These nice people asked me and Brandy to be lingerie models in their fashion show, Hot and Nasty. The other people that are doing it are comedians and writers who happen to also be sexy. It’s not run by seedy dudes who want to see ladies in their undergarments. Rather, it seems to be run by a bunch of cool chicks and the outfits are fun, cool, and vintage. Everything about it tells me that should be something cool and fun for me to be a part of, but the truth is, I’m terrified of the idea of doing it, I even hate the idea. Thing is, I let my ex boyfriend take artful nude pics of me- which he did, and they were not-pornish enough that he submitted them for a college photo project (mostly closeups of indiscernable parts, and one kickass ass pic). And I am totally open to the idea of having an accomplished artist paint or photograph me. I guess in that way I’m most curious what an artist would see. As a subject I’d feel a part of the art in some way and I find that totally interesting.

But I don’t like the idea of being sexy in front of people whatsoever. Actually I wouldn’t feel comfortable posing for a pic that was sexy as opposed to “beautiful” or even ugly. I wouldn’t mind them making me ugly. I kind of like the process of getting ugly- on stage or otherwise.

Just that idea of being in front of someone, being sexy, ugh it gives me nausea. Like an absolute grounding fear/hatred. I think maybe I hate more than others to be catcalled. I feel like when someone looks at me and says shit, it takes away my power, because I can’t control or stop who is looking at me. I want to punch them in their faces and rip their thoughts out of their brains. I want to jump inside their cerebral cortexes, find the image of a sexualized me in there, grab it, and rip it to shreds. I don’t like being looked at like that.

Unless it’s in my bedroom, in front of some dude I am getting it on with. I like wearing outfits and all of that. I do like feeling sexy, just in front of that particular person I have selected.

Sounds weird coming from a host of “sexytime” right? I guess to me that’s about being unintentionally sexy. I was once in this comedy workshop and the guy was like “never wear skirts on stage” and saying things about how people wouldn’t be able to listen to the words I am saying because they are going to be thinking about fucking me. I think he was just being a weird perv because I think I can look as cute as I fucking want and look my best on stage and all of that AND talk about sexual topics if they’re interesting to me. So fuck that guy. That’s a lot of what Sexytime is about for me.

Upon consideration, I’m quite certain it’s a power and control issue. I consent to a sexual partner having lustful thoughts about me. I give him my T and A happily and willingly. But any random fucker on the street can’t have that goddamn it! It makes me so MAD to be glared at! These titties are MINE.

In conclusion I guess I can’t be in their show. Though I really adore vintage lingerie, that shit is so hot! Unless I can hand select who sees me and I get to place them before me as I choose, it’s not gonna happen. Seeing as it’s a show/party … NO SOUP FOR YOU.

I’m going to attend though. Sounds pretty cool.

I get off on new things in glossy packages that do cool shit.

Like Benefit’s Bad Gal eyeliner- so kick ass! I love coloring all around my eyes all super black. I think it looks fantastic. I used to use Makeup Forever’s Kohl pencil but it wipes off so easily. And other eyeliners tend to be too dry and don’t’ smudge right. Bad Gal is where it’s at.

step off my eyeliners biatch

And today I got this fun little kit from Bourjois called Le Petite Black Dress.

This seemed like a great and somewhat cost effective way at making my eyes even blacker like I like them. There’s great gray/black shadow, a cool fat french mascara, and brow shaper- which is great cause mine was old and crusty. I love using clear mascara to shape my brows. I don’t like overplucking but I do like a neatly kept brow.

Also fantastic on everybody: Makeup forever’s Star Powders. Pink Gold looks super.
Lift Concealer

And Nars’ Orgasm blush.

I will shamelessly spend absurd amounts of these little luxuries. Every time I use some special over priced product I feel like a real life princess in my face. Oh the joys of being a girl!

PS- These endorsements weren’t sponsored, but the makers of these products are welcome to give us girlspokers free stuff. I mean it.

cause we don’t fucking believe you. Or at least I don’t.

We have gone through life with partners who follow rules of the game, and even though I hate bullshit, I can totally appreciate a playa who’s got game and plays it well. That shit can be satisfying like chess or a well crafted screenplay.

