I was supposed to be working for like ten different people today and instead I added a very long list of (overdue) links to my site — they’re groupe-groped on my front page right now, and already folded into my links page. I’ve also made a new note on my link policies, making clear what I thought was obvious, which is *no reciprocal links* so hopefully I’ll stop getting those annoying and unethical “I’ve added you, now you add me” emails.

Cool find of the day: the sex furniture at Extreme Restraints. What’s a girl gotta do to get a review copy of an Adjustable Spanking Bench!? (Note: this site carries crappy and dangerous Anal Eze, desensitizing creams and “shrink cream”, all of which are really really bad to use on your genitals. I’m not saying to shop here, just marvel at and fantasize about the neato furniture, like The Anal Impaler, which is WAY safer than the Anal Eze.)

For New York’s Gothamist the Lusty Lady herself, Rachel Kramer Bussel, interviews sex educator Ellen Friedrichs — who wrote the intense and uplifting essay “South Bronx Sex Ed” in my book Best Sex Writing 2005. And proving that she just can’t sit still, Rachel hovers for a minute to tell us how many pies she’s fingering in the very cool “What Are You Working On” series at Too Beautiful. Carol has edited a hot and dirty new anthology called Whipped: 20 Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and I have a really explicit short story in it about a girl-girl femme top forced sex encounter — and I rarely write erotica. If you missed Xeni on CNN, read the transcript and marvel at how she summed up the porn, COPA and privacy argument in the (practically) twenty seconds she got to speak.

I took Jackson to the SRL Chinatown LA afterparty and he posted excitedly about it for the Bay Area Blog Pulse on SFist (love that phonecam pic); Scott took fantastic photos of us going crazy with the huge bag of fireworks I brought — and incredible photos of the shop itself.

And no link, but just a thought that’s been nagging at me that I must vent in utter frustration: I do love the Daily Show ever so much, but goddammit it’s *such* a fucking sausage fest.

Get your copy of Harmful to Minors: The Perils of Protecting Children From Sex ready and watch Xeni debate porn, the “Child Online Protection Act” and your privacy rights on CNN tonight. Feel free to thump Judith Levine’s excellent book every time someone says something stupid about porn creating child molesters and Xeni reminds them that porn is made for, made by, performed by and enjoyed by *adults*…

The set begins here.

* San Francisco sex luminaries lose favorite San Francisco eatery: yesterday at 8:30pm a Buick plowed into Carol and Robert’s favorite restaurant, Cafe delle Stelle. Fortunately they were not in their customary window seat; all injured are in stable condition.

* Blame it on the valet: a lesson in choosing your valet wisely, a la Craigslist — because only car owners should get laid by stinky hos in their own ride.

* Porn star Anna Malle died in a car crash on wednesday; she wasn’t wearing a seat belt on a Nevada road that has seen over 11 accident related deaths in the past six months.

* My hero of the moment: 17-year-old Marina Gatto, Bay Area high school gay marriage activist who routinely gets her pride flag burned and her car keyed by hostile fellow students.

* Actual car sex positions. (Hideous illustrations, but it’s cute they used a VW Beetle. What are they saying about VW owners?)

* For the solo driver there’s the Deluxe Auto Vibe, powered via cigarette lighter — though purists should note it *will* compete with your automotive iPod power source.

* Another one for the fetish files: how to have sex with a car. Yes, *with*. The hot tailpipe should be obvious, but I guess it never hurts to spell it out.

* And there’s always Car Stuck Girls (photo via carstuckgirls.com); or Maxx Manboeuf’s utter dedication to the Japanese “Race Queen” (as in, race cars).

Update: irony of ironies — the night of this post (last night) I got a flat and had to change a tire in Chinatown in the pouring rain. At least I had the sound of Chinese New Year fireworks to keep me going… So when I got home I ordered Chinese delivery :)

The pope (Joey Ratz!) is totally going to put a fatwa on my head: the Spanish translations of my fellatio and cunnilingus books are out in print! Yay and hooray for El Arte del Sexo Oral: Felacion and El Arte del Sexo Oral 2: Cunnilingus la Guia Definitiva. The publisher is in Spain, so the resources are filled with all kinds of great Spanish sex resources; what’s most exciting to me is seeing these books on their merry way into the hands of Catholic citizenry in all Spanish-speaking countries. Especially including my own state of California, where 1 in 4 speak Spanish. But considering how pissed off Focus on the Family (and the Pro-Life Coalition!) was about the fellatio book, I can only imagine that my popular brand of all-orienations, nonjudgmental sex ed will cause some sort of (admittedly cool) ruckus. But I found out from my publisher that this is only a sample of the subverison to come: I’m celebrating tonight the news that my oral sex books, with all their lip-licking revelations and enthusiatic blowjobs — are about to be translated into Turkish. In Turkey. Wow. Cause they *love* the head there. Though for sure I’ll probably never be able to travel in that country.

