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Clit Eastwood

December 8, 2009

Last week I was asked what my dominatrix name would be if I were to become a dominatrix. I should add that Seneca was there at the time the conversation took place, because that way I’ll have an excuse to post another cute picture of Seneca. And if I post one of Seneca then I should post one of Sappho, to even things out. I don’t want the folks out there thinking I prefer someone else’s cat over my own cat. Sappho and I go together like corn and toilet paper. For one thing, we’re both chronically irritable…

Awwwwwwwwwwwww.

Anyway, I think today’s post title answers the dominatrix name inquiry with a combination of vulgarity and succincticity. I also want to add that the asker should have formulated his query in at least the future more vivid construction, if not an even more vivid construction than that. Something in the indicative rather than subjunctive mood, for example. The way it was worded, it was like the asker considered himself to have been posing a totally hypothetical and outlandish question. I don’t know how many times I have to keep telling people that being a dominatrix is one of my top five goals in life. In terms of both desirability and plausibility, it’s right between having my womanuscript published and getting a second cat. I mean, feminism, big money, mockery, pain infliction, and fun costumes, together at last. If some dude wants to give me $200 an hour to drip candle wax onto his face and call him a fucking worthless [content deleted by wordpress.com], I think it behoves me to take the money and get to work. That’s right: behoves!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggh!!

At the time of the conversation, I, the question asker, the question asker’s wife, and a person from the question asker’s wife’s department who will be taking over this apartment were about to watch one of Clint Eastwood’s more recent projects, Gran Torino. There were a bunch of ads for other Eastwood films before the movie started and holy shit you guys, I’m about to say something really, really obvious: Clint Eastwood is a badass. I’ve always felt this way, but seeing all those badass performances in a row hammered the point home. In Gran Torino he plays the part of a dying man in his seventies who simply wants the Asian people next door to stay off his lawn, and you might think that was lame sauce, but it’s not, because what ends up happening is that he manages to give everyone the heebiest of jeebies numerous times simply by making his thumb and forefinger into a gun and pointing it at them, which is actually way more badass than freaking people out with a gun. Clint Eastwood is a man with all kinds of street cred. I’m telling you right now, that dude is going to find a way to be badass as hell at his own funeral. If I absolutely had to marry a guy, and I could pick any guy I wanted, it would definitely be Clint Eastwood. I used to say Anthony Hopkins, but Clint could kick A-Ho’s ass in about three minutes, and then where would I be? Widowed. Great.

I can think of no better tribute to Mr. Eastwood than to morph his name into a mildly disgusting but contextually appropriate play on words that I will use as an alias while serving as the madam (is that the word? I’m not up on the terminology) of a successful dominatrix practice. I have the ambition and I have the name. What I don’t have is any practical knowledge of how to go about starting my business or what to actually do to the people when they show up to their appointments. You see dominatrices doing their thing in movies and on TV but what you never get is the back story. Like, how did they get into this line of work? Is it okay to be short and scrawny and out of shape, or will I have to start working out and wearing heels and stuff? Where did they get the startup money (second apartment, leather outfits, studded accessories, advertising budget, first-aid training, candles, etc.)? What does the woman do when the landlord needs to come in and fix the leaky sink in her sex dungeon? Isn’t that kind of thing awkward for everyone concerned? And how do dominatrices get customers? How does one spread the word that one is, from x a.m. to x p.m., available for half-hour, one-hour, and two-hour sessions (group and corporate rates available upon request) and specializes in articulate yet filthy verbal humiliation, fountain pens (you won’t know unless you book an appointment), and cigarettes?

I’m not worried about reputation stuff. I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with dominatricizing, and every day for the past three years I’ve given less of a shit about people’s opinions of me than I gave the day before, and I have every reason to assume the downslope will continue. And anyway, I see a dominatrix as a sort of inverted parody of a psychologist. I’m good at parodies, and I would have started a psychology degree three months ago had I not found out about the SFU writing thing I’m going to be doing instead. I’m not worried about having to be one person at work and another at home because all of us have to compartmentalize that way irregardless of whether we’re a dominatrix or a customer service clerk at a bookstore. Irregardless! Damn it, I was born to do this, the same way I was born to write. I’m a very organized and well-rounded person. I can do two things.

I have a friend who works at the library and I’m pretty sure she would tell me that there’s no Start Your Own Dominatrix Business or Whip Mastery Techniques for Madams or From Customer Service Clerk at a Bookstore to Foxy Millionairess Clit Eastwood: One Woman’s Journey on the shelves over there – the first two because they don’t exist and the last one because I haven’t written it yet because the first two don’t exist so I don’t know how to get started on the journey. I don’t even know what to pack.

It’s t minus one month minus one day until I move. Vancouver’s dominatrix scene is off the charts. I want a piece of the action – I mean, total lack thereof. (None of my clients will ever touch me, ever, for any reason, ever, in case I haven’t made that implicitly clear.) If anyone has any practical advice, I would love to hear it. I don’t want to make any rookie mistakes now that I’ve become invincible. Stein in ’09. And again in 2010!

Maybe I should take a home maintenance course. Then I could fix my own sink…

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