Today, I’m too sleepy to write thoughtful material. I’m halfway through a weekend with the most terrifying of companions: my mother.

But first, here are the unexpected places my baby blog has been this week:

Maymay, of Maybe Maimed But Never Harmed, wrote flattering things about me. Thanks, May!

Viviane, of Viviane’s Sex Carnival, also graciously linked my last article. Thanks, Viviane!

We also had a brief Bitchy Jones visitation in the comments a few days back. I feel like a fanfare ought to play when I load the page.

In the palpable aura of my fear, my mother’s reputation preceded her. While I was wandering the Village with coworkers on Thursday, Rob saw me with company and decided that discretion meant steering clear. “You should have come over!” I chided. “Even if it had been family, it would have been fine.” This will continue to be true (if nerve-wracking) until the day my friends acquire shirts that read “I beat your daughter for fun”. Most of the time we freaky folk look normal.

When my mother finally arrived I swept her off to dinner, and then for drinks, before returning her to her accomodations. If I keep her busy enough I do not have to lie about work.  We walked miles, tackled Times Square, ate bagels for brunch and waited on line for discount show tickets.

In Union Square we saw more of my friends-to-whom-I-ought-not-say-hello. I waved hello. Thankfully, they didn’t see me before I regained my senses.

At dinner my mother finally met Boymeat (boyfriend, roommate and pet sadist) and our houseguest this weekend, the gorgeous Rita from Ohio (kinkmogul.com). No one threw silverware or broke plates, so I consider the event a success.

Tomorrow another family dinner (now, with bonus aunt) is in store for me. I have never looked forward to work, and Monday morning, so much!

In the meantime, I have a few things to post this week: something about female ejaculation I started when I was shooting porn in California, anecdotes about an orgy and a lover, and reviews (once I read ‘em) of six or seven newly purchased books on feminism.

And I’m sure something amusing will happen at work this week. It is a dungeon, after all.

Lately, I suspect myself of becoming a feminist, a label with which I’ve never been comfortable (I do not hate men: I want to understand them). I would be far less comfortable were I to fall short of educated feminism and become a ranting bitch. And to judge by my latest entries, I am falling squarely into bitchiness. Thus: the books.

I know I come to feminism with a bias. Not all feminists have been kind to sex workers, pornography or even straight women. I don’t know how open I am to hearing criticism of my choices.

(Actually, I have some idea. But it ends in my eagerness to have my mother — lovely woman that she is — safely gone.)

Posted in links, feminism, secrets, family, nyc