mikepanic

[mikepanic]

Get Your Flu Shot and Other Helpful Tips for Fucking Professionals

We hold ourselves to a high standard as sex workers when it comes to getting tested for sexually transmitted diseases. Every two weeks. We applaud ourselves for our conscientiousness and ethical practices. I’d say if statistics are to be believed we do a pretty good job. Better than the average populace. Hooray for us.

But what about disease transmission that’s not sexual?

Ever been to set or with a client where someone has the sniffles, a cough, a fever? Maybe you had one or all of those symptoms yourself. We’ve all been in situations where we want to come to work sick. We do it for various reasons: money – we need it to survive, and sometimes we need it badly; we feel guilty about costing other people money – this is especially true in porn, where if filming can’t take place that day it costs not just you but every person in the production; we have a counterproductive work ethic that tells us we’re pieces of shit for laying there when we should be working. The list goes on.

Here’s the thing. If someone brings an infection to work, you’re potentially putting that person at as much risk as any STIs on the list for which we get routinely tested. If you think I’m exaggerating take a look at the statistics for nosocomial infections in the US. A lot of our immune systems are already taxed because we work all the time, travel a lot, exercise and diet to fit an image ideal. It shouldn’t be surprising that we’re at a higher risk of transmitting infections to other people in the sex industry.

But lest this come across as fear mongering, there are super easy ways to mitigate risk before you’re faced with the decision of calling off sick from set or seeing a client.

WASH YOUR HANDS

No joke it’s that easy. Regular handwashing can diminish your risk of catching something by a pretty big margin. Think about it. Our hands are involved in anything we do. We touch everything – especially in sex work. A bottle of hand sanitizer isn’t a bad idea if you know you’re going to a location without easy access to warm water and soap.

BE POLITE

Cover your mouth with you cough. And not with your hands. Turn your head away from the people in your vicinity, put your mouth in the crook of your elbow, and then let loose. I’d question whether you should be working around others with a cough, but I’m being realistic as I know people will do it anyway.

VITAMIN C

I hesitated to list this one because what most people do is wait until they get sick, post to Facebook or Twitter about their symptoms, and get this: “TAKE YOUR VITAMIN C 2000MG INJECTED INTO YOUR CAROTID I DID THIS AND MY SYMTOMS WERE GONE.” Except that’s not how vitamin C works. It will help boost your immunity. T-cells and other partsof your immune system are capable of stockpiling vitamin C which acts as a kind of enhancement or fuel source. It helps them do their job fighting off infections. It’s their PED. But it works cumulatively and it takes your body a while to build up levels. So include a supplement in your daily diet. Don’t wait until you’re sick. Other things like Echinacea and Zinc also have limited evidence supporting their benefits in boosting immunity, but the same rules apply.

GET YOUR FLU SHOT

This is especially important because it’s flu season right now, and the flu is nasty. It’s an umbrella term describing a wide variety of viral pathogens that fit certain descriptors. It’s highly mutateable (anyone read The Stand? It’s not as hard to believe as you might think). It can put someone with an already fragile immune system in the hospital. I can’t tell you how many patients with sepsis and ARDS that I’ve transported, fighting high pressure alarms on the ventilator the whole way, who started out with the flu.

Now, if you’re an otherwise healthy adult chances are you run a low risk of the above happening. And like I said most of those patients already had a weakened immune system for one reason or another. But I’m guessing you still don’t want the flu.

Is it a cure? No, but your annual flu shot is currently the best method for preventing that from happening. I haven’t heard a good reason not to get one yet. But here’s the most common arguments.

IT MADE ME SICK

No, it didn’t. What you got was probably a few hours of symptoms linked to the inflammatory response that happens when your body builds antibodies to a foreign pathogen. Fever, chills, fatigue etc. You’re not sick. Your body is just ramping up the troops to fight off something that could make you sick. Ever notice how initial symptoms of most illness are pretty much the same? That’s because those symptoms are from your body doing its thing, not the illness itself.

