Friday, December 7, 2012

Tagg Magazine's Annual Women's Holiday Party

Tagg Magazine's Annual Women's Holiday Party
Promotional Post

      So, you've got no plans for Hanukkah eve, huh? Here it is, the Friday before the festival of lights and you've got nothing to do. Well don't get your dreidel in a twirl, there's a party just for you and all your shiksa-loving friends. Tagg Magazine is hosting it's first annual Women's Holiday Party at Phase One of Dupont in Washington, DC (
1415 22nd St NW, Washington) this very night! Ha-Zaa!

     Doors open at 9 pm and cover is $8 (21+). Looking to get some holiday shopping done whilst out on the town? Well you're in luck, Proactive Paula! There will be local gift vendors on-sight (The Affect Movement, Tight Body Makeover, the Local Massage Therapist, and Labor of Love Film). Why waste your money at department stores supporting face-less corporations when you can purchase hand-made goods from individuals who you can actually reach out and touch?

     At 11pm I have the pleasure of MC'ing the Drag Show which will be ASL interpreted. I also took it upon myself to assume "Holiday Party" meant "costume party" and will be dressed as an elf. At least I know standing next to a couple of fierce queens and kings, me dressed in a onesie with a fanny-flap won't be the most bold outfit choice on stage. If you find it in poor taste for me to be wearing a Christmas costume instead of a more timely Hanukkah outfit, we're in the same boat friend. I wanted to dress up as a dreidel but had a whale of a time trying to pin down that ensemble last minute. 

     The evening will close with the crowing of the highly-coveted title of Ms. & Mr. Season's Greetings. So get your jingle balls ready to rock and come out tonight to support local artists and spread some holiday cheer!


Hosting my first ever drag queen/king show was real delight. Thanks to everyone at Tagg Magazine and Phase One, Dupont for giving me the opportunity to share the stage with the most magical performers Washington, DC has to offer. 

I would also like to thank Ms. Coco Bottoms for teaching me how to properly secure ones merkin to the outerside of your panties...I'm sure that shit will come in handy later on in life.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Tagg Magazine Launch Party

Tagg Magazine Launch Party
Promotional Post + Video

On October 20, 2012, the district's first lesbian magazine was introduced into the world and the streets became swollen with hordes of elated ladies (...and queers, and fellas). They demanded a party, and the ladies of LURe answered their cries. All were out to celebrate the magical moment that a lesbian publication (that wasn't porn) hit the streets!

Eboné Bell is the creative powerhouse that took Tagg Magazine from a dream to a glossy, bi-monthly publication whose website constantly teams with new content. And while she has never publicly stated it, I believe the pun of a bi-monthly LGBT magazine was completely intended...yah I see what you did there, Eboné.

I was lucky enough to attend their LURe produced launch party and speak with attendees about their reactions towards the first ever DC published lesbian magazine.

So prepare to get Tagg'd m'friends, for Tagg Magazine's Ashley Linder is on the prowl with a microphone and a camera!

Video Produced by Stone Lyons Media

Click here to find Tagg Magazine's online publication.
Click here to "like" them on Facebook.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Kweifing 101

Kweifing 101 introduction

     Unlike its urban dictionary dwelling homonym, this blog has nothing to do with excess air build-up inside of a lady's nether regions. Nor is this a site dedicated to the search and capture of the fabled creature that so many candy-kids and children adore. This page is dedicated to something greater, something more magical than a simple horned horse. This blog is a place where dreams become reality and seemingly mythological notions come to fruition. 

     The mystical nature of unicorns has always intrigued me. We've been conditioned to believe that these animals could never actually exist, that they are the work of fiction and yet it doesn't take an exhaustive google search to find thousands of results displaying malformed creatures with bones spouting from their heads. A horse with a horn (or more realistically, a deer or elk with a bone deformity) isn't that far fetched, in fact-  it's a reality. Sure, they don't shit rainbows, leave a trail of glitter or have hair that smells like cupcakes, but a unicorn-like animal does actually exist. 

     We live in a time unlike any other. Now more than ever, the masses are aware that anything really is possible. We are but a tiny blip in the vastness of the universe. There is so much we don't know and can't see. Every day we're making new discoveries in the world of science and exploration and new information is but a click or two away. Like my belief in the unicorn, I've been told many of the dreams I have aren't possible, that they're too idealistic or absurd to ever materialize into something real. Maybe the unicorn Aesop wrote of is a myth, but that's not to say that a horned creature is solely the work of fiction. Once, stumbling upon an image of a deformed deer, I had the striking realization that dreams sometimes require a shift in perspective in order to come to life. They may not be real in the way a unicorn queefing out double rainbows isn't but that doesn't mean they are impossible.

