Tuesday, July 22, 2008


it's been an interesting summer stretch of life, lately.
little, yellow, different, better.

it's been a dirty sort of summer, busy.

yesterday was a post-party-at-the-house-day and i took a full day off.

it RAINED like in the bible and got black at 3 o'clock in the daytime.
i leaned out the window for a while. my favorite weather, all hot and
dark and windy and stormy.

i feel more alive than usual. i fear getting back on the road will
kill that. we're getting ready.

saturday night:
the parties here used to be epic - hundreds of guests
every floor of the house brimming with weirdness and color and light
and noise
the garden all lit up and tramply.
i used to run the show like a madwoman, then i stopped.
this time mali was running the show and blasting around dealing with
the guests, the drinks, the PA, the performers, the list at the door,
the performing herself, slamming that piano and being a rock star
within her own outdoor homegrown nightclub
- i miss and don't miss that feeling, i feel it on tour all the time
and never want to feel it at home anymore.

the guests are all old acquaintances but i never want to chat, because
chatting is exhausting, only talking is good, and it's hard to talk at
a party. i spent most of the party in my apartment and down the street
getting food. i have become party-phobic, unless i'm a stranger.

(i did bust out the ukulele, but i gave it to michael to play. the
neighborhood kids were all peeking at our party from across the
street, about a dozen of them.
they are probably scared shitless of our house. they're all black and
hispanic and we're all hippie honkies. one mom was with them and i
invited them, all of them, to come into the garden. they all freaked
out, as if i were inviting them into the land of OZ, and told me that
they call our house and garden "the jungle". i am glad we're part of
people's childhoods. we played rihanna's "umbrella", for ukulele and
voice, and they all clapped and sang along. steven grabbed the garden
hose and sprayed everyone at the end. we jammed. i took the uke,
michael took the drums that had been set up from the last band, the
kids screamed and ran around = heaven.)

the night i met brian, it was halloween, a rager. we were talking,
four of us, on the stairs outside my apartment. brian was quiet, there
was me, i was loud, there was a bass player named plamen and there was
scott roi, the guitarist. plamen and scott were both drunk (especially
scott) and i must have been, too, and deluded, because i thought i had
finally found the members of what would be my band. they had all just
seen me play and were excited to all get together and jam. brian hung
back and observed. he left his number. so did plamen. so did scott. i
called them all. i kept that piece of brown bag paper, with all their
numbers, for a long time.

scott roi and i got together a few days later at pan9 and ended up
just drinking, i think.

i visited plamen in his apartment the next week. he had taken my demo
recording of half jack and turned it into a dance remix with no vocals.
i never called him back.

brian and i got together a week later and became a band.

scott roi, i just found out, died three days ago. after pan9 burned
down in boston, he moved to the west coast. apparently he'd been out
of rehab for a week, had been stone cold sober and gone swimming, took
a dive from a trellis and broke his neck. pope says: "maybe god goes:
well done on the rehab stint. your work here is done. now when you
come around the next time you won't have to deal with all this extra

every time i lie still for a photograph somewhere filthy and wet, and
i've been doing a lot of that lately, i wonder if i'll get a disease.

mike penta used to say, taking his hyper-active very-gesticulative
stance: "amanda palmer? amanda palmer. ok. wait, ok. amanda palmer is.
a. DIRTY. girl."

and he didn't mean foulmouthed. he meant dirty, like, unwashed.
unkempt. brian commented recently that i should shower more.

am i dirty or just busy?

i feel like i'm just busy.

i know when i'm busy, i get dirty, i lose things, i lose track, things

get really fucked up.

case in point:

there were these few days around the boston pops when everything went
to hell in a goddamn handbasket.

i did a week of preparation up to the pops, had a day off to pack,
then had to fly to europe for a week of press.
i didn't face the reckoning until i came home form europe a week
later, but i could re-trace the mind-losing.
i didn't pay attention to anything but what was right in front of my
face, and i was even missing that. i lost a lot of details.

in the space of just a 24 hours i managed to:

-leave my bicycle unlocked outside the house, resulting in it getting
stolen, third one gone this year
-lose most of my clothes from the pops, which took me two weeks to
fully recover upon returning
-get two parking tickets
-totally forget to take my menstrual sponge out

these things had varying degrees of impact on my life.

the bike was a tough & guilty one, since it was a loving hand-me-down
from my parents, who took pity on me after my last one was stolen.
THAT one was a loving hand-me-down form my sister after the one BEFORE
that got stolen....my whole family might has well just save up a pool
of money to have my legs amputated and buy me a nice electric scooter
that i cannot possibly lose...though i'm sure i'd find a way. i'd
probably absent-mindedly roll off and and away from it while thinking
about something else and have to rely on the kindness of some stranger
to carry my confused torso to safety after i'd been lying in the
middle of a busy street for some time, musing about car tires,
acoustics and weather.

the sponge thing: not so good.

