Sex Farm Woman

dang, somehow i forgot to like add stuff to this here thingamajob.
i'm-a so sorry suh.
damn.
let's get right to work:

who was the chick in the Scream movies, who was also in Party Of Five?
i was just thinking: what the hell happened to her?

lately i've been having trouble remembering the names of some actors. recently i saw ben affleck on something and for the life of me, i couldn't remember his damn name.
either i'm getting old and losing my memory; smoking too much pot and losing my memory; not reading my entertainment weekly thoroughly enough; or i'm no longer giving a flying fuck who and what these people are.
i'm also realizing that movies and pop culture is so transitory, so fickle, and so in the now, that often, even six months from now, people quickly forget who you are, what you did, and what the hell all the fuss was about.
sure, many artistic endeavors such as this buck the trend. but the vast majority do not.
and that's the way of the world.

ah yes, it was Neve Campbell who we're talking about.
yet, the thing i remember the most about those films, especially scream 2 and shit, did i even see the 3rd one? maybe on hbo or something.
didn't the third one star that fuck liev schreiber (see, now how to i remember those unknown fools?) as the killer in like a high school stage?
dunno.
anyway, the thing i recall is that courteney cocks' chest was so, um, ribby, it was gross.
note to women: getting so skinny that your ribs show above your breasts is not sexy, it's disgusting. i know you have bones underneath all that fat (and by that, i mean all that lovely fatty tissue collected in two large lumps on your chest, not those chubby fat rolls on your belly) but i don't actually want to see it.
kind of reminds me when i "ran" into that gentleman on bart a few weeks back and five minutes later, he gets upset with me for not saying sorry for running into his rib.
:"I'm not an invisible person here," he said to me. "i'm a real person."
really, i thought you actually were fake and invisible, like kevin bacon in that other film about invisibility that i can't recall.
"hollow man" - ah yes, how could have i forgotten such a classic?

women really do get the shaft when it comes to age discrimination in films.
men's careers tend to last longer.
if you look at popular actors throughout the last few decades, a certain pattern develops. the man is more likely to keep on acting into old ass age.
women...some of them, but not nearly the amount of men.
not even close.

meg ryan is still around because she plays the same character in every film.
michelle pfeiffer is still around but nobody's calling her a sex symbol anymore.
or a sexpot.
of course, when you have bimbos like halle berry who go on and on and onnnnnnn touting the fact that she shows off her breasts in drek like "swordfish" (she was paid a couple extra hundred thou for showing 'em off, for a whole measly 2-3 seconds, while lying on her back sunbathing...everybody knows breasts don't look quite as good when a woman lies down....not to say they were bad, but come on...be standing up like katie holmes did in "the gift." now there was a naked breast scene that had, um, staying power).
so yeah, halle berry, dammit.
on the other hand, if i could get paid a couple extra hundred thousand dollars for showing off a part of my body that more than half the population has and the other half is constantly dying to see...well, shit, maybe there's some brains behind those lovely voluptuous breasts. and that's the fact, jack.

summer breeze makes me feel fine.
something something jasmine in my miiiiiiiiind
(guitar solo now)

what's even funnier is that after attending burning man for three years and seeing thousands of naked breasts of all shapes and sizes, you sort of get jaded about seeing breasts. i mean, sure, there still awesome and i can't help but look at them when presented to me in a variety of ways, but when you're around hundreds upon hundreds of women who willingly show off their breasts (and many of them aren't ones you necessarily WANT to see), they kind of get old.
let's see, a pair of round lumps with varying sized areola (what a great word, one of the best sexually-related words there is...a hell of a lot better than vagina or penis) and nipple. sometimes they jut, sometimes they sag, sometimes they're perky, sometimes they're flat, some are gigantor, some are miniscule.
yet, at the end of the day, breasts are simply mother nature's dairy delights.
just a human udder

we men are obsessed with udders.
and a tiny little place we were all in once...and once we're out, we spend the rest of our lives attempting to get back in there...with some friction of course.
unless you're more turned on by someone of your own sex. and then maybe we're talking about some self-obsessive behavior thrown in.

