It was another day that would have fit more comfortably into 32 hours rather than the 24 I was alloted. Last night an amateur masterpiece was created at the last minute. I blogged about it at http://www.penthousemagazine.com/ if you want more detail but the gist of the matter is I needed hardcore so I made it at two in the morning. It's probably uploading to the site right now. Fresh off the press.

Between shooting the content, editing it, uploading it to the server, and blogging about it all I didn't get to bed until somewhere between 3 and 4 in the morning. It was sadly the same morning the gardeners were scheduled to come at 8 so that was poor timing. Then I was woken up again at 10 by my alarm because I was booked with FM Concepts today. It is safe to say FM Concepts is the last company I will still do softcore and/or halfday shoots for. I've already figured out it is not the best use of my time for the money but it's an easy shoot and I like the people.

If you aren't familiar with the company, they run a pack of fetish sites with bondage, foot worship, costume, and tickling themes. Today they had a second girl scheduled as well. Her name is Claire and she is the first girl in a long time who has been able to make me feel inexperienced. That almost feels like too modest a description. I felt like a virgin.

She lives "the lifestyle". Lifestylers call non-lifestlyers vanilla. I fall somewhere in the middle as far as I know but it may be one of those either/or deals in which case I'm a vanilla outcast. She was quite good at tying people up. Too good. She tied up all ten of my toes individually and with perfect symmetry. I was impressed. The damn rope went all the way up to my knees. As she manuevered around me I noticed she has scars down her back from hanging on hooks and six heavy silver rings in her labia. This was not a chick to fuck with. Then she hog tied me and shoved her feet in my mouth. It was strangely not gross. In fact, at the risk of sounding like a freak, it was a little hot. Here's why: when I bit her feet she came. Full body shakes. I felt like a very accomplished man with a large dick and fat wallet and at least six if not eight defined abs. But I was not. I was a little blond girl with my fingers tied to my toes.

After leaving the shoot I rushed over to Kinko's to take care of a bunch of overdue contracts. I had four feature contracts and one for Adultcon that all needed to be printed out, signed, and faxed back ASAP. I really need to get a fax machine. But then I have to get a home phone line. It's a hassle. I also had to jump on the usual routine: post office, bank, frozen yogurt. I am religious about this schedule in this order. From there I went home to start sorting through an ambushed inbox and realized I need to grow a twin because I'm double booked on 3 days next month. The biggest obstacle would be this immediate Wednesday. My flight to Indiana for the Rollerdollz signing tour leaves at 8:30 in the morning. And my call time for Adam and Eve's feature, "Frisky Business," is 10:30 am. In LA. I'm going to have to tell Adam and Eve that I'm already booked that day with Adam and Eve. They can fight over me.

From there I jumped in the shower so I could get a spray tan for tomorrow's shoot and then went down to the ranch to take care of Conte and pay his nanny. Yes. My horse has a nanny. Because I'm a workaholic mom and he needs attention. Actually it's a manny and all he does is ride Conte on days that I can't.

Then I had to run up to Chatsworth for a dinner meeting with an editor I plan on working with. I love sitting down with people who have spent the last 20 years in porn. The stories are so much less mild. In fact the stories do a lot of justice to the stereotypes that haven't died yet. Gut wrenchingly good. That of course took two hours and now I'm home waiting for my newest bit of BTS to export to the desktop so I can burn it to a disk and send it off. There is never enough content. Speaking of which I just got off the phone with a photographer I am now scheduled to shoot with on the 21st and he just sent me a text confirming the make up artist's availability. We're in business.

And that story catches us up with the present, where I now sit blogging about it all.

Well hey it's 2:30 in the morning and I'm fighting with YouTube. Well, not fighting per se, just struggling with technology. Basically it's telling me my video uploaded but it's not showing it on the page. It's lying to me.