this same thing happened to me when i was a teenager. one of my wise
feminine elders had tipped me off to the two-tampon trick when your
flow is heavy and you're bleeding on your sheets every night.
great trick, but when i forgot to extract tampon number two, things
got ugly. i think a week went by. my vagina discharged a foul-smelling
complaint and i troddled my 14-year self down to the gynecologist, who
poked around and said: "hm.....amanda, did you know this was in here?"

i must have given her a guilty, somewhat bashful stare as she dangled
the evidence before my face. the tampon looked like a small, brown,
rotting little mouse.

i was slightly grossed out but barely phased, probably walked home via
candy castle to buy myself a celebratory root beer or watermelon slush
for a dollar, and had forgotten about the whole thing by the time i
got home a half hour later, happy and whole again. but this i do
remember: i told my mother in the upstairs hallway of the house...."i
went to the gynecologist, mom, and i had left a tampon in for like a
week. she took it out. all good!" she looked at me in horror and then
she held me in the tightest embrace i think she'd ever held me in. she
said "my baby" a few times and it was then that i realized my
situation might have been fatal. that moment brought me closer to her,
because i realized, in a concrete way, that she really loved me and
would be stricken with grief if i died.

i've always considered myself immune to fatal disaster, while yet
being so prone to the smaller ones....sort of inured to the simple
rules of the universe (stand under falling piano = probably will get
crushed.......wait really? MAYBE. but MAYBE FUCKING NOT!!!!!
haaaaaaaa. see? special.)

so where my mind was when i left the menstrual sponge in? i don't know.
packing for europe, probably. being in love and having sex, which
pushed the sponge farther from sight and mind.

sponge-o-mercial: ladies, the menstrual sponge is great. i have
recommended it many times in the past.
it's ecologically friendly and easy to use. but it HAS NO STRING. just

warning you. it's easier to forget about.

anyway, i started feeling odd when i was in london. i got headachy and
i awoke with my vagina complainy one morning, my last day in europe.
i thought: this is familiar. oh, good god. did i leave the sponge in?

so i investigated, there in the k west hotel.
there is something very sort of unsexy and almost heartbreaking about
sitting on a fancy little leather cube seat in the k west hotel (where

the hippest of the business travelers and rock stars stay and party -
they have a sign in the fancy bathroom saying please don't flush
EARPLUGS....i'm sure pete doherty and kate moss have had sex in that
room at least once) all alone and trying to see if i had maybe left
something in my vagina the week before.

i would really not be surprised if half the female readers of this
blog (over the age of 25, at least) have had to do this. this also
happens with condoms. they slip, they jam, they hide and they must be
fished out in a very clinical and usually desperate struggle. chances
are if you've lost a condom up there, getting the condom out is NOT
the only thing that's fucking troubling you.

love can be ugly.

my vagina is long. that is, literally. if women could boast in inches,
i'd win.
(but for some weird reason, we don't do that? i wish i could've pulled

that fact out in the locker room or slumber party...."dude. no way,
i'm like, 7 inches. check this out. hand me that curling iron/stick of
incense/scale ruler/zucchini, i'll prove it")

this is NOT from overuse, you cunts. i was born with it. every
gynecologist has commented from day one. it's not unhealthy and it's
not irregular. it's just free to be the way it be.

anyway, there i was in the fancy k west hotel, fishing around with my
fingers for some possible feminine archives. but i didn't find
anything. so i let myself off the hook and chalked up my complainy
vagina to jetlag and stress.
max came to the hotel to visit and i tortured him all day, after i'd
shared my complainy vagina story (sans details, he's a delicate
creature), by saying VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA every few hours and making
him shake his thin delicate hands in horror near his ears saying STOP
STOP STOP AAAGHGHGGH. but i think he sort of liked it. max played me a

wonderful song of the accordion. he's been accepted into an art
university in england. we miss him here. he'll be at the london show,
no doubt. if you see him, say VAGINA.

me & max in the k west. we traded:

he agreed to be photographed with
no mustache if i did no eyebrows.

self-portait the night before:

i flew home on an afternoon flight from london and i lay there in bed,
wondering if i was maybe dying.

i resolved to do the adult thing, get up, and go to the emergency room.

i reasoned: if i waited until morning and went to my regular doctor,
and it ended up i WAS dying, i'd feel damn foolish. and to clarify
things, i checked my bathroom and there was no sponge to be found.
this means there was only one other place it could be, and that place
was my vagina.

so at around two or three in the morning, i troddled my 32-year old
self down to the emergency room, which is only a few blocks away,
which is nice, and michael came with me, and we walked by a car parked
outside the emergency room doors with all the window-glass shot in and
shattered, and cops all around. when i got in to see the doctor, they
told me that a lot of kids have been getting shot lately and driving
themselves to the hospital. most of them are 15, 16. she looked sad.
she told me she was glad she grabbed my case because dudes don't
understand. i told her how much i appreciated the fact that she was
about to go hunting in my vagina for a sponge and she said:
"girl...you would't BELIEVE the shit i see in here every night. this
is NOTHING." apparently she has a constant influx of fretting female
patients, delicate anatomies overflowing with tampons, condoms,
sponges, diaphragms, GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE but if you're wondering where
that odd sock or spare fountain pen has wandered off to...check your
girlfriend. you never know what you may find up there, according to
this doctor.

