Putting on airs

There comes a time during long-term unemployment when a gal has to figure out what else she could do for a living. It would have to be something she’s good at, enjoys and will sustain her for a lifetime. While pondering my attributes, I decided to focus on my strengths — my intelligence, sense of humor, wicked wit, strong writing skills, wide knowledge of film making, and a built-in asshole detector — just to name a few.

A few friends have suggested I open my own business (doing what? Being a smartass doesn’t pay all that well). Small problem with starting  a business —  you kind of need a product to sell, and way to get and keep customers. I love how friends and acquaintances feel so triumphant when they tell me to ‘start my own business.’ That smugness is quickly dashed when I tell them I’m not an entrepreneur and not interested in ‘starting my own business.’ What’s truly is sad is they haven’t been paying attention and don’t know me well at all.

And, frankly, I’m sick of building my ‘brand’ and trying to sell myself to others. What brand would that be? Getting folks to click on ads on my blog is not my idea of ‘brand building’ — it’s bullshit and not worth the .001 cents I would get per click. While I’m at it, Tweeting and re-Tweeting my blog posts with the appropriate hashtags is not my idea of ‘brand building.’ Unless, of course, my ‘brand’ is porn because we all know that sex sells.

Until I spied this. From Untapped.Sf

I’ve edited it a bit since it’s waaay too long. Maybe Untapped.Sf should hire an editor.

Urban Profile: Jacki and the Business of Farting…for the Camera

Why didn’t I think of this?

Here’s a fact: WOMEN FART. Yep, we do. We belch, fart, rub one off every once in a while. We flick our nipples, use vibrators, pick our noses, scratch our asses, and walk around our abodes nekkid (shut UP).

In other words, we’re human.

With that, I don’t know why folks are getting their knickers in a twist about some broad who farts on video for money.

I met Jacki at a dance class three years ago. I remember noticing two things about her right off the bat. The first was a large, u-shaped scar on her chest that she made no effort to hide, and the second was just how open and upfront she was about…well, everything. Within minutes of meeting her, I learned that Jacki is, in her own words, a fetish video producer (more on this later), and that a few years prior she had had a life-saving lung transplant (hence the scar) born of a rare respiratory illness.

But first, who is Jacki and what does she do? Quite simply, this Bay Area native is a producer of farting videos. Her videos, which are posted on various fetish-exclusive sites are downloaded and paid for by hundreds of consumers. These video clips, featuring Jacki in various stages of undress, farting noisily into the camera, fulfill a niche community of men who get off on women farting. Yes, you read right. Men watch her fart and tell her how hot she is, how hard they are for her and her farts, and how much they want her to sit on their faces and fart on them.

Fetish isn’t something new to Bay Area folks. As a city that celebrates nudity, ass-less chaps, Kink.com and the Folsom Street Fair, San Franciscans are generally unfazed by what our more conservative counterparts call “sexual perversion.” But Jacki, my girl-next-door friend does not fit the typical profile of a San Francisco sexual deviant. With her fresh-faced cheeriness, completely unblemished skin (no tattoos, no piercings) and Euro-chic dress sense, Jacki looks like the furthest thing from a fetish girl. She jokes:

“When people hear that I’m in the fetish business they think latex, S&M, piercings and dominatrix whipping stuff. Seriously Suicide Girls is so 1998. We’ve moved on to farting people!”

 I am speechless. Why the hell didn’t I think of this? I’d be a gazillionaire by now had I done this first. Thank god for fetishes. Seriously.
Immersing herself full time in the world of selling fetish items, Jacki quickly became highly sought after. She soon transitioned her business from selling used items such as shoes and underwear (and tempting fate by shipping these items with the US Postal System) to filming and selling only fetish videos on the internet, her specialty being fart videos.

