Perfectly Flawed

Women [Flickr]

2008-10-06T10:12:34-05:00

At the Umbra Photography studio building

I've been framed [Flickr]

2008-10-06T09:44:41-05:00

photo (the framed one) by Mike Burry of Umbra Photography (formerly Smashbox)

As an aside, holy crap, I just went through my stream and it appears I've never posted any photos from this shoot! Geez louise, I'mma have to fix that.

Grande City Night [Flickr]

2008-10-06T09:43:21-05:00

merrick_monroe posted a photo:

Doorway to Values [Flickr]

2008-10-06T09:39:16-05:00

merrick_monroe posted a photo:

I wonder if they carry morals as well? I could stand to stock up...

Would you like to buy a lightbulb? [Flickr]

2008-09-26T00:29:25-05:00

merrick_monroe posted a photo:

I was so excited to have come across such an amazing storefront that I completely forgot to look at the name of the store! But wow, right?! This was not the only window with lightbulbs, but it certainly had the most amazing assortment. I don't even know if this shop *sold* lightbulbs; maybe it was just somebody's house. I would love to see a window like this in a manga or anime; I'm sure it would be put to incredible use by Studio Ghibli/Hayao Miyazaki. If anyone happens to know specifics about this shop, please do leave a comment... (spotted somewhere off Mississippi St.)

Update: It's called Sunlan Lighting. :)

The World Speculates: Who Will the Next Villain(s) Be?

2008-09-08T15:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, news hit Reddit, by way of MTV, that Philip Seymour Hoffman is (supposedly) slated to play The Penguin in the next installment of Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight" Batman movie series. And you know what? I'm totally okay with that.

I IMed Makal after reading the MTV article, to see what he thought. He responded that he didn't like the Penguin as a villain--though honestly I think he was saying this based off Nolan's being quoted, once upon a time, that the Penguin was an unbelievable character in a realistic world, and that he'd never use him in a movie. Makal also said that he doesn't like the idea of Nolan being forced to use a character he doesn't like (which is fair), and that he'd much rather see Catwoman.

Ah, Catwoman. Everyone's been ga-ga over "who will the next villain(s) be?!?!" since it was officially announced that WB, Nolan and crew are working on the next movie. Hell, my friends and I were talking about it in the neon-lit hallway just after seeing the movie opening day. Catwoman is an obvious favourite, so much so that big names like Angelina Jolie are vying for the role, with an enthusiastic "pick me! pick me!" attitude.

And that's great; Catwoman really deserves to have her good-girl-gone-bad name revived after the Halle Berry debacle. But pardon me for saying so, Angelina, I just don't know that you're right for the role--and as is, I'm not sure movie studios are ready to revisit the character just yet. You all know I am a little biased; Michelle Pfeiffer's catwoman was a coming-of-age experience for me and my vinyl fetishism, but I'm not going to say that she was the end-all of Catwoman actresses. No, there's always room for improvement and adaptation. But I think Jolie, as an actress, is just too strong to play Catwoman. The character comes from a humble beginning, meek and beaten down by the men in this world, and Jolie really is just a little too confident and headstrong for that. And, dare I say it? A little too built like a classic comic book female. I think the best Catwoman is a scrawny, emaciated alley cat of a villain, if we're talking "realistic" portrayals--which is what Nolan is all about.

It was even rumored/discussed for a short time that, if Catwoman did make her comeback in the next movie, it might be Rachel Dawes herself, Maggie Gyllenhaal, to play the feline anti-heroine. To which I say: BULL-FUCKING-SHIT. Sorry, was that a big strong-handed? In all seriousness, hell no Rachel Dawes cannot magically resurrect as Catwoman. Just... just NO god dammit. SO MUCH WRONG. I'm all for Nolan putting his own spin on the characters and the Gotham universe, but that would completely change Catwoman's background in a way I am just never going to be okay with. Yeah I know she'd be hot in the catsuit, but it's sheer and utter blasphemy, and may we never speak of it again. There is, however, another great villain whom Gyllenhaal's Dawes is primed to play, which I'll get to in a moment.

But back to the MTV article at hand. My favourite excerpt from the article is this exchange between Michael Caine and the interviewer:

“I was with [a Warner Bros.] executive and I said, ‘Are we going to make another one?’ They said yeah. I said, ‘How the hell are we going to top Heath? And he says ‘I’ll tell you how you top Heath — Johnny Depp as The Riddler and Philip Seymour Hoffman as The Penguin.’ I said, ‘S–t, they’ve done it again!’”

Now, yes, I realize that Nolan has said he does not want to use the Penguin. I am amused that no one seems to dispute how great it would be to see Depp as The Riddler, because yeah, that would totally fucking rock. Bring it on! But PSH as The Penguin, you say? Now that I could actually get behind. And here's why...

If Nolan is intent on portraying Batman and the Gotham villains in a realistic manner--normal people who are just crazy, and who happen to have a nice wardrobe designer on hand--then there is no reason he could not give us a Penguin unlike any we've seen. Frankly I was never fond of Danny De Vito's Penguin in "Batman Returns", he was just gross and, having grown up with the animated series and later some of the comics, I prefer my Penguins with a little more class and less festering or nose-biting-off. I think PSH would do a great job as The Penguin in this regard: we know he can be terrifyingly creepy while seeming unimposing, as seen in Capote, and we know he looks slick in a suit.

I think The Riddler and The Penguin would work really well together as criminal allies. I can picture it now, a Gotham wrought with crime and uncertainty, still reeling in the wake of The Joker's spree of mayhem. His clown possies are still about, being mischievious hooligans and trying to continue the anarchy in honor of their lost boss. In comes The Penguin, with his smooth business talk, bringing some sort of mafia undertone to it all. One of the things I did like about Tim Burton's Penguin in Returns was the creepy carnival that went along with him, and I'd love to see that brought back, under Nolan's guiding hand. We've got the clowns, we just need a ringmaster. PSH as The Penguin could do that.

Now, about Gyllenhaal... we know she signed a contract for two movies, so what will we see of Dawes in the next movie? Could be flashbacks... could be. Or maybe we'll see a villain people just aren't expecting, now that The Joker is out of the picture... someone we think would only work, as a villain, when paired with The Joker. Yes, my lovelies, I'm talking Harley Quinn. Go ahead, think about that for a minute. Think about it for five minutes. You thought she'd look good in a catsuit, yes? Why not take a post-traumatic stressed Dawes, toss in a concussion and possible amnesia, and throw in a fair bit of anger that her beloved Batman didn't save her. Maybe the Joker didn't really try to kill her, maybe he did, but the event would surely be enough to shock poor Dawes into some serious insane-villaine headspace.

And and and maybe they (Nolan & co.) could make a fourth movie, and Angelina Jolie could play the very headstrong and vivaciously-built villain, Poison Ivy! And then we could have Harley Quinne and Poison Ivy and oh... yes, much delicious movie-viewage would ensue. At least, that's my fantasy...

Note to comic book nerds: I realize that there is an established history of Quinn originating as Harleen Quinzel, a psychologist at Arkham. But I don't feel it would be terribly harmful to the plot or character to evolve Dawes into Quinn; after all, the former does have a criminal law background and has interacted with The Joker on several occasions, and they already have that sado-masochistic relationship established, what with the blowing up and all. I'm just speculating here; but do consider it, yaknow?