((ahh, my whole house & film crew is downstairs on the stoop. we
wrapped our last video today. they're all drinking. i'm trying not
too. they're singing along to regina spektor. a few minutes ago it was
queen. i love my house.))

so this kindly gal whipped out the speculum and said, yes indeed, she
could spy a foreign object back in there, and she tried to yank it out
with a pair of tweezers, but the sponge just kept tearing.
i told her that this was common for the sponge - they are organic
matter, plant matter (or are sponges animal matter? aren't they alive
at some point?) and do tend to break down after a while. (note for you
ladies, i swap the sponge out after it shows even the slightest signs
of wear. one does not want unwanted sea life hanging out in there. i
know this sounds hypocritical at this point, but i'm JUST SAYING. ok.)

so, after the inevitable comment about my well-endowed womanhood, she
tries a pair of forceps, and those don't do the trick either. at this
point i must look nervous, because she says: "oh don't you worry,
we're gonna get this sucker out. but i might have to leave you here
while I go get a longer pair of forceps. do you want to hang out with
the speculum in or do you want me to take it out?"

at this point i'd like to mention that giving birth must be an
extremely protracted version of this with a lot more gore and pain but
slightly less embarrassment.
i don't know if i'd be excited to go through that. if i ever do, i
promise you a blow-by-blow. anyway.

i told her she could just leave the speculum in and i'd hang, yo. fo
shizzle. the emergency room was an all-purpose one, and there was -
quite mystifyingly - a TV mounted to the wall, pointed right at my
vulnerable little body. i wondered why it was there. did they often
leave people there, bleeding and oozing after knife and gun fights to
bear their fates while watching Gilligan's Island re-runs? how crass.

the television was looping a long infomercial about a magically modern
steam-powered hair-straightener called - i kid you not - the
MAXIGLIDE. it's weird when someone leaves you in a cold bright room
in the middle of the night with an infomercial for a hair straightener
called the MAXIGLIDE pointed at your open vagina. frustrated young
performance artists could go to second-rate art school for years and
not come up with anything half this good for their senior installation

a very short trip to the internet to find a picture for y'all of the
MAXIGLIDE just told me that YOU TOO can watch this fucking
infomercial....on YOUTUBE:

and the fact that this infomercial has 9,000 hits scares the shit out
of me.

i am scared to know.
the comments might tell you.

you "hear" how about trying it and then complaining cuz people who are
complaining are complaining cuz the are doing something wrong. I got
mine two years ago and my hair are better than ever.

me and my mom have superrr curly hair and when it dries it gets curly
puffy and frizzy. this thing SAVED my life when i was in 6th grade!!!
it works sooo great:)

Do they pay the model more to keep smiling? :D

ok so wow im like so confused...ive seen like 50 people saying it
works great, 50 saying its ok, and 50 saying its complete trash. whats
true??? my hair is only a little bit wavy, but REALLY REALLY frizz. im
talking more frizz than hair. if u dont recommend this one, can
someone tell me another one that works???

SO true. I bought this maxiglide, and let me tell you: I was saving up
FOREVER to get it! You have NO IDEA how hard I worked to get this.
When I finally did, I was SOO upset because it smelled REALLY BAD, it
stunk up my house and my hair, and ripped out lots of hair too. I'd
like to smack that Max guy for ripping me off :(

I ordered my one and a half inch MaxiGlide (the MP package) last week
and I'm waiting for mine.
This is a great styling tool.
I can't wait to get my new one. I'm giving my "old" one to my niece
but I'mma tell her to take care of it like I have.
(this last comment posted from "StillAVirgin"....at least as of two
weeks ago.)
i can only assume that these 74 comments mean that women are now using
youtube as a discussion forum much like the hen and bridge parties of

i'd like to point out that this greasy "max" character in the video
seems like a total clown, the barbie models make me sadder than ever
(i kept wondering - weren't we all buying HOME PERM kits in the
eighties? the poor women back then with straight hair were all
manically rushing to the drugstore in droves to buy Ogilve Home Perm,
shamed to death of their limp, straight locks - WTF?)... but if you
really want to feel a TRULY surreal feeling while watching this
infomercial, put that shit on dull screen, strip down from the waist
down and point your vagina at your computer. guaranteed: it will make
you feel WEIRD.

she finally came back with the long forceps, yanked the thing out
(this time, it did not resemble a dead rodent, it looked exactly like
it looked when i put it in. i love the sponge. i almost saved it for
my collector friend steven but she threw it away before i had a chance
to ask. he was mildly disappointed. he has an entire mason jar of
toenail clippings from all his ex-girlfriends) and i walked home,
happy and whole again.

