For those of you not privy to inside information into these Shady’s lives, a lot has recently gone down. I won’t bore you with the details, but among them is the fact that I’ve been working at a TV show for the past few days (I know, I know, I’m very famous).

So I walk into the kitchen today, and there I find the big boss lady. Skinny, tan, bejeweled. I hover near her awkwardly (per usual) because she was standing in front of the hot cocoa, and that’s what I was there for. Natch. Finally I felt so awk that I tried to strike up a convo, and here’s how it went:

Me: Is it just me, or is it really cold out there? [shut the hell up Sara, not a word from you]

Her: (without glancing up or otherwise acknowledging my existence) Yes. It’s cold.

Me: You’re cold, you frigid bitch! …Yeah.

Her: (finally looking at me as she leaves the room) I guess they put the AC on. You should bring some Uggs or something.

OK. So here’s why I’m telling you this story. Because I want to know how it feels to be that woman. Because - and I want you to know that even as I’m writing this I’m changing my mind about the whole situation - when it all happened, I was all, “what a bitch!”. I expected her to at least be friendly to me.

But now, folks, I’m rethinking. Maybe she had something on her mind. To be fair, she has a whole shitload more responsibility than I have, and so it’s poss that she had something more pressing to dwell on than my current state of comfort (weird).

So how does it feel to be the woman whose every brush-off is considered bitchy? If a man had done that to me, I’ll be honest - I would have left feeling like I was the idiot. Heck, I might not even have said that to a man.

How does it feel to have been in the game for so long that you don’t really care, or can seem like you don’t care, that you’re that woman? You’re the Hilary Clinton, the Anna Wintour. You know that your every move is scrutinized, and you get slapped with the b-word as soon as you piss someone off. And yet you don’t change, don’t try to be nice, don’t cave under pressure.

Should we applaud women like that, or should we hold them to higher standards than we hold their male counterparts? It didn’t feel particularly good to have her answer me the way she did, but should she need to make me feel good?

Your thoughts?

Did you guys know that Vera Wang, queen of the bridal gown, is gonna be 60 (and might go on Dancing with the Stars, amazing)?

Why does that seem so crazy to me?

Tell me something - is it surprising that a girl wants to go to the Erotica LA Convention?

That’s what I’m wondering. Because I’m going to be covering it for LAist, and so far, in my communication with the guys (yes, guys) who are helping to coordinate our coverage, the fact that I’m a woman and I want to go has been treated like some kind of maj novelty. I have to cover it “from a woman’s point of view.” Like my vagina itself, acting alone, will be snapping the photos and doing the interviews.

One dude - and mind you, this is a dude who regularly photographs adult events - came right out and said that I might be “surprised” by how many women and couples there are.

Really? I mean, fucking, really?? Honestly, I’d be very, very surprised to get there and NOT find a bunch of chicks.

So tell me, if you’re out there - have I become so accustomed to the idea of women enjoying adult entertainment that I’m officially out of touch with the mainstream (and mainstream for L.A., remember)? Do most people view a lady’s curiosity in all things adult as an anomaly?

AM I SOME KIND OF FREAK???

You can be honest.

Yeah, that’s right. NOTHING. 

Why did I go to the mall today??? I’ve been asking myself this question all afternoon. I was in a completely decent good mood this morning- had some coffee, walked the dogs, saw my girls, and then I went astray. I thought to myself, “What a nice little Sunday, maybe I’ll go to the Glendale Galleria and hit Nordstrom and see if they’re having a sale”. 

BAD IDEA.

Nothing huge went down, just the usual BULLSHIT that comes with going to that hell hole…

1) The parking lot is a clusterfuck full of idiots waiting for spots on the first level instead of just driving up higher to where all the spots are. Oh, and families let their children run wild in the isles where cars are fucking driving.

2) The place smells weird. Kinda’ like people have gotten warm while shopping and shlepping bullshit and have sweaty pits.

3) (Main pet peeve- what really pushed me over the edge) Why do people at the mall walk SO SLOWLY and practically arm in arm with their friends so you can’t get by them and have to walk behind their slow asses???? I was there for business. For one store (okay, I peeked in at Michael Kors but even resisted the high pressure 40% off sale items), I didn’t go to fuck around. 

Anyways, this has happened before- where I start a day off on the right foot and then shit goes downhill fast because I decide to try and entertain myself by shopping, only to be reminded of the cold, hard reality that shopping sucks. 

Where do I go??? Where can a Jew go to shop and no encounter a giant, idiot invested clusterfuck that leaves residual frustration on the brain for the rest of the fucking day??? 