Her vidyas are plotless, last anywhere from five to ten minutes in length and are for sale via her website (which she doesn’t want posted). Candid is the name of the game with Staci — she just turns on the camera and let’s ’em rip, but not after telling her viewers how bad she needs to cut one. Charming. And, what’s even better, is she’s basically a gal-next-door type. How refreshing, but the gal-next-door turn-on bodes well for someone like me, who looks like she’s just been found bound and gagged in someone’s crawlspace right next door, and is in dire need of a shower and a shave.

What’s even better about Staci is she’s a true Philosopher Queen when it comes to farting on camera, and what works and doesn’t. Also, her dietary needs that are helping her become as famous as Le Petomane. Spoiler alert — her roughage requirements aren’t that extraordinary.

“All farts are not created equal. Some men like farting girls in underwear, some men only like white underwear farts, some like thongs, some hate thongs, some like farts through jeans, some like bare-bottom farts, some like women farting on furniture, like chairs, or couches or mattresses. … Kashi cereal. I had some this morning, and now I’ve got so much gas!” she groans. “Raw cabbage will do it too, but who wants to eat raw cabbage?”

I’m in awe of this woman because she obviously isn’t filled with the crippling WASP prudishness that invades every single cell in my body. If I didn’t have family OR friends, I’d make over-40 farting vids because you know damn well there’s a market for it.

What makes me say something so bold?

“If you have a sense of humor about farting, you’ll stay young.”

A little post about nothing

I’m in a quandary about what to write about today. I asked a friend and he said “Boobs.” Of course he’d say that. He’s a guy. Oy. The thing is, what could I possibly say about boobs that anyone would find interesting? Yeah, I have ’em. Big whup. Everyone has them, it’s just that some are more significant than others. This society is too boobage-obsessed as it is, so I’m not going to add to the breastess-cacophony.

So, it’s Mob Week on AMC. The same friend who told me that I should write about boobs also informed me of this mob marathon. And what film is on right now? Yep, you guessed it, “The Godfather,” with part two following immediately. If I happen upon either one of these films whilst channel surfing, I will watch it no matter where the story is. I used to teach parts of “The Godfather” when I taught film here in Chicago. My students were not aware of such things as parallel-editing, sound design (unless it’s over-the-top loud & annoying), story & character development and the lot. You see, many of them believe that Michael Bay is the end-all, be-all of movie making, so they tend to study every frame of the shit he makes. They feel the same way about Peter Jackson. I had to restrain myself from failing all of them right then and there. Michael Bay? Really? Peter Jackson is a’right I guess. I hated “King Kong” so much I wanted to stab myself with an Ebola infested needle halfway through it because I was too lazy to leave and thought that a painful death was the proper punishment for wasting 8 bucks on a ticket. Now I’m getting upset, so I must cease-and-desist the Michael Bay bitch session.

But, back to “The Godfather,” even though I love these two films, I also somewhat agree with this assessment.

Bikram is coming back to me after my hiatus. I didn’t feel like refunding my breakfast after yesterday’s class and my muscles felt all loosey-goosey. There must be some truth to that whole muscle memory theory folks are always yap-yapping about.

To continue on with the randomness of this post, here are a few tidbits I’ve come across during my time keeping the couch down.

Is this woman a criminal or a magnificent genius? I don’t see what the big deal is. So she included sexy time with her donuts. Big deal.


Isn’t it a titch late in the summer to be concerned about whether or not your bod is beach worthy
? If it isn’t already, I doubt it will be by summer’s end (which is just around the corner). Wait, maybe I should preface that by saying that my bod won’t be beach ready by, well, never.

File this under why didn’t I think of this? It’s pure genius. I’m in awe of the inventor because you know damn well EVERY living being would kill for a pair of these fine knickers. If you aren’t as thrilled about these as I am, then you ain’t livin’.

Is this even necessary? Discuss.

Before we continue, all spas and salons should be shut down if they play Enya. Even the ones who used to play her music back in the day when it was popular.

This list made me giggle. Green Day? Really? I dig their music a lot but aren’t they just The Clash 2.0? Glad to see Bad Brains on the list though.

And, finally, I miss headline writing.