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.”

Shitty news: The mid-week roundup

The past few days have been rough. First, a barbaric law in Florida has allegedly played a role in the death of yet another young black male. My heart aches for his family and friends who mourn Trayvon Martin, but this heartbreak doesn’t match the anger I have for the state of Florida for being the land of choads. Social media stepped up to the plate this time in a big, important way. If it hadn’t been for Facebook and Twitter, Mr. Martin’s death would’ve been another sad footnote in the history of violence aimed at young, black AMERICAN males. This shouldn’t be happening in this day and age. This country has made leaps and bounds with regards to other aspects of social justice, but we’re lacking when it comes to the African American community.

Yes, yes, yes…how would I know how it is seeing that I’m a well-educated  white woman from an upper-middle class family? First and foremost, I’m a human being and I view all human beings as equal. A relatively rare attitude as of late, since some of my white brothers have their knickers in a twist over the fact that we have a black POTUS, and believe that Mr. Obama is going to take away their ‘rights.’ Whatever the fuck that means.

What happened to Trayvon Martin affects all of us. With some it’s immediate and profound, with most of us it’s subtle. This type of senseless death chips away at the structure of American society little by little. I pray that justice will prevail.

Onward.

This guy needs to shuttie his pie hole. Folks who don’t listen to NPR or pay attention to when the media do an ‘Oops! Our bad!’ don’t know the whole Mike Daisey tale of whoa! In short, Mike Daisey is a guy who did a play/performance piece about the horrors of working in an Apple factory in China. Turns out, most of the yarn was fabricated but that didn’t come to light until after “This American Life” did a whole story on Daisey and his play. Note: TAL fact checks everything. EVERYTHING. Daisey lead them astray with his ‘facts’ and that’s where the trouble began. Then, TAL devoted yet another whole show to the fabrication. Got it. Should be the end of it, riiiight? Nope, now Daisey is blaming his wife when he should just shut it down, lick his wounds and do some serious soul searching because he doesn’t want to be known as the Stephen Glass of the performance art world.

Looks like my former governor will be going through some unfortunate changes whilst in the pokey for being all greedy n’ shit. That hair color is not his own–it’s manufactured then sent to drugstores between hither and yon where Mr. Barbers everywhere can buy it for their vain customers.

From the Chicago Sun-Times via the AP.

Blagojevich’s barber: Ex-gov’s hair is dyed,will turn gray in prison

“Rod Blagojevich’s barber says the former Illinois governor’s famously thick, dark hair is dyed and will turn gray within the first months of his prison term.

Peter Vodovoz, also known as “Mr. Barber,” has been Blagojevich’s barber for more than two decades. Vodovoz said Wednesday that the 55-year-old Blagojevich has dyed his hair for years.

Blagojevich reported to a Colorado federal prison last week to begin serving a 14-year sentence for corruption. A prison spokesman says hair dye is banned because inmates could use it to change their appearances in escape attempts.

Vodovoz says Blagojevich’s dark-brown dye will fade quickly, and he could be as gray as talk show host Jay Leno within three months.

When he was governor, Blagojevich was so obsessive about his hair he had a security official carry a brush.”

Hey gov, as the song goes — “A change would do you good.” It would do all of us good since I’m a bit weary of my homestate being the political laughing stock of this nation. Now please Rod, go away so us Illinoisans can get back to business as usual. Well, maybe not AS usual since that behavior tends to land our fearless leaders into buttloads of trouble with the Feds. Also, looking like Jay Leno ain’t necessarily a compliment.

Here’s another who should shuttie her yapper. What’s sad here is how the baby daddy wants nothing to do with his son. Shame on him. And shame on her for not wearing any make up. Knowing how this country is, she would’ve garnered a lot more sympathy had she tried to whore it up a bit during the initial interviews and investigations.

There’s something quite unappetizing about this. Gross. Art, schmart. I’ll say it again: Gross.

Next time, toss a salad in the way we’d all like to see. Orrrr….maybe not. You decide for yourself.

Finally … well, you’ll see.