And I'm sick of it. There isn't enough time in the day to do everything I want to do right now, much less do it four times, as I have with this video clip. I'm toggling between two computers. I'm staying on top of four email accounts. I feel like myspace deserves a fresh blog. Penthouse is overdue for a fresh blog. I'm behind on Adult Stars Magazine too. And Adam and Eve and Xcritic. They don't have deadlines but I'm still self inflicting the guilt. And I was recently asked to do a guest blog for another publication. And the one for Mike South has been half finished for three days now. Tomorrow is the Pirates premiere for Digital Playground. I'm doing interviews on the red carpet. I spent two hours finding a dress and it's perfect. So are the other two I found. I killed three birds with one stone.

There are four feature dancing contracts in my inbox that I need to sign and return to three different people. And the contract for Adultcon because god dammit I'm going to that and I'm taking Veronique Vega with me. Speaking of which, one of my youtube videos finally posted and she's in it. Go V squared. The second one is uploading with 48 minutes remaining. It's all too familiar but I'm putting up with it because this one needs to be seen.

And I just ran out of disks to burn. Adam and Eve got a video blog section going for me and I need to mail off the videos. But I need to burn them first. And when I finally get to the post office I need to mail them some reciepts too. And check on the status of another package they sent weeks ago. And I feel like a real pornstar now because I've been getting a good amount of fan mail to my PO Box. Now I just have to respond to it.

But on the bright side I finally got my truck taken care of today. The oil change was five thousand miles overdue. I've really been meaning to get on that. And I had it washed for the second time since I bought it in December. It was during that time that I scheduled two of the features and checked my voicemail (45 new) and called my mom to verify that I am in fact still alive. They were kind enough to inform me that my own freakin dealership put the wrong oil in my diesel truck last time and that was slightly irritating but fuck it, I'll never remember to call and complain. I also used that time to book Monday, which had been previously booked, then cancelled, then two other bookings came up and I went with FM Concepts because I just plain like them. Speaking of bondage, I have two locations ready and one girl. I need to book that too.

The moral of the story? I used to make fun of pornstars who hired assistants. They'd bring them on set and the girl would invariably sit around all day making friends with the make up artists and generally doing nothing else. It was all so pointless. But I want one!! I want to be able to do the stuff only I can do and pay someone else to do the stuff anyone can do so I have more time to do more stuff only I can do. The head hunt begins.

Holy Shit. I'm not sleeping at my house tonight. The spider thing has gotten to me. I came home and there was a pretty sizeable web in the lower corner of my entry way. No big deal right? I clean these things up all the time. A quick swipe of the broom should do it.

But there were bird feathers in the web. First of all, how did a bird get in my house? That alone is a valid question. But more importantly, what is big enough to eat a fucking bird! I cleaned the place top to bottom. No godzilla spiders have shown themselves yet... but I don't want to lose a digit in my sleep because the thing got that 4th meal craving that Taco Bell won't stop pushing. It's just not worth the risk.

And I know I'm over reacting. If a spider really did eat a bird in my house there would be a little webbed husk with a beak poking out of it or something to that effect. But maybe not. Spiders clean their webs. Maybe it happened the day I left and the culprit had all weekend to dispose of the remains. And Jesus Christ I have to find the opening that giant spiders and small birds are using as an entrance to my house. What else is getting in? This whole situation is unsettling.

And the poor bird...

Another day in Tucson. The last day. I made a discovery at IHOP involving pumpkin spice pancakes. I struck gold. Consider this my personal endorsement. Then I made an even bigger discovery--that other cool brunette from the strip club that I wanted to shoot. We shot.

We took her out to the desert at sunset. I did one set in black cowboy boots, a black belt, and a thong. It was just rocks and sand and cacti and an orange stripe in the sky. She was next in sheepskin boots and a white thong. She has the body of a runway model and big dark doe eyes. Pictures to come of course.

She wants to come out to LA to shoot. I’m thinking of all the photographers I first shot with and I can’t wait to bring her to them. They’ll probably all send me Christmas cards. She’s saying all the things I first said when I got started and she seems to be on top of her game. I can’t believe how much untapped talent is out there. I was told today that the world is my oyster. Trite enough, but when I look at it in this way it’s true.