Luella's Bat Mask - Uncovered!

2008-08-20T18:44:00.000-07:00

Back in June I posted a sordid tale of how Claudia Schiffer broke my toe... okay well not directly, but by proxy I really do put the blame squarely on her. Not that it's her fault; models don't mean to make people hurt themselves for the sake of art and fashion, right? Right, of course not. Anyway.

So the other day, maybe even last week at this point, I was scrolling through my NotCouture feed as a distraction from something (couture-ish fashion blogs are one of my guilty RSS indulgences). And I came across this blurb of a 12-year old fashion blogger named Tavi. The pic included in that post is just awesome and totally drew me in--I might even "take inspiration" from it at some point--so I clicked through to the girl's blog site.

Since most of my enjoyment from fashion blogs comes from looking at the pretty pictures, I scrolled through the page quickly looking for things that caught my eye. It was kind of the "interview" process I go through with blogs, when deciding whether or not I will subscribe to them. So there I was, scrolling scrolling scrolling, and then I saw it. Picture 11 in her post from August 4th. It was... the mask.

The same mask that I was lusting over when I first spotted it on Claudia Schiffer, that I eventually spotted again being worn by model Milagros Schmoll (image above left). So at that point I was kinda like, holy crap, I've got to figure out who is making this mask! It was practically haunting me. (Of course I never really pursued that.) So when I saw Tavi's post, linking to the Elle UK accessories report, I was just like, damn, I've finally done it. Or something equally dramatic sounding yet not actually dramatic.

So, the mask. The Mask. I was really disappointed to learn that it is called a "bat mask", but bat it is, and it's made by Linda Farrow Vintage for Luella. Bat mask? Seriously? Okay well whatever, just because they designed this piece of awesome doesn't mean they know what they're talking about. But really, how can you not link the Luella mask directly with Lee Meriwether's Catwoman from the original series? Perhaps I'm just particularly fond of Catwoman...

Well, anyway, I discovered where the mask came from, and now you know too. BTW, it costs £200, which right now equals about $372. Shiiiiiit... with inflation like that, you might just see me putting this up on Etsy, made to order. If I had an Etsy store. Maybe I should make one, and this could be one of my first listings. Besides, mine is hand-made out of record vinyl, and that is inherently cooler than any mold-injected plastic couture thingy, right? Of course it is.

It Has Been a Crazy Week (2 of 2)

2008-08-18T15:12:00.000-07:00

Oops, it would appear that I got distracted there and disappeared over the weekend. Actually I seem quite easily distracted lately; wonder if something happened that could have scrambled my brain a little? Oh, wait...

When last we left our nerdy orator, Makal and I had just put 600 miles on the mototcycle Bucephalus, mainly on our trip to/from Seattle to celebrate Monk's birthday. Back in Portland on Monday, we spent the evening unwinding with a bottle of rose brut, some fresh strawberries, Oreos, and the movie Doomsday, which would have been good to watch before the trip but was still surprisingly fun. (We would actually buy this movie on DVD, if that tells you anything...) Which brings us to Tuesday...

Tuesday I had a shoot with a photographer I'd not worked with before, but had been trying to schedule with for months. I was suppose to shoot with him the week before, but thought I might have been suffering from a fractured rib and opted for a doctor's visit instead (turns out it was just a rib contusion... not like that made it feel any better). I've been feeling bad because it's like I've been avoiding working with him, which is entirely not the case. Something just always comes up. Life is like that sometimes. But, yay, the shoot finally rolls around and we had a lot of fun with it; I eagerly await what should be some excellent additions to my portfolio. :D

After the shoot I met up with Makal on his bike, and we were going to head off to dinner with a few friends. As I'm about to get on the bike, Makal goes "Hey look!" and I followed to what he was pointing to: the odometer on Buce was at 666. Hey, 666 on Bucephalus! You should take a picture, I said. He did, and then we took off down the road to dinner.

Two miles later...

There are some fabulous people in the 30th and Holgate neighborhood of Portland. Hell, even the people passing through it are super nice. What happened is this: a red Matrix cut us off on a turn, and Makal's options were to lay the bike down, or hit the back of the car, the latter of which would likely have sent me flying over the car. Not good. So he opted for the former, and we skidded on our sides, with the bike, for a good 10 feet or so. The driver of the red Matrix, who had slowed down after cutting us off (aren't assholes suppose to drive fast?!) lingered long enough to see us go down and then speed up along whatever super-important route they were undertaking. Given that we were busy making friends with the asphalt, no police officer sir, we did not get their license.

We learned that in winter, that corner is infamous for accidents; at least one a week. Anymore it's like the people are all self-trained on what to do in the event of a car accident--hell, one of the women that came out to help us was a nurse! There were a couple of guys next to us before Makal even got out from under the bike, and they helped him hobble over to the curb to lay down as I tried to coordinate some things around him/us. Such as retrieving his engineer boot from its place wedged under the shifter. :P A couple of guys helped us right the bike and maneuver it out of the road while another woman called for an ambulance (and eventually, another wonderful woman would offer for us to store the bike in her garage until we could pick it up--one of the nicest strangers I've ever met).

Within minutes there was a firetruck, an ambulance, and a police car on the scene. Sadly there really wasn't much I could tell the police, given that Makal's helmet had obscurred most of my view of the event. A couple of dirty hippie/punk type kids (kids! ha, they were probably older than me) came up from their bus stop down the road and gave their report to the police, though they hadn't caught the license plate either. The firemen left pretty quickly because there really wasn't any reason for them to be there (but it was nice of them to show up nonetheless). The ambulance dudes--because yeah, they were that cool--thought Makal's chaps were the most amazing thing, with how you could unzip them and remove them all while laying down! To be fair, no emergency response person looks forward to whatever awaits them when they hear "motorcycle" from the dispatch... rarely does that turn out well.

Luckily for us, we left the incident rather intact. Since we were both wearing appropriate gear, we were fairly well protected from the asphalt, though no amount of leather could protect us from blunt-force trauma. Makal laid the bike down on its left side, thus most of the bruising and injury is on our lefts as well. I think Makal got out of it pretty good; the only one of us actually admitted to the ER, and he hobbled out about four hours later with a sore knee, sprained ankle, and prescription for painkillers. I hobbled out too, not because of any sprain or "serious" injury, but because I hit the back of my thigh on something (back peg? turn single? dunno) and the muscle was just being a total bitch about it. Not to be TMI but the first time I sat down on a toilet to take a piss I jumped right back up again, for the worst of this set of bruises is right on that portion of the leg that contacts seat edges when you sit down. I think I spent about four days in "hover mode", if you know what I mean.

Now it's nearly a week later, and I continue to think that we're doing pretty well, despite the sore sack of whiners we come across as. The bike and all our gear is in the shop waiting for insurance adjusters to inspect it, then we'll have 24-hour turnaround on the bike repairs once they can touch it. Not that it matters much; Makal can't do much shifting with his sprained ankle, and I don't think I'd enjoy sitting on that seat right yet... not until these bruises lighten up a bit. But yeah, as far as motorcycle accidents go we are pretty lucky. As several of the motorcycle enthusiasts in my circle of friends has said, there are only two types of motorcyclists: those who've gone down, and those that haven't gone down yet. I'm really glad Makal is such a good driver and managed to (mostly) maneuver us out of a bad situation.