So no, it’s really not acceptable until someone already trusts you and has let you in to be that nice.

If a man showers you with, “you’re beautiful” “have a good day” “I had a great time last night” frequently, repetatively, and without provocation or timidness, don’t fucking trust that punk ass motherfucker. Seriously bitches! Reckonize.

Too nice means that this motherfucker learned exactly what to say and exactly what you want to hear. I predict that the fellow will make you think he’s an awesome guy- and when it’s time to end it, you’ll think it’s cause there’s something wrong with yoooo- but it’s he who is a jerkface … or so I surmise from some thrilling television dramas I’ve experienced.

Do not buy that shit.

Saying that nice guys finish last is really not a correct assessment of the nice guy. What’s more accurate is that nice guys can creep you the fuck out saying all this crazy ass too nice too soon crap.

What’s really nice? Being a good guy, being appreciative, being open, honest, treating us right. But not tooo right. Chivalry isn’t dead but it needs to be updated to modern times. What the hell am I going to do with flowers? Meh. Cheesy. It’s really the little stuff that counts. Lend me that book you know I am going to love cause it reminds you of a thing that I said. That’s hot. Go down on me for hours and high five me, that’s a true compliment. But tell me that I’m beautiful and watch look at you funny thinking, “why. why are you saying that now.”

Up to no good I tell ya. Up to no good, those boys.

As a blogger, I feel it is my duty to aide in the dissemination of fantastic youtube videos, just as Jenna posted Timberlake’s Dick in a Box video. I love that damn video and song and it simply can’t be posted enough. So with that in mind I’d like to share a little bit of somethin that many of you may have already seen, that I just cannot fucking get enough of. Download this album on iTunes, it’s awesome.

And the creator of this video, Liam, didn’t make his own video for his other song, “Let Me Borrow that Top”, but some other people did. I’m not that into this video, but just listen to it for the song.

Oh, and Text Message Breakup.

OH MY GOD, shoes.

2006 was really truly the year that Heather Fink was single; for the entire year starting on just about the first of January. She’s only 25 years old, so even though she’s been in love (only?) 3 times in her life, she hasn’t been single for a full year since she was 17. And it’s been absolutely magnificent for her.

In this year she has had a real crush on 4 different men. 2 out of the 4 of these men she decided not to call ever again because she didn’t want to be burdened by wanting them any more. For 1 out of those 2 she kept her promise to herself never to call again, only because the other 1 of those 2 men is a parasitic bastard who won’t go away, and she finds his sting endearing, even comforting as she’s grown used to it by now. 3 out of the 4 of these men are people she considers her friends. 1 out of the 3 is still somewhat reliable for activities that go beyond friendship. 4 out of the 4 are still entirely enticing to Ms Fink. 1 out of the 4 is taken and so he is the one she wants the most. He and the parasitic bastard who doesn’t love her and never will.

In this year, Ms Fink has gone on dates with a handful of other men aside from these 4. She hates dates and rarely agrees to them. The idea of a date with someone she barely knows makes her sick to her stomach. She would rather start things off with the physical out of the way first, like a drunken hookup, than to be subjected to small talk or inane banter of any kind. That way the intimate messy cards have already been placed on the table.

A couple of times this year, she reconnected with an ex from a prior year.

A couple of times this year, she kissed someone who is supposed to be just her friend.

A couple of times this year, she cuddled with someone platonically.

For the first time in her life this year, she spent naked time with older men. But these men (2) were exceptionally young at heart. And hot. 1 of them was a movie star. But they just cuddled. Non platonically.

4 men in her personal life heard her cry this year. 1 is an ex. 1 is a friend who has kissed her. 1 is the one that is taken, and the other is the parasitic bastard.

Now it is December and she is not alone. But she is single as ever and she feels defined by the inherent freedom of her status. She feels appreciated by different sets of eyes and ears and cherishes the knowledge that none of them own her. She can’t remember why she might want a committed relationship as though such thoughts have long gone.

But she knows that she likes to be loved. Very much.
She’s more scared by the idea of loving.
She’s got too much to lose.

Welcome 2007. With cheerful, open arms, to your wild and certain uncertainty.