The first girl I shot is already having doubts about whether she wants to shoot anymore. I get it. It’s a big jump and once you’re in you might as well make the most of it because it will always be there. I’ve never regretted my choice for a second but I’ve met girls who have. At least with stripping you can quit one day and no one in the future will ever know you did it. It’s sad that sex is so demonized in this culture. It’s assumed that if you work in the sex industry you are somehow a second class citizen. You must be defective in some way. Abused. Stupid. Substance dependent. Out of options.

But I love my job and it’s hard to see it through their eyes so in a way I’m blissfully ignorant. I was more worried about the size of the spider I almost ran into than the model flip flopping. It looks exactly like the spider that keeps stringing a web across my walkway. Only the desert one was on steroids. But I keep walking into the one across my walkway and now that I’ve had a closer look at this species I’m thinking I’m not going to be using my walkway anymore. There is no other way to my front door though. Dilemma.

I’m off to my last feature show now. Flight leaves at 10 am. I’m looking forward to being home for a few days.

My website is my new favorite hobby and if I could describe myself in one word I would say workaholic without any thought. White spots on my calendar give me anxiety and I fill them in. Content shoots. Trade shoots. Magazine shoots. Promo shoots. Video shoots. Feature tours. Hosting. Conventions and award shows and store signings and industry parties. And the upkeep in between: gym, hair, nails, wardrobe, travel and scheduling. And blogs. I’ve been slacking on those lately.

I’ve been dealing with a lot of bullshit in my personal life. And now a few gossip sites in this industry have decided to pull it into my public life. I can’t talk about it and that kills me. My fingers are burning and I want nothing more than to lay it out there. Rather than doing anything about it though I jumped on a place to Tucson for a feature. Completely off subject I want it to be known that the fucking plane did an emergency landing and that was not fun. We took a different plane instead.

I spent most of today catching up on sleep that was weeks overdue. I had two shows tonight and managed to sneak in an amateur set for the site in between. Then I managed to sneak an amateur girl into the amateur set and that made my day. She is a lanky brunette and words cannot do justice to the scope of those legs. I shot half of the set with her then stepped aside to let her shine on the stairs. We did low angle shots to accentuate this gift. I’m still a little slack jawed over it.

Then after the second show I found another gem. She used to model as a kid but hasn’t in years. She’s also brunette and lanky and I have big things in mind for her. I’m thinking I want to drag her into the desert with me and throw her out there in a pair of boots and her birthday suit. I love her look. I can see how people get addicted to porn. I’m halfway there on the production side of it.

I think I can really make something out of this advantage I have as a female traveling from strip club to strip club. There is a world of amateur talent out there and I have a better shot at approaching them than your average middle aged male agent. I can answer their questions from a personal side and I can verify or bust all of the things they believe about porn. Plus I’m walking proof that the money is good and the work is fun. Did I mention there was a third girl who was interested in shooting hardcore video? Cute as a button.

So now I’m back in the hotel room with a bag of fast food that I would never have even considered if option B existed. I’m scrolling through pictures of my amateur discovery and checking small tasks off a to-do list. Catch up on blogs: Check.

We are doing the official launch on the site for my birthday (which I just noticed is now today). The first original professional boy/girl scene that I did is now safely in my web designer's hands. It's going up on Wednesday. The masturbation scene that went up today was done with the same group of people and I'm really happy with how it turned out. I'm slowly turning this site into the central focus of everything I do. I have shoots booked all the way through November right now and I spent a lot of the convention making friends with girls I wanted to shoot. Audrey Bitoni is now on my list. She's a stunner. Sunny Lane of course but she's been on my list for awhile. I'm chomping at the bit to get me some Sunny Leone... some things never change. On the 16th I have a shoot scheduled with an amazing photographer. We're doing two glamour solos and one boy/girl all with matching videos. The boy is the good sir Nick Manning. And we're doing at least one set with the dirty make up in the picture I posted above. I can't explain it but I like it.