Clearly, I need a margarita. 

For several years now, I’ve wanted to unite with my fellow peelers at the Miss Exotic World Pageant, held yearly in Vegas. Well folks, this weekend my dream is about to come true - I’m off to the Orleans to watch the biggest names in burlesque shake what their mommas (and plastic surgeons) gave them! Woo!! Pictures to follow….

Photo via Bright Star, Would I Were as Steadfast as thou Art

Whenever I am plagued by the feeling that a situation passed me by in which I should have said something, I always think of George Costanza. You know? Remember that episode of Seinfeld where, days after an offending remark, (or maybe this happened all the time, I can’t remember) he’s sitting in the car with Jerry and he’s all, “You know what I should have said?”

Anyway, this happened to me twice over the past week, and it’s eating me up inside. Whenever I bite my tongue out of politeness, or fear of rocking the boat/having an unpleasant confrontation, or just out of speechlessness, I become hyper-aware of the fact that I might be perpetuating the age-old stereotype of women shutting up when they should be speaking up. Sometimes this feeling bothers me more than others, like for instance, right now.

So to get it off my chest, I’d like to share with you the two offending remarks, and take it from there:

1. In response to interviewing a porn star, a (male) colleague of mine sent the following in an email: “I’d just have to refrain from asking her what her stepfather did to her when she was little.”

What the fuck??!?! Are you fucking serious?? Listen - I’m not all that pc (please see abortion jokes), but this was tasteless, offensive, ignorant, stupid, sexist and chauvinistic. And gross. And not fucking funny.

That’s what I should have said.

2. I just got back from Tennessee, as all three of you reading this probably know. On my last night there (read: my “on-ness” had been completely tapped), a treasure of a man insinuated to me that Northerners are, and I quote, “pricks.” Yeah - they still say shit like that.*

Anyway, instead of saying even something as simple as, “YOU’RE a prick,” I just sat there. Just sat there. And, I think, smiled slightly. Such a nice Jewish girl, right? GAG.

So, delayed as these responses may be, I’d still like to put them out there to the universe, you know, for fainress’ sake, and because I think it’s important to fight  tooth and nail the hesitancy to say what’s on one’s mind. #1: I’ve already said it, but fuck you. #2: Um, Fuck you too. You are a fucking arrogant idiot.

And people from the North are NOT pricks. We’re just much smarter than you. What you were probably sensing was more like…disdain. For your stupid ass.

Or, as Cartman would say, Fuck you Kyle, and Fuck you Stan. Screw you guys, I’m going home.

*For the record, my bf, who happens to be the reason I was in Tennessee, was as appalled as I was by this statement and felt that it was this kind of person that gives the south a bad name.

Not trying to make light of this, but it’s true, isn’t it? It kills me to know that we live in a fucking country where a man like Dr. George Tiller gets SHOT AND KILLED AT CHURCH (this morning). Dr. Tiller was an abortion provider since the 1970’s, who while being protested at his clinic and home for years on end, having his clinic burned down AND was shot in both arms in the 90’s, remained steadfast in providing women with the options that are rightfully theirs. What am amazing man. 

I feel ill this morning, people. Fucking ill.

RIP, Dr. Tiller. You’re the homie. 

I haven’t read the whole decision, but this is a dismal day in one of the supposedly more progressive states in the union.

I used to say, back in the diz, that while my home state of Massachusetts was politically liberal, my adopted state of CA was far more socially liberal. None of that held over puritanical bullshit, just peace and love and nekkidness and joy. Well, friends, today I stand corrected.

Potentially more on this after reading the fine print (or…umm….anything more than the headlines).

That’s right, it’s shameless cross-promotion day!

I wrote this article over at LAist about a live-in fitness program in Santa Monica that has a special sub-program (what, it’s a word) just for brides. Yes. So brides can lose copious amounts of weight before their special  day.

Listen - if that’s what you want, I say more power to you. But what’s interesting (and not that surprising) is the attitude of the guy who runs it, which is basically that every bride wants to be thin on her special day. The dude was completely oblivious to what an a-hole he sounded like saying things like “no one ever dreams of being overweight on their wedding day.”

I shit you not.

Way to capitalize not just on the wedding industry, but on the weight-loss industry! I mean, really - two of the biggest things that bank on making women feel like shit about themselves, and he pulled off a comment like that with absolutely zero irony.

It’s actually kind of impressive :)

And that’s my dear friend Christi as the wife. She’s amazing.