The international adventures of a singing, dancing zombie queen.

Saturday, April 30, 2005

I totally want this!!!!

Check out the Juicy Meat necklace, barettes... And the glass heart brooches below, with the little stuff in them....
Yes, please!!!
I wonder if she'd make a glass heart necklace with a steak inside!!

Yey, Birthday! Come to my freakin' party!!!

Friday, April 29, 2005

"he completes the circut" Posted by Hello

Thursday, April 28, 2005

The MEAT hypnotizes you... You muuust come to my birthday party at Neurogenesix...  Posted by Hello


Well, I'm turning a quarter century this year, and thanks to the generosity of the WerePad, who are hosting a Neurogenesix club on May 6th, and the wonderful DJ Blau, who was so kind as to share the birthday-ness of her party with me, I get to have a huge birthday party!!!

Invite whomever you want!
$5 cover,
Cheap Drinks,
Come and help me celebrate my 25th Birthday!! Damn it, I haven't had a party in five years to celebrate, and this is a big one!

The WerePad is @
2430 3rd St.
Between 20th & 22nd

The WerePad has such a lovely high ceiling, the non-smokers won't be bothered by the smokers. There are also huge video screens, with fantoozle multimedia!!

& Penguinoid
will be spinning dancing madness from Noise to Industrial, and even into the realms of some ridiculous remixes of hip-hop and pop...

Yeah; if you don't usually, you might feel more comfortable wearing black, and of course if you feel like dressing up like a zombie, you'll make me a very happy girl.

But mostly I would just LOVE to see all my old friends, and to have my folks from many different sectors of my life show up to help me celebrate.

Blog-reading strangers are also welcome, as long as you aren't sketcy, scary, or don't know how to not blatantly stare at women and not hit on them when they aren't giving you the green light. If you suck, we will kick you out bodily.

If you can't make it, consider spending lots of money on me (Amazon list for Amber Steele, or you could get creative... I like Mark Ryden and Jesus crap, or anything that looks like it came out of the Gray's Anatomy book), or maybe coming out to dinner with me on Saturday. But really, you should come and shake your bootay! WHoot!!

Monday, April 25, 2005

Sonny Barger, Hell's Angel Phoenix Arizona, 2002; the head of the Hell's Angels Oakland Chapter at the time of Hunter S. Thompson's book, "Hell's Angels" Posted by Hello


Here's what I sound like when I'm bored, and IMing a friend who may or may not be online:

I'm bored.
me: And I was bored all afternoon at work.
me: and my housemate is out of town, so my boyfriend said a couple of days ago that he would use this evening to "fuck [me] all over the house".
me: But instead, he is at his house doing laundry.
me: I suppose I shouldn't bitch, since I've been getting it once or twice a day for the past few weeks, but I am bored.

I'm fascinating, non? Hee hee..
Well, at least I can blog at you folks. I'm listening to "Culo" by Pitbull. WHoot! CULO! I don't even know what that means. Herm.. Maybe I can find a dictionary of Spanish slang for you... Well; I did, but it isn't quite as detailed as I might've hoped. Here goes:

culo (noun, masc.) ass

CULO! How appropriate.

On a more serious note, I did have a Hunter S. Thompson's work hits real life moment. I'm reading "Hell's Angels" right now, which is weird because it's an early work of his, and so it isn't very Gonzo. But a good read, nonetheless. A lot of the book deals with the Angel's image as created by mass media, and the reactions to it that both general society and the Angels had. For the general public, this was, of course, an extremely negative association. But this book was written about the 1960's; in fact the main events covered in the book happened 40 years ago, almost exactly. And I am aware that the Hell's Angels are still known as the toughest motorcycle gang around, but also that they don't really exist in the way that they used to back then. You certainly don't hear about gangs of bikers wreaking havoc on a town anymore. Now the hoodlums of the decade are gangsters in the sense of African-American people from the ghetto.

Yet today, up on Parnassus at the hospital, a huge man riding a Harley. He was clean, wearing light colored clean clothing and a skull cap, with a large cigar hanging out of his mouth. He looked kind of jolly with all of his belly and his open face. On his bike, he moved gracefully over to the side of the road, talking to the people on the sidewalk, asking for directions. I realized that H.S.T. had been absolutely correct about the way that these men were entirely different beings off of their motorcycles than they are on them. Of of his bike, this man's weight alone would make him lumbering, perhaps slow, perhaps slamming each heel down in front of him, giant like, joints squealing under the stress. But on his bike, he flowed, comfortably sitting upright, a friendly voice curling its relaxed American tenor around his cigar. I couldn't hear what he was saying at first; he was about five yards from where I was sitting, stuffing my face with my classic tuna sub. But I could see the body language of all of the twenty- and thirty-something med students and residents as they steered themselves away from the curb. Heads dropped, and the motorcyclist began calling out to specific people as the crowds tried to walk an extra two feet away from him.

The biker called out to a young man, probably approaching thirty, with a healthy head of curly brown hair, a strong body, broad shoulders and nearly six feet on his frame. The young man looked down at the sidewalk a couple of times before he could no longer avoid the attention he was getting, then walked over to hear the biker's question. He shook his head, not knowing whatever the biker had asked him. The biker had removed the cigar from his mouth, but people were still finding him unintelligible, probably because they were too afraid to make eye contact with him, or to let themselves hear what he had to say, and therefore feel obligated to answer him. It occurred to me that he should get off of his bike; he was in a loading zone, and people were obviously intimidated by his presence on the motorcycle. The biker pulled a couple more yards down the street, only to get the same treatment. Just before he pulled away and drove off down the street, the wind blew a bit of his question into my ear, and as he roared off politely, I realized what it was he'd been asking for.
I heard him say,
"505 Parnassus?"
The last person said the number of the building I was sitting in front of, so at least he'd tried, I suppose. But 505 Parnassus was the giant hospital right across the street. The main hospital. The biggest building there. The building that probably every employee and student has to go into at least once a week for something or other. And they'd all been so afraid of this tender-looking, brightly t-shirted, clean Harley rider. Not wearing colors. Not wearing any darkly symbolic insignia. Just a big guy with a skull cap and a cigar, riding a Harley, asking for the most incredibly simple help. He was probably trying to visit someone.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Check out my HAWT rubber skirt. YOU LOVE IT!! but not as much as I love Bonni!!! Posted by Hello