I'm most excited about a little blond girl I met back in May. She is a perfect 10. All natural. Blonde. We're flying her out to do her first photo shoot at the end of the month. I'm hoping to make her a regular on this site. If she puts energy into it I think she would go far in this industry. Anyway from here on out I think I'll be struggling to keep a delicate balance between working my ass off and over-working. 

Well it was another day of signing today at Exxxotica NY. I slept in until an embarrassing hour but I have a hard time feeling any lingering guilt considering the time change and the lack of sleep otherwise. I barely made it down on time for our 2:30 pick up.

We started signing at 3pm. I have new head shots and that was slightly exciting, but then I realized that it was truly only a head shot and the boys prefer body shots. I'll have to bring that up with the boss. Either way I was happy with it, even if it wasn't the greatest jack off material. A few hours into the shift they put me on Playboy radio and then I snuck off to take a set of pictures for the website. They'll be up by the end of the week.

Katie and Leslie took me out to dinner for my birthday afterwards. We had sushi because I'm unnaturally obsessed with it then came back to the hotel where I got to experience the highlight of my day-- I finally met Stoya.

For those of you who don't know Stoya, she's a Digital Playground contract girl with a brain. I'm in love with her for her brain. I only know of her through her blogs on Xcritic, but that was enough for me. As far as I'm concerned there should be more girls like her. Anyhoo I took the oppurtunity to talk to her for awhile and express my undying love. She really sealed the deal when I found out she didn't own or watch TV like myself. Plus she seems to like horses. It's only convenient that gay marriage is now legal in the state of California.

Of course at this point I was three drinks into the night. I'd like to mention that a Geisha is champagne mixed with Midori and Triple Sec and a lime. And it's good. Hopefully I didn't screw anything up with her. I sincerely hope she goes far in this industry. These are the kind of girls that need to be representing all things adult... and if I were gay I'd be working in an angle where she came home to me every night too.

Tomorrow is the last day of this convention. I go straight from signing to the airport and on to the remainder of an overbooked schedule. We're doing the official launch of ClubKayden.com to coincide with my birthday on Monday. So far things have gone well with the site.

Fingers Krossed...

-Kayden

P.S. if you haven't figured it out already that picture is of Stoya.

I just freaked out the room service delivery chick through a series of suspicious but explainable events. See, I’ve been taking vicoden today for my mutilated finger. The vicoden makes me forget things. I forgot that I had ordered room service. I’m out in New York right now for the Exxxotica convention. I brought some porn and lingerie for work related reasons. It’s strewn across my hotel room. When I hang out alone I generally don’t wear clothes. Ya’ll probably think we only say that in interviews to strengthen the fantasy but this one is true. The one that is not true is the part where every single one of us claim to be bisexual. Oh, and while I was naked with lingerie and porn everywhere I was checking out my website, specifically the new gallery with me on the bike, specifically the picture that was a close up of my pussy and the bike. Specifically the large file that filled my entire computer screen. I just wanted to make sure the shave was good in the set. Innocent enough.

So I heard a knock at the door and hung up the phone and wrapped a towel around myself and answered. The chick was holding a covered platter and it only made sense that my long forgotten food would be resting peacefully within it so I let her in. She asked where I wanted it. The bed? No. It was covered in porn and lingerie. The table? No. For the same reasons. The desk? Yes! And over to the desk she went.

Still being under the influence of pain killers it took me a minute to realize she was staring at my computer screen while I was trying to sign the bill with a damaged right hand and an inkless pen. She had trouble making eye contact with me. I ran through a list of possible explanations in my head: “Uh, I was just catching up on work.” No. “Sorry I forgot you were coming.” No. “Don’t worry, it’s mine.” Probably not. I realized at this point that there was no explanation that would let me come out of the situation looking normal. The towel had slipped off my left nipple a bit. I was probably pushing the eye contact thing a little hard too. So instead I bumped up her tip and sent her on her way with a big smile. I’m sure she’s down in the kitchen this very moment telling the tales of the perverted chick who came on to her in no uncertain terms.

