Tag Archives: Jamye Waxman

Jamye & Amy Jo

Another one of my oldest friends is Jamye Waxman. She’s on my side of the country this week and we got to hang out yesterday.

I met Jamye when she was working for Alan Colmes. That was way back in the day when, if you were looking to find a freak in NYC, I was the go-to person. Kinky publications, fetish parties, I had a Rolodex full of boot lickers, balloon masturbators, human carpets and expert spankers. She booked me for Bob Berkowitz‘s “Lovebytes” show and probably a bunch of other things too. Fast forward a couple decades and we’re still close friends. We’ve wrangled balloons together at Coachella. I’ve stayed with her in LA, Santa Cruz and at her aunt’s when I was Assistant to Ms. Waxman on her three instructional porn DVDs. She’s stayed with me here in New York, at my parents’ in San Rafael and we shared an RV at Burning Man. We’ve 41a98gnyJpL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgsupported each other’s projects over all these years and she has served as one of my primary cheerleaders. Jamye has written books, most recently “How to Break Up with Anyone: Letting Go of Friends, Family and Everyone In-Between,” but also her female masturbation book “Getting Off” and the young, hip sex guide, “Hot Sex” Over 200 Things You Can Try Tonight!” (with Emily Morse). She’s been a producer, a director and a podcaster. She’s appeared on radio, TV and in print publications. She’s pursuing her MA in Counseling Psychology at Santa Clara University and her Ph.D. in Human Sexuality Education from Widener University to augment her Masters in Sex Ed. All that is just frosting on the cake, though, ’cause I just love hanging out with her!

unnamed.jpgAnd speaking of books written by people I’ve known for years through what I’ve always referred to as the “sexerati” (or “cliterati”), Amy Jo Goddard recently had a book published. “Woman On Fire” offers advice on “how to master the 9 elements of sexual empowerment to reclaim their desire and live the sexually fulfilling lives they want.” Amy Jo is a “sexual empowerment coach,” but her expertise goes 41uBpvTZZLL._SX329_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgbeyond the bedroom and right into your wallet, as she instructs you to light that fire within you for a more empowered life. I’ve taken a few of her workshops and she really helps you delve into the nitty-gritty.

New Moon on Monday

As of tomorrow I will have been home for three weeks. It’s been exhausting and action packed! I’ve been brunching and dinnering and partying and working and generally trying to keep myself busy.

Today I had my first paid article in ages “published” on a web site! My friend Jamye got me the gig. It’s supposed to become a recurring column and I’m hoping I didn’t screw it up by completely freaking out when I saw the image they’d run with the piece. The title is “Aging Gracelessly” and this is what they chose:


Uh, yeah. No. Nothing about my first person musings relate to this particular scenario. Nor am I interested in making fun of old women. I mean, I can make fun of myself. (You’d better not, but I can!) I’m not trying to be cruel to my, ummm, peers. They changed it, thank goodness. Go read it and see!

Anyway, back to my insanity. I celebrated Halloween a full seven times: The Haunted Halloween Bus in New Jersey, working the door at Honk, an oddball costume party at Coworkrs work share space (with DJ Spooky and a bunch of Orthodox Jews), the Nobot Heart party (in protest of the overpriced Robot Heart rave), working the door at Rubulad, Burning Man Happy Hour (where Pinky and I shared second place in the costume contest before we lost our prize at Dorian Gray) and Halloween itself, which featured a mad dash through the parade to catch up with the Kostume Kult float, followed by a stressful taxi ride to the Gene Frankel Theatre to emcee Ghostlight 2: The Haunted East Village, and finally, after taking down the decor at the theatre, catching the final few hours of KK’s big bash. By the time I went to bed Friday morning I was done! And didn’t even leave the house all day Friday. Check out Pinky and me in our gray scale ensembles!


It only took us a year to finally realize these costumes! 