There is a silver lining to the event: I have several momentous bruises--I mean, serious trophy-winners--that I can now take advantage of and exploit for the sake of all those who find bruises sexy (you don't think that's weird or anything, do you? ;). Here's how my bruise was looking two days after the accident (labelled "NSFW" due to arseness and boobies): [Paint me with a rainbow of pain]; and here is a pic that I shot today, almost a week later (also NSFW): [Fishnets 'n' Bruises (preview)].

Oh, the kicker about the whole evening is that I was wearing some really elaborate, "conceptual" makeup throughout. I mean, I was going from a shoot to dinner with friends, who all know what I do, so they'd probably just be like "Oh yeah, there's that Merrick again looking all crazy for some photoshoot". But uh, policemen and hospital workers had no context for my extreme makeup, so I got some mighty strange/surprised looks from people. Heh.

Okay, now here's my mini-rant on the experience: why in fucking hell would ANY of you EVER ride a bike without the appropriate gear?! I mean, sure, there are those riders who have been on a bike most of their life, they know what they're doing and are willing to risk their hide to do it. I'm cool with them, because ya gotta earn the cred to pull of self-endangering feats like that. Whatev. But what I'm totally not Not NOT okay with is all the people I see riding with obviously useless helmets, wearing flowing button-up tops over their nice tshirts, paired well with their khaki shorts and white sneakers. My question to those "organ doners" is What the fuck do you think you're doing with that much horsepower and money between your legs? Because it's those people that I see whizzing through parking lots and 5 o'clock traffic, seemingly powered merely on their own belief that they are "more aware" on a motorcycle and can avoid any accidents. Well DER, they're called "accidents" because you don't expect them; just because you as even a trained motorcyclist ARE aware of what's around doesn't mean the four cars boxing you in are too. You just don't take chances with that shit. You certainly don't take those chances with your girlfriend on the back, okay? I mean, seriously people. Even if you can't afford much, a good set of gear (eye protection, boots, gloves, pants/chaps, coat, and preferrably a DOT approved helmet too) should be factored into the cost of getting your bike to begin with. You just won't like the outcome otherwise, because life is not like the movie Torque and you don't get to travel 200-odd MPH without goggles. Seriously, it just doesn't work.

It Has Been a Crazy Week (1 of 2)

2008-08-14T08:53:00.000-07:00

This has perhaps been one of my craziest, most random weeks ever. EVAR. And I do mean that. God, I am so freaking tired. Maybe it's the Vicodin.

It all started last Saturday. Saturday night, you see, was the big post-apocalypse themed play party in Seattle, held in honor of Twisted Monk's (the business) 5th anniversary, and in celebration of Twisted Monk's (the man) birthday. So, Makal and I packed our backpack full of essentials--the buffalo leather bikini I made, a chainmail shirt for him, rain gear, etc.--and hopped on the bike. Oh, have I not mentioned the bike? Well, subscribers to this blog should know about it by now: a 2008 Honda Shadow Spirit, which Makal named Bucephalus. I call her Buce for short. So, we donned all our motorcycle leathers, hoisted the fairly heavy bag onto my bike, and set off up I-5.

On the way to Seattle, we had to stop in Olympia, which is where our car was. Oh, have I not mentioned that either? Yeah, well... on the way home from our last trip to Seattle a few weeks back (you might recall why we were there) our car died. It just up and stopped running as we were pulling into a rest stop; we hadn't even parked yet. Apparently something broke and something else blew a cap and all sorts of fluids got into all the wrong places. Car guys call that a "catastrophic engine failure". The estimate to repair it was ~$11k aaand... yeah, who has that kind of money? So we had to go back to Olympia, Seattle party or no, to sell the car for parts to a mechanic who specializes in Saabs. Except when we showed up at the shop on Saturday, he wasn't there. Nobody was there. We were obviously going to have to meet with him on Monday, meaning an extra night in Seattle and a day of missed work. As there was nothing we could do about that, on to Seattle we went.

Upon arriving at the hotel, a cheap affair across from the airport, we entered the office and spent 10 minutes with our eyes wide open in shock as the receptionist/clerk/what-have-you guy was on the phone with tech support. It was the goddamned computer software, you see, that those guys made him use. He kept having to log in whenever he tried to do something and he didn't have the goddamned time to talk to tech support because he had customers standing there trying to check in. And yes they were standing right there while he was on the phone, but he couldn't do a fucking thing about it because of the goddamned software and he wanted the customers to know how pissed off he was that their software was so fucking hard to use. Oh. Em. Gee. So glad I didn't see any children in the vicinity; even I was offended by his colourful language (but then, in cases of old farts at run down motels, I tend to side with the technology). As I said, most surreal check-in evar.

So, there we are in Seattle. Makal was exhausted from not sleeping well the night before, so he napped while I finished stitching the lace onto my outfit and did my makeup. We had a fabulous time at Monk's party, watching people play and enjoying the opportunity to socialize with fellow kinksters. I was out of commission for the evening as I continued to recover from a rib contusion, which was kinda lame. But there was no shortage of interesting corners of the room to look at, and no shortage of pretty people in pretty costuming to gawk at--I mean admire. We even met a small contingent of Portlanders and commiserated about the lack of a structured community in Portland.

Skip to Monday, when we re-packed all our stuffs and headed back down to Olympia. Luckily the mechanics was open this time, and we got into the car to finish clearing out a lot of the things we'd left behind in our rush to get home from the last trip. By the time we got the bag back on me, gawd, it was a lot heavier. Uncomfortably so, and the additional weight was not only wearing on my muscles but was making the bike struggle a bit. I had nearly fallen asleep basking on the bike in the sun back at the workshop, so when we got into Olympia proper we stopped for coffee and mailed ourselves some of the heavier items from the bag (the box ended up weighing just over 15 pounds and I fancy a lot of that was the chainmail). From there on the ride was a breeze... until we got to the home stretch. By then, my ass was so sore from all the bumps and whatnot that my posture was shot and it was all I could do to not whimper the whole 30 minutes through Portland. We had put the 600th mile on Buce just before our last rest stop, so considering that Makal got her at the start of the month that should give you a good idea of how much riding we've been doing!

Now, I think this post is long enough that I can hit publish and give y'all a good bit of reading, so that is exactly what I'm going to do. But don't think that the ride home was the end of our crazy week--no, it gets MUCH crazier--and I will surely be back in a few hours to tell the rest of the story. I think a hot bath and another Vicodin is in order before doing so, though...

Bottoming to The Monk: It's Kind of Like Meeting Captain Kirk

2008-07-28T15:53:00.000-07:00

I've been linking to Monk's personal blog *I think* about as long as I've been writing here at PF... his candor about both his private life and his public business has been inspirational on many points. But back in 2004 when I started this blog, I never would have thought that I'd ever find myself with the opportunity to meet him, let alone work with him. Maybe if I went to a kink convention where he was vending, I might shyly go up to his booth and mumble to him about how I liked his rope and hoped he was having a nice day, something lame and dorky like that, because it's hard to act vivacious when you're meeting somebody that is akin to "celebrity" in your world. But this past weekend, I indeed had the privilege and extreme honor to not only meet but work with the man behind TwistedMonk.com.