The holidays are coming and I want to propose a special challenge to those of you out there in the world in your warm homes, sitting smug, high and mighty atop your throne like couches, a beer in hand and loved one in the other, reading your fancy tv guide magazines, day dreaming about all the spiced puddings you will eat and the turkeys you will smoke in the privacy of your elephant like bedrooms. I ask that you break free from your hodge podge ways and rise above the cozy, familiar world you know, yes rise. Rise so high that you see your world anew and open your mind to thoughts that scarce enter your frontal lobes. And think. Think about those less fortunate, like Anderson Cooper who still hasn’t made it to network news, or Kevin Spacey who once did the movie, KPax. Think harder and squint your brains till you push out a thought about those who are no longer with us, such as Lynn Peters of Decatur Michigan who died of arm cancer yesterday who I am not sure even exists because I made her up. And now think harder … pose questions in your mind such as, “Why do I exist” “What can I do to be a better person?” and “What can I get Heather for Christmas?”

And then be grateful because in this moment of clarity I am able to transcribe my very wants this holiday season.

I’d really like a bunch of this hot sauce. You can never have enough and I always think to myself “Hmm, I wish I had this in my apartment. I would put it on everything, really, every single goddamn thing.”

I want these people reading my website. They are the ones that really get me and appreciate the finer qualities of my writing in the very way that I hope for as I sit, dilligently stroking my keyboard keys like they were my babies and I haven’t seen them in a long time since “the accident”.

I want anything from Agent Provocateur. My life would be so much better if my gennies were covered in something worth 300- 1000 dollars. Oh and if you buy me these pantsies, please buy me a mirror.

I would much like to wear them and stare at myself for hours. My crotch is my favorite thing in the whole world. To me it is more beautiful than a sunset or the miracle of life. I would place the mirror near the thousands of photographs I have taken and framed of my crotch which I have already hung on the walls of my bedroom so that I am surrounded by it’s endless love at all times.

And finally, I want you to promise me that you will never leave me. We were meant to be together like this mermaid and this centaur.

Happy Holidays. I hope you and your family don’t die or anything like that.

PS- Catch me and other girlspoker Brandy this Friday at 11pm in NYC- all the info is here: www.SexytimeComedy.com.

Right now I have the privilege and freedom of not being in love or enamored by anyone. Someone close to me refers to love as a “sickness of the mind” or a mental illness. Bleak, sure. But accurate? Maybe.

Gone is your autonomy and freedom while under love’s intense pull. As a single person I feel focused as all hell on what I want as though I am standing in a wind tunnel, being pulled in one singular brisk motion toward some shiny glowing light. Surely if I was in love my tunnel would have all kinds of weird crap in it like teddy bears and arguments and having to watch sports even though I think sports are wastes of cathode rays that could better be used for showing me how to make pies on the food network or style secrets of the stars on every single other channel.

I ain’t got nobody to answer to baby- it’s all me!

Yeah, I do like being single now.

But I remember being in love and, well, loving it.

I remember wanting to call and talk all the time, needing that person to listen and needing their guidance whenever encumbered by any distress. I remember having a well stocked lingerie drawer and a reason to shave, like all the time. I remember caring only what he thought of whatever I experienced, watched, or enjoyed. I remember looking at some object thinking “He will love this!” and buying it for him. I remember ideal evenings consisting of snuggling on a couch with food and something good on the tv.

Yes, love is many things and love is great and all of that. But love certainly drugs the mind like any good opiate, influencing the course of the mind, the will and the destiny of any individual.

I remember all these things and yet I can’t even remotely fathom wanting to have anyone to answer to right now. The very idea that someone could give me a reason to stay inside on any given fabulous New York City night terrifies me. So many adventures are waiting to be discovered. So many whiskies are waiting to meet my tongue. So many boys are waiting to be victimized!

I truly love not being in love right now. I fear anyone getting close enough to influence my mind, make me crazy, make me want them, think about them, talk about them all the time. I fear any person meeting me, knowing that I am taken and thinking, “Oh. She has a boyfriend. Stay back, you uninteresting leper!”

I feel free … like a flying pony that is not in jail.

Nobody’s gonna capture me! I mean, not unless he’s really dreamy and hearts going down for trips to yummy kitty canyon! Hellz yeah.

