, aka momma Durga, daughter Kali is considered a creature of indiscriminate violence and wrath with complex Tantric beliefs. (Hot!) She's also the consort of Shiva, who's the destroyer, the auspicious one, and the nature of bliss. These are some hot ghetto bitch momma gal pals, Kali playing the black female to Shiva's white. It is a balance in one through two who consort.

Such dichotomous beings, these portieres be. Yes, they are window dressings framing a symbolic view of the act of containing, maintaining, and navigatiing oppositions within our selves. This is a healthier perception of being, and more realistic. (I guess I'm comparing this to the Western pantheon of gods, divided trinities, and Hollywood's " good, bad and ugly" paradigms.) How many people are truly one-sided? And of the small group of people who are one-sided, how many do you perceive as healthy and whole beings? Not many, me thinks.

Throughout all histories - East, West, North, South, and ET - embodying a "life and death" construction in one singular being is considered trigger-finger dangerous - and one to be watched, controlled, killed, or interestingly, revered as a god. Mortals who are allowed to posses this power never act alone. They are always perceived as conduits of a greater power - they are priests, madwomen, and the possessed. And these vessels are always State stamped.

Girl crushes: all girls have them in various shapes, forms and aspects. We are all conduits, containers, dichotomous beings. So why wouldn't we see aspects of our selves and not-selves in other beings? We all need to sit with Shivas to sit with ourselves.

Now, I'm not really thinking sex when I talk girl crush (I know, I know - it all distills down to that in the end). But look: dykes and urbandictionary.com define girl crushes as "non sexual" too, so I'm validated by heteros and homos.

Girl crushes are telling. They point to the black and whites of a girl's personality, the obvious and the sublimated. They hint at her self-imagining and her actions - kinetic and potential. They draw out what is hidden, what destroys, and what she can't admit to wanting. Beautiful, sophisticated, charming or accomplished - it is what we want deep down inside of ourselves that we externalize in our girl crushes. Boys, you should take note of your girl's crushes.

So, I am going to bash off a list without thinking in the hopes that I can "read" it like tea leaves... and pay hommage to some fierce ladies while I ponder my self. Feel free to make your list of "crushes" in the comment area.

Hadley Howes - mind spews art in decorative form
Kathleen Ritter - her base of data slays me
Bloggaphile - one smart cookie
Doppleganger of 50 Books - never minces words
Slushpile - always minces words; a beautiful pastiche
Pat Cadigan - The Queen of Cyberpunk
The girls of Go Fug Yourself - wordsmiths and bitches,
par excellence
Bazima - serves tasty internet milkshakes
Dee - raiki sandwiches and road trip meeting minutes
CocoRosie - um, hot, talented and unwaveringly alternative
Elaine Scarry - one of my absolute favourite thinkers
Angelica Huston - does Hollywood on her own terms
Diane Arbus - a rare photographer of the uncomfortably human
Katherine Dunn - one of my favourite writers: I make all my boyfriends read Geek Love

Breaking news: Oksana toxed on last mission

Where are my partners in crime, I ask? Oksana is down for the night, as she was toxed on her last social mission (word to the wise: never kiss the piggy bank).

Coco? wonder what happened to her? Rumour has it she's currently "becoming single". I respond with a chortle-ific "mwahaha." Coco, I anxiously await you and your Poppins purse o' plenty on the other side of life, though I don't know if I have any sage words for the already wise.

If you must know, it's weird being here at this age. It's an interstitial position in a world of twos. Coco - you will be watched by squinty and perplexed eyes. You will be perceived as a subverter of the known order of things (I know, you already were... welcome back); a pandora's box, lid slightly ajar. Gasp. The horror.

I wonder if we can make the "other side of life" Montreal? It's oh so fabulous and French there, though I was rather disappointed to hear about the height restriction in Montreal. The munkin garcons I did see were incredibly hot and well dressed, but they were oh so wee. Why is that?

Mata?

Rufus the rock muppet

It's muppets for rockstars and kids. It's Pancake Mountain!

Rufus the sock muppet talks to Henry Rollins, George Clinton, Thievery Corporation, Arcarde Fire, Juliette Lewis and more...

This show is sketchy, cheap and satisfying like a chicken burrito after a long night of drinking.

Suicide Orange

OMG — like, you go blonde, and then you totally forget to post. Sorry about the wee lapse, I guess the peroxide went to my head.

I must say, I'm feeling rather Madonna, circa "papa don't preach" and Sean Penn (remember? they were married). I don't mind this comparison. But I do mind that I don't look all that different with blonde hair. Seriously. I was hoping for a complete change. Ah well, maybe my identity is more fluidly solid than I thought.

And please, don't fret, my fellow dark-hairlings: I'll be back in black in no time. This is just a test of my operating system... Since I'm working from home these days, now's the time to go suicide orange blonde. I'm rather curious about the results, the difference in perception — mine and others'. So, stay tuned for "blonde ambition from a dark, dark heart" reports... only on GBS.

So, what exactly does the Internet have to say about blondes? Better research...

ROCK
Blonde Redhead
Concrete Blonde
Dylan: Blonde on Blonde
Platinum Blonde

NOT FUNNY
List of Blonde Jokes...
Dumb Blonde Test
Definition of Blonde

BLONDE NOT BLONDE
Cattlemen Prefer Blondes
Flickr Blondes
Blonde Dollz
Leffe Blonde
Blonde Brownies

Bebedot Blonde Font
Versace Blonde

FACTS & NEWS
Blondes to die out in 1000 years
National Blonde Day - What day is that again?
Blonde Assassin behind Kennedy Downfall
The Dumb Blonde of American Journalism
La Femme à la Mèche Blonde
Vargas' Blonde Sambos

BOOKS
Summer Blonde
Blonde
Dirty Blonde and Half-Cuban

FILM
Legally Blonde
Loves of a Blonde
The Real Blonde

SMARTEST BLONDE - EVER
Mae West

Pho Bich Nga

"Pho Bich Nga" is definitely a GB battle cry.Doppleganger over at 50 Books is promoting this free word association site: who in the what now

I know a few of you word nerds will fall hopelessly in love with it. I mean, really, who can resist associating with a word like Hot Dog? We've all fallen lips over assholes for this tube of good lovin'.

Today, the site's host Glark is going off on Signs. I really do think that "Pho Bich Nga" is the best sign ever. Can you top it?

~I spy~

I spy to live. Were it only lewd conduct, prostration and fat rollering I would not have lasted long. But those for whom I preform do not know it is Ms. Hari who wields the probe. I collect their secrets and feret them away to my bitches in the ghetto. I throw down the loot and we pick the bones clean. I have found my way into the ivory tower (granted I have to take the back stairs) and now nothing is safe. I will not stop until all the ghetto bitches have infiltrated like rats up the mooring tie. Alight sisters; up...up...to Upper Middle Trash (not mine, that one belongs to Violet).

Night tale

First night of the new year, a dark road through a mountain pass. The Ninja clicks once, twice and captures the first story of the new year: the hare and the tortoise. Which will you be this year? And why?

Nerd Humour

Question: What do computers eat for breakfast?

Answer: click here