“The 8th Day” is going to be the greatest porn in history. Why? It is owed to us. Blood sweat and tears is why. I’ve produced all three of these things simultaneously on this set multiple times. Pain is why. The tip of my finger is broken from yesterday. Amber worked through a dislocated ligament in her ankle. The producer had a slight incident with a saw. Time. We’ve added on five days to the original schedule. Two full days have been cancelled once we were all on set. We started filming over a month ago and this project was brought to Adam and Eve at the end of last year. The crew is doing 20 hour days-- even when we’re not shooting. These last few nights have been spent in remote desert hotels so we would have more time on set in the morning. We are only halfway done.

Last night a group of us trekked down to a 7-11 at two in the morning. One of the cameramen said this is what he missed about porn. These nights. The big budgets with the elaborate sets and the late trips for packaged food and canned beer. The spirit that comes from the knowledge that the only way out is through. We’re wearing shirts with that slogan. They say it’s just porn but that’s an easy thing to lose sight of. It’s no longer just porn to us. We all have the completed project dangling from a stick in our minds. We all have our individual goals. We joke. AVN better notice. XBIZ better notice. No one forgets that it’s going to be beautiful when it’s done. It can’t not be.

An hour ago we lost the girl from today’s scene to an ambulance. We’re guessing heat stroke. It would make sense in the desert in the summer in the middle of the day. One of the crew members is replacing her as I write this. She’s a cute little blond and it’s her first boy girl scene. We all got lucky. Tyler Knight is the one person she desperately wanted to work with.

I had a moment of realization today. Amber was standing on a sand dune in the middle of the desert in a tattered army outfit and combat boots with a camo bag against a washed out blue sky. There were buzzards flying above her and she was covered in dirt. I was covered in dirt. I realized it needed nothing. It was perfect. On a broader scale I realized this has gone above and beyond everything I expected from this industry. Not just this movie. There is so much more to this industry than I knew when I signed up. I signed up for the obvious reasons but I’m emotionally invested in it now. I love being a part of it. I love the projects that become more than just sex to us. I love the pride that goes into it and the detail that very well may go unnoticed. I love the conventions and the touring and the business end of it. And I love the people. Sometimes it hurts like hell but there is nothing like watching it all come together.

It’s 12:23 pm and I’m in a trailer that was bought as someone’s wife’s idea of camping but is now doubling as the porn set mother ship. We all start here. We rolled out in it at 8:30 this morning. Aside from a 7-11 stop to substitute for the inconspicuous lack of true coffee we spent the rest of the morning braving potholes that could have enveloped the entire rig and navigating our way past no trespassing signs and wire stringed fences. It was all dirt roads and Joshua trees. And meth labs. I’ve used the word road a bit liberally here. They’re more like wide coyote paths. Roads have purpose and pavement and street signs. We had meandering paths that dead ended into crumbling foundations or other accidental trails. We could see where we wanted to be but it was fenced in. Try backing a 40 ft trailer on sand in the middle of BFE. There have been easier days.

The director decided (wisely) to change the location about 3 hours into the drive so we headed to the second site of the day and made it work. It’s an abandoned mining camp. We went through a town that consisted of motels and trailers and was strangely unpopulated. Not a single person. Upon entering the town the sign on the side of the road said “Welcome to Rosamond-- the gateway to progress.” David Lord laughed, “guess they progressed right out of here.” At this point the gas light was dinging and we needed diesel in a town that had no street signs. The make up artist had downed a five hour energy bottle and was not having an easy time containing herself. I was cycling back and forth between caffeine highs and lows. We finally found diesel and I grabbed another coffee. Almost noon and the day hadn’t started.