Now, I know I said that I was going to refrain from any more modeling talk here, but this was something very much tied into my life, so y'all will just have to deal. ;)

This was, for all intents and purposes, my first experience as a rope bottom. Makal and I have been playing with rope for years, but it's always had a different air to it. The goal there is usually to tie me up and have sex, which is a lot different than "bottoming" to a rope top with no intent to fuck. It's an entirely different dynamic. There isn't really an "end result" both parties are working towards because it's more about the process of (for the bottom) getting tossed about and tied up and hung from the ceiling--well, the ceiling is optional.

If you're not tying a person up for kinky sex specifically, why would you tie them up at all? Well, I really like rope, for one. And Monk really likes rope too. I think both our affinity for rope kind of transcends physical sex, in a way. Also, I really like geeky kinksters, and apparently Monk has a thing for callipygian goth nerds. So we had some mutual interests to attend to. And of course, rope is fun! It's a great medium for interaction between two people and it doesn't have to hit you over the head with sex (just ask the guy whom, freshman year of highschool, I spent several Applied Science classes discreetly tying into hand bondage with our experiment materials...).

So what exactly was it like, working with Monk?

We've been in contact for months planning this meeting; he so kindly and selflessly offered to tie me up and kick my ass (professionally speaking, of course), with a photographer on-hand to capture the occasion for both my business and his. Before meeting we talked about what each of us was wanting out of it. In my case, and since I'm pretty easy to please, it was the simple act of being tied up that would make me happy; I didn't have any "I would specifically like to do a rope corset then get awkwardly tied between two shelving units housing musty files from the 1970s, directly in front of a window so that any passersby might look in and see my wanton state of exhibition" type of requests (though that is one of the scenes we did). We also talked about what we didn't want to happen, or things that should be avoided (my problematic knee, for example).

On the day of shooting, my troop and I arrived at The Abbey and Monk gave us a tour of the building and the areas we might want to work in. We decided to start with something a little low-key, a horizontal suspension in his office. Now, as much as I'd like to say "he did this and then this and there was also some of that"... um, I can't. See, rope kind of makes me go a little fuzzy in the head, nevermind the mere act of submission in such a situation. And even though this first go was pretty casual, well, did I mention I'm easy to please? Umm, yeah, so anyway... we started low-key and amped it up a bit with each new scene, working up to the more intense scene at the end that had even my troop more than a little distracted. ;)

Monk is really good with including subtle things in the experience, which is really what makes him so much fun. Earlier this year he wrote a great post on his blog titled "Top 10 things I really enjoy doing in a scene as a top", which contains a lot of the things he threw at me on Saturday. There was lots of touching, some of it was soft and sensual with no discernible purpose other than skin-to-skin contact, and at other times it was abrupt and hard (like when he literally punched me in the ass, or wickedly drove his thumbs into pressure points on my shoulders). Monk is also really good at the dirty talkin'; he'll get all up close and personal and starts whispering the naughtiest things that you just don't expect him to say but could listen to for hours. So even though our primary goal was working with rope, there was a lot more to it than just the rope.

So if I had no specific goal for the meeting, what did I end up walking away with? Well, apart from a newfound enjoyment of Mindless Self Indulgence, and a body full of deep bruises and rope burns, I actually learned a lot. I learned that yes, that is exactly who I am and what I want in life, no doubt about it. And if you're not really sure what I mean by "that", well, perhaps you should join my subscription site and learn a bit more about me, eh? ;)

I also learned that I am (apparently) one tough chickadee. Given that I didn't really have much previous experience with rigorous bondage modeling, I wasn't entirely sure what my body would be able to withstand. I mean, let's face it: I'm not an athletic person in the least (unless you count bedroom olympics...) and I have always shied away from most any activity that might result in injury. But if a guy like Monk is looking at me going "geez, why has this girl not cracked yet?!" then yeah, I must be pretty damn tough (ref. his Twitter post: "Been a long time since I tied till my fingers bled. Seriously tough girl. 4 scenes, 2 inversions and one destroyed rope kit later.").

The funny thing (to me) is that I wasn't even being as much of a brat as I know I could have been, meaning that I was not really egging him on much at all (which I do regret). Long story short, I tend to intimidate people if I actually go all-out with my personality, which is an ironic counter to the fact that I'm really just a shy little geek girl, so anymore I don't talk much in most situations. It entertains me to ponder just how bruised I'd be today (and bruised I already am) if I had actually looked him in the eye, laughing, and said "You think that hurts me? That doesn't hurt at all! In fact, that feels rather good. Do it s'more... Oh wait, can you move a little lower? Mmmmm..." But, now I know I don't have much reason to not say that stuff, and can back talk to him all I want in the future. Until he ties a gag into my mouth, of course. Or maybe chopsticks? Ung nung ug nug nug!

Also, I used the word "trepidatious" during our last scene. Today I discovered it's commonly considered to not be a word at all. I don't think any of them noticed. I am lucky Monk is not a grammar nazi like I can be... though now that I mention it, that might make a pretty hot scene, especially given my inability to form coherent sentences when fuzzy headed...

Never Again: Second Coming of the Jesus Phone

2008-07-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

I am more or less obliged to write a follow-up to my post last week, Cell Phone Device, We Meet Again. If you didn't read that, I'll summarize: Makal and I planned to get iPhone 3Gs on release day, and went to an AT&T store a week early to open the account so that our time in-store on release day would be shortened. Enter Friday morning...

6:30a - We leave the apartment, bleary eyed and hopeful, and head South to the mall where we set up our AT&T accounts.

~7a - Upon arrival we notice there are indeed lines, but the one at the AT&T store is much shorter than for the Apple store. We park and take our place. We are quickly told by a store manager that this location was only stocked with 40 iPhones, which were "called" by the 40 people in line in front of us (we are 42 and 43), some of whom had been camping the location since midnight. Because we had phones to exchange, we were not able to wait in the Apple store line; we could only purchase our iPhones from AT&T. The manager recommended we drive to the Beaverton AT&T store, which had about 80 phones and only 50 or so people in line. Frustrated and deceived, we leave Bridgeport.

7:30a - We find the AT&T store, which ironically is only 10 minutes from where we live. The line is wrapping around the building and we have no idea where we are in it, number wise, but we know we have two corners to turn before the front door. We wait. Luckily, we are surrounded by some pretty entertaining people. No one around us could be labeled a "geek" (yes, I can tell), which surprised me because I really thought it would only be the hardest of the hardcore geek and Apple fanboys who would be bold enough to attend a release day. These people... they joke about getting their children and friends to show them how to use their new phone. I know it's silly but this makes me angry; where are the hordes of the tech-literate? The savvy men and women who know exactly what the iPhone does, and were excitedly posting to their Twitter/Plurk/Friendfeed/whatever network about the magical excitement? These people didn't even know what Twitter is...

8:50a - We rounded the first corner. This was very welcome as we had been on the shady side of the building and were now basking in warm morning sunlight. No word from the store employees about their supplies or the innevitable cut-off point. I quietly plot revenge upon AT&T for their terrible organization and preparation for the release.

9:30a - Halfway along the wall (still another corner to go) and we have employees coming down the line and counting, but not telling us anything. They pretty much avoided eye contact as much as possible all morning, because they knew we would maim them. Finally, the same manager from the Bridgeport location came out and gave us a cut-off point: 5 people behind Makal and I. High Five! At least now when new people pull up in the marking lot, we can shout at them that the store is all out of iPhones. The manager works on explaining their "fulfillment" plan to the unhappy non-customers; it's not long before he tasks another employee with the job that nobody wants, and tells her to work her way to the end of the line. Suck.