I’d recommend getting your shot close to bedtime if possible so you can sleep it off. Drink lots of water no matter when you get it. Make sure you’re hydrated. If you just can’t tolerate the symptoms, taking some Tylenol (acetaminophen) is okay. NSAIDS should be avoided because those are blunting the very thing that your body needs to do to build immunity (Motrin, Advil, Aspirin, Aleve etc.).

I DON’T HAVE INSURANCE

Most places that offer flu shots charge between $10 - $20.

I HATE NEEDLES

Do the thing you’re afraid of, and you’ll get the courage after it’s done. That’s how it works.

I STILL GOT THE FLU

This was shouted from the rooftops last year. And it’s true. The CDC missed the mark by a large percentage and a lot of people still got the flu. Here’s the thing. The folks over at the CDC make a projection on what strains of the flu will be prevalent in the coming season. They comb reams of data to do this, but, alas we just don’t have the technology to predict the future.

So, should you have gotten the flu shot last year even though the odds weren’t in your favor?

Yes. Last years flu shot was shown to be effective against strains that were prevalent overseas. Guess who has higher potential to be exposed to people from outside national boarders?

Sex workers.

So while the shot may not have protected you from the domestic strains, you were still good to go when came from any you might have mingled with at the airport or in your own travels.

The bottom line is it can’t hurt and might, and often probably will help.

IT’S A RUSE BY THE GUBMINT

I know. And you don’t vaccinate your kids and there are chemtrails in the sky. If the pile of verifiable data you have access to doesn’t convince you of the benefits of the flu shot, I got nothing.

Wash your hands, take your vitamin C, drink your water, get your flu shot. Go forth and fuck.

[mikepanic]

Where is My Thor?