who killed amanda palmer INDEED. it was the SPONNNNNNNNNNGE.

a word, ladies: don't forget when something's up there. that shit
ain't right.
and if you want a sponge: www.jadeandpearl.com (click on feminine


in less gruesome news.

the videos are done being filmed and they are KILLER.
killer. killer. "runs in the family" is getting released next week, on

tuesday if things go according to plan.

astronaut and ampersand have been getting rave comments and i'm really
really very proud.
pope and i made these videos with a laughably small budget, we filed
at my house, my old high school and my folks house, we used for props
and costumes what we had lying around - and they came out fucking
the intro, which has an excerpt from "another year" (the last song on
the record), is up too.

part 1 (intro):

part 2 (astronaut):

part 3 (ampersand):

there are 8 parts total.
we're going to be screening them in boston this weekend, the whole
shebang (25th and 26th...and almost sold out: www.brattlefilm.org) and
we're thinking of maybe screening the whole series in new york in
august, somewhere small like joe's pub with someone bad-ass playing MC. it'll
be like a little fuck the back row reunion.

that's it.
i'm back to cleaning my apartment.

sponge love



flightless said...

Besides forgetting a sponge, I've also extracted one with undue force and splattered the room & my face in blood.


Caffeinated Cassadie said...

Oh Amanda, you silly girl! Try not to forget what is in Vagina Land, seriously no one wants you to die. The lady in the emergency room should have tried a vacuum. Hey, you never know, it could have worked.

Em Wyllie said...

Amanda, your blogs never fail to entertain.

And, on a related note, a friend of mine decided she wanted to try out those chinese ball sex toys. The ones that vibrate when they get knocked together. So she decided "What the hey, My Vagina's not that long, i'll just.. stuff 'em up there." So, she did and apparently they were pretty good stuff. Until she couldn't get them out.

After calling me to see if the gay man without any knowledge of the Vagina, how it works, or even that the hell most of it looks like, she decides to get a bowl, and spread her legs and just... jump up and down for a while. Shockingly enough, this works.

So, I have to agree with Amanda. Don't forget something's up there. And don't call your Gay friend who doesn't know anything about Vaginas for help. Call a lady friend, or, better yet, a Lesbian friend.

andrea said...

Really, it should not be that surprising. At least not to me because I know people are people and we are all people. And I've read your blog many a time so I know what I'm getting when I come to this little get together. I love how you just put it out there. It's the way to be. And I learned some things. I didn't ever think about using two tampons at once. It's a good idea but I'd be too worried they would end up like the strings on my headphones or necklaces that you put in a box, somehow they just tangle together in some kind of conspiracy to piss you off.
I've never lost or forgotten about anything in my vagina. I almost put another tampon in without taking the other one out because I forgot I already had one in, but that's about it. I've always been a Back Of My Mind person. There is always that little voice that reminds not to forget or bad things may happen. However I've never used the sponge where there is no sign of it in sight so it's very possible I would get distracted and forget and I can say that lately this "remembering" part of me has been waning a little bit. I'm just noticing it with little things. Whether or not this is going to become a good or bad thing for me is yet to be seen.
Still, I understand becoming so involved, busy, or consumed with other things that you forget. And I really understand being barely phased by these sorts of things. Once there is no longer a problem, even though we know it could have ended badly, we just feel better. Immune to everything once again. Because once again we avoided disaster. And we must be good at it because we're not dead yet. Oh, what it is to be human.

Thanks for sharing your vagina with us. I would share back if I had such a story.

It's good to hear everything else is working out right now. Yay for the love and sex. Yay for the new album and all that's coming with it. I've been really impressed with the videos. Plus the songs you have released online sound wonderful. Some of it was not exactly what I was expecting from hearing live versions but it's surprising me and in a good way. September is right around the corner and I can barely wait!

All my love,


Mitchell Fischer said...

I've told a few people that Amanda Palmer has referenced their youtube comments for grand reasons :)> hehe. And yes that was a great blog, can't wait for "runs in the family". Posting the new songs to youtube builds soo much anticipation.

Now you only need to give us a pre-order date.

Katie said...

Oh, heavens to bessie lulz on the reusable sponge front. I use a diva cup (a reusable cup) and I can no longer count the amount of times I've pulled out the cup in a public toilet and spattered blood all over my legs and feet and any other convenient matter.

Also, still love the diva cup. It's brilliant.

I'm very excited for the screening this weekend-- my dear friend and I shall be out in full force, wearing co-ordinating sundresses and petticoats.


Angel Penate said...

From jadeandpearl.com: "For another retrieval option you may sew a piece of waxed dental floss or cotton string to the sponge to aid in its removal."

Mint floss = minty fresh vagina (although it may burn)

Limbolinda said...