10:30a - Finally to the last corner before the door! There was a guy with a clipboard asking people about what plans they were wanting and checking things off on a form sheet for the customer to hand to a sales rep. We didn't get a paper from him because we didn't need anything but the phone; he could have cared less about our presence after hearing that. Customer appreciation ftw. We stand in the door line for a few minutes, so near air conditioning (I had a mild sunburn at this point) and are just glad we get our phones after all. A man directing people to available sales reps tells us we need to stand in a specific line because of our exchange. Great, another line.

11:30a - Still in the special line for special people who had the special thought to sign up for the plan early and have to exchange our cheapo free phone. Somehow, the store keeps coming up with new iPhones, even though they had said they reached the cut-off point a while ago. Dozens of people left the lines when AT&T told them they were out of stock, and yet some random guy can walk in at 10:30 and say "I hear you're selling iPhones" and be handed a freaking box. WTF AT&T? Who is doing your math?!

12p - When we finally made it up to the counter that had our Post-it noted iPhones underneath, all the friendly people we chatted with in the line are long gone. So much for the "prep work" we did a week before to make our day shorter... The woman helping us was very friendly, but I was starting to wonder about the whole thing when she taped our SIM cards to the aforementioned Post-it notes and told us how to install the cards when we got home. That... doesn't seem like the sort of thing they should let us out of here without doing...

12:30p - We finally leave the store--which is almost baren of customers at this point--amid cheerful goodbyes of "Thanks for your patience!" and "Sorry you had to wait so long!" Right. Fuck off.

1p - Once arriving home, Makal plugs his phone into his comp to sync it. Activation wasn't working though, due to Apple's servers being under mass overload from all the newly purchased iPhones. (Who could have predicted that the servers would lag?!) As it gets close to 2p, the servers finally clear off enough for him to activate and sync his phone, just in time for him to leave and go to work. Shortly thereafter, I sync my own phone. And it is done.

---

So, to summarive the events of July 1th as they relate to the iPhone 3G release: July 11th fucking blew. It blew monkey balls. I know it was no one's fault specifically, but SERIOUSLY PEOPLE. We started the day realizing that the helpful chap at the AT&T store a week before had told us some seriously white lies, and ended it with the store not even able to activate our phones, leaving us incommunicado until we could do so ourselves. Nothing I experienced on that day even minorly resembled an organized strategy or attempts at customer service.

I don't work in retail anymore, and I've never worked in a sysadmin capacity, but I'm pretty sure that either parties could have taken a number of fairly obvious steps to make the day go a helluva lot smoother for these dedicated people showing up to wait in lines, not even knowing if they'd get an iPhone for their troubles. Apple product release day: NEVER AGAIN.

---

That being said, I am enjoying my new phone. It's pretty much what I expected it to be, but I still have occasional twinges of surrealism when I realize there are no buttons. Heh. And like any other computer, it crashes when I try to push it too hard, which seems to be at least once a day. Apparently, I can't edit my Google Calendar or Google Docs & Spreadsheets on the phone, even with the Google Mobile app but I can look at them. And I can interact with JavaScript even though it says it is enabled in the settings. But I can make phone calls! And listen to music! And take pictures! And immediately post them to teh intarnets! But not all at once, of course. Hey, it's just a phone.

How to Date a Geek: Don't Be Yourself and Have No Respect for His Interests

2008-07-08T11:23:00.000-07:00

I have more important things to be doing right now, but I simply can't restrain this impending geek rant any longer...

I love it when women write guides to why it's great to date a geek boy. I love it only because I take great pleasure in reading these "guides" and laughing in their face for all the stupid stereotypes they perpetrate and factually wrong things they cite. It's a never ending source of entertainment for me, and a new one seems to blip on my radar every few months. Yeah, one of these days I'll write my own, sure. :P

Today's victim is the "Girl's Guide to Geek Guys" by Mikki Halpin and Victoria Maat. The article opened well enough, and presented as a very sweet, respectful guide to dating geeks. But it didn't take me long to realize this was just another attempt at wit by a person who really doesn't understand geek kind as well as she thinks she does.

She had a list of "Why Geek Dudes Rule". This is one of the sections where the author's blatant stereotyping has gone through a thesaurus and come out far more PC. It's also one of the briefest.

What she says: They are generally available.
What she meant: They are desperate for attention from a real human woman; yes, even you.
The truth: There's no reason why the majority of geeks would be "generally available", unless you have a very limited perception of what it means to be a geek.

What she says: Other women will tend not to steal them.
What she meant: There's a reason they're desperate.
The truth: It's completely untrue, unless you have aforementioned limited perception. Most every geek boy I know gets tons of attention from the ladies, whether they're looking for it or not. And personally, I don't see why anyone would be proud of having a partner others would not desire.

What she says: They can fix things.
What she means: like most primates with opposable thumbs, they can use tools. Since we are talking about geeks here, we'll assume she means "things" of an electronic nature.
The truth: Did you know? Women, even non-geeky ones, also have opposable thumbs. If you break something, learn to fix it your own damn self. Either stop buying shitty products you don't understand or expect to shell out some money to one who can. Don't date a guy just because he will fix shit for you.

What she says: Your parents will love them.
What she means: These are nice respectable boys you can bring home to mother.
The truth: Not all geeks clean up well enough to look at home at your family's Thanksgiving but are super sweet. Other geek boys are total chauvinistic jackasses yet look dashing in a button-up. Think your dear mum would love either?

What she says: They're smart.
What she means: They're educated in areas unfamiliar to you, and that is impressive.
The truth: They're smarter than you, and since you're not a geek you'll probably grow to resent this. I've seen it happen.

Yah, once you take the quaint geeky stereotypes out of it, it's just a list of traits some guys have, geek or no. Way to generalize! She goes on to give this gem of advice:

Try wearing [a t-shirt with the logo of a software company] yourself and see if he strikes up a conversation.

Go ahead, obviously non-geek girl, give this tshirt test a whirl. Within 5 minutes your geek target will have you marked as an uneducated wannabe who obviously doesn't know what she's talking about, and is just wearing that shirt because you thought it was trendy. Protip: Pretending to be something or someone you're not is never going to land you in the perfect relationship.

But now we come to the point where I realized I HAD to write this post, a point that has been stewing in my head since I Stumbled upon this article last night before bed. Just... just read it:

If you're not up on your Star Trek, you can forget about getting or keeping a geek dude. And I'm not just talking vintage-era Captain Kirk and Spock either. You've got to be up on your The Next Generation, your Deep Space Nine, your Babylon 5. Armed with your own knowledge of Federation policies, you can better gauge when and how to act.

WHOA!!! Whoa whoa whoa, wtf, let's back the train up a bit; what did you just fucking say? Did you say, god I can barely type it... did you just say Babylon 5? In a paragraph about Star Trek?! You did! You dumb whore! I can't believe it. I just... no, I just can't talk about this right now. I need to go outside for a minute.

---

Okay I'm back. It's okay, I feel better now. I'm sorry I said such harsh things. But as a geek and an old-skool trekker, mixing that shite in with the entire collection of Star Trek is just blasphemous and so obviously uneducated. If this woman really is dating a geek, he must not love her enough to educate her on the differences. ANYway, where was I? Right, the Trek Factor. Um, honestly anything else I have to say about that paragraph is just geeky nit-picking and recitation of facts. Moving on...