Friday, April 15, 2005

Here are John and I in our hot uniforms. I am soooo happy that he's my man. Yey!!! He's my favorite munky, and he rawks. Beware of our imminent fashion takeover. Posted by Hello

Here is The Last Rabbit by Mark Ryden. I am not very interested in the woman in the picture, but I am madly in love with the sad, sad, bunnie. How could you not be? I think he should become friends with the little girl from the Butcher Bunny. Posted by Hello

This is Butcher Bunny by Mark Ryden. More details on my tattoo plans at the bottom of the preceding post.... Posted by Hello

Today, spring broke like the water of a woman two weeks overdue. I just walked home from BART in the soft evening sunshine, nostrils full of the warm scent of wisteria and jasmine in full, manic bloom. The small roses have all bloomed, and there were giant, white-tipped red tulips straining up at the baby blue sky... It made me realize once again how rarely I get home in time to enjoy nature. Not that I dislike coming home at night, but the smells and colors of a dwindling afternoon are much appreciated after months of strutting home in the nervousness of shadows with the idea of a rapist still in the area.

On a lighter note, however, I went to a talk this week that was taking place at UCSF. It was called PIERCED, INKED, & MODIFIED: BODIES & IDENTITY, presented by Dr. Victoria Pitts. Since she was having problems with the projector at first, she gave us the sense that we were missing lots of pictures, but I really didn't see as many as I expected when the problem was finally fixed. Here's an excerpt from the email I sent to my friend who let me know about the talk:

The speaker was a young woman doctor who did a pretty good job of looking at differing viewpoints on body modification. But in general, it was rather too broad of a talk for one hour. She had a really nice stance about insisting that plastic surgery, electro peels, diets, etc. were also forms of body modification. She set the public acceptance of these actions against piercing, tattooing and branding in order to point out the rational disconnect in society's alienation towards "alternative" body modifications. At the end of the talk, an older woman was just pushing at her with a question, trying through repetition to get Dr. Pitts to state that there is sickness (mental) involved in body mods. Dr. Pitts answered rather nicely that her rule was whether the body modification expressed or produced suffering that was the measure of whether it is unhealthy.

Oh, I wasn't very saucy... i could've piped up... My rule is always whether people make sure that they heal properly, and whether after going through an experience that causes pain and changes the body, do they respect their body more, care for it, keep the wound sterile, and honor what their body has allowed them to experience? Because lots of folks don't take good care of their piercings/tattoos. Lots of folks just get the same tattoos as everyone else, and treat the ritual/act of body modification like accessorizing with make-up. That seems to me to be a rather disrespectful and careless way of treating one's body. On the other hand, through respect, one's body modifications can be celebration of individuality and the power of self.

Another thing that I noticed was the focus on appropriation of other cultures' (those that white westerners think of as tribal) symbols and texts, and how that plays into the same exoticising of foreignness that we've been guilty of since colonialism. This is an interesting (but obvious?) question. And I wonder more about what it means to intellectually/academically ignore the majority of tattoos, which are in fact based on plenty of very modern american things. This seems to me to be another sign of "whiteness" being considered a cultural blankness. Sure, there is a wealth of cultural appropriation that takes place, but what about the trends in realistic tattoos, celtic tattoos (of course, this could be considered cultural appropriation as well), pin-ups, fantasy, gothic, metal, biker..... And yet those are all ignored for some reason...

I'm super excited about my next tattoo. I'm either going to fill my arm with the heart on it in so that it's a short sleeve, or start in on my left upper arm with a lovely collage of Mark Ryden's work. I definately want The Last Rabbit, as well as many different parts of The Butcher Bunnie; the little girl, perhaps holding out her hand to touch the last rabbit's ear instead of Abe Lincoln, the meat, some of his bees.... I'm super excited. Yey! Here's a link to Mark Ryden's site, if you'd like to know what I'm talking about. I would theive a pic with this link, but they're pretty well protected, so....

Ooooh! I just found a place to snatch them from; I'll post them for you all to see...

(by the way; Mozilla isn't letting me use the spell check, so please forgive me...)

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Ahhh.... nothing like googling oneself... hee hee..

So; for shits and giggles, I googled myself. And low and behold, someone was confessing their crush on me. So I posted back. Hee hee... I can't wait to see the responses from here....

And to share them with all of you!!

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About Me

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Dance & Fitness Faculty member at San Francisco Peninsula Community Colleges, Director, Choreographer & Featured Dancer, Founder of the Living Dead Girlz, and Owner of the Steele Dance Company, which provides entertainment for festivals, corporate events, conventions and private events. Teaching private dance lessons and creating choreography since 1997, Steele graduated from the University of California at Berkeley with a Double Major in Dance and Comparative Literature and completed her Master of Fine Arts in Dance and Choreography at Mills College. She has toured all the major cities in Germany and performed at the Cannes Film Festival as the featured dancer in TRIP -- Remix Your Experience, a multimedia exhibition of film, live music and art. Steele has also performed as a featured dancer for RJ Reynolds (CAMEL) promotional events. Steele currently manages the go-go dancers of "Poor Impulse Control," who perform frequently in San Francisco's industrial, alternative, and rock venues.