     There is a lot of shit floating around these days: on television, on the internet, on our cellphones, in our over-active minds. It takes patience and a great deal of skill to silence all the external distractions and truly listen to what our soul demands of us. When I allow the world around me to fall away and I am at peace with myself, my heart sings a song of "together-ness". As a child, I dreamed of living in a community of artists. A rose-colored place where everything was beautiful, people grew their own food, and I could live in a treehouse and ride a robotic dinosaur to work without being judged. My parents were quick to inform me that my dreamland DID exist and it was called a "commune". And that's where people had wild sex parties, no one wore pants, and all sense of morality was thrown out the window. The idea of a slack-less life never became appealing to me but I couldn't shake the vision of creatives coming together and forming a community. 

     "The Eunikorn's Kweif" is my attempt to share something genuine with others. My world is full of creative individuals who are changing the world by infusing it with beauty and art. I want to suck in the imaginative air around me and expel it unto the world. I guess you could say I want to "kweif out creativity" and let the winds of the internet bring even more like-minded individuals this way. Whether it be my opinion; articles I've found while sifting through the expansive sandbox of the internet; doodles I've created to mock the sick, sad side of our modern world; promotional posts highlighting the work of artistic friends; new handmade arts & crafts available for purchase on my etsy page; or videos made with the intention of brightening others' days; this blog is meant to serve all my artistic needs as well as be a source of smiles and enlightening thoughts for others.

     Unicorns do exist (just ask the North Koreans), but only when you adopt a new perspective on something the rest of the world regards as "a deformity" or "an imperfection". Once you embrace your "flaws" and recognize them as your strengths, you might just turn into something myths are made of. If you want to live in your own dreamland, all you have to do is create it. 

     So here's my attempt to share a little light with the world...

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Real Ladies Don't Poop

Real Ladies Don't Poop farts changed my perspective on life

Social norms have always confused me. The things that are the most universal, the most human, the most normal are all too often deemed "inappropriate" or "sophomoric to scoff at". Farting, body hair, female breasts, queefs, circumrot (the gunk that builds up inside an uncircumcised penis), burping, odors from within...everyone has an opinion on the properness of these things yet few feel that they are worthy of public consumption. "Ew, don't talk about that, it's vulgar. You're a lady." 

In a world that seeks to define and separate us at every bend, why would we mute the very things that unequivocally tie us together? We might never see eye to eye on politics, religion, favorite authors, sexual orientation or when it's ok to laugh about death (I generally lean towards the "too soon" side of the spectrum, this does not win me many friends at funerals) but no matter who you are or what you believe common ground for the human race is always but a breeze away (read: farts are universal). When we look within on a biological/chemical level we are all virtually the same. The same processes that occur within my body (digestion, hair growth, blood pumping, etc.) occur within yours. No matter what sensation we experience in this life, emotional or otherwise, someone somewhere has felt something similar.

Have you ever experienced a bowel movement that urgently wanted to escape your body? The pressure from all the waste within you boring down on your fanny hole, filling your chest with the slight pang of anxiety, "Will I make it in time? Will I unleash unto this world a smelly demon or just mess my pants?" 

Have you ever upon defecation gotten goosebumps along the upper side your thighs, as if your entire body was rejoicing in you and a job well done? 

Have you ever had a belch so potent and pungent that you could identify all portions of your most recent meal? Have you ever secretly enjoyed revisiting those flavors, sniffing the air wistfully while no one was looking? (I may be on a boat with that last one, but go with me here...)

Humans are capable of some disgusting things (bigotry, murder, self-loathing, malicious actions towards each other, etc.) but that which comes from within us all isn't bad and should not be vilified or be used as a tool to oppress. 

I am a woman who appreciates "fart-humor". No, I won't rip one whenever a rumble rolls down south. I do practice discretion when I expel gas because like most things in life it's funnier on occasion. If I went around doing nothing but farting and laughing it wouldn't speak of my wit so much as my gastrointestinal distress. The art of comedy is in the timing. Like the phrase "that's what she said" or "YOLO", farts are a bold spice to life meant to be peppered-in sparingly. If you use it all the time it's not funny, it's hack.

In efforts to lead an ego-less existence, I accept all that I am and unabashedly so. Not only do I fart but I am among a growing group of women who proudly state, "I poop!" For years I was told by men and women alike that  "real ladies don't poop" and "that hole is for when the other one gets stretched out". When I was born my mother pushed so hard that she literally shit me out of her womb. Covered in fecal matter and blood, I came into this world pre-soiled. I was born a dirty bitch who didn't quite fit in with all the immaculate-looking gerber babies.

Twenty-five years later and I'm still pulling chunks of shit off myself. The excrement that now coats my skin isn't from my mother but from society as we know it. Here in America, the land of the free and brave, we are saturated in shit. Turn on your TV, log into Facebook, or get on your cellphone- you'll feel/see/hear it. Everyday we are bombarded with messages on how frightening and terror-filled the world is; on how we compare to others; on what is in and what is out; OPINIONS OPINIONS OPINIONS! The media's job has transformed from one of informing the public to now manipulating and influencing the masses. The idea of using propaganda to get people to think like you want them to isn't a new tactic but the level in which we are subjected to it has expanded in a major way. These aren't a couple of posters on the sides of building telling us to turn in our gold for the war effort, modern day propaganda is an unrelenting stream of shit that even the most skilled individuals have difficultly wading through.