The "Geek Lifestyle" section is again filled with advice not to better yourself as a person so that you are a better partner, but to just pretend to be whatever it is you think your geek boy wants, to just smile and nod your way through conversations that you could care less about. Seriously people, I cannot stress enough that that is no way to treat any partner, geek or no! If you can't show honest enthusiasm for your partner's interests, then you're just setting yourself up for a life of loneliness. Also, the author citing that her partner likes to unwind by playing Myst explains a lot about this article (e.g. it is old as fuck).

This is from the "Geek Buddies" paragraph:

The greatest thing about your geek's buddies is that you can feel secure in setting them up with your girlfriends. They may feel awkward around females at first, so don't overwhelm them. In time they will come out of their shell and realize that you are into the same things they are.

GOD, it just doesn't stop!! /cry Please, stupid non-geek girls, don't awkwardly force your equally vacuous friends on your geek partner's unwitting geek friends. You aren't in to the same things they're in to at all; that's why you just recommended using the smile and nod technique, isn't it? That's why you keep saying that to date a geek, a girl must at least know the lingo if she doesn't actually know what she's talking about? Geeks KNOW when you have no clue about what they're saying. They may date your friends, but only because it's easy sex.

Now, the Post-It Note. This jumps back into the Trek territory, but I promise it is nothing so painful as last time. No, this is about a simple exchange between husband and wife.

[S]he asked her husband which one he thought she was more like, Deanna or Beverly. Howard, the devil, immediately replied that he had always thought Victoria was actually most like Ensign Ro Laren, a cute character with a slight authority problem who is always had trouble.

Aww, that's sweet. Isn't that sweet? He thinks his wife is a troubled brat. But this is an obvious example of the sort of conversation you'll get between a geek and a non-geek. First, she limited him to only two choices, who were both some of the most stereotypically sexist characters in the series. After reading this paragraph, Makal chimed in with his own thoughts, completely without my prompting. This is what happens when you pair a modern trekkie geek with an old-skool trekker geek.

him: "I would be most inclined to compare you to Judzia Dax..."
me: "Awesome! I love Judzia, she was one of my favourite characters. *pause* If I died as Judzia Dax, and Dax came back in a man's body, would you go gay for me?"
him: "No."
me: "Really? Even if we just have butt sex?"
him: "Yeah I really don't like guy butt enough for even that."
me: "Awww. Well hey, why am I complaining? I have a cock now! We can go bang chicks together! Sweeeeeet. "
him: "Haha, yes, I'd Eiffel tower with you as a male Dax."

How could a geek girl complain when her partner compares her to a tattooed hottie with the consciousness of seven generations before her yet is still badass enough to weild a bat'leth? She just can't.

In case you need more reason that geek boys should stear clear of girls who can't hold their own on the geek level, I present this video, which Makal linked to me today. It is... very painful. I suggest you brace yourself.

SO MUCH WRONG. Does she really think that destroying the prize of his collection would encourage him to buy her a ring? WTF. I doubt he ever really wanted to marry her to begin with; it was probably just a casual conversation about marriage wherein she projected her own wants over whatever it was he was really saying, and he decided to just go along with it since he wanted to keep having sex. This video, my friends, is why a serious geek should never, ever date a non-geek. I hope he made her pay him full collector's value for that figure after he broke up with her.

For the curious: I did some research to see just how much money that figure was worth. There are some smaller, very similar versions you can buy on sites like eBay for ~$10 if you're savvy. But the size and flexibility of the piece made me think it was pretty damn special. Indeed; those bitches took bats to a 1:4 scale Speeder Bike and Scout Trooper figure produced by Sideshow Collectibles, one of a limited 1500. The figure she so nonchalantly quoted at "probably like a hundred bucks or something" cost $800 at the time of release; I wouldn't be surprised to see a serious collector paying upwards of $2000 for it now. Wouldn't that have bought a pretty ring?

Way to prove how much more mature you are, and how good you are for your lame geek boyfriend...

Geeks, please don't lower yourselves to such base standards. You deserve SO much better!

Cell Phone Device, We Meet Again

2008-07-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

A quick note before we begin:
I am blogging on my biz site much more regularly than I had been for... well, for the bulk of its existence. It's easier when things work correctly, yaknow? So, I plan to post most modeling-related stuff there, instead of here. I think I just need that distinct differentiation between the content on PF, Updates, and Members Only. But the Updates blog is free and you can subscribe to it! So really, you shouldn't notice a difference if you do that; in fact, you're more likely to notice an increase in my blogging frequency. :)

---

It has been nearly three years since I had my own phone line. When Makal and I met in 2005, I had a phone. A slick red flip phone that did everything I didn't know I needed it to do. But it was red! Oh so shiny glossy delicious red. About two months into our relationship, I had to more or less abandon the phone; my ex-housemate, whom I had so graciously allowed to stay on the plan after we stopped living together, charged MASSIVE amounts of stupid shit to his line out of retaliation for my new relationship. Yeah, he went there. And wouldn't pay it back, saying it was "stolen" (if it was stolen, I find it quite odd that the thief held regular phone conversations with his parole-officer step dad...). Of course, Sprint wouldn't refund those charges, as it had been "stolen" for 3 months at that point and I was S.O.L. Super.

As it turns out, I didn't really need a phone. I kept in touch with anyone worth keeping in touch with via email and IM. So once I shut down that account, I was never really in a rush to get a new one. My lacking a cell phone only became an issue when we moved to Portland and I started going to the occasional modeling job while Makal was at work. I usually just took his cell with me because I could reach him at his direct line at work. But it has become more of an issue for those same reasons; remarkably, it is really beneficial to have a cell if you're a model. Okay, not that remarkable, but I am still surprised by the number of professional photographers who insist you call them to discuss shooting, instead of just email. I think it's because almost every photographer who's done so is a huge Ranty McRantersons, and it's hard to rant so prolifically and needlessly via email. /eyeroll

So on Saturday, Makal and I headed out to the Bridgeport Mall. We are planning on each getting the new iPhone 3g. There is an AT&T store not 10 minutes from us, so why did we drive to a mall 30 minutes away? Well for starters, it's one of the classier malls in Portland, and by classy I mean it's an open air mall with courtesy umbrellas during the rainy season and valet parking year round. The baristas ask if you want your caramel machiatto made the "Starbucks way" or the traditional Italian way, and nod approvingly when you squish your face at the mere mention of Starbucks. That sort of mall. I expect the employees of any store at this mall to be well trained in dealing with hoity-toity self righteous rich bitches. This inherently means that if you are not a hoity-toity rich bitch, but can still conduct your affairs with class and even show a degree of respect for the employees, they will love you and appreciate the chance to work with/sell to a sane, normal person. Much better service than you'd get being a non-hoity toity person at a mall that is used to dealing with emo high schoolers and their crazy Sears-shopping mothers.