I've got an amazing idea :D
Screen the vid's august 11th ..aka.the day i see you live at Spiegeltent.
Any who, vagina-wise. Please let's keep mind of what we leave in there, we really wouldn't want to see that info-mercial again now would we?
or die watching it for that matter.
Keep safe dear<3

Brittney said...

I was feeling so down today...now after reading your post and watching the videos I'm laughing, smirking, inspired, and comforted. Thanks.

p.s. I love all the Clue weapons in intro.

Decidedly Bookish said...

Ah, so that's why God made those absorbant little sea critters... I'm surprised he didn't make little tampon fish as well.

On the vagina subject, what were you encouraged to refer to your vagina as when you were a small child? My nan used to call it a "dilly," and I made up my own name: "widgy." Unfortunately this was also my nickname in the family. We've yet to come up with a good, all-purpose word. "Vagina" can sound a bit clinical. "Cunt" is hardly something you can say to the nurse. I hate "pussy," plus there's the whole cat bad-joke potential there. "Front bottom" is just wrong on so many levels, as is "flaps." "Minge" is hilarious. There are vague references, like your "bits" or "down there," but they just basically serve to avoid what doesn't need avoiding. "Vagina" is the favourite, I think, but I maintain that we need a new word which isn't also the scientific name. Any ideas?


Rachel said...

You are so intensely entertaining. And I mean that in the best of all possible ways.

Stephen said...

No need to be modest, girl. if you're going to brag like a dude you might as well proclaim at least 10 inches.

Athene Numphe said...

I second Katie and recomend the Diva Cup (http://www.divacup.com/) or another menstrual cup. If you want to have set with a cup, I believe you can with Instead (http://www.softcup.com/).

thedude said...

amanda, you are a sickee! is your vagina 7 inches long on the outside or on the inside? i live in arlington. and maybe we could hook up over christmas? but only if your vag is 7" on the inside. not on the outside. i don't need to be looking at a whole pack of bubble yum. no'm sayin'?

uncounted said...

Okay, so I love the entire intense thing bout the sponge (I was fucking laughing my head off). Not being a female I wouldn't have to deal with that I don't think (do they make sometime similar for male nocturnal emissions? Even if they do, chances are it won't be lost up my pee-pee hole).

But yeah, I totally dug Ampersand. My girlfriend's a HUGE fan of y'all and she sent me a link to the vid when she found them, and I really really REALLY like the vids so far.

Also...being a 7-incher in the female department means you can probably take up to 10" of man-meat comfortably. Food for thought there...

1sideofanampersand said...

I have both laughed and learned so much from this entry. In fact, I've laughed so much, I've forgotten how angry I am with google video for not working at the moment. So, thanks for sharing these stories. This entry has made my night, week, month, year and quite possibly my life!

Janet said...

I use a washable latex cup, which is both comfortable, reusable for years, and difficult to lose, as it has a little nubbin on the bottom you can grab onto. This may be just the thing for the vaginally endowed. Of course it's not Natural and Organic, but it's way better than tampons. You're also less liable to get TSS if it does crawl up your cooch, and it won't tear.
I feel like most girls have had the Forgot A Tampon experience.

Sarah said...

Hey, Amanda. I don't know if you appreciate somewhat unrelated comments or critique. I trying hard not to be inappropriate contextually.

Since you posted a few new music videos for some of your newer material... I thought of this. It's been on my chest for a while...

I was at the Filmore in San Francisco. I heard Boston played with an accompanying violinist.

I was emotionally affected by your performance, first of all. The heart-rendering agony, hope and bitterness of a tenuous, long term relationship-- you breathed life into this.

Secondly, the violinist pushed this song over the edge for me and was absolutely essential. I have searched for a happenstance recording of this, Youtube, etc, but I may just have to let this go as part of the vital power and magic of the night.

Would you be interested in re-recording Boston with an accompaniment? I respect your creative decisions enormously and just wanted to propose this idea, (perhaps a bit contrived), but nevertheless, the question stands.

Solangel said...

There are not many things that I feel are worth begging for...but can you please do the screenings in NY? Pretty pretty please..with a cherry on top? I was trying to find a way to get up there this weekend but it is just not (financially) possible for me.
On another note..this blog was hilarious. You never fail to entertain.

.när'sĭ-sĭz'əm. said...

i had a slack jawed amused look on my face the whole time while reading this blog.

seriously in a sick way, this blog made my night.



Marika said...

Hahahaha, I am hugely amused. Being somewhat of a hippie I have pondered using alternative menstrual products--but if I get one it will probably be the Divacup, I've heard great things!

I have never forgotten a tampon for more than a few extra hours, but even that is a tad scary. The idea of Toxic Shock frightens me a lot. I suppose that's not really a problem with the alt products?

Thanks for the entertainment!

Sophia said...

coming back to joe's pub would be all sorts of incredible fucking amazing. i don't have any qualms about driving 2.5-3 hours to NYC, but this poor college kid can't afford the gas to boston (that tacks on about another 3-4 hours of driving, and thats not even round trip). i'm still hating myself for not making it to the pops back in june. oh well. but yes, please do come back to joe's pub!!! i can't wait for WKAP, it is going to be epic. i can feel it.