god, the whole concept of sexuality is very strange.
why do we attempt to hide and mask so much of our sexuality, yet every person living on this planet originates from a sex act. i've talked about this before but i still think about the idea that every single person you ever encounter was "made" by two other people fucking.
answering nature's call, the other REAL nature's call.

some people might say "well everybody shits too and i don't want to see or know about that." (well, at least MOST people don't want to know about that...unless there's some shit fetish that i missed).

god, for some reason the memory of me in fifth grade at stoney creek elementary school in comstock park sitting with my parents in the school gym while my principal, mr. zoodsma, talked about sex just bounced into my head. i'll never forget something he said: "just because i'm tall doesn't mean i have large penis. penis size has nothing to do with that."
i don't know if that's the exact phrasing but you get the idea: mr. zoodsma, richard.....had a small penis. or so we and the oh-so-wise fifth grade boys thought so, as we snickered all through class and recess for the next week, talking about mr. zoodsma's ha, ha, "small penis."

just like we all wanted to read judy blume's "forever" and "wifey" around that same time period. i remember my friend matt dionese brought his mom's copy of "wifey" with him to school and all the boys would gather around him during recess in the concrete playground playthings and listen to the sundry, sensual tales of an adulteress wife...an idea that was so foreign to me, it was the kind of thing that only happened in movies, tv or books. not in real life. we couldn't believe the words ol' judy used...see, judy blume was already a hero to me by that age. i had already read a bunch of judy's books: "tales of a fourth grade nothing," "superfudge," "Blubber," "then again maybe i won't" (my first encounter with the idea of masturbation, though at the time i couldn't figure out how my penis could tell the difference between pee and cum), "sheila's house" (which confronted racism, a controversial topic back in the late 70s and early 80s, when this was), and of course, "are you there god, it's me margaret." not till years later did i realize this book was aimed at young pre-teen girls.
i mean, i was also busy reading cool supernatural-related books about kids meeting kind witches and dead people and, um, witches written by Ruth Chew (whatever happened to Ruth Chew?). some of her books include "the would-be witch" from 1977, "witch's broom" from 78, "the witch's buttons" from 74, "the witch's garden" from 79, "wednesday witch" from 1969 and so on. she also has other books with none-witch names like "summer magic" but who gives a hit about that? i just remember one story was about this girl who went into central park in NYC and into a cave, where she could travel to another faraway land. i loved that shit.

but back to "are you there god?" i think part of it was i wanted to learn about the whole girls and periods thing. i did not understand that shit at all back then. and frankly, i still really don't understand it today.
but that's a whole other ballgame.
plus i felt i could relate with a lot of margaret's problems. jesus, even at age 9 or 10, i was more interested in what women cared about than what boys cared about.
of course, i was one of those boys that always liked girls. i never thought they had cooties and i wanted a girlfriend since kindergarten. hell, my best friend in kindergarten was a girl named colleen. she lived down the street. i wonder whatever happened to colleen? she was always kind of dirty. she was more of a boy than i was. i hated to get dirty. i'll never forget the time when i was about 12 or so and i was attending "teepee village" camp (oooh, yet another appropriation of native american culture by the very people that kicked them off their land in the firstplace...but i digress...) and part of the deal with the camp was that we were all supposed to get way more outdoorsy compared with normal camp (which was Lake Ann, another jesus-centric camp in just down the street about a mile or two...they were connected, see).

so my smart counselor whose name escapes my pitiful gray matter at the moment, decided it was a good time to jump in this big mudpit.
never mind that it was kind of cold and drizzly that day (this was northern michigan in july).
one by one, every campmate of mine at teepee village took off extra clothing and jumped on in to the warm and murky mudhole.
every single person, except tim pratt.
i refused to get dirty and there was no way in hell you were going to get me to jump in the damn mudpit.
not a chance.
everybody was attempting to pressure me into jumping in but i wasn't having any of it.
if i would have been saying "fuck you" then like i do now, i would have definitely said it.
to be honest, i don't even recall what my excuse was.
but i did not jump in.