So we head into the Apple store, and asked the first salesperson who offered assistance about getting a credit check before Friday (since we will be new AT&T customers, and wanted to expedite the process). He had absolutely no idea about what was going on or what we were asking about, so we turned the corner and went directly to the AT&T store. The man that helped us there was super nice, well informed, and presented his sales pitch(es) without seeming gimicky or forced. We explained what we wanted to do that day (credit check) and what we planned to do on July 11th (buy iPhones). In under half an hour he had Makal's old Sprint number transferred to his new AT&T account, let me choose my own new number, and we both had free phones to keep us connected until we come in on Friday. Awesome! He was so thorough and made it so that we will be able to skirt most of the lines on Friday and keep our in-store time to a minimum.

And so it begins. For the first time in three years, I'm going to have a cell phone and be able to conduct my affairs without asking Makal if I can borrow his. I'm gonna text message people and take random photos that I can immediately post on Flickr. I'm going to snap sexy self portraits and send them to my boyfriend while he's at work (one of my major arguments for why I should have an iPhone!). And I'm going to work, finally calling all those photographers who will surely just talk at me for an hour about all the other stuff they're thinking right then, just so we can talk for 5 minutes about a time and place.

I would never have thought that a gadget like this would make me feel so free to go out into the world and do mah thang. But come Friday the 11th, Imma be doing it. Maybe if you're nice I'll send you a picture. ;)

Pretending Things Didn't Happen is Still Just Playing Pretend

2008-07-03T10:35:00.001-07:00

No names, no lines connecting names to other names, no self-censorship. Let me tell you about something that happened to me.

When I first started modeling last year, a fairly new photographer contacted me and asked to be involved with a concept I had mentioned on a public profile. We met, discussed the shoot, and agreed that this would be a fun way for us to work together. We did that initial shoot, and shot together again on two separate occasions over the following months. Our work together was on a TFP (or, Trade for Prints) basis, so no money was involved. He took the photos and sent them to me; sometimes they were edited, sometimes he gave me a disc with the original images on it. We both published the photos in our separate networks and portfolios. I thanked him for his work and published some of it on my Creative Commons-licensed membership site (which he had said would be fine to do).

But over time, there was an issue that I did not try to discuss with him, and it seemed to be getting worse. Namely, I did not like the way he edited photos of me. I did not like the high contrast, the (over) saturated colours, or the quite obvious Photoshopping of my face. This was a problem I had from the beginning, with the photos from our first shoot together. I knew that he was very prideful of his photoediting, and very unwilling to allow others to step in to edit or give advice on how to edit the photographs he had taken. So I took matters into my own hands: I re-edited the provided, already edited photos that I had published on my website, and republished them.

This seemed completely reasonable to me, considering: a) my site is under Creative Commons, meaning that ANYone can edit the photos as long as they give proper credit, b) he had agreed that I may post the photos on my website, c) my website was the only place the re-edited images appeared, and d) that first shoot had been my own concept and design, and he had volunteered to do the photography-end of it.

Most of the re-edited images posted were behind a password, but I of course posted a few as "teasers". It wasn't until a few months later, when I published an image from another shoot on my Flickr stream, that he seemed to take notice of what I had done (presumably because he had subscribed via RSS to my blog, which includes images from my Flickr). The image was one that he had neither provided me an edited version of nor posted anywhere in his own networks; I had edited an original image file from a disc he gave me directly post-shoot, on which he had written "OK to Print" and his initials. I edited the image and posted it to Flickr, giving him photography credit. Within a few days I had a scathing email sent to both my email and MySpace. There was no professionalism, no request to remove the image, just him (essentially) yelling at me that what I had done was wrong. There wasn't much need for a response, in my mind. It was only one image.

That was in October. By January, I was waist-deep in an email conversation wherein he called me names, called my boyfriend and business partner names, and threatened us with legal action. It was one of the single most disgusting, self-righteous things I have ever witnessed, leaving me teatering on the brink of depression despite the fact that I found his actions so fucking amusing. Because from a professional standpoint, I fear no consequences from a man who calls me lazy yet cannot see his own name credited on a Credits page that I sent him a direct link to.

When it was all said and done with, there was nothing this photographer could do to recover... well, recover whatever it was he felt had been lost. I was a business woman before I was a model; at this point in my life I have nearly 10 years of training and experience with owning and operating a stable business. I cover my ass, and I NEVER back down from what I believe is right. I never consented to his demands to remove any of the images, and continue to use them in my portfolios and my Members Only gallery to this day*, as well as keep his information up-to-date on my Credits page.

The photographer, however, has taken an alternative route. He removed every picture of me from every image portfolio he maintains, removed me as a contact from every network, and no longer credits me as a model he has worked with. He has effectively tried to erase me from his existence. I have no doubt that he has discussed my "unprofessional" actions with many a model and photographer too, though technically saying so is hearsay on my part (but seriously, this is the modeling industry; everyone gossips to some degree).

I will not deny that I made some mistakes in how I handled the situation. To err is human, and I have definitely learned from what transpired. I've continued to conduct my business affairs the same as I had before, with some minor revisions that had been planned before we had this disagreement.

Nobody likes confrontation or conflict, but it's neither professional nor responsible to hide from it, or to pretend it never happened. We're only fooling ourselves when we do that.

---

If you're interested (and if you've read this far, I kinda think you are), I compiled the entire email exchange regarding the dispute on a single basic HTML page, which you can find here: copyright-dispute.html. When I said before that I found the interaction "fucking amusing", it is because of the way the photographer responds to my emails seemingly without having actually read them and considered the content therein. His responses strike me as redundant and abusive; I'm not sure anyone could read this and not feel the same.

It doesn't make me happy that a person who approached me for work ended up thinking and saying such things. Despite that, I continue to display our work together, to make sure my website's links to his work are current and applicable. This, too, doesn't make me happy. I would love to just pretend this didn't happen and be done with it. But I put a lot of work into those images, and am proud of them; they continue to be some of my most unique work to-date, despite the fact that every time I look at one of the images, that pride is tainted by how our professional relationship ended. So why do I continue to display his photography link his portfolios? Because I am a professional, and I think it's the right thing to do.

*While I still host the photoset in question on my website, I have since lost the specific edits under discussion when my host's server crashed. Bad me, not having back ups, I know. While rebuilding my site and image galleries, I did again re-edit the image files originally provided to me. However, this go, the edits are much more similar to the photographer's provided edit, though I have no idea if he has seen the newer versions or approves of them.

2008-06-26T16:17:00.000-07:00

I can't decide what to do about Flickr lately. My pro account ended about 3 or 4 months ago, and I've not had the extra $25 of budget to rationalize resubscribing. Thing is, I really like Flickr Pro, mainly because of the unlimited amount of sets you can build. That's really handy! But then you can also replace images (instead of having to upload and tag a whole new one) and now there's video too... Oy, so much niceness in that "less than $2 a month!!" Oh, and unlimited photos is WAY better than just 200; a mere two hundred can go pretty fast!

But then I think, do I really need a pro account? Sure, it's nice, but how much do I need it? Couldn't I just go and make an extra Flickr account to give myself some flexibility? Yaknow, do one for modeling, one for my crap photos of normal stuff. ;) But that would mean another Yahoo account to log in to, another account's worth of contacts to establish, 200 new photos to tag and describe and title. OMG that is a lot of work just to move what I already have somewhere else and not spend any money. Blar.

One of these days I'm going to just break down and convince Makal to break down too, and we'll go out and buy ourselves a nice hefty server box and fill it full of altporn websites and image galleries and Pirate Bay booty. One of these days I'm going to... do... something...

