Saviabella

Navigation

BlogHer Ads

More from BlogHer:

Advertise here BlogHer Privacy Policy

Search

Archives

Recent MyBlog Visitors

Weblogs

Blogrolls and Communities

Extras

Tools and Support

Creative Commons License

July 13, 2007
A cluster fuck of goodness

On Thursday, That Girl and I spent part of the evening skulking through back alleys, looking behind dumpsters for art. No, not a smarmy homeless dude named Art. Actual art. Paintings. By a well-known artist.

What? It's just a typical night in Cityville.

We didn't plan it - it was just one of those things that happened. You know, one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, people in a funky neighbourhood are looking at you funny because they can't understand why two cute, well-dressed girls are so interested in their garbage.

It all began with a fundraiser for disabled AIDS orphans in Africa. That's right...not only were they orphans, but they were also disabled and had AIDS. I mean, one of those things would have sucked, but all three? This called for even more drastic measures than just shelling $10 out for the fundraiser. We also brought two cans of Chef Boyardee with us. With the flip-top lids for easy access. It was the least we could do.

Once there, we dined on incredible African food, listened to drumming and a cool Sudanese Children's Choir, and watched a bunch of white people dance and sing along to the music - they even knew all the words. In Sudanese. Cityville has almost no black people living here, so it was inevitable that almost the entire crowd at the African fundraiser were white. But, hey, at least they go to these things and give a shit about people on the other side of the world, right?

There was one lady who we'll call Striped Dress Lady because, uh, she was wearing a striped dress. Anyway, from the way she was moving, she was clearly a bellydancer, and a good one at that. We couldn't help but watch her.
Savia: Wow, look at her move. I'm mesmerized. How does she...do...that...with her body?
That Girl: Those kids must be having such a great time riding her.
Savia: laughs
That Girl: Uh, that came out wrong.

We ran into my friend, Funky Artist Dude, who was having an art show next door. In order to break Striped Dress Lady's spell on us, we decided to go to his show and admire his amazing art. Amazing art that was completely out of our price range. One of the paintings was $1,200 and he was also selling pictures of the paintings at several hundred dollars a pop. Oh, it was tempting, but I just couldn't do it (especially since I accidentally commissioned a sculpture last week from a well-known artist. Oops!)

But then, Funky Artist Dude told us how we could get some of his art for free. Free, I tells ya! All you have to do is say the word "free" or "sale" within earshot of me and I will be all over it - and you. I'll do just about anything for free stuff. Just try me.

So, there is free art to be had, you say? And the only catch was that we had to root through back alleys for it. You see, he's doing an art project where he leaves pieces of art in the back alleys of a downtown neighbourhood for people to find. He gave us a hint as to where they were and we decided to ditch the African disabled AIDS orphan fundraiser (hey, they got our money and our Chef Boyardee) and go on a back alley art scavenger hunt instead.

We spent more than 30 minutes in back alleys, looking carefully behind dumpsters and, in my case, in them.

That Girl: Why do you keep looking in the dumpsters? I'm sure he wouldn't put his art in there.
Savia: Maybe he would. I want to be sure.
That Girl: Uh, if we find one in a dumpster, we'll just leave it there.
Savia: Speak for yourself. If there's art in a dumpster, I'm climbing into that motherfucker for it. (There wasn't, but that would have been a sight. Princess Savia in her stylish red Guess shoes, bohemian skirt and wrap around top, dumpster diving for art. But it's free!)

After a period of searching with no results, we were beginning to wonder if we were just pawns in Funky Artist Dude's latest performance art piece, entitled Let's Make Princesses Skulk Through Alleys with the Promise of Free Art - Ha Ha, Suckers!, when I spotted a small, earth-toned painting in the window of an old, decrepit shed.
With a score like this under our belts, we were determined to find another painting for That Girl. This one proved to be more difficult to spot, and we searched for a good 20 minutes before she found one on a fence, behind which there was a very aggressive, loud dog.