and as it turned out, i was the only smart one out of the entire camp, including all the dumb-ass counselors who were trained to deal with this sort of thing.
problem was the mudpit had a shitload of lovely leeches in there. so when people started getting up out of the mud, a couple kids were like "what are those slimy things on your legs and arms and chest? and ...oh god, they're moving!!!"
by the time it was determined they were in fact leeches sucking on the blood of several dozen good little christian boys and girls, many of the girls were freaking out and screaming and the like.
it was great. here i was, the stubborn short little boy who HATED to get dirty and i ended up being the smartest one of the entire bunch.
that day, i ruled.

eventually all the kids scampered out of the mudhole. most of them had at least one leech on them somewhere that somebody else had to yank off them. ouch.
needless to say, i helped no one. fuck that shit.
they dug their own hole.
or for that matter, they jumped into it.

goddamn, talking about this reminds me of the time at lincoln lake when i had a girlfriend for a week. i would sneak out of my cabin every night (yes, i was older by then...like 6th or 7th grade i think) to go make out with my camp girlfriend...and fuck i can't remember her name right now. i want to say jamie but that doesn't seem right.
whatever, i have a great photo of us and i'm standing up next to her. problem is that my girl had already started puberty and her breasts were beginning to sprout. she was also quite tall.
see, i was quite short for my age, and people often thought i was younger than i actually was (still do, though then it sucked. now, i'm happy. karma rules sometimes).
anyway, this photo rocks. my head barely touches the top of her breasts. seriously.
yeah, it's funny.
very.

yet, somehow, i was able to hang onto her for the entire week. true i don't think we made it past first base (i don't even remember feeling up her tits though i might have just from outside her shirt..no way did i get bare skin at that age. i had to wait a few more years for that).

ok, one more fucked up memory having to do with sex, sort of.
that little story reminded me of this girl LaNeal i went out with when i was, ohhh, i think 15. yeah, 15, cause she was 14 and lived in Sparta, which was much more rural than where i lived, which was suburbia.
i don't remember exactly how i met this girl, but she was the first girl i really and truly thought i was going to have sex with, even though it never did work out (that's ok..by 18 or 19, LaNeal -- like a majority of Sparta girls -- had a kid. Sparta girls were known for being, um, easy.

which, played a large role in my decision making at the time. i mean, LaNeal Smart -- what the hell kind of name is that? come to think of it, i've gone out with some girls with real gems for names -- Cammie Pohl, Jenny Justice...the time i was going out with a Chris, a Kristi and a Kris....a girl named Jenica...---- so many dumb names. then again, it's not the girl's fault. blame her parents..

..sidenote: i complimented a girl on her name the other day (and no, i don't remember it...but i will later) and she thanked me. i realize that's an automatic reflex, saying thank you, but still. not you. you shouldn't ake credit

back to laneal: so yeah, she was the first girl to let me, uhhhhhh, fuck it, who cares...finger her. before that, there was a lot of mystery involved with that whole scene. and i didn't know what the hell to do or how to go about it. i was just naturally curious...i just remember being surprised at how warm and moist it was....and this took place behind a Kmart and Showbiz (later to be called Chuck E. Cheese) Pizza building at night in the middle of winter, while it was snowing.
and for some reason, we got a ride from an older adult couple that wasn't her parents...ahhhh, i know...

~smirk~

i met LaNeal via a church-related outing...i'm pretty sure. i think she was friends with one of my guy friends' girlfriend...that's how that shit always works...at least for me that's how it always worked. at that time, i was not so experienced in the wonders of the woman's body other than a few failed attempts at feeling this girl's crotch through her jeans at a high school dance...and crotch girl never spoke to me again. bitch.

yeah, LaNeal ...church thing. funny cause she nor her family attended church. i think i didn't know the couple that we rode with...i think i got dropped off too..because i don't remember riding there with them. yet, fuck, i could be wrong about that one...hard to remember.