---

By the by, my Flickr stream is here: NaughtyMerrick on Flickr. There is of course that widget in the sidebar, but if you don't visit my actual site regularly you might not see the fun therein. I actually do post work-safe images to Flickr, and if you are subscribed to me you see a good few of them show up on the feed--but there are still tons of hot NSFW pics I post too. Either way, I figured it couldn't hurt to plug my Flickr stream a bit more. Heh, that sounds kinda dirty.

---

By the double by, should ANYone, for ANY reason, feel like gifting me with a fresh Pro account... I will give you a 6 month account on NaughtyMerrick.com (which is a crazy savings!!! Well under half of what you'd usually pay...) and regularly lavish comment love on your own Flickr stream, plus tell the world how much you rock out with your cock/genitals-of-choice out. I mean, I'm not desperate for money or anything, this obviously isn't a live-or-die situation, but I figure it doesn't hurt to put this stuff out there in case anyone is feeling particularly sponsor-y. :)

A Rose By Any Other Name is Just Plain Wrong

2008-06-14T09:31:00.000-07:00

I'm spending most of my brain powers this weekend on negotiating a server transfer for my biz site, after I finalize the changes I made to the layout and CSS. I strangely enjoy doing stuff like that all in one fell swoop. It makes me feel tingly inside. ^_^ So before I go off on an orgasmic coding tangent, I wanted to take a moment to post here. Yes, I know it's Saturday (omg I'm blogging on a Saturday?!). And actually, it is really freaking early on a Saturday, compared to when I'm usually up. And I'm drinking coffee. God, this feels like a weekday! Anyway...

So I really like getting Makal's input on my various projects, online and off. Even after three years, the inner-workings of his brain continue to mystify me, so it is always intriguing to see what he has to say. Often when I make a post here that he likes, I hear about it pretty quickly, either as soon as it shows up in his feeds or once he gets home from work. So when he doesn't voluntarily comment, I'm inclined to ask. Apparently, this was not my week for blogging.

First off was Monday's post, about my rediscovery of Warren Ellis' book "Listener". No comment from the peanut gallery, so I decided to ask. "I didn't really like it." Well, why? "I dunno, I just didn't." Okay, I wasn't going to get any help there. S'okay though, it's not like he has to like all my posts or whatever; I just wish he could have given me better insight. Then there was Friday's all-lowercase post, best of luck to you on this special day. I heard about that one pretty quickly, but the reviews were't looking good.

"I will not accept your lack of capitalization." Wait, what? Come again? "It does not please me, I hate it when people write like that." Whoa whoa, hold on a minute there. By publishing one single, solitary post without capitalization--one which I specifically prefaced with "I don't care if you don't like this" so that people would know that if they told me they didn't like it, I wouldn't care--I was suddenly getting the most scathing review to date of my ability to write and engage an intelligent audience. Makal, as a person who is interested in writing as a career, was simply not going to abide by this lack of capitalization. For a minute I thought he was going to tell me to go back in and fix it!

I listened to what he said, and then I smiled and replied, "Well, I don't care what you think." To be fair, I did warn him, right? And I argued my case with him (well, you know, "discussed").

His Argument: "I don't like reading things that don't have capitalization."
My Retort: I like writing in all lowercase, and I don't care what he thinks.
Or what you think. Are you going to stop reading this blog if I started typing every post all-lowercase? Would you? Because if you would, please leave a comment or email me, as I'm very curious to hear more (honest). But like I said, it's something I used to do when I blogged for the sake of blogging, not for the comments or the link-backs or the page rank or the feed readers. And yes, I enjoy it. It's almost therapeutic to me, to eschew such a standard rule of writing--I'll get into that more more in a bit. Not only do I like it, but it is sometimes easier for me to write without caps. I can just type type type type to my little heart's content, never shifting a pinky finger and accidentally hitting the capslock key or capitalizing the first two letters of a word instead of just one. I hate that. PLUS, the more from-scratch coding I do (which let's face it, is all of the coding I do) the more my brain just thinks in lowercase. Besides, I usually try to capitalize proper nouns (titles, names, etc.) even if I don't start my sentences with a capital letter.

His Argument: "You am contributing to the delinquency of the Internet by not using propers capitalization."
My Retort: It's not my fault they're idiots.
Seriously, it's not. I am not going to be blamed for an entire generation/culture of people who are capable of even thinking that submitting school reports in chat lingo is okay. It's a utilization of a lexicon that I personally do not accept. It is NOT my fault these people are bastardizing the English language... yet simultaneously, I do not necessarily think it is bad that such a thing is happening. Language is meant to evolve so that it better serves the needs of the people who speak it. Not that that's an excuse for the outrageously incompetent people out there who can't write with proper spelling and/or grammar. Those people aren't going to be reading this blog anyway. And if they do, well, they should manage without caps just fine.

His Argument: "I can't read anything that does not adhere to proper writing techniques. " (grammar, punctuation, formatting, etc.)
My Closing Argument: you have to show that you know the rules before you can break them.
One of my all-time favourite posts by Susannah Bresline, titled "Grand Theft Are You Fucking Kidding Me?", was something Makal thought was rubbish, merely because it was not formatted into smaller paragraphs to make the reading more cohesive. He said he would never read her blog if that's the way she writes; I pointed out that she's one of the most prolific and sought-after writers on sex and current events we (this country/world/Internet) have right now, and has been published by well over a dozen various organizations. She doesn't need to care about "perfect formatting" because the woman is smart and knows exactly what she's doing. Nobody is going to write her and say "I was astounded by the purely illiterate post you made on the new GTA game; how dare someone like you call yourself a writer!" No, that's just not going to happen. And if it does, no one will take that person seriously.

I am an OCPD-perfectionist, and a grammar nazi to boot. I find myself correcting people's grammar and phraseology at even the most awkward times, and I mentally kick myself for it when I do. It's never that I think the person is stupid and that's why I'm correcting them. It's just that... well, what they're saying is wrong, and since I know they're not stupid I want them to know the correct way to say/write something (so that nobody else will think they are stupid). It's kind of a roundabout justification, but I am a geek and it makes sense to me. In other words, nobody who knows me is going to question my knowledge of proper formatting and grammar, unless what I say is supremely stupid (and then I will laugh and thank them, which is known to happen). And even if my writing isn't always a spectacular display of wit and vernacular, I still know that I've got an entire k-12 educational career of advanced-placement writing classes, and received awards at all levels from various organizations (school, state, and national) for my skill. Yes I am going to play that "I was good at this in school" card.

I had this IM conversation with a friend earlier this year:

me: yeah, i imagine you're comp is much better spec'd than mine
me: arg, i am so messing up my yours and you'res
tb: it happens
tb: i know you know the difference
me: lol, thanks
me: i just dislike when i notice a pattern
tb: it's kind of funny, but grammar, spelling, and usage are the first things i notice about a person
tb: you passed the test :)
me: weee!
me: although i am frequently too lazy to capitalize during an IM conversation
me: but at least i can type whole words! :D
me: nun o dis stuf
tb: i'm totally ok with no capitalization. if e.e. cummings can get away with it, so can we
me: haha, good point!

And yes, it was a good point, and fit well into my discussion with Makal of the rules of writing. You can't really go saying cummings was not a skilled poet or author just because he didn't capitalize "correctly". When you're writing from your heart, who's to say what is correct?