There was a time I believed that all the negative voices I heard in my head were direct reflections of my own insecurities. It couldn't possibly have been the work of some clever marketing campaigns that wanted to make me feel low in hopes I'd buy their products. No, no, was all in my head and no one else's. No other person could possibly feel the way that I do if only because my life experience (and everyone else's for that matter) was unlike anything that had ever existed before or would exist again. I know within each of us is a world of possibilities and perceptions. Early on in high school I became concerned about my weight. Not because runway models in Milan made me feel inferior but because I was a late bloomer whose thighs would get chafed when I ran and because I had a giant dumper before it was fashionable. Yet turn on the news and story after story would suggest that the models themselves were responsible for every child with insecurities regarding their body. It wasn't the fault of the major corporations who's commercials spoke of being beautiful and desirable and sold make-up or diet pills or "body enhancing clothing" to men and women who CLEARLY were awful without them. Nope, it was the models they hired to hawk their products.

I mean no disrespect to those slight-framed females but not once did I aspire to be them. Not once did I spot a woman traipsing down a long hallway and wish that I was her size and shape and had her life. What I envied in others in high school was something beneath the surface...something one could never truly determine with a simple glance. What I envied was what I perceived to be happiness in others. This is not to say that I was an unhappy teen, in fact quite the contrary. But from the outside looking in, everyone else always seemed to have it together in a way I couldn't begin to imagine. I might have been happy but I had no fucking idea what I was doing. They seemed to be so well adjusted and content...I wanted that too.

When I entered my college years I learned very quickly that I wasn't the only one who felt lost in life. One night a friend knocked on my door and asked if I'd join her on a walk because she needed to talk to someone. As we sauntered around the greenhouse and through the common-area she confided in me that she didn't know why she was in college. She felt like she was a fraud, wasting her parents money, going down a path she may or may not want for the rest of her life. "I'm an adult now, right? I should know where I'm going. I should have a clear vision of my future and be marching towards it but I- I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. Everyone else here has a path, you know? They want something so their going after it. And here I am, barely able to deal with my emotions let alone be able to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life. I feel like I'm barely treading water. I'm so lost." We sat down by the fountain and she rested her head on my shoulder and began to sob.

This would have been a fantastic time for me to pull out my inner Oprah and spew some inspiring, transformative, life-affirming shit but instead I said, "I'm lost too. And I'd venture to guess that if we both, coming from completely different backgrounds, feel this way maybe a lot of people can relate...maybe everyone is pushing forward desperately seeking some sort of solid ground in their world. Maybe no one knows what they're doing...we're all just making it up as we go along." She had stopped crying by then and began to smile, "if that's the case someone should let everyone know that life is one big clusterfuck or put 'don't worry, you're one knows what their doing' on every billboard in America. How's that for truth in advertising!"

For the rest of the night we shared the stars and silence. I thought long and hard about our conversation and wondered how many others had similar exchanges in the past. My view of the world shifted that night. I learned that no matter how "together" everyone else appeared to be, those feelings of doubt and confusion were universal and human. They are what keeps us searching for more stimuli, more experiences, more interactions. They are what ultimately leads to a better quality of life. These feelings that I once loathed were now awash in the most beautiful, positive light. I saw them as tools to construct myself into the person I wanted to become instead of the tools that would lead to my personal implosion.

Those same old feelings have been bubbling up and over within me once again. Our world is changing at a mind-boggling rate and all too often I feel as if I'm not doing enough to engage with it. I want to run, run, run but my legs aren't quite strong enough. Our generation was raised on fast cuts, bright lights, and ADD's little wonder why we find it so difficult to sit still and be with self. Everyday I take baby steps towards becoming the well-rounded artist I know that I am. I remind myself that these struggles I face they aren't mine alone...others deal with the same sort of shit, we're all human after all. I have moments where my overactive mind takes over and tries to make me believe that I need to do it all RIGHT MEOW! But the reality is that all I really need in the "now" is a solid frame of mind, one that is positive and encouraging, one that dismisses the negative voices and all the distractions the media tosses our way, and one that remains connected to this will never happen again, right? I'm in a state of transition and I need to throw my hands in the air, enjoy the ride, and trust that everything is going exactly as it should.

Flatulence will always be is funny to me but it serves a greater purpose in my life. Farts act as a reminder that no matter how seriously you take yourself, you're still human. If you eat an entire burrito from chipotle, you are eventually going to take a massive dump. It's a fact. We can choose to deny the processes occurring within us in the interest of "social etiquettes" or we can drop our walls and embrace the fact that we're all capable of the same fears, insecurities, emotions and shit.