Also, today I took a swipe at the SF Chronicle on SFist for the fact that their journalists can’t even be bothered to click a link — or learn the (huge) difference between a podcast and a pay for play radio show.

Read: SFisting: Our Famous Local Sex Podcasters, For Reals

Xeni was here last night; Scott got this great pic of us together; Eddie got this one, too.

I finally got all the SRL Chinatown show pics together and posted; half are mine, half are pulled from other (credited) sources. If you click the photos from start to finish you’ll get my off-the-cuff narrative about the whole weekend. About how there were only four women on the crew. How we were terrorized by a child who screamed that we had poo in our pants as we wrangled lethal machines. Special poetic and surreal things like figuring out the mythology of Fishboy; birds’ nests made of trash; my most amazing tour of Coop’s studio (great if you’re following his paintblogging); how I made a mental list at showtime to avoid the stink, fire and explosions and ended up in all the wrong places at all the right times to get blasted by fire, covered in snot, and had to hit the deck when the water cans went off. We did the show at the end of Chung King alley just past the gallery (a mere hundred feet or so from where Jack Nicholson wailed impotently in Polanski’s masterpiece).

This show was the ten year anniversary of my getting involved in SRL, to the day (I got extra hugs and kisses at showtime). I got into SRL by accident, and had never picked up a tool in my life before Mark walked up to me at that show ten years ago, told me he needed some things drilled, and then showed me how to use a drill. He’s taught me how to use almost every tool I’ve picked up or operated since then, and he’s done that for probably a hundred people. Having no family, it’s no wonder I was (then) the youngest member adopted by these amazing people. (Now there are *real* kids coming around and helping out. Fire photo: admurder.)

I’ve been at the shop a lot; the mood is a bit somber. As many readers know, we’re being kicked out after almost 25 years so the property owner can knock all the artists’ buildings down and build condos. We don’t have a place to move to, we’re in debt from the last show, we’re all working class people with day jobs that love our volunteer organization more than anything, and we’re running out of options. We have to be out by April. And so now, all of the machines are for sale.

I weep. I wish I could buy them all. Except the Sneaky Soldiers, I fucking hate those machines. I’ve tried to destroy them three times now, and just know I’ll have to fix them *again* for the next one…

I’m still recovering from the show and putting tools away: but Thomas just posted a feature on me at his day job, Eros Zine. Warning: Violet boobie alert.

Link: Violet Blue Interview by Thomas Roche

Got in last night from Los Angeles and just woke from my first full night of sleep in several days. I’ll do a full show post in a day or two; right now a few notes as I wake up:

* SRL Chinatown BoingBoing post from the ever-gorgeous Xeni, here.
* The show was one phone call to the cops from being shut down, and yet we didn’t.
* The show was called “Fishboy’s Dream” and had its own strange and dreamlike mythology — which for me is being added to as I cruise the blogs and see people’s different perceptions of what thay saw. One of my very favorite things about SRL shows is their similarity to a car crash: everyone saw the same thing but their stories are all different, like when witnesses try to describe the traumatic events leading to an accident scene.
* My machine seriously snagged on a prop and smooshed its gear actuator, causing me to lose ‘reverse’ on one side when the right rear chain doubled onto itself and got sucked into an intake gear. (We didn’t know it at the time.) This resulted in my machine driving into the audience repeatedly while crashing into the barricade and doing a nice job of scaring them. I had planned to scare the audience with the machine, just not quite so much — but that’s fine because part of our mission at SRL is to remind the audience that art should never be a safe viewing experience and that technology can easily turn against you. Point made.
* There was fire, and lots of it. Ooops ;)

