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Activist confrontations
by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid - SGN A&E Writer

Ah, my dears, what an interesting time it's been of late! Between dumping Qwest for Comcast - nothing like being "done" sideways without lube by your e-provider to get you to the "I wanna break up" stage - having great times with my darling slave at The Digs (if you haven't had someone serve as a table for your dinner, you haven't lived, dahling), and struggling to keep my head above the rushing rapids of the economic downturn, this one has been one busy little kitty.

Also, thanks to the Fabulously Generous Brother, this one got to go to the Ballard farmer's market this past weekend and get the flowers I'd wanted on Mother's Day, only that cash had to pay for my meds (no one wants this one off her meds, honey, trust me!), then travel to the University District Street Fair for some tasty food and visual delights. Unfortunately, this one was trying to multi-task a bit too much and dropped my baklava (visit that booth at the Ballard farmer's market on Sundays, that of the Turkish Lavash Company, who were nice enough to replace my lost dessert treat for free) and my olives (five different olives from Garlic Gourmay's booth, for only a buck) when I tried to catch a dustup between an anti-war/anti-torture activist and some guy. Apparently, the guy had a problem with having his words taken out of context (he said) by the rather strident activist. And being me, with last Sunday's moon being in my home sign of Aquarius, I had to take one of these folks aside and chat with them about my personal views on torture, in that it should be consensual and that without consent is wrong, and could I bring my slave to the anti-war protest on the 22nd at Westlake Park? Which was met with at least a smile, and a "Why don't you free your slave?" To which I replied, "Oh, hell no, we're both too happy with things as they are." A confused look from my willing co-conversationalist, but a smile, too.

So, at least some folks on the left have a sense of humor and know that it takes all kinds to bring change to a world suffering from so many forms of badness and lack of joy - like the two SPD officers I chatted up and tried to get photos of for this very column, only to have them decline (but we did have an interesting chat about tops and bottoms - I decided the one I chatted with the most was probably a switch and possibly a good playmate, should we ever meet at The Wet Spot on a Saturday, hint, hint). Ah, some day my fantasy of doing wicked things with/to a cop will happen, and let's hope it's that one, my dears. Hey, I'll even guest that one into The Spot and introduce him to my fave folks.

So what else has this one been up to besides trying to corrupt (in a nice way, dahling - really, what did you think I meant, eh?) Seattle's finest, talking up the good points of consensual torture with our city's activists, and beating the bushes trying to find ways of making more cash? Well, learning to lift weights properly, for one thing, at my gym, and continuing to zumba the pounds away (which did not turn out well for my slave when he overdid it and had to be carried out of the workout room by two ad-hoc tops, a nurse who happened to be "in the house" and my wonderful zumba instructor after he "browned out" from heat exhaustion), traveling to Tacoma to say a fond farewell via a joyful barbecue with that one's friends, as that play partner is now calling Portland home. She will be missed, but, hey, she promises to stay in touch, so this one isn't weeping yet.

Also saw the Red Sox get their booties whupped by my Mariners a week ago today, and was cheering so hard, this one made one of the Red Sox fans spill his beer (big sorry, dude, really, my bad and all). What a flippin' party that was, but, hey, heads up to Ichiro, dude, you need to be more of team player. This comes from a certain Korean clerk at the store near The Digs, where this one stopped on the way home from the Fabulous Daughter's (who had a special delayed Mother's Day celebration last Sunday, since this one was doing her tarot gig at The Cuff on actual Mom's Day), who filled this one's little ears with less than praise for my guy Ichi (who did deliver the two homers that won the game I saw with my buds). So there, message delivered, and hope you take it well and try to reach out to your teamies a bit more so that the team can be the powerhouse this one knows they can be. Can we say playoffs and World Series this year? Baby, I sure hope so, and, Ichi, I still heart you.

Also, this one is getting tired of watching empty-headed folks who can't take a hint cram near the front of crowded Metro buses even after you've been told by the less than toppish driver (and me a proven top) to move to the rear so others can ride, and thus save what we have left of a planet. Get a freakin' clue and realize that if that bus stops suddenly or some bimbo on a cell runs a red light, you're going flying through the windshield or out the door onto the pavement, and you have to wonder, is it really worth staying a stoopid Seattleite (i.e. unfriendly and snooty and too good to stand near other humans) to potentially end like that? And, hey, Metro, give us some really kickass drivers who aren't afraid of saying things like "this bus ain't movin,' jackass, until you move your asses across that yellow line and get back like you have a brain in your head!" (That's something I'd gladly pay more fare to see!) Unless, of course, you want passengers flying like dominoes, and lots of lawsuits.

Maybe electing a new mayor could help a bit here? I sure think so, my little apples.

So, what has this one tried and loved that she wants to share with you now? Well, I got a taste of that new Lindt Dark Chocolate Chili when I went to the Neptune (the only theater to see Star Trek, if you ask me) to get my mind blown by the new Star Trek (which is gaggooglyfabulicious, and, yes, feel free to use this word anytime in the place of "awesome," which is so overused it's ridiculous now). Yummy, with a bit of a bite, you must try this candy and become addicted just like me. Also tried the new L'Homme eau de toilette by Yves St. Laurent and love it to death. Just for the male in you, or the male you are, believe me. Pick this and my other new fave, L'eau by Dior, at Nordstrom, and say hi to those lovely clerks there who are always so helpful to this one when she needs new samples.

Finally, as it gets warmer outside and this one's skin tends to get a bit oilier and frecklier (thanks to my red-headed grandmother), I am so loving Cover Girl's Tru Blend Microminerals Finishing Veil in translucent. Perfect for that mattifying look I crave when I'm not wanting to look glimmery/shimmery (which I get with Bonne Bell's bronzer combo Blend'nGlow, both of which are available at Bartels and Walgreens). And, hey, for you untanned "ghosts" out there, bronzer is a good thing until there's enough sun for the real thing, true dat.

So, that's it for now, and since I've had no time to actually call that number my pharmacy gave me, here's my little "word to the governor." Dear Governor Gregoire, please don't cut healthcare for me and other po' folk, so that we have to choose whether to eat or have our meds and let the pharmacies keep the right to offer meds free for Medicaid clients so we stay healthy and sane in an increasingly insane world, 'kay? As for my pharmacy, Bartels, and those folk who are helping me through the bureaucratic nightmare I'm currently winding my way through, and my dear counselor, you guys rock! And mad love to the Comcast guy who finally got me out of Qwest hell and got me online with Comcast, you rock, too, and if you hadn't mentioned a girlfriend, I'd have thanked you properly with some "special service," ahem. And I am so glad to see that disturbing Burger King commercial with the aside to Sir Mixalot gone, I hope, forever. Meanwhile, be nice to each other, keep up the good fight for healthcare funding, education funding and tolerance for all, and you car driving whackos, get on the bus, and don't all stand in one spot near the driver. Oh, and one last bit of dish. Was Taylor Hicks, who made such a big deal of himself at Grease that some folks had rude thoughts at the afterparty, high after the show? That's the word from some in the know that this one talked to. Oh my, I guess a Bush cousin, however distant, is still a Bush cousin, eh? Hmm hmmm. Buhbye, kiss kiss!
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