Let's talk about Thor. Thor Odinson. Marvel's "The Mighty Thor" #20 hit comic stores a couple weeks back and with it came the introduction of the third Thor in as many years: War Thor. That's right, we have Thor Odinson, Jane Foster Thor, and now Volstagg of all people has taken up the mantel of the Thunderer and declared himself War Thor. On the one hand I enjoyed the concept. It was a heartbreaking moment that pushed Volstagg into this, and I love the idea of his character getting some depth for once, rather than the jolly fat guy who is relegated to the background most of the time. But. Yes, there's a big hairy butt around the corner and it's not War Thor's. Where is MY Thor? Just like the Ultimate Mjolnir was screaming in the "Unworthy Thor" mini-arc as Odinson battled his way toward it again and again, I want to know where my Thor is. The one who has all but disappeared for the last three years, and who, now that he's just recently popped back up again, is handing over the spotlight to yet another god of thunder. When Thor lost his hammer, mysteriously unworthy, and Jane Foster decided the world needed a Thor and took up the mantel, we were promised that Odinson wasn't going to just disappear. We were going to get stories of both Thor's. They wouldn't be hanging out much, rather they'd be off doing their own things. Jane would be learning how to cope with powers of a god and her own mortality, Odinson would be dealing with his sudden unworthiness and finding himself again during his own adventures. Hey, okay, I thought. The setup was a little contrived, but it's Jason Aaron. My favorite comic writer. And I love the premise! Let's give it a shot. I get two Thor stories to read each month instead of just one. Dig it. Except that wasn't the case. Jane quickly took over the Thor title, and Odinson... Well, he went away. Okay, yes he was written by Hickman for a while in yet another of Marvel's Next Big Event story arcs that seem to come out every other week, and he had some cool moments, but that wasn't his book. It was a group book with lots of characters about stuff that had nothing to do with the Thor storyline I'd been invested in. I wanted what Aaron had promised: Thor coming to terms and growing as a character with the sudden loss of his Hammer. And that, it seemed wasn't going to happen. The Jane plot progressed without incident, but I found myself rapidly losing interest. Unlike other storylines where the main character is replaced by another in the title role, there was very little setup. It was like turning the chapter in a book halfway through and suddenly finding the protagonist had been replaced by someone else without explanation. No matter how good the premise it's hard to make that stick. To his credit, Jason Aaron being the writer he is has done a good job with it if sales are any indication. And the Jane arc has provided a jumping on point for new readers. But for me it was a jarring interruption. I kept reading the Jane books, hoping there'd be some thread I could trace to what was happening with Odinson. For years there was nothing. Finally, for five issues in "Unworthy Thor" I got to see Thor broken down and built back up. I got to see him realize he IS Thor, the Mighty Thor, The God of Thunder. And I fucking loved that miniseries. We got to see what made him unworthy, and we got to see him get his mojo back. Awesome. But it came after three years. Three years with no Odinson. Three years of being distracted from Jane's story by wondering when I was going to see Thor Odinson again. Jason Aaron likes to play the long game. It's something I normally enjoy about his style. The collected volumes of his arcs read like novels. But this time he played it a little too long. Even though I liked the reveal of why Thor became unworthy, after three years of hype and anticipation it just didn't measure up. Now with Odinson back in the game, I'm ready to get on board again. Let's see what happens with Jane and the cancer she's been battling. Let's see how both Thors deal with that. We all know they still love each other. You just don't give up the history that these two have together. Will Jane die? Will Thor go through further trials in order to be worthy again, all while grieving for Jane? Oh, wait. We're not going to do that. We're going to have Thor and Jane engage in a petty argument over Jane picking up the hammer. So Thor's growth and development as a character in "Unworthy Thor" goes right out the window. The moments he had with Jane he fought with her side by side, Thor with Thor are also out the window. Suddenly Odinson is acting like a child. Where did that come from? That's not the Thor I know. That's not the Thor that Aaron has showed us over the last few issues. And now instead of getting to see these two come to terms with each other, instead of focusing on these great characters and their relationship, we're getting a third Thor thrown into the mix. No matter the premise, after the last round of what's happened in the Thor mixup, I'm a little gun shy. Jason Aaron or no, this comes across more like a gimic than a good story.

[mikepanic]