* After the show and loading out the mahcines, I went to Coop’s house and did a filthy, bruised striptease out of my SRL gear down to my socks and sock garters for Coop and Ruth (2am).
* San Francisco sex journalism still sucks le donkey dick: I see that the San Francisco Chronicle published an article yesterday about a new video sex podcast “Sex With Emily”. I still don’t understand the point of the article, as we are filthy with extremely popular sex podcasters here in the Bay Area (like Whorecast) and if you add a zero to the total download number of the podcast in question then you’re in *my* ballpark. Maybe I’m just really tired. But yo, get your facts right Chron: they write, “‘Sex With Emily’ is a natural fit for the sex-positive Bay Area, home to other sexy podcasts by well-known experts such as Susie Bright and Violet Blue.” Susie Bright does not have a podcast, nor does she live in the Bay Area. She has a radio show and lives in Santa Cruz. Good job, clueless Chron!
* Sexblo.gs did a fucking awesome self-interview with Brett and Hiromi, among other great posts.
* Gonzo loves me.
* There is a huge, three-page article about the Extra Action Marching Band in February’s Spin Magazine — yay Extra Action!!!!

Images: self-portrait with drill index that no one can touch except Mark Pauline; fishboy’s arm (the fish are stapled on).

A quick post before I run out the door:

I’m on FlickrBooty — woo hoo!

Yesterday the SF Weekly quietly fired columnist Harmon Leon, who wrote the AVN piece that was full of inaccuracies — but the whole thing really stinks. If this is what happens under New Times management and editorship, then the Village Voice (now a New Times publication) had better be prepared. Prepared for possibly what? Read:

Jackson’s Did the SF Weekly Scapegoat Harmon Leon?

and my SFisting: Spank Me With A Weekly

Also, I finally made the SFist masthead! Yay! And last night I finally finished and uploaded my huge nonfiction, sex ed recommended reading list. Now, into my steeltoe boots and down to the shop.

Photo: the machine I ran in the last LA show, the Inchworm. Note if you are attending the exhibit this weekend — there will be no fire.

Today Jonno made me into his dream woman (see photo).

Today I have a horrible headcold, but still had a lovely lunch with Alison Tyler, even after almost getting creamed across three freeway lanes at 60mph by a big old Chevy truck. That cleared my sinuses for a few minutes.

Today the third SRL LA show was announced, set for this weekend. It will be very minimal, and I will be working way alot around the clock and sleeping on the gallery floor and can’t hang out with anyone — I’m sorry in advance for raping all of your iPods and putting them away wet, which are belong to us. Now back to Theraflu.

My photos with Thomas from Friday the 13th are up; you can tell we were just having fun in and around my house, so Thomas could play with his new camera (hence all the different light values). Sorry, no boobies this time…

And we talked muchly about the writer scandals, like the SF Weekly fake AVN article. Jackson did a great post of it on SFist and the comments are flying. Turns out the event they “reported on” (incorrectly) happened eight years ago!

I’m extremely excited to be included in the first set of “What are you working on?” interviews on Mark Pritchard’s Too Beautiful blog. Now I have to go get ready: my friend Thomas is coming over with his camera. (I’ll post the results later.) I can’t wait to talk with Thomas about the newest fake writer scandal: yesterday on Fleshbot we said local paper SF Weekly’s columnist Harmon Leon was full of shit for obviously making up a story on “infiltrating” the AVN awards. Now local journalists are contacting me about all the fake (and hateful, sex-negative, and just plain wrong) details in his story about the porn biz — and now everyone’s wondering just how much this guy’s made up in other articles. Not to mention that it calls into question the factual standards at the Weekly. Scandal!

An actual Fleshbot all-staff email received today:

Subject: press release from fleshbot central

* * * FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE * * *

Fleshbot Central, January 12: Fleshbot.com editor John d’Addario today decreed a moratorium on any further posts involving latex, corsets, rubber, bondage, piercings, or any others that could reasonably be described with keywords “fetish”, “BDSM”, or “bondage” for a period of one full week, starting today.

“Variety is the spice of life,” said d’Addario through sips of Remy Martin while ensconced in his velvet-lined control booth at Fleshbot Central, “and we’re veering dangerously towards becoming a weblog patronized exclusively by those with a penchant for heavy eyeliner and esoteric flogging equipment. What’s wrong with good old fashioned boobies and sensible cotton fabrics anyway?”

d’Addario further explained that the current supply of draft posts dealing with said subjects should be enough to sustain the site at least through the third week of January 2006. Representatives of the Organization of German Rubber-Themed Fetish Photographers (OGRTFP) could not be reached for comment.