I’ve been making the tiniest bit of progress in cleaning out my storage space in an effort to return it to a functional costume closet. I brought up three boxes of…stuff…and unpacking them has been pretty damn depressing. Framed photos of my former life (my dad, standing, my husband, my cousin and her husband, my sister and her husband, all three of which are no longer husbands), more and more of the art nouveau boxes I collect — more and more all kinds of boxes, actually — which I’ve been cramming into my display case. I have plans to paint my walls. I want to hang the photos that don’t make me sad and all of the art that’s currently sitting on the floor. Moving back into my apartment has been a four-year-long process. I wish it could all just be finished already!

Oh, and I had another date tonight. It wasn’t…horrible. He was very aggressive about “booking” the date, even though I told him I was “skeptical.” Well, dinner was nice. He bought. But he’s a banker. A Republican. And 60. And he wore baggy khakis. Ack. When he said he’d like to see me again I told him it would be like taking money (or eating another dinner) under false pretenses. I did my best to talk him out of it, asking when he last stayed up all night on drugs or umm, partied at all. He told me that he was at Woodstock, which I’m guessing was to assure me he was, indeed, “cool.” I said I wasn’t talking about things he was interested in doing 30-plus years ago but, like, last weekend. He would not be dissuaded. In fact he practically insisted. Quite the salesman. However, I think I may have to tell him no. Is that awful of me? I mean, let’s be serious. A 60-yeard-old Republican banker? I just can’t. Not even for a free meal.

Okay, I gotta get some sleep.

Brick & Mortar Me

Hello, readers!
Sorry I haven’t posted in a while but I’ve been busy being productive! I started my class at FIT and whipped up a few new tiaras. Now, I’d like to tell you about a few upcoming events I’m involved in:

The first one, I’ve been hired as sort of a “celebrity bartender.” I’m
very flattered and want to make sure they think they made a smart
choice! The cover is crazy high but they’ve offered MY FRIENDS a

The second event is one I’m producing myself. It’s the first event
I’ve put together in a LONG time. I’d love to see you there! And if
you can’t make it, any help promoting it, letting friends (or anyone
you think might be interested) know about it, would be greatly

This Saturday, February 9, I’ll be bartending at Ominous City, a
burneresque celebration of Valentine’s Day and the Lunar New Year.
The cover is steep but you’ll get in for a reduced price if you enter
this discount code: @bbiluv
For complete party details, check out their Facebook page:

On Sunday, February 17, I’m producing my first event in ages: Heart
Palpitations, an enchanting evening of interactive lessons in
love…and more!
Complete details are below, but here is the link to the Facebook page:

Valentine’s Day has blown over and you’ve gobbled down all your
conversation hearts. Now what? Dating Blogger and nightlife empresaria
EditrixAbby presents Heart Palpitations, a post-Valentine’s Day event
for couples, singles, seekers and students of the heart.

Recently fixated on all things LOVE, Abby has assembled an eclectic
assortment of experts on passion. Whether you’re suffering from a love
hangover or you’re blissfully coupled, this enchanting evening offers
lessons for everyone.

The evening begins with a tantalizing appetizer by Ebonie Little, who
will combine the two interests in a guided “eating meditation”, We’ll
learn to re-engage the senses to savor what we put into our
bodies–and in effect, remember loving self-care. Ebonie creates
chocolate delights through Miss Little’s Jars. She will be offering
sensuous treats like Moussexy, a chai-spiced, sugar-free confection,
and truffles in many flavors, for sale in the cocktail lounge. Ms.
Little also founded Eating Consciously, a grassroots online dialogue
on mindful nutrition.

Author, sex educator, video producer and relationship lecturer Jamye
Waxman will facilitate an ice breaker to help you communicate more
effectively about sexuality.

Stacy Rapp, “Head Witch” at Enchantments, the East Village
headquarters for all your Wiccan and witchy needs, will lead a
goddess-based confidence and beauty spell to increase your attraction

Be Wild Woman founder Kiana Love will incorporate dance and chakra
exercises to help you become more receptive to passion and abundance.
www. bewildwoman.com

Closing out the evening, Elf Girl Reverend Jen will prove that humor
is a key component to passion. Proprietrix of The Troll Museum,
producer of The Anti-Slam and puppetmaster of the Mr. Lower East Side
Pageant, Rev. Jen has been a fixture of the underground East Village
arts scene since there actually was an underground arts scene.

