Posts tagged as:

about

Let Me Clear My Throat

2
April 15, 2009

I had a dream that Heather Chadwell from Rock of Love and I went shopping for stockings. I really wanted a black pair with seams up the back, but she convinced me to buy this really gross pair of beige Leggs that looked like the hosiery you get when you try on shoes. I took her advice thinking, “Well, if Heather thinks this is sexy…then it must be.”

heatherc1

Aside from having dreams about alcoholic reality TV personalities, being sexy is a problem for me. I’ve never thought I was sexy, and if you asked me what it means to be sexy, I couldn’t tell you. I mean, I think I could offer up a potentially insulting definition that has a lot to do with Victoria’s Secret and nothing to do with Kathie Lee Gifford, but it’s not about that. I commend the Halle Berrys of the world who can still be sexy while having a really unflattering Ellen DeGeneres haircut and the ability to fuck Billy Bob Thorton without being considered completely repulsive. But, when it comes to playing a game where my sexiness depends on how good I am at maintaining my poise and dignity, I am fucked . So, I have to make my own rules and hope that my a capella renditions of Guns N’ Roses Greatest Hits somehow translates as sexy.

Which (kind of) brings me to my point. I know I set myself up because I choose to spotlight the axe wound between my legs in great detail. I don’t do this to be sexy. I don’t do this to turn anyone on (but if it does, keep doing your thang). I do this in hopes that someone somewhere will be able to relate and think, “It’s ok that I sometimes masturbate while watching the Golden Girls.” or “It’s ok that I prioritize sex above just about everything else in my life.”

Now, the real reason I got started on this tangent is because of a comment I received a few days ago. As a preface, every piece of feedback I’ve received so far has been wonderful, with one exception. In a recent post, someone felt that it was necessary to tell me how much they love eating pussy (ok fine), but unfortunately, they didn’t stop there. They continued to go on about how skilled they were at cunnilingus (completely missing the point) and were so kind as to leave their email in case any “females” were interested in asking questions. First of all, fuck you. If any “females” (or males, for that matter) have questions, they can ask me directly and actually be able to trust that I won’t send along pictures of my leaking, rotting dick. Second of all, no one cares.

I don’t expect everyone to jerk me off when they make a comment or send an email (although, of course, I appreciate it). I take full responsibility for everything I write here, and if anyone feels the need to criticize, then that is their privilege and I welcome it. However, this is not a pit stop for anyone on their way to Craigslist’s Casual Encounters. There’s better luck over at Craigslist anyway. More STDs, but better luck.

Godspeed.

FUQ

6
January 28, 2009

I get a lot of questions about the name “Vagina Drum”. When I say “questions”, I mean that people are like, “What the fuck is Vagina Drum and why are you so gross?”. This is the kind of question that I file under “rhetorical” and so I just shrug and maybe try to hit on them since they already have such low expectations of me.

I am still, however, taken aback when this happens, because Vagina Drum has been a fact of life for quite some time now. I wish I could tell a story about its origins that involves me finding out about some modern day Ted Bundy who kills women to use their vaginas as drum skins to play in his Guns N’ Roses cover band, and how I single-handedly shut him down minutes before my swearing-in ceremony, but I cannot. Although, it would be kind of fucked up if that really was the story, and then I went and appropriated a name from the twisted happenings, but it does sound like something I would do.

Instead, I plopped my ass on some kitchen counters, spread my legs, and just started beating away. I called it my “vagina drum” and it took me nearly four years to realize that it could me more than something I do for a cheap laugh. If you want my hippie Tommy Chong analysis, Vagina Drum is what you play when you are proud of your pussy or (for men) the fact that they exist. It is also about getting pissed off at rape as a war tactic, honor killings, and the fact that Warren Jeffs is alive and well.

I don’t think of myself as Vagina Drum, and I’m not hiding behind some ridiculous moniker. My identity is easily found online, I just think this one is much cooler.