* * * * *

Also, it seems that my vagina was mentioned here, and it does agree, especially considering I am the only pussy owner under Fleshbot employ at this time. I rule with an iron fist, or a velvet glove, or something. Image of “rejected iPod engravings” via Caymag.

New podcast — but only you can decide if energy drinks and podcasting and super-hot talk about getitng tied up and fucked are a lethal combination… or not. Text:

Tie me up? How about bondage and kink for the rest of us…! You don’t need to know complicated knots or BDSM lingo to have a hot time tying up your sweetie and having fun with them, so here I talk about what nasty and sweet things you can do do with someone who’s all tied up — ice cubes to oral sex and beyond. And I have *a lot* of fun ideas. Then, to get you in the mood I read a really delicious light bondage and first time anal sex story from Alison Tyler’s Best Bondage Erotica. Podcast image from Nina Hartley’s Guide to Erotic Bondage.

Link to post: Open Source Sex 27 (violetblue.libsyn.com)

Mentioned in this podcast, for further study:

Graydancer’s Rope Weekly * Happy birthday to sexy Minx at Polyamory Weekly! * Click here to launch iTunes: Open Source Sex

Thomas wrote about me, and I didn’t even know. I found some healing to have my deceitful post read and understood. If you care to, read: I am a very bad man.

If I was a smoker, I’d have a cigarette right now. Macworld was exciting: I saw the new 1″ PowerMacPro laptops, the uber-fast iMacs (both with built-in iSight). But aside from all the glitz, bling, booths that wouldn’t let me take photos, pseudo-booth-babes, cars that let you watch your iPod video in the headrest monitors and my dream office setup — it was the release of iLife ‘06 that really turned me on. (Photos begin here; watch the QuickTime keynote and see Steve Jobs create a podcast with images on the fly.)

The new iLife has a blogging application and something called iWeb; supposedly an easier, prettier and more customizable blogging program than what’s freely available; my Apple friends told me the point is to make it super-easy for anyone to blog. But what got me all worked up was the new Garageband, that has a full-on podcasting recording “studio” and is completely integrated with all the other iLife apps; you can just drag photos from iPhoto into your podcast. I know, because I had the pleasure of talking dirty at asking a nice Apple employee for a demo. (Screenshot 1; screenshot 2; screenshot 3.) I think by the second question about Kbps, file size and .m4v exports he realized he had a power-user with a little girly hard-on on his hands, and he kept saying things like, “I should know this — we just learned the app about an hour ago — these are really good questions…” In the end I thanked him, and now I really want a copy of iLife ‘06 because my mind is reeling from the sex ed possibilities, like creating sexual anatomy for pleasure lectures with images, (and maybe after taxes, I want to get an iPod video so I can watch my video podcasts). It was a total Macgasm.

…Macworld! Besides the frustrations of iTunes’ automations, my friends at Apple sent me an exhibit hall pass. (And I see I’m now listed as an “auhtor” in iTunes, yay!) So I’m off to see what’s new, say hi, and take photos — and get a bag full of free convention crap, because you know how much I love those giveaway moist towelette monitor cleaners. (I do!)

At SFist today, where I’m a columnist, there has been a lot of activity about the whole JT LeRoy unmasking thing. (Read all the comments.) I found out today when I read the Gawker post over my morning coffee, but then several people forwarded me Susie Bright’s extremely revealing post about beiung duped and used, and even it seems treated almost abusively, by the privileged people behind the pseudonym — people who even played “the AIDS card“. I’m not totally shocked, as being someone who survived a childhood similar to that of a LeRoy character, the whole presence of LeRoy in San Francisco seemed fishy and weird; too many cliches, and things like LeRoy’s column in local 7×7 magazine was always about something like shopping in expensive, exclusive botiques with a tiny crumb of “street cred” thrown in at the end. I’m a writer, so I know the tricks. Then again, I don’t trust anyone I don’t know. But still, it didn’t change the way the “Heart” book was way too close to home for me to even get past chapter 3, and it doesn’t change how burned Susie must feel after putting her reputation at stake for someone who could only live up to the characters in her (his) books.