Katie Hotaling is an amateur baker who whips up creative concoctions
to satisfy your sugar cravings. She will be sharing her pastry
decorating tips with you as you embellish your own baby cupcake.
‘Cause who doesn’t love sprinkles?

DJ Douggie Style will provide the sensuous soundtrack for the soiree,
from conversation-conducive subdued to a more electrified ambience
after 11. Monday is a holiday, so come out and play!

EditrixAbby will be your emcee, sharing anecdotes and advice for
dating in the 21st Century.

Show up early for your Goodie Bag, including a free porn DVD, cookies
by ThisChickBakes.com and more!

Affaire Downstairs is a cozy venue with a cocktail lounge for
conversation and a dance floor with plush nooks perfect for absorbing
lessons in romance. You are free to opt in (or out) of each

WHAT: Heart Palpitations
WHEN: Sunday, February 17
TIME: 7pm
WHERE: Affaire, 50 Avenue B at East 4th St.
COVER: $10

Anger Mismanagement

Yesterday I particpated in a video shoot about female climaxes for gasm.org. My friend Jamye was moderator, posing questions about vibrators and masturbation, fantasies and female ejaculation. It was pretty fun. Plus I’ll do anything for Jamye. Or for 50 bucks!

The panel was supposed to include a variety of women and, for one comprised of only six, it was a success: ages ranged from 21 to 52 (me), married and single, and there was one woman of color. Our answers varied even more than who – or what – we were. One woman explained that she experiences her orgasms as colors. Others made allusions to threesomes and same-sex experimentation. The 21-year-old was — hmm, how to put this nicely? — the most vocal. When she cut off the quietest woman (for about the tenth time) by blurting, “I love to be the star! The center of attention!” I thought that quiet girl was gonna smack her. I sure would’ve liked to. And when the words “as you get older” actually came out of her mouth, in the context of “as you get older, your interest in sex decreases,” I swear, I almost lost it. Instead, I put my hands up and said, “Wait, wait just a minute here,” and disabused her of that notion. She back-pedaled, explaining that what she meant was “over time,” as in “over time, with one partner, your interest may decrease.” I’ll buy that. But again, coming from someone barely out of high school, it was a little difficult to swallow. When I asked Jamye what she thought of the shoot, she, too had been irritated with the youngster and said she felt compelled to let her know. I didn’t think it would be worth it.

Last night, as we drunkenly bumbled home from a long day of that shoot followed by her ex-boyfriend’s book party (and after telling me that I should give every blind date “at least three chances”) Jamye told me that people are afraid of me because I come off so angry. I suppose I do. It isn’t conscious. And I try not to be. I know people often take what I say way too seriously, hear me as more forceful than I mean to sound.

The gig I worked last weekend went well. I jumped in the second I got there, asking a woman who looked harried if I could help her before I’d even been told what to do. I elegantly solved a problem, efficiently ran a few errands and generally made myself useful. I wasn’t a whiner. And I don’t think anyone experienced me as angry. People I’m close to may see me that way but that’s mostly because, well, ’cause I’m being myself with them… I guess once you get to know me, you see my caustic side. But not everyone does. Sigh.

My sister and my mom both firmly believe that I am terminally unemployable. That I’ve been unable to keep myself from telling off every boss I’ve ever had. I don’t suffer fools gladly and I suck at faking how I feel, so if I think you’re an asshole, you’ll know it. Granted, it’s difficult to work for someone an idiot. But most of my bosses have been worthy of my respect.

Much of my anger comes from finding myself out of step. I feel like I’m perpetually ahead of the culture curve. A decade after I was doing something, it comes into vogue. Or gets good press. And becomes profitable. Maybe I just don’t have the right stick-to-it-ive-ness. Or the focus. Or perhaps I just get bored easily. But tell me, am I wrong to hope for one well-placed supporter? One person to “champion” my book proposal(s)? Advocate for me in a job situation? Is everyone too afraid, worried that my misplaced anger will cause me to implode?