Untitled

The screech of the alarm clock drags me awake for the second time, and for the second time I hit the snooze button and try to think of a reason not to go into work today. It's 4:30PM. I've only slept about four hours because I'm on night shifts and my body refuses to rest when there's a hint of daylight. I imagine i look something like Edward Scissorhands, only with more bloodshot eyes. I can't think of a reason to avoid work that won't get me fired so i hoist myself to a seated position and wonder if maybe working at a car wash is more my speed. It would be a massive paycut, sure, but I'd never have to sleep in the daytime again. My phone buzzes and with one eye open (at some point I convinced myself that if i only open one eye I'll be able to still get some rest, even if I'm technically awake) I fumble for my phone. 4:41. Theres a text from my mom. "Dad is slipping faster. I told him you loved him & he nodded his head. Restless for now. I sit him up & he leans against me for support. Calms him. May be "asleep" by tomorrow. He loved you Brian, in his own way, and said he missed you." I'm a little surprised. My dad hasn't been in the best health for a while now, but he's been maintaining. A lot of old folks reach a kind of stasis where their ailments seem to reach a kind of equilibrium and they just stay like that for years. I've seen it enough times that I figured my dad was in the same boat. But now my mom says he's slipping. She would know. She was a nurse for almost 50 years. So I start looking at plane tickets. I've been meaning to go up and see him. His mind isn't what it was, but I think he still has enough there to remember me. I've just been putting it off the last few months because time and money have been in short supply. Oh well, the timeline just got moved up. No big deal. I can buy Alex and myself tickets on my phone before I head to work. Modern tech at your service. I'm comparing United and Southwest and trying to decide if I want to pay more for non-stop vs. less for a layover when the phone buzzes again. 5:11. "Dad is gone. 5pm. I love you." There's no real noise, I'm alone in the room, but it goes quiet anyway. I've imagined this moment so many times during my life I've lost count. Out of rage when I was a child, curiosity  in my adult years. I find I don't know how I'm feeling. I search around but there doesn't seem to be anything there. It's dark downstairs. Alex is asleep on the couch. I don't wake her up. She'd want hug me and make sure I'm okay. I don't feel bad at all so I let her sleep, sending her a text as I finish getting ready for work and head out the door. She'll read it later when I'm safely  at work and able to process this. If there's anything to process. It's about a thirty minute ride to work. Mostly freeway. I shift up and cruise along, leaving the traffic behind me. I'm alone on the freeway. My dad was alone too. All of his life. His family hated him. Other than my mom I was about the only one to talk to him. I never knew what he did to piss them off. He'd never talk about it. He never talked about anything other than the same couple go-to stories. Superficial reminiscences that never got too personal. I tried to get him to open up a few times. He'd always shift the subject around or get defensive. I never found my way in. Even so I felt sorry for him. It always seemed sad living like that; knowing that almost everyone you'd ever known or cared about was either dead or estranged. I'd always meant to go see him. I was going to visit on his birthday, and when that didn't happen the following Father's Day. And so on. Then we found out he'd been deteriorating mentally for a while. My mom couldn't take care of him but didn't want to admit it. So we took the reigns and put him in assisted living. After that it became: I'll go see him one last time before he dies. His health was apparently slipping steadily, if not rapidly, downward. I'll go see him and let him know at least one of his kids still cares about him. "Dad is slipping faster." Get plane tickets now. "Dad is gone." No plane tickets. You missed your shot, kiddo. What's it been? Five? Six years since you last so him? Two or three since you last spoke to him? Are you sure you were the kid that cared about him? Did you care or did you just tell yourself you did because it made you feel nice? The ER is busy tonight. My eyes are stinging a little so I go outside to the ambulance bay and sit on the curb. I wonder what my dad was thinking about in his last moments. I really wanted to be there.

[mikepanic]

Mainstream Comic Logic

Earth Heroes (fighting otherworldly invader): "Don't kill it, we have to bring it in for justice!" Otherworldly Invader with Ethics, Logic, and Outlook on Life Completely Different from Anything Earth-like: (blows shit up and wrecks havoc.) Earth Hero with a Margin of Sense: "We're getting our assess kicked. Maybe we should kill it? Guys? I mean, it's got tentacles that look like HR Geiger reject concepts that shoot acid lasers. I don't think it's going to cooperate and stand trial in a courtroom." EH: "No, we're heroes! We don't kill! That's why we're heroes, because justice has to stand for somethi--" (acid laser beam explodes their entrails). OI: (Shrieks victoriously in alien language.)

[mikepanic]