It’s weird, and it really pisses me off. Not as a writer. *As a survivor.* I lived the very real horrors of my childhood to get where I am now — alive, articulate. I didn’t fuck anyone over to get my book deals, and I certainly didn’t exploit very real experiences (like of myself and my friends) to get my books published. I certainly never had the elite privilege of celebrity benefactors. I had a mother who was a drug addict, a compulsive liar, who gave and received regular beatings. She was raped in a room next to me when I was ten; I saw her have a knife held to her throat, I saw her get beaten by boyfriends I had to call “daddy” more times than I can count. She beat me with a belt; she inhaled cocaine like a vaccum and dealt it like a pro; she dumped me off every chance she got with strangers for weekends and sometimes weeks at a time. She left me in places so dangerous that by the age of 13 I was comfortable pointing her baretta at anyone who came in my bedroom door — and it happened. Then crack, which she taught me to cook for her, and a drug bust where she snitched on all her friends, and they wanted to kill us so we moved around the Bay Area *a lot*. I hit the streets of San Francisco at 14. I begged, I stole, I ate out of gabage cans, I slept in abandoned cars and on rooftops, in parks, at people’s houses. I never whored, though my friends did, and I did sell drugs a few times. I was a “gutter punk”; I stayed away from the dope and speed but got in a lot of fistfights. A gay couple ran a cafe; they took in a lot of us young runaway punk kids and let us sleep there sometimes and we could eat and hang out if we worked — my first job skills, and a place to use as an address to get ID. Gay men saved me: men who are now dead. Pretty much everyone I knew from that time is dead or disappeared; heroin, aids, even the first Gulf War. My friends are really fucking dead, and those things really happened to me, and more, and worse than I’ll tell you. It took me a long time to learn how to be normal, but some things remain, and I was on the streets for almost four years. Reading LeRoy’s book brought so much back for me that I didn’t see why I should re-live it. I’m okay now; it took me years before I could even tell anyone about my life prior to the age of 20. But I do remember one thing very clearly right now. On the streets we had a word for people like so-called LeRoy. It was “poser.”

It’s just not fair what people get away with sometimes.

I’ve been working with widely published dominance and submission author N.T. Morley for many years now, notably publishing his work in my Sweet Life: Erotic for Couples series and reading a few stories on Open Source Sex. We’re good friends (he gave me a DVD of Secretary of my birthday a few years back), and his MEMORANDUM was the inspiration for my new Fleshbot work uniform — and he’s now given me permission to publish five of his delicious stories on my site. Thank you, N.T.! Text and links:

Sit and Spin is a humorous and extremely explicit story about a very unusual spinning class, complete with modified stationary bicycles, a well-hung instructor and an intense deep throat finale.

The New Fiancee part 1 and part 2 tells the story of a female submissive who has to meet her male master’s ex-wife and pass a test: one including a first-time lesbian encounter and lots of juicy cunnilingus.

In MEMORANDUM, a hilarious and very inspiring corporate memo explicitly details how a young woman’s behavior and dress in the office has been repetedly unacceptable — and what her penalties are.

Taking Dictation is one of the hottest office sex encounters I’ve read in a long time, and serves as great inspiration for “Secretary” role play. Delicious.

More hot office sex: in Bare Ambition a sexually dominant woman shows exactly what it takes to get the job done in corporate warfare in a great rendition of a turnabout-is-fair-play job interview.

Coop sent me this *totally amazing* image of a color slide from the Library of Congress Online Exhibition “Bound for Glory: America in Color 1939-1943“.

Caption:
Alfred T. Palmer
Woman is working on a “Vengeance” dive bomber Tennessee, February 1943
Reproduction from color slide

Coop: “Check out that red nail polish!”

You know, it’s been a busy week. But I just found a pocket of mental relief (about to be followed up with a tasty alcoholic beverage). You see, last weekend I read that damn awful New York Times Magazine article about vaginal reconstruction surgery. And I had the usual reactions; sadness, at the shame driving patients to chop their pussies to fit porn ideals, anger at the cosmetic surgery industry making big bucks on re-virginalizing women, more sadness that the women don’t know that vaginal surgery fucks with orgasmic potential. But I already knew all this. And my personal perspective is not what I wanted to read reflected back at me, just a thoughtful exploration of the topic; and as with every piece they do on sex, there was *no news* in this NY Times article.