(If you could see her face, it would be scared.)

The night didn't even end there - we also went to a theatre fringe play and then out for tea to debrief.

Savia: Holy shit, how many cultural things did we do tonight? We ate African food, watched a Sudanese choir, went to an art show, rooted in back alleys and in dumpsters for paintings, went to a play and now we're having tea. You're the best date ever!
That Girl: It was a cluster fuck of goodness!

That it was, dear. That it was.

Oh, and FYI, I'm taking my back alley painting to Europe with me to pose with it in front of famous landmarks and pieces of art. I'm sure Funky Artist Dude will be thrilled.
Labels: art
2 comments | permalink | other social bookmarks

July 11, 2007
How much fuck could a ninja fuck if a ninja could fuck fuck?

So, my last post has been getting a tad bit of attention. My stats are showing links from people who seem really cool, and even a mention on the Blog Her website (thanks Denise!) All kinds of folks are swinging by to say 'hi' and to read about my abnormal sexual practices.

I feel like I should do something to entertain the peeps who have a new found appreciation for Mistress Bella and her potty mouth. But I'm not sure what exactly. I mean, how do you follow a post on ninja fucking your job?

I asked a few blogger friends what they thought. The conversation went something like this:

That Girl: Ninja fucking things is always a crowd pleaser.
Savia: The only problem is...where do I go from here? How the fuck do you follow up the ninja fuck?
Schmutzie: Make a diorama of ninja fucking?
That Girl: Tantric ninja fucking.
Savia: Interpretive dance featuring ninja fucking? So, the consensus is that my blog is now a ninja fucking blog, yes?

It's a new sub-genre of blogging, I've decided. So, what do you think? What does a ninja fucking blog look like, and what sorts of topics does it deal with?

Come on, be a comment whore. You know you wanna.
Labels: misc
15 comments | permalink | other social bookmarks

July 7, 2007
Fuck this job

How's work, you ask?

Well, if you recall, late last year, I had my dream job fall into my lap. Just out of the sky. Ploop. There it was. Not at all like bird shit or anything - like something good. Like calorie-free chocolate that tastes like real chocolate, let's say. In the shape of bird poop. But not gross or anything.

I had to leave a really great job that I loved, but I knew I was making the right decision, because it was as though this job description were written just for me. It was an opportunity to flex my creative skills and combine my personal and professional lives into one. I knew I would be able to be myself in this role, and I was really looking forward to it.

The last six months haven't been easy. In fact, they've been quite rough. The learning curve was steep. The job had to be made up as I went along because it didn't exist before, and my skills and instincts were challenged in ways that I hadn't counted on. There were times I broke down crying (yeah, even while at work) because I wasn't sure if I had made the right decision, because I felt like I was in over my head, because I was convinced that my boss had made a horrible, horrible mistake in hiring me and would surely figure it out soon and kick my shit to the curb. But part of me kept whispering, "It's going to be okay. Just wait it out and get through six months. Or a year even. It will get better."

And then, suddenly, at the six-and-a-half month mark, it did. As part of my job, I had an incredible experience with a group of young, artistic, creative, innovative people that energized me, that fed me spiritually, that made me realize I am one of them. And since then, everything has just clicked at work.

I love my job.

No, that doesn't really do it justice.

I really, really love my job.

Still not good enough.

I want to make love to my job.

Getting closer, but not quite right.

I want to fuck my job.

Almost.

I want to ninja fuck my job.

Yes!!

If I could, I would ninja fuck my job. I would rip off its clothes, throw it down on the bed, and ninja fuck the fuck out of my job until we pushed the bed from one end of the room to the other. Then, I would leap over the bed, turn my job over on its stomach and ninja fuck that fucker until we pushed the bed back to the other side of the room. Then, I'd flip it over again, wrap its legs around its head, and fuck it until we were both a sweaty, screaming, multiple orgasmic mess. And then, I'd stroke my job's hair, because I love it so. I'm sweet that way.