It eventually did start with me on a cross. Don’t worry. I know it sounds slightly like a mistruth so I followed up with video footage to prove it. I’ll be uploading it the second I get home. Two hours tied with leather to old railroad posts started to feel like the real thing. Strangely it was one of the few times I actually felt sexy during a shoot. Most of the time I’m worrying about other things or developing body image issues with each subsequent click. It was something about the desert wind and the sun on the inside of my thighs. This is starting to sound too much like a bad romance novel. I’ll stop. Plus I was laying there so long that buzzards started circling above me and it detracted from my fleeting sexy time. It’s going to be gorgeous in the movie though. I’m working with porn artists.

About a week ago my horse and I had a slight disagreement over whether my finger was a treat or not. I won, but it took him tasting for himself before he would give in. That finger has been numb ever since. A little nerve damage goes a long way these days. I’m missing keystrokes, I can’t eat sushi properly. Hell, I can’t suck dick properly (it‘s my right hand). I’m clumsy. That sucks because today that clumsiness cost me another finger. I smashed it so hard that it cut through the nail on the top of the adjacent middle finger. The whole nail bed is black. It’s not a good look for me. I was relieved to find that this one was happy to go numb as well at first, but that has since subsided and been replaced with a throbbing that rivals the birth of Athena. I’ve never broken a bone before but I honestly believe the tip is broken. The pain is shooting all the way up to my elbow and frankly I should know better than to be typing right now.

I’m in a small motel in Lancaster as I write this. The directions were turn left at the train tracks and it’s the one behind the fifth wheel trailer with the neon lights. It’s the closest accommodation we could find to our remote desert porn location. There is not a Starbucks for two freeways according to the iphone. This just makes me think a quick ER run would be an all night venture and I have to be on set again at 8am. Vetoing the ER.

But really I’m not sure what to do about this. I don’t know what broken bones feel like. Maybe I’m over reacting. I don’t even know that the ER would do anything about it. All I know is that if this fucking thing is interrupting my blog fun.

Penthouse put me on the radio today. Penthouse rocks. I'm usually good for radio. I talk and stuff. That alone makes me competent. I learned something about myself today though. I should do more research about the radio shows I'm scheduled for. For example... I don't like bad grammar. Poor grammar. It says so in the Penthouse interview. That came up... on the Eminem channel on sattelite radio. I would have liked to have known that going in. It would be safe to say grammar was not something they cared about. Rule 1: Don't insult the entire demographic. One million plus listeners and the DJ reads that part of the interview. People were calling in from Detroit and The Bronx. The interview said I liked men in suits. Callers were saying yo homie and dog. The DJ and I talked about the difference between do, due and dew while the next caller wanted to know if I'm into pissing. He asked what my favorite Eminem CD was... I drew a blank. The red one with him in a suit. That's the one I liked. I was not in my element.

The DJ was super cool though and the show still ran smoothly. I was just a bit shy because I didn't know what the slang meant. Lucky for me the next show was run by an australian dude and I can speak australian. That one went really well. Now I'm home and my Web Designer is sitting next to me trying to get some of my BTS footage to upload to the site from my Mac. I'm supposed to be watching and learning but I keep getting distracted by grapes and diet soda. And blogs. But he keeps talking and distracting me from my distractions so I guess I'm gonna pay attention now...

I could go on for hours about the less than stellar attempts I've made at getting a website going. My first designer charged up front and took off. My second guy charged and arm and a leg for a site that was ridden with bugs and impossible to update, not to mention unimpressive from a member's standpoint. The third guy made one that worked but the design and art was so amatuer I was embarrassed to send traffic there. The fourth one was a friend who ended up going through some personal issues that made it hard for him to devote the necessary attention to porn... Then I met Rodeo Danger. That's his name according to his latest whim. Whatever. I know some of his other names and I assume at least one of them is real. Anyhoo, I came to the table with enough info from past mistakes to make a sound decision on this one and now I have a website. We did a very soft launch yesterday. Basically we "turned it on" but have done no advertising or mailers so that we have time to work out some of the kinks and hopefully get a feel for what the members are going to want before unleashing this beast. We already stumbled on one... the free blog you're reading right now is not available on the homepage-- which is why I'm able to blog about our soft launch without being found out. So, chances are, if you're reading this, you're already a member. Thank you for that by the way. Feel free to email me or post any suggestions, complaints, concerns, weird thoughts, or random pieces of useless information. Talk about whatever you want... I made this site for you, and goddammit I want you to feel like you're getting your money's worth.