What rattled my cage was the writer — and dear mother Mary in a strap-on, the writer’s name is Daphne Merkin. No, that’s not it either: it’s the 1950s-mentality, sex-negative, self-hateful way the writer, as a woman, approached the material. She tells us she can hardly bear to look between her own legs, and that Brazilian waxes fall into the same category as this surgery trend. *And* she criticizes women who are not afraid to get out a mirror and a flashlight — and might like it. I now wonder, after last year’s dismally weak sex coverage, is sexual ignorance the hiring policy of their publication? It can’t be — they had Natalie Angier writing for them. Please bring back Natalie, for the sake of all of us reading your paper and crossing our legs in ghost pain, like when a guy sees another guy get kicked in the balls on TV. I thought, fuck, will I ever see mature articles about sex and sexuality in a major newspaper without the rotten stink of sexual shame, before I’m like 70 years old? Dammit, the topic is so very interesting; why ruin it with your own baggage?

Anyway, I just discovered on Mark Pritchard’s blog that I wasn’t the only one who walked away from this article with a sore spot. Mark’s awesome post lead me to, among other things, this nice piece of writing on Bats Left Throws Right:

“I really don’t care whether Daphne wants to look Down There or not. But the idea that women realizing their health had for too long been in the hands of ‘experts’ who were largely male and largely clueless and uncaring is not a quaint cultural icon of a bygone era. It’s those same experts who were telling women that the clitoris had nothing to do with orgasm. Better we spend every late night watching Girls Gone Wild ads than another generation be lied to by sexophobic guardians of decency. (…) It’s enough to note the etymology: Latin pudenda, used as the noun form of the neuter plural of pudendus, the gerundive of pudere, meaning to be ashamed.”

Thank you. A toast tonight to all journalists who *like* sex. And write about it. But not The Merk.

As a few readers of both my blog and Fleshbot might have noticed, a couple of my bits were surreptitiously featured over New Year’s weekend on a certain Gawker Media site. There’s a very long backstory involving an excitable editor, my digital camera and a few hasty moments in my bathroom… and my new work uniform, which arrived right at the very end of December.

That’s right, they’re making us wear uniforms at Fleshbot now. I’m not sure if this extends to the other Gawker sites, any of my male coworkers at Fleshbot, or if it has anything to do with Gawker and Yahoo’s new RSS reach-around agreements, but I’ll suspect the latter. After all, Yahoo has been getting more and more heavy-handed with eliminating or making inaccessible their adult content (RIP fast and easy adult groups). So it comes as no surprise that any company so obsessed with adult content, as Yahoo seems to be, that it occupies their every waking moment would come up with such a perverted dress code.

My uniform came with a memo. I thought I just got one that didn’t fit right. I was wrong. Here it is:

Notice of work uniform: Violet Blue
Effective: Immediately
Re: Policies and Procedures
CC: All staff

* Employee will wear “Pure Filth” uniform at all times during working hours. Said employee, having a less than C-cup bra size, will not be allowed to wear a brassiere; no effect to disguise nipples will be allowed. Additionally, any effort or attempt to cover breasts or lengthen hem of “Pure Filth” uniform shirt will be met with a Level Two warning.
* Employee must wear heels over 7″ in height at all times, except on casual Fridays when employee must be barefoot and exhibit “Fleshbot Pink” toenail polish, and any accoutrements to suit seasonal foot fetish trends are highly encouraged.
* Tight jeans, skintight slacks and Army uniform pants are suitable only when a sufficient cameltoe of 1 1/2″ is measured.
* At no time will underpants be tolerated. Violations of the “no panty” rule will be strictly enforced, met with a Level Three warining, and a panty gag will be installed for one entire work week. Further violations will be dealt with accordingly.
* Skirts are encouraged but within the following guidelines: schoolgirl plaids must follow the *slutty Catholic schoolgirl* dictum and the hem may rest no longer than the bottom curve of the buttocks in a standing position; eight inches above the knee is a golden rule for all skirt hem lengths.
* At Fleshbot, we encourage employees to take regular breaks to stretch and do Yoga exercises to prevent repetitive stress injuries. Any Yoga, stretches or calisthenics must be performed fully nude.
* In the absence of an editor and the assumption of a leadership role, such as during natural disasters, editor vacations and porn conventions, dominance will be exhibited with knee-high platform boots, rather than employee’s regulation fetish heels, and casual Fridays will not be observed. Should you need to assert your dominance, in which you have shown exception with in the past, we encourage the use of tools such as the Fleshbot Paddle App (TM), Fleshbot Riding Crop JavaScript (TM), and in severe cases the FleshbotFuzzyHandcuffs.exe (TM) may be employed.