Oh, so in answer to your question, yeah, work's alright.
Labels: transition
16 comments | permalink | other social bookmarks

July 4, 2007
Facebook me, I'm guilty

It's a serious problem, this Facebook addiction of mine. It's not even so much a Facebook addiction as a Status Update addiction. For those of you who haven't yet been sucked into the cult, Status Updates are a bit like Twitter. They put your name and the word "is" and leave the rest blank for you to fill in. Some people put things like "tired" and "very tired" and "going to sleep now." Uh, who wants to read about how tired you are? Gee, that's super fun. I mean, if you want to say you're tired, put something like, "Savia is riding the insomnia high. Nothing like a little sleep deprived mania to get one through the long weekend!"

(Sorry if you're one of the people who thinks it's super rad to say you're tired and I've now offended you. The truth is that I'm fucking tired today, and it's all about me, don't you know? Well, actually, it's all about Schmutzie. She had her surgery yesterday and even though I knew she was okay, I still couldn't wind myself down to go to sleep. So today, I'm all kinds of wonky and, therefore, cannot be held accountable for any statements that may pick your ass. However, I still think you should get with the program and put just a little creative effort into it. No, not into picking your ass. I'm back on the Status dealie. Try to keep up. My point here is this: just fucking entertain me already, because as I mentioned before, it's all about me. Wow, I sure swear a lot when I haven't slept. This is kind of fun! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Ah, that's better.)

As you can probably guess, my Status Updates are more quirky than straightforward. Here is a sampling of some of them (which, by the way, can't even begin to compare with what the Palinode and the Brother of Palinode come up with. An example, you ask? Off the top of my head: "...is decomposing in a vacant townhouse in west Baltimore." Who the heck thinks of these things? Ah, yes, the 'Node boys of course.)

Savia is...
moving forward, not backward, upward, not forward, and always twirling, twirling, twirling toward freedom!
dweedlee bop scoobie doo wop bop pow.
melting in your mouth, not in your hand.
the one little duck with the feather on her back. She led the others with a quack, quack, quack.
getting poked by enough people to start her own Facebook orgy. Who's in?
an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a phyllo pastry and garnished with a sprig of mint.
the one who put the bom in the bom sha bom sha bom, and the ram in the ram a lam a ding dong, but she certainly did not put the dip in the dip da dip da dip.
starring in an off-off-off Broadway play, the climax of which is an hour-long interpretive dance of the last federal election.
a source of 11 essential vitamins and nutrients.
the gin in your martini (which turned into a series that lasted a week, quoting lines from the song We Put the Spring in Springfield, culminating with my favourite, "a giddy little thrill at a reasonable price.")
the new black.
the lime in the coconut.
sending sexy right back to where it came from. In fact, she's deporting it. It was causing far too much trouble. No one needs that. Life's complicated enough.
a poster girl with no poster (which became an Ani DiFranco lyrics-off with a funky new artist friend of mine.)
There were many more, but they've since disappeared from my minifeed and my brain is like a sieve - if I don't write them down, I forget.
So, the problem now is, people are expecting great things from my Status. What happens if I run out of A1 material? Will there be a cyberfriend revolt? Will they start sending me virtual gifts in the shape of bombs? I don't want to take that chance. I need your help, Internets!
For the love of God, in the comments, please finish this sentence:
Savia is...
Labels: misc
14 comments | permalink | other social bookmarks

July 3, 2007
Ode to Schmutzie

I am absolutely useless today. Useless. Helpless. Distracted. Anxious. Because one of the people I love most in the world is, as we speak, lying unconscious in an operating room having her uterus cut out of her. We've known this was going to happen for a month now, but it seemed so far away, so surreal. We joked about it. We were flippant about it. We were matter-of-fact and detached about it. But today, it is very real. It is all I can think about. And it makes me feel sick inside.