I never had sex with LaNeal, though i really thought i was going to. i probably would have if it wouldn't have been for that fact i was too young to drive and, though i had a nifty red scooter i paid $450 cash for with all the money i made as a paperboy, it wasn't very good for long distances. the one time i did go to visit her on my moped, traveling out to her trailer about 8-10 miles from my home, i took her for a ride and got busted by a Kent County Sheriff for riding double, both of us without helmets, and i supposedly "ran" a stop sign (which was bullshit because i did stop...cop said i didn't come to a COMPLETE stop. fuckass).

i had a five points on my license at age 15 and i hadn't even gotten my driver's license. that was my moped license. all because of LaNeal. because i HAD to see her because i thought FOR SURE I was going to have sex with her. and finally graduate from the lowly virgin club. not to be.

however, i was a bit daring. this was an age where guys (and i'm potentially giving away a boy secret here...sorry fellas) would routinely stick their fingers in their friends faces after having some "finger action" with said girlfriend and judge its scent...and the strength of the smell.

yes, it's true. men do this. ah...i should say, teenage boys do this. i did this. i know many many friends that did this. if a sizable portion of men ever read this...ha, they will know it is true. so yes, i did this. the night after behind Kmart/Showbiz...first thing myself and my friend Tim Danowski (very experienced with the ladies by 15) would compare the smell...talk about it for awhile...discuss areas of the body explored...at what point did she say "no" or "stop." usual shit.

so yeah, i did that. boys do that. point is...myself and laNeal we did this a few times...i should say "i" did this TO her. not a ton of reciprocation going on at this point in the game other than the usual curious touchy feely outside the jean-y kinda thing with the occasional tug on the zipper and/or button on pants...too scary ....ooooooooohhh nelly.
furtado.
yep.
one time i was particularly daring though. actually twice that day, after getting busted on my moped, i went back over to her house and we hung out in her room. her mom was there but not around...maybe sleeping, who knows. she wasn't around. dad at work or something. so we messed around in her room. classic shit too with the variable curious knock and/or barge-in from little brothers and sisters.
"what are you guys doing?" her 8-year-old brother asks as my arm and hand are stuck up her shirt.

yeah, smart move...later, her dad comes home and he's going to take the whole family out for pizza, plus he wants to size up the boy that's messing round with his damn daughter.
it turned out to be ok..nothing special...the food i mean...her dad wasn't all that inquisitive, as i recall.
yet,...funny...on both the way to the pizza joint and on the way home, i was um, doing the finger thing with her ...in the car..while everybody else was in the car too.......it was cold...we were all crammed together in the back of this car....father and mother were talking, we were scrunched way in the back....it looked like we were holding hands (to divert attention, i held her hand with my other hand).

the relationship didn't last. as i said. distance. the sparta thing. the getting busted by the cops thing. other girls.....never happened with LaNeal. she was kind of um, odd, anyway. of course, she was 14 or 15, so it isn't like anybody's normal at that age. we all have our gawky moments.

funny...all those memories spawned by the party of five girl, neve campbell....who i never thought was cute or particularly hot. not really.

ok, i MUST go to sleep. i can't believe i just did this. one of those weird, things. ::::::

but you'll have to wonder what these notes below mean. topics to be discussed in my next session.
i promise.

mrs. mckenna would walk to her mailbox naked.
i really want that video "our mr. sun" from 1955. it's on video. i must have it.
the cheri z. story dad slapping her while i was talking on the phone to my mom, on the only phone there was in the whole house and located on the living room wall.

memories, like the powder of my mind.

eat and drink pastry buttons

arrogance, flammery and perversely yours,

Ron Rancor Remming, Esq.