The Problem with Corporal

That was click bait. It's my problem with corporal, not THE problem. I can't do it as performance art (read: porn) very often. It's kind of a weird situation, because I did a lot of BDSM and corporal scenes when I first started. And I did a lot more in my personal life. But somewhere along the way paradigms shifted and the headspace I used to get into during these scenes just wasn't there anymore. See, I'm not a pain slut. You tie me up and hit me, I'm not going, "Oh yeah, I've been a bad boy. Hit me again and make it HURT this time. Yeah I'm a slut and I deserve this." It's parallel to that. When someone hurts me it unlocks a dormant part of me that has trouble coming to the surface otherwise. And once that part of me has been tapped into I have trouble shutting it off. I need it. Instead of saying, "Punish me, Daddy," I'm just a sobbing mess. I've started to cry, I'm making eye-contact with my top as tears roll down my face and I'm begging them not to stop because I don't get to feel this side of myself ever and I don't want it to end. I form an acute intimate bond with my top in these moments, which is great in personal scenes. It doesn't always translate too well on camera, though. While crying is a fetish for some, it's not a popular fetish amongst billing companies. This is understandable since tears and what looks like emotional distress can blur the lines of consent in a biller's eyes. It also doesn't look sexy to people who don't enjoy tearful beatings as a form of erotic fun time. So tuning into a corporal scene with your lube/vibe in one hand ready to go, only to be confronted with sobs, might make you a little upset that you just spent money to see a bunch of crying. Unless you have a ruined orgasm thing going, then you might find something redeemable in there. Though in this case the orgasm probably got ruined before it began. A director facing a performer who bawls when the pain gets intense is going to have these things in the back of his or her mind, and is going to be faced with stopping the scene over and over while the one crying - me - collects himself and tries to get his pain slut face back on. I'm going to realize this as a performer, and, well then you get into that whole mental game of, oh God I'm doing terrible they're never going to hire me again my career is over OH GOD. It adds pressure to all sides, is what I'm driving at. Then there's the fact that this is work. Porn, I mean. Even if you have great chemistry and you adore your co-performer, it's a lot more effort banging on camera than in your personal life. A co-star in a corporal scene might not even know me, and might not want to spend time between takes or after wrapping giving aftercare and seeing to the emotional wellbeing of the one to whom they've just taken the lash. To be fair, a domme on screen might not know anything about BDSM and associated protocols and things like checking in or aftercare might not even be on their radar. This isn't always the case. It's rare in fact. But any of these variables thrown into the mix takes an emotional release and morphs it into an ordeal. "Hey honey, how was work." "God. My boss wouldn't stop riding my ass all day." You get the idea. Porn has always been a creative outlet for me. And creativity is always at its best when it's unfettered. I still do the occasional BDSM scene as a bottom, but it's almost always with a friend or performer I know and who knows what goes on in my head. Kind of funny, where the journey takes you sometimes.

[mikepanic]

"Wrestled, Sat on, and Tickled," with Ingrid Mouth. http://goo.gl/bWttej

[mikepanic]

drawing made while watching The Thing

[mikepanic]

Tickle fight with Violet October. http://goo.gl/agQKUB

[mikepanic]

I've been told I'd be very fun to watch in porn, and I enjoy play sessions, but my career could be in jeopardy if my face showed up in a video. Anything I could do outside of a paper bag over my head? (Which on second thought could be kinda hot)

1) I don’t give out advice about working in porn for free and certainly not to anyone who is messaging me on anon.

2) what makes you the exception to the rest of us who show up to set and show our faces on camera? I really hate this question (I don’t hate you, I hate this question) because it under minds the hard work and the extent of the risks performers take by making this their career/ job. It’s my personal belief that if you’re not ready to show your face, you shouldn’t be a part of media based sex work. Stick to your day job.

[mikepanic]

Check out "Tickle Fight" with Violet October http://goo.gl/agQKUB

[mikepanic]

"Okay, I'm done tickling you." Tickle Fight, with Violet October http://goo.gl/agQKUB

[mikepanic]

There's more Violet October coming to www.mikepanicxxx.com soon.

[mikepanic]

How to Have Anal Sex

1) Clean the house before your squeeze arrives. 2) Take a shower. A really long shower. Spend most of the time washing your hoohaa/junk and any other area you suspect your partner's mouth will be near. 3) Become paraoid whilst drying off that you're not clean enough. Get back in the shower. 4) Spend time obsessing over the sheets and linens. Never mind they're about to be covered in sweat, lube and all manner of filth. They're not clean. Tear them off the bed and put new ones down. 5) Obsess over those linens. 6) Notice a pimple on your forehead that was invisible before the shower. 7) Squeeze the blemish until it evolves from small red dot, to crimson smudge covering half your face. 8) Answer call from your mother. Spend the next 45 minutes trying to hang up while listeninf to stories about how Flufferkins, her Pomeranian, threw up in Dad's shoes that morning. 9) Wonder if the rest of the house should get cleaned as well. 10) Hide from UPS driver because you're still wearing just a towel. 11) Realize you've become bloated. Probably from stress. Or maybe all the mexican food you ate a couple hours ago. 12) Say fuck it and call the whole thing off.