Eva said...

This so reminds me of Charlotte Roche: "Feuchtgebiete"...Amanda this book is a must for you, as soon as it is translated in English, and this will probably be soon!

Gruß und Kuss!


KatyMay said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Dangah said...

No, Vagina! (surprised no one pulled that gem out sooner! *bad-dum-pish*)

Never did leave something in too long... But I did once forget I had a tampon in, and figured the stringy thing hanging out of me had to be a worm or parasite of some type, and so I freaked out. OMG. Then I realised what it was, and promptly banged my forehead onto the sink a coupla times.

Blackbeard said...


Tessa said...

I love how everyone comments first on the vagina story and only afterwards the music. Dear dear... You do have some power as a storyteller. Seriously, the videos are brilliant. I think my heart stopped when the shuttle exploded in “Astronaut”. I should probably see a doctor about that. Eh. I’m sure it can wait. (I hear voices too)

Ha ha. I need a new bike too, due to my own inattentiveness and oddity. I was chasing an airplane while biking and the concrete got in the way. And I had almost caught it! Grr... Maybe we should switch to roller blades?

You may be amused to know that both my brothers now love the Dresden Dolls, and that one of them is a classical trombonist who, to my knowledge, does not like punk at all (or really anything with english vocals). And yet. :3 Such is the power of Amanda Palmer. Come back to Montreal!

Good luck with the music and cleaning and whatnot. Don’t explode.

KatyMay said...

Vagina monoblogs = funny. (Very glad it didn't kill you, Amanda. Death-by-moldy-vagina-sponge = not cool.) You know, I heard that if you put five different species of sea sponge in a blender, blend em up good, then pour the blended-sponge-juice into a bowl of salt water.. the five different sponges will not only gradually separate and re-form into sponges, but will separate out and re-form into their original sponge species. A bit like the Terminator. (It does not work with hamsters though. Don't try this at home.) True story! So. Put that in your vagina and, er, smoke it.

Kelley said...

i'm glad that you and your vagina are OK. I always think of the weirdest ways that people could die. Never ever have I considered a vagina sponge to be someone's end..

even in your life threatening mistakes do you continue to be creative.

andrea said...

Hey, I'm back again.

So I meant to put this up before and then forgot.

When I used to blog regularly, about 2 years ago, I made the following post. I just recently happened upon it and it made me smile a little bit. I also realized how I must have had one of your songs stuck in my head because, well, you'll get it when you read it. Thanks for being in my brain.


Thursday June 29th 2006

sweet and sour

have you ever opened up your inbox to one of those “win your FREE* $500 gift card now” emails? i get them all the time. then delete without even looking. i mean to even “get it” you have to sign up for things that cost money, so what’s the point? that’s what the * is there for anyways. ya, but today when I woke up I felt different. i was just like, fuck this, fuck it. i’m gonna do it! i want want my FREE* $500, $400, $250, or $.50 gift card if you’ll give it to me. so i opened the email. i filled out the questions. i checked the boxes. one of the promos that came up was for a poetry site. “enter your poem and get a chance to win blah blah blah”. so im sitting at my computer thinking, shit, if i have to do one of these i may as well do the one where i get to write. and completely tired, half asleep, no contacts, uninspired i wrote this:

sweet and sour

at the same time

if i look away

i fear you’ll be gone

if i keep looking

i fear you’ll still be there

despite these techniques

there’s still no avoiding

in fact

let’s just keep to ourselves

it makes it easier

to face the day

and if by tomorrow

my fears have not subsided

i’ll simply turn my head the other way

to, i’m sure, something even more uninviting

and hit the submit button. laughing. at me. at the poem. at the unvaluable, detatched, simplicity of it all. it took five minutes and came from nowhere and doesn’t even apply to me at this point in time. and yet, somehow, it was mine. it was mine like how a scab or a bruise is yours. it’s ugly and not something you want to flaunt but you earned it. you earned it by falling, or tripping, or self mutilation, or whatever. and you’ll defend it if necessary. it’s simply meaningful by just existing. because you were part of it’s creation.

so for all the priceless, meaningless things we take for granted and hold dear, i dedicate this.



אלעד said...

Vagina Monologues - The Alternative Version.

Laura said...

After reading this blog, there is no way in hell i'm uisng a sponge!

avandamanders said...

I am so in love with you.


You could sell these stories. Maybe buy yourself a new bike with the proceeds. (Two of mine have been stolen as well...)

Once when I was putting myself through college and was tremendously poor, I bought dollar-tree tampons.
The buggers disintegrated in my cooter as soon as I pulled on the string. I spent the next hour in the bathtub balanced precariously with a douche hose in one hand, and the other hand with my index finger in the shape of a hook up there fishing for tiny bits of bloody cotton.

Good times.