With that, I’ll be running Fleshbot Thursday, Friday and Monday — so please come visit me and see what mischeif I get into while Jonno’s at AVN. And check out a few of my favorite recent posts:

Anna Logue: Nerdpr0n, Nipple Party, All Things CFNM, The Dutch Pantyhose Portal, Batman Fetish Shoot, Dig for Porn, Gonzo’s Erotic Figurines, Preview: “Tristan Taormino’s House of Ass”, RazorDolls

The third installment of my Geek Entertainment TV interviews is up and running: here, I’ve taken the mic and subjected Allen Stein, creator of The Thrillhammer to a short but brutal interview (his machine was the one I ran for my teledildonics lecture and demonstration for Dorkbot).

Teledildonicist Allen Stein nails it with his Thrillhammer (link to post, geekentertainment.tv)

Even though — once again — I’m *not* in the iTunes directory, I’m getting amazing email from firemen in the Carolinas, listeners in Mauritius, parole officers in Virginia, sassy women in Quebec, couples in Germany, and soldiers in Iraq. Now I understand why my stats are all screwed up — I think iTunes has been fucking with my entry for several days now. Good thing I don’t rely on it for income. iTunes, if you were my boyfriend, you’d *so* have my stiletto print on your ass (and not in a fun way). I’ll bet Ebert and Roper don’t have this problem. No matter; read an email that makes it all worthwhile:

“Ms. Violet,

Greetings from Iraq from a new yet very excited fan. I’m writing to you today because I want to personally thank you for everything you do. I stumbled upon your website by accident and I was immediately drawn in. First of all I work in an army [.. redacted ..] Being in such a sexually defunct country where any kind of porn is against the law then on top of it to have our own government tell us that we are also not allowed to have any kind of sexually explicit material really kills the morale of all of us serving over here. That’s where you come in, thankfully I found your site and have been able to download your podcasts. I love your blog, all of your articles and I especially love your podcasts. You have saved me from a very dreary and monotonous year here in Iraq. I am truly in your debt for everything you have done. I check every chance I get for an update on your podcasts. You are such a breath of fresh air, I am truly impressed with everything you do and speak about. Once again thank you very much.

A very satisfied fan”

Referring to my inbox, and San Francisco (not to mention Napa and every town near a Northern California river right now). It’s *still* raining. Trees falling on cars by my house; my back fence came down during the night. It rained all day yesterday, too, but that was fine because I was hung over and decided to spend the first day of 2006 cuddling with myself under a blanket and reading James Ellroy.

I spent New Year’s at Laughing Squid HQ with lots of friends. No naked New Year for me, but it was still nice, full of love and warmth, and low-key. What was the hot thing everyone was talking about? Second Life.

Today I see that one of my favorite sites, Crooks and Liars tells us that their most downloaded clip of 2005 was the Kayne West Concert for Hurricane Relief clip. Which makes Mike Meyers the Most Uncomfortable White Man of 2005. If I was going to AVN this year (which I’m definitely not), I’d wear my “Kayne Was Right” shirt, and like eight people would be really stoked I did. (Crooks and Liars scoops the media all the time on news stories; a recent breaker was the Uzbekistan UK-US torture memo blogger revolt; elaborated here.)

Few have reported on it yet, but I had an extra reason to celebrate saturday night — last wednesday a US District Judge ruled that the changes to 2257 are unenforceable. That means Tribe can eat crow, and the legal battle will still rage, but it’s a big victory. Jason Schultz points me to a nice legal wrapup here.

Apple returned me to iTunes. I made a list of goals for my upcoming year. One biggie is to make some changes to Tiny Nibbles: I want to add a sitewide search; I want to get the entire site translated in Spanish (as 1 in 4 Californians speak Spanish); French would be nice, too. I’ve been working for over a year on my AI robot and I need help formatting her into an HTML page (I know *nothing* about forms) and beta testers for an oversexed artificial intelligence being who still has a touch of Turrets. I want to learn to play the trumpet. I want to do more pinup modeling. My accountant lied to me for the past year about fees and filing and now I owe thousands to the government for her fuckups, so I seriously need to figure out some new revenue streams (and no, she won’t return my calls, so shocking). I want to write a novel, which I’m already outlining — I’ll self-publish if I don’t find a publisher I like. I want to take more sex ed classes and update/reset my internal sex ed programs. I want to teach more, as well. Some time this year, I’ll have to help move the entirety of SRL, which will be insane.

Image: Dahmane.