[mikepanic]

Boys Can’t Be Pretty

I first felt shame about my body when I was around eight. My friend Oliver asked me to flex my muscles, and when I raised my stick-figure arms and tightened my mosiquito bite biceps, he laughed. “Shit, you’re Skinny.” Three words . He didn’t mean anything by them. Most people don’t, I suspect, when they’re giving commentary on someone else’s physique. But the words cut all the same. The next time was a few years later. My eighth grade class was watching a video tape of a field trip. When I popped up on the screen my classmate, Jennifer, turned and said, “Jeeze you’re skinny.” It was less the words than the scorn in her voice that time. It didn’t help I had a crush on her. Throughout my adolescence into my teens and twenties, the feeling was unshakeable. I wasn’t capable of being desired or loved with my current body. I was skinny, weak. No one could want me as such. People, almost all well meaning and harmless bombarded me with comments about the wind carrying me away, puttimg meat on my bones. Et cetera and the same old same old. I hit the weights, I ate a lot. I got a little less skinny. It helped. Some. But that voice remained. The one that told me because I hadn’t achieved my ideal body, I still wasn’t good enough. When I confided in others about my issue, I was told guys don’t suffer that kind of pressure, that it was just the inward projection of a male power fantasy. Somehow sexism against women was to blame. I wasn’t Intersted in blame, I just wanted someone to acknowledge how I felt. Years went by, as they do. I found myself worrying less about being skinny. Now it was nitpicking my various parts. Smile lines here. A little extra fat around my belly there. My porn career got underway. Having every crevice, line, and mole exposed for the world to see and jerk off to actually helped. The feeling that my body is a mishappen blob still remained. It’ll Probably never go away completely, but I’ve come to the point where I can at least accept the background chatter and ignore it. Most of the time.

[mikepanic]

Grace

There is goodness in the world. It just rarely makes headlines. When the ugliness becomes too thick, I remember the woman on the road. She was walking barefoot on asphalt in the middle of summer, her arms laden with groceries, stopping where bits of shade or grass presented themselves to give her feet a respite. She looked tired. My mom, driving me home from school, pulled over and offered the other woman a ride. It turns out this woman, a mother of three, had no car, and had given her shoes to her daughter so she'd have something to wear to school. Today she'd made the trek to the store so they'd all have something to eat. Barefoot. While the pavement burned her feet. She and my mother talked as we took her home. I never heard her complain about her circumstance. She was just a mom doing what was necessary to provide for her kids.

[mikepanic]

How to Eat Skittles, a Primer

Open the package by tearing lengthwise downward from the rigid section on either end. This will create an opening either too small to get any candy through, or so big that you won't be able to close the bag again. Now, pour out the Skittles onto a flat surface. A bowl won't do, you need to see everything you're working with here. Separate them by color. The yellow go first. I recommend eating them as quickly as possible since they taste like what I imagine Lemon Pledge does. Or throw them away. Everyone knows lemon Skittles are like babies under a year old: soulless. Throw them away for all I care. Next is Orange. These are like that bowl of pomegranate chocolates your grandma puts out for the guests. Not that great, but as long as they're in front of you, you keep putting them in your face. Now comes the tricky part. You have green apple, cherry, and grape. These are all equal flavors, and the real reason you bought the bag of skittles. If you're about to start bitching that lime is no longer a flavor, get out. The Megan's Law website is looking for you. Divide your three remaining flavors by order of greatest quantity to least. You'll eat the one with the least number first and work your way up. If you have an equal number of two or more of the remaining flavors, go buy a lottery ticket. And that's how you eat Skittles.