So, yeah. One more vagina story for your memory bank.
Seriously, all these should be compiled somewhere.

Better than the vagina monologues.

Postscript: Come to Colorado Springs. I have cookies.

soprano8908 said...

I understand about the crazy comments that lady parts doctors make. Without fail, my doc Blanche remarks on what a lovely 4 tiered uterus i have, that it is, in fact, perfect. I didn't realize it had tiers.

I will certainly have to try out that sponge....


Hi Amanda,
I'm a 46 to mother of 2 girls (9 & 7) and I think you're extremely unique.
I love your songs especially 'miss me' I think I had to have a cold shower after that. (probably because of the person I was thinking about when you were singing!)(and your singing of course).
Please don't stop.

I'm glad the Aussies showed you a good time.

- Jacqui

June Miller said...

That story about the make-shift block party was fucking sweet. If only everything so wonderful could be replicated more often.


Did you just collectively get us all to third?

Thank you. [Lights cigarette]

Your honesty will never cease to amaze me. Thank you for that, as well.


I've never lost anything up in Vagina World. I'm always pretty on top of what's going on in there (ba-dum-cha!). I attribute this to reading one of those 'OMG EMBARRASSING!' stories in YM/Teen People/whatever mag as a youth, where a girl and her boyfriend were at the carnival, and they went on this ride that essentially let them jump into a big pool from really high up. The impact of how fast they landed in the water caused her tampon to SHOOT UP INTO HER and when she was digging around for it a couple hours later, she realized what was up and had to get it removed by the doctor.

Needless to say, the story stuck with me ever since the tender age of nine, and I've always kept track of foreign objects' entry and removal from the hoo-ha.

Otherwise, I'm a total guy about my period. That make sense? Not like I'm all grossed out about my own period (though, it's never really a pretty thing, is it?), it's just something that's THERE. Something that's gotta be dealt with. And then it's over, and I won't be an emotional wreck afterward. Sweet.


I don't know, Palmer, you think I should just go ahead with the sex change operation? It'd almost be easier. My track record has ended with me being ditched for dong about every time, whenever it's a lady involved, so perhaps I should just kill two birds with one stone? No more periods, no more fears of rejection/abandonment.

Cake for all!!


Unfortunately, I like looking like a lady who likes ladies looking like ladies. What a conundrum; whatever shall I do? Such attitudes just aren't accepted in most of polite society.

Especially 'round here, the fuckwads. If only I could get out.

Oh wait. I am.

Goodbye, Ukiah, you fucking cunt. Hello motherfucking Santa Cruz. September will be the month to look forward to.

I've run into some trouble with some of the individuals around here who I thought would be in this band I'm trying to get together. Santa Cruz will hopefully prove more fruitful in my efforts. Perhaps some chance encounter will happen as it did with you and Mr. Viglione and I'll meet someone/some persons who I can click with artistically as well as musically, and wonderful things will come out of it. Perhaps I WON'T BE surrounded by a bunch of douchebags who misinterpret tripping balls and listening to Tool as the fool-proof way to gain inspiration/insight.



Bagina nicknames:

My mother's Philippina, and for some reason, when I was growing up, she referred to that area as 'The Precious.'

I don't recall much of the LOTR series, but what I DO recall was tittering like a damned idiot every time Gollum mentioned his need for his 'precious...MY precious!' Actually, just thinking about it makes me giggle.

Do not EVEN get me started on Silence of the Lambs.



Alameda Green said...

I've never tried this menstrual sponge, but oh, do I have a story about the "Today Sponge" contraceptive (as opposed to the "tomorrow sponge").

So, my cousin, having been talked down from condoms by her idiot boyfriend, decides to start exploring other methods of contraceptive. She lands somehow upon the Today Sponge, and decides to test it out.

They work nicely one or two times, but about the third incident, instead of removing the sponge as directed, she rolls over and falls asleep.

The next morning, said boyfriend is at work by the time she wakes up and discovers that, yikes, she forgot to take out the sponge. No worries; she goes into the bathroom to pop a squat and fish it out. She grabs one part of it, and it promptly tears off.

So, in a total panic, she begins to fish around desperately, always grabbing just the slightest, slimy corner and instead of pulling it out and ensuring her own safety, just rips the piece off.

She panics. She cries. She stops and takes a nap to calm herself down.

Upon awakening, she decides there is one person she can call and entrust all of this to: me.

So my cousin then proceeds to ask me to come fish something out of her vagina. I was flattered she chose me, but to tell you the truth, given the structure of my (and probably most people's) family, I'd need years upon years of therapy before I'd recover from that.

So she calls her boyfriend, he makes up a story to leave work, comes home, and using his freakish manual dexterity, manages to pull out the remaining pieces.

She did give me the last sponge as a token of appreciation for the thought, though.

Elizabeth B. said...

please. tell me stories about your vagina more often!

Amanda said...

What Killed Amanda Palmer?

It wasn't a rope or a wrench.