When we do the hard launch I will be throwing a launch party in LA. All members will be invited. Details will follow once I stop procrastinating and create them.

-Kayden

It’s not a pointed attack on tradition but it might as well be. Not like I’ve never done that before. I just don’t like our weird half dead idea of courtship. The opening doors thing kills me. I’m not for or against it really, I’m just sick of the unknown. Some women throw a fit about it because they think it’s benign sexism, some women think chivalry is dead and so wait like a stubborn child until the clueless male catches on and grabs the door handle, and then there’s the rest of us caught in the middle. We don’t care either way, we just don’t like the awkwardness when we wait and he doesn’t get it or he goes for it and we’re already halfway through the door. What’s the point? Whether he gets it or not has nothing to do with whether he respects me or is a real man, it’s just a sign that this whole door thing is in it’s twilight years and we will all one day look back on the silliness of it all.

Flowers. I could write a book on fucking flowers. I don’t like them. Take the rosy screen away and all we’re involving ourselves in is the sacrificial offering of freshly severed plant reproductive organs. Flowers are men’s way of trying to prove that they were thinking about you or they’re sorry. I’d rather just hear it and have them save the eight bucks. Then there is the incredible gray area after you get the flowers. You have to smell them. Then you have to say thank you and immediately display your plant organs in the best vase you have in a highly visible area in your home or office. The giver will read into how long you smell them for. You will read into what kind of flowers he got you because of course, we’ve assigned a meaning to every conceivable flower on the market. This could start another fight. If it’s yellow it might be a sign that he just wants to be friends. Or he wants you to get well soon. Or if it’s two dozen red roses he might be too serious. And what is the prescribed length of time for leaving these things on display? They wilt, they shed little flower things all over the table. The water turns funny colors. How fast can one throw them out without seeming ungrateful or callous? The potted plants are the worst. Indoor plants. There is no such thing as an indoor plant guys. These things didn’t evolve to live with us. All plant life evolved outdoors. Leave it there. Orchids sit on the high throne of evil. It’s not a gift to say I love you. It’s a gift to say, “I couldn’t put my feelings into words, but here, have some responsibility instead.” Then you have to keep your caged plant in the right light and monitor the amount of water it gets. And you have to feed the thing. And it needs haircuts. And if the fucking thing dies then the giver reads into that too. Must mean you don’t care. Dogs are much more rewarding.

Meeting the parents: it sucks. The significant other always makes it out to be a casual thing. “Just because.” But it’s never just because. What’s really going on is the son or daughter is saying, “Ok mom and dad, the last one didn’t work but I found a replacement. Good enough?” or, “what’s wrong with this person that I haven’t seen yet?”, or sometimes it’s a rebellious thing, which is worse, because then the message is “ha ha! Burn!.” And of course the tortured parents play nice, because they are more mature, and they don’t want to see it get worse. And you, the parent-meeter, get to be the pawn for the evening and analyze absolutely everything that is said until the moment you get home and start remembering how good the single life was. Personally, unless I’m planning on procreating with a person, I’d rather not meet the parents, and even then only because I want to make sure the sperm donor doesn’t have anything weird going on in the gene pool.

Valentine’s Day was invented by Satan. I don’t care if you agree with this historical record or not, it’s true. Satan woke up one day and decided that the best way to fuck with the deliriously happy infatuated people would be to put them to the test too early on. And the best way to fuck with the happily single is to convince them that they aren’t complete people. And the best way to fuck with the tried and true relationships is to point out that they’re past the infatuation period and need to move on to other people so they can experience the craziness all over again. And then of course the miserable people just get to be a little more miserable that day.

Ok I could go on but I’ll probably need more material another day so I’ll just do a follow up when I run out of interesting things to say again…