That’s what I’m assuming. So here I sit, laptop on my lap, researching self-publishing sites and ready to do it on my own. I’ve stopped applying for jobs. And I won’t be expecting any favors. Fuck everyone else. Ya hear me? FUCK EVERYONE ELSE! How’s that for anger?

Home Again…Again

I love my bed.

It was nice to be back in it after a week out of town, sleeping in an RV with the door slamming at all hours. Coachella was a blast! I got to see Duran Duran, The Strokes and Gogol Bordello, among others; discovered a bunch of new bands, including Mariachi el Bronx; got to hang with my friends Jamye, Ocean, Rob and Ben and meet a bunch of new folks; enjoyed the sun and palm trees and walking barefoot; plus be an integral part of Balloon Chain!

But while I was away my visitors here declined so I’m gonna have to work even harder to keep you all entertained and bring everyone back! I’ve been keeping up with my Ashley Madison admirers and will be posting more of that hilarity soon. I have other things in the works as well. Stay tuned! I’ll be home for an extended period of time now so I won’t be leaving you hanging!

In the meantime, please, PLEASE enter my “Worst Date Ever” contest!

Enter EditrixAbby’s “Worst Date Ever Contest!” – DEADLINE EXTENDED!

Hello, my dear bloggedy blog-following friends! When you read this I’ll be winging my way west to work on a friend’s art installation at Coachella. Yes, through the wizardry of future-blogging, I’m writing this while watching Saturday Night Live. I want to say thank you and welcome to my new readers! Apparently if you put the word “penis” in a title, people cannot resist the CLICK!

Recently, along with search engine optimizing, stat counting and other obsessive-compulsive stuff like that, I’ve been consulting with my friends Jamye and Lynne about other ways to make people go CLICK! I know. I sound like a crazy person. That’s what happens when I sit on my couch and interact with my keyboard for days at a time! Anyway! The results of my very limited research says that people love contests! They love prizes! And I know that everyone loves porn! So I’m going to conduct a week-long contest and give away a Triple-XXX-errific Gift Basket to the winner just in time for Easter! Wouldn’t you rather dig through that plastic Easter grass and find lube and condoms than jellybeans? Wouldn’t a vibrator be way more fun than a chocolate bunny? And what about a bunch of porn? I’ll include as many DVDs as I can pack into the basket, including one from Ms. Waxman‘s Personal Touch series! Doesn’t that sound tastier than a trio of Peeps? No? Okay, I get it; everyone loves the Peeps. Tell ya what, I’ll put a pack o’ Peeps in there, too! I’m sure you can figure out something sexy to do with those sticky little marshmallow chicks!

So, you ask: what’s the contest? Well, I’ve been spilling my guts on here about being single, my less-than-erotic encounters and my online dating disasters. I wanna hear about your experiences. Tell me about your worst date, EVER! That’s right, a big ol’ basket of self-love will be sent to the winner of THE WORST DATE EVER CONTEST! All you need to do is click “comment” on the bottom of this blog post and spill your guts! Tell me and all my readers about the saddest, sickest, scariest date you’ve ever experienced. Feel free to comment on — and vote for — the stories you find hilariously horrible! In the end, I’ll be the judge, but it won’t hurt if your horror story inspires other readers to give your thumbs-down date a thumbs up! Now, delve into your darkest dating memories and tell me all about it!


* The Worst Date Ever Contest runs from April 11 til April May 11. DEADLINE EXTENDED! I only had one person enter by April 18 and that isn’t a contest… So please spill your guts!
* To enter, post a comment to this blog post. Private entries will not be considered. If my pain and anguish is public, yours should be too!
* I will read the entries and decide on a winner. The winner will be announced on or before April 21. The winner will receive a gift basket filled with the following:

* A Slimline G. Rechargeable, Waterproof Vibrator by California Exotics
* A Screaming O Bong O Ring
* A DVD from Jamye Waxman‘s Personal Touch series
* A selection of at least five porn DVDs from my “personal” collection
* A handful of 5ml sample packs of Sliquid lubricant
* A package of Peeps
* And MORE secret surprises!