I know she is going to be okay. I know it in the pit of my stomach. But I need this day to be over so I can know it for real, for real that she's okay, so I can be okay. I'm trying to distract myself. A two-hour meeting this morning helped, though I ended up being roped into serving on a committee because they were hoping for a woman to join and I exclaimed, "I have ovaries!" (Nothing like advising your entire workplace of your gonads, but this shouldn't really surprise anyone who's met me.) After that, I needed to get out of the office. I opted for retail therapy and bought some things I needed and some things I really didn't need. I ate greasy Chinese food at a place that Schmutzie and I used to go for lunch. But nothing is really going to distract me today, so perhaps I should just quit fighting it and embrace it instead.

I've been meaning to tell the story of the day I met Schmutzie for some time now, but I was waiting for the right time. Today is as good a time as any.

I had just started a new job, after having a horrific experience at the evil corporate place. I was feeling insecure to begin with, because my self-esteem had been shot to all hell from the bullying and abuse of my previous employer. I had to go to a meeting at this office where I knew no one. I walked in and immediately felt out of place. Everyone was dressed in suits and was running around, far too busy to even notice the presence of a twitchy redhead in the middle of the room. A wall of chaotic noise composed of ringing phones, conversation snippets and laughter hit me and made me feel disoriented. I felt alone, anxious, alienated. I didn't belong here. I didn't belong with these people. It felt like the evil corporate place all over again. I began to wonder if I had made the right choice in taking this new job.

And then, something happened. Amidst the corporate suits, loud noise and chaos was someone very different. She had short, short, short dark hair, big funky tortoiseshell glasses and looked very chic dressed all in black - a textured black top and black dress pants, if I recall correctly. She floated through the room as if in her own world, and certainly didn't look like anyone else I had seen in that office, or anywhere else, for that matter. I was mesmerized by her. She seemed so cool, so unique, so self-assured.

As though she could feel my gaze, she turned her head in my direction. Her pretty green eyes met mine, and unlike everyone else in that office, she not only looked at me, she saw me. The chaos seemed to disappear and everything slowed down. And then, she smiled. A sweet genuine smile. And in that moment, I felt a connection between us, a message passed without words. Calmness washed over me. I was no longer alone. If she could be here, so could I.

And then she was gone. She disappeared so quickly I wondered if she were some sort of mirage. But the feeling she left me with was still there. I hoped I would run into her again, because someone like that - someone who would reach out to a stranger even in a small way, but a small way that made such a huge difference - was the kind of person I wanted in my life.

Fortunately, I did meet her again. We became fast friends - there was a trust between us that was pretty much instant - not a common occurrence for either of us. And in the close to three years I've known her, she has become one of my best friends, someone who has given me wise advice, who has held me when I cried, who has celebrated with me, who has always told me the truth, who has offered words of encouragement when I've doubted myself, who has never judged me when I've said or done something bizarre (and has usually topped me with something even more bizarre), who has communicated with me without words, and who has become the sister I never had. I have tried to do the same for her, and I hope I have succeeded, because she deserves nothing less.

I love her so much. And I want this day to be over already.
Labels: Schmutzie
10 comments | permalink | other social bookmarks

July 1, 2007
Astrologyzone blows my mind once again

This is my horoscope for July, in part:

Lucky you - you will find a million reasons to travel this month, so you'll probably head out of town more than once....

July will be your ideal month to travel this summer - better than August. At the very start of the month, you will get your first chance to flee town. This sweet little getaway won't fully satisfy your yen to get away, however. Your desire to get out and see the world will grow much stronger by the new moon, July 14.

After mid-July you will get a chance to cover many more miles. This new moon is one of the friendliest of the year. With a collaboration with generous Jupiter, a planet intent on spoiling you with luxury and other goodies, and equally loving Uranus, the planet known to bring bushel of positive, surprising events, you seem set for a fun time. In case you are worried about costs, don't, because you could hit on bargain travel opportunities that you'd never assume possible. It certainly behooves you to do your research.

Guess when I'm leaving town? July 14. Oh, yeah, baby. Counting the days...
Labels: astrology
0 comments | permalink | other social bookmarks