It was a fucking vag sponge!

eleanor ruby said...

the first comment here reminded me of the time i splattered my face in blood while pulling out my diva cup (also awesome). it got momentarily stuck on the way out, which resulted in this sort of trampoline effect at the opening of my vagina. the result: blood everywhere. i was laughing like a maniac in the bathroom and my husband was in the kitchen, cooking dinner and asking what the fuck could possibly be so amusing.

weirder, though, was when i was just entering puberty and, being one of those kids who always built her lego castles without consulting the directions, i decided to insert my first tampon in the same manner, never learning that the applicator must be removed. i walked around a whole day with that cardboard thing poking me, wondering how on earth women do this every single month, until finally giving in, reading the instructions, and pulling that shit out.

anyway, glad your vagina's okay. and mine. and everyone else's, for that matter!

see you at the brattle tomorrow night.

Jon Santi said...

i'm in a wheelchair.
you want to be an amputee. [no you don't]
you inspire me.
brown eyes and tampons.



Half Mar said...

This is the most interesting, entertaining and funniest story I've ever read about your mom's vagina.

I'm so sorry, I couldn't help myself :$ :P

angelwitch113 said...

Condomns can get stuck up your vagina.0.0 Seriously? Shows how innocent I am.

I am going to say that your vagina must be like a black hole if you had to get tongs to blasted sponge out.

Your trip to the emergency room could make a very interesting song material.

That Maxiglide(gosh who comes up with these names) infomercial was hilarious from the 12 minutes I saw. The models had that "I'm going to kill you all" smile. I know it well. I had a choir teacher who had the very same smile.

I don't understand this new trend of straight hair? For years I wanted straight hair untill I got it straightend for a few days. I honestly didn't like it all that much it made me look much older and really didn't feel like me. Now I love my curly hair even though it can be a pain to manage at times.

Ah I want to see who killed Amanda Palmer. Was the same person who killed Amanda the same person who framed Roger Rabbit? I know bad joke but I couldn't let that one slide.

fussy said...

I have no idea what to say.
I saw you in concert a few months ago--changes the world, it does, for the extremely artistically freedomly of goodness--
anyway, reading your blog really made me think,'amanda palmer is my hero.' i know what you're thinking: and i don't just like you for your massive vagina and/or vaginaly state of mind. it is nice to let things go.
when i finally decided to extract my tampon it wasn't even there. so i like to think that it fell out, because that would be awesome.
two at once!? i think too hard.
anyway, you're a great performer and everything, i never said that to you before, yesyesyes, and i love your soul, music, the way your brain hears it.
you gave me a flower. thankyou, it made me cry goodness. and feel good.
you are good.
im afraid to post this.

David said...

Thanks for this amazing, amusing, disgusting, and intense post Amanda! Posts like this one are why I keep coming back to your blog.

Please tell us that you'll take as good care of all your body parts as you took care of your vocal cords. Also, let's hope that your vagina never has to watch such horrifically confusing advertisements again, although you seem to have a pattern going so puhLEEZE be careful! Read the owner's manual, it's a delicate instrument.

Thanks for posting the videos too. I'm so looking forward to your new work. I've engulfed and devoured No Virginia ...

Kevin Doran said...

Man... i mean, i didn't stop reading or anything, but, uhh, maybe a Vagina Warning next time or something... I didn't know these things happened; i'm not sure i wanted to know... =0 My fragile, male mind, Amanda!

Deconstructionism said...

Still loving your blogs and your music, but I'm a little sad that you don't write old friends back anymore.

faeriewings said...

I have to be completely honest, this blog made me laugh a whole lot. Although, I know I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. It reminds me of the time I had a bad infection in my ear piercing. My ear swelled to 2x its size so you couldn't even see the earring anymore. I freaked out and went to the doctor who said upon looking at it, "There's an earring in there?" That was comforting. I insisted against seeing a plastic surgeon so the doctor took it out and drained it. It was quite painful, but I did get to miss some school. Foreign objects anywhere is a threat to health everywhere. ;D


PenguinKye said...

I love the part where the Stepford Wife says, "Honestly, the only thing you have to lose? Is hope! Haha!"

...because hope is a trifling thing! And because the sketchball hair straightener only costs a negligible $99.95. O_o

Infomercials are SO fucking creepy.

realpaintheory said...

Amanda, Amanda, Amanda. What ARE we going to do with you, hmm?

Would just like to mention at this point that my boyfriend broke up with me last night, I was still crying this morning, but then I put on my Dresden Dolls CDs, live downloads, everything, read your blog for the trillionth time, and I've been dry-eyed since, except with tears of laughter.

Thank you!


sophia said...

http://www.bloggingwv.com/the-most-offensive-world-records/ can you beat that woman?


Linda Manning of Los Angeles could, without preparation, completely insert a lubricated American football into her vagina (this, for the uniformed, is what one calls a loose, sloppy **insert vulgar label for female genitalia here**)."

sexy said...













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