PS: one more thing the ladies surely love: Shoes.

Reading Brandy’s post yesterday made me think about my favorite trashy thing I could found on tv- so I decided to write this post in honor of the television program, V.I.P. I loved that show!

It was so campy and silly on purpose. Pam’s character was SUPPOSED to be funny. I feel that point was missed by many Pam hating audience members. People always want to hate on silicon induced blondes but I don’t.

YES, they physically embody “oppressive” female stereotypes of what a women should look like and women aren’t toys or playthings and not everyone has big ol titties, a tiny waist, and platinum hair … but why do so many people have to be haters? SO WHAT if someone looks like a real life incarnation of Barbie? Such a lady could be funny, silly, or GASP, even intelligent!

I know it threatens many-a-bookish type to think they can’t dismiss pinups as being simply hot, and so you tell yourself - “maybe they’ve got hots, but at least I’ve got personality”. And that’s not very nice.

Ladies, don’t be haters. Love thy fellow barbie.

Oh, and I liked V.I.P. that show made me laugh!

Dunnna nah nah nah, bikini girls with machine guns, la la la la … BIKINI GIRLS WITH

MACHINE
GUNS!

Man, I know how to have a good time.

I am like so full of period right now.

Like so nasty and bloody and bleedy and icky.

And I want to tell all of you about it.

Ha ha.

Nobody likes it when chicks talk about their stupid periods.

But here I am doing it.

Look at me!

I’m like Courtney Love.

Wheeeee!

I feel like ima swingin back and forth on a fun swing of carefree i-don’tgivea-fuck!

No wait. I feel ugly, bloated, bleedy, hot, bothered, annoyed, chubby, and tired.

I’ve got my period! Today’s girlspoke is a period party for you and me! Yay!

I love you. I always will.

A. I think I’ve got a whole lot of nothing today
- I am moving and I can’t take my nice newish futon with me. I think that someone needy like in the projects would love to have this thing. How do I get it to them? How do you find needy people so you can give them cool stuff like futons? Who do I email to accomplish such a thing? I think that the really needy folks don’t email.
- I think the word fucktards has become mainstream.
- It just so happens that I’ve been spending time in beds of exes and people I used to date lately. It’s somewhat nice, but it also makes me feel bland and flavorless.
- I’d just love to be anorexic right now but I just have too much will to live lately. Well, in general, aside from the blandness.
- What am I talking about “bland”? It’s just today. Yesterday. Too busy at work. Too hateful with real estate agency.
- I’m in something a little unusual that’s going to give me a lot of unusual exposure. It seems cool and fun, but I’m kinda scared. We’ll have to see what happens. Here’s a clip from it.
- Relationships. Relatable girl things. I am supposed to discuss these things with you folks. I want to be relevant. But I’m a little exhausted. Should I list what’s really happening in my super fun dating life?

B. Why not.
- A man visited me from out of town who I only met once and thought was great. We didn’t end up meeting up. The thought of it kind of scared me. I hate dates. But I like people and I like meals.
- I slept in a bed next to a boy that I adore. He knows I adore him, and I know he doesn’t want to be with me. I think he’s troubled. I hang around anyway even when he doesn’t put out because I enjoy his company so much. It’s a little torturey, but I genuinely want his friendship. I wish he wouldn’t read this but I think we reads everything I write. Hey you. Don’t read into this.
- I have a non serious crush on a younger, very funny gentleman who is too busy for booty calls. I think legitimately and not excuses. Still. Beer keg tapped dry. Want more beer.
- I spend time with men who I know “like-me like-me” even though I feel no chemistry with them and so it makes me mad that I don’t feel more because they’d probably love me good proper.
- Sometimes I’ll bed my most recent serious ex cause the mouth crushin was so good. For some reason this works and does not interfere with our friendship.
- Why didn’t that hot bartender call.
- I have another little crush on a friend who I think I should stay just friends with. I think we’ve just got some chemistry.

C. Yes. In conclusion. It’s just chemistry. I can’t hate a man who just doesn’t want me because I know that there’s great men who I feel nothing for as well. There’s nothing more depressing than forced love.

Ok folks, that is all. Perhaps you appreciated my weird formatting. Good night and good luck