Feeling Feverish…

…and not in a sexy way. I’ve been mostly horizontal all week, also not in a sexy way; just laying like a slug on the couch feeling lousy. I haven’t had much motivation but I accomplished a few things by mere virtue of waking up. I visited Carl’s new print studio and had a Figment sign team meeting (all three of us).

My friend Jamye Waxman is in town and she came over yesterday to interview me for her Hot Sox Podcast. We talked about parties and pie fetishes (and a whole bunch of other fetishes), random jobs and bad career moves and how I met my ex-husband. It’s pretty hilarious. Check it out!




I got a new tattoo today. Finally. It’s one I’ve wanted since last fall. See, for the past few years I would get a new tattoo after every Burning Man. Thus far they have been: the word “cunt,” to symbolize my “owning” my cuntdom; the word “breathe,” after a season of hearing, saying and experiencing that word in many meaningful contexts; a partial Burning Man DPW (Department of Public Works) logo, to commemorate my first year helping build Black Rock City; a fork, because I felt like I was at a “fork in the road” of my life and because I kept finding forks , literally, in the road, during Playa Restoration.

Today’s tattoo is about 15 months later than I wanted it, due to life getting in the way and my bank account never really synching up with my desires. Not that my bank account is cooperating any more today than it was a year ago but after so many months of wanting, researching the symbolism of feathers, and being caught up in the whole 11:11 phenomenon, I decided that I had to get this particular tattoo on this date — January 11, 2011: 1/11/11 — to ensure the best possible juju. Plus I had a somewhat remarkable feather-related experience.

The back story on my passion for feather imagery is that during my first year working Playa Restoration I found a stunning sterling silver feather. I’ve been wearing it around my neck almost ever since I picked it up off the desert floor. I recalled having a pair of silver feather earrings that I’d probably had since high school. I don’t remember where or when I got them, possibly at a gift shop in Schroon Lake, and it’s been a long time since I’ve bought jewelry at a touristy gift shop! Anyway, I started wearing the earrings to match my necklace. Working post-event in 2008, I was taking down signs in Center Camp when I lost one of the earrings. I remember exactly where and when — I took off my sweater at one point — but never found it. And this year, during Playa Restoration, while playing a game of Scrabble with some friends, I told the story of finding my feather and losing my earring. One of my opponents looked at the remaining earring and said, “I found an earring in Center Camp that looks kinda like that. I’ll see if I can find it.” The next morning at breakfast, she showed up with the earring I’d lost two years earlier! That earring had been lying there in the desert dust for two years! And found its way back to me! So you can see how I’ve come to feel the way I do about feathers and why this year I became even more attuned to their symbolism.

But back to the tattoo. The design is an eagle feather that I sketched, then cut out of an 8’x4′ piece of plywood and mounted on the Trash Fence that serves as the boundary of Burning Man. It was one of a series of five feathers. They were briefly mounted in First Camp as decor for a wedding, then moved to the Trash Fence at Point 3, which is the apex of the city. If one were to follow the line from the Man to the Temple off into the distance, Point 3 would be the last point within Black Rock City, the furthest point a person can walk, making the feathers a distant destination. I registered them at The Artery as “Trash Fence Feathers,” made and mounted to look as if they’d been blown into this “corner” of trash fence.

I checked on them periodically and was initially disappointed when people began tagging them. Then, as they became covered in graffiti, I embraced the exuberant messages: “I made it!” “My first burn!” And from my friend Jamye, “I love you, Abby!” It was exciting that, having made art that wasn’t exactly interactive, people had chosen a way to interact with it. The feathers were pretty visible from a distance, even at night, when they were lit by small solar-powered lights. I loved the idea of people seeing something “out there” and making the journey to see what it was.

At the end of the event, rather than burning the feathers, I packed them into my van and took them home. Perhaps someday I’ll have a yard or some other suitable place to re-mount them. Until then, I’m wearing all three of my silver jewelry feathers and one of my “Trash Fence Feathers” on my right arm, permanently.

Thanks to Ronn, my tattoo artist! You can find him at Addiction Tattoo on St. Marks Place.