I know there is a lot of business coaching crap out there about the importance of eye contact, and trust me, I'm a big fan of using it (especially in battle-of-the-wills stare-downs), but if I'm shaking your hand and you're giving me a dead-eye forced blank stare that reads:
"I am making contact because that is what you are supposed to do in business situations--see how I'm making eye contact--I don't even have to communicate anything with my eyes as long as I keep up this blank gaze you'll think I'm a professional."
So your skin medication got you so sick you quit your dream of becoming a professional dancer and then your mom gets cancer and so you decide to give your dream another chance on television...
Or you decided to take a break from driving to search for a pen (on the highway), flipped your car and lost your arm...
Or you lost your leg in a motorcycle accident and sadly, had to turn down your sister's offer to cut off her leg and give it to you...
I was going to post the real video of Heather Mills biting it on Dancing with the "Stars," but that's not as scary as this video I found while searching for it (and here at DivMo, if it's not scary, it's not bloggable):
Since when did fake limbs spurt real blood? When I decide to get hopped up on skin meds and go play Marco Polo on my motorcycle on the highway, I'll be sure to get me some of those newfangled bleeding prosthetics.
Speaking of Fox bias! Just this very second Fox news announced that Ben Affleck was throwing his support behind Mitt Romney for the Republican nod for President! (I know Ben seems like a bit of an idiot given certainpastbadchoices, but seriously, wtf?!?)
When they finally got around to sharing Ben's actual quote, all he said was he thought Romney would get the nod because he's "good looking" and they don't really have anyone else of any interest running. Yeah, that really sounds like a full celebrity backing to me. And, of course, Fox makes sure to point out Ben is a Democrat who backed Kerry for prez. Oh, Fox, we know where your story inspiration really comes from.
Passive-Aggression is so hot right now. Why bloody your hands when you can kill 'em with kindness and a well-placed post-it note full of thinly-veiled threats and "that would be great!s"?
All this passive-aggressive back and forth reminds me of the summer of my senior year of college when, inspired by tales of real-life roommate passive-aggressive note-writing, my roommate Erin and I decided it would be fun to give it a try.
Being the ball of enthusiasm that I am, my first attempt--written on our refrigerator's whiteboard--sort of skipped over the passive and went straight for the I-wish-you-were-dead aggressive.
[Backstory: Erin had recently been outted by her cousin for leaving a profanity-laden, drunken message on his voicemail. Erin's mom is very anti-swearing. At the time, her mom was also very into bell-ringing, and Erin, being oh-so-supportive, loooved talking about it with her and listening to bell-ringing CDs in the car.]
Hey Erin!Your mom called while you were out. She just wanted me to pass along the message that she doesn't love you anymore. Actually, she stopped loving you about 10 years ago when she first heard you swear. She said "Erin can go throw herself off a bridge for all I care." But she did agree to get her bell ringing group to perform for your funeral, which I think is pretty nice.--Bailey
Hey Bailey,Some convict just called from the Miami State Penitentiary, he got your #, address, and picture from your brother. Anyways, he wants to send some "packages" here and he's going to pick them up when he gets out in a month. But he didn't think you were hot, so he doesn't want to stick around for too long. I told you that those "Glamor Shots" were a bad idea. God! At least looking like ass paid off.--Erin
Ball back in my court, I left her this message:
[Backstory: None. I'm just gross.]
Erin-Seriously, this whole "natural woman" kick you're on has got to stop. Not only are the downstairs neighbors complaining about "the pungent gusts of vileness" billowing down from on high, but your armpit hair is so long now that you keep tripping over it. Don't think I didn't notice. It's sad Erin, real sad.--Bailey
But she got her revenge.
[Backstory: My car had recently been mistakenly towed from my lot. Since it was Hartford, I initially assumed it was stolen, burst into tears and called the cops. Also--that summer I was the only friend with a car so I played chauffeur to the grocery store A LOT.]
Dear roommate- You suck. I am glad your car got stolen. I only regret that the tow truck didn't run you over on its way out. Oh well, at least you can still take me to the grocery store 4 times a week :-)
And so it continued.
Eventually, we started writing notes pitting our future children against each other (Erin's would be dorks in matching sweaters, mine would be rattail-sporting, dirty and violent). Sadly, those notes didn't get copied down into the water-stained spiral notebook I unearthed from the backseat of my car while on a cleaning mission last month.
Feel free to leave your own expressions of passive-aggression in the comments.
Best quote from an article read at two a.m. while eating (organic mint) oreos and celebrating the fact it's Memorial Day weekend and I don't have to go to work tomorrow:
Gone are the days when children who wanted to learn the meaning of a naughty word or slang term had to find a dictionary or a more worldly pal. Today, Wikipedia can explain in a matter of seconds that badonkadonk is a term for a woman’s buttocks.
I know I'm a little behind the curve on posting this video of Sanjaya...ahem Bill Vendall... talking about the "self-referencing nature of progressive evolution" or as I like to call it: The "I am aware that others think I'm a cheeseball, therefore I am a more highly evolved cheeseball than the rest of the cheeseballs who don't realize they're cheeseballs" post-mondernist meta-ironic phenomenon.
Even with the highest of spiritual intentions, you still may not be able to keep your mind off sex today. You may find yourself thinking about things that are usually outside of your comfort zone. Don't think that you will actually realize all your fantasies, but remember there's no harm in enjoying them within the privacy of your own mind. (Thanks tarot.com!)
I present you with the following "sex-related image":
But all obvious joke-making is futile in the face of the Master of All Obvious Jokes, R. Kelly. Except, to R. Kelly, it's not a joke. It's a slow burning intergalactic love jam meant to woo his lady (black holes and all).
This coming from the man who said of his rhyming on Trapped in the Closet, "I don't even know how that happens, it just comes off like that." There's nothing more awesome than watching a self-obsessed and arguably deranged "artist" smoking a cigar and watching his own creation with a shit-eating grin on his face (and no clue how rhyming happens):
"Sex Planet" is a must must download. And if you act fast, you might still be able to grab it on Idolator before they take it down--Or look for it on The Hype Machine. For those without ears or access to the original track, I have transcribed the lyrics below (and you thought you could just avoid the links and get off easy--ha!):
Sex Planet Lyrics
[Spoken]
I don't know man, maybe, maybe I may have missed something, you know what I'm sayin? Maybe yall know something I don't know, but I like slow dancing in the club. Fuck the bullshit, I like getting close to a fine ass chick, can you feel me? So DJ Wang Williams, put on a slow cut.
[The Slow Jam Begins]
[Sigh... Slow intake of breath]
Jupiter, Pluto, Venus and Saturn I'm leaving Earth girl to explore your galaxy Ten to zero blast off here we go We'll be climaxing til we reach Mercury, girl Tell me are you ready girl to take a trip out of this world? I guarantee you'll like it, it'll take your breath away Gonna get you so excited once I taste your Milky Way Girl spend the night, come take a flight with me Out into spaaaaaaace Yeah
Girl you're sending me these sexual energies And I gotta grab it, right now I've gotta have it Shooting stars, a trip to Mars, I can get us there from where we are So don't trip I got a giant rocket gliding through just hitting your pocket
Chorus: Sex Planet come fly away with me Riding my ecstasy out in the galaxy Sex Planet get ready for take off babe Zooooooooom And have a safe trip babe
Now it's just us both, I've got the control In the middle of darkness, girl relax and just float I'm about to take a minute and touch your soul Once I enter into your black hoooooole ooohhh ooohhh Baby uuhhh ahhhh
Girl now that you're next to me, we'll be just like satellites Watching over the Earth, we'll make space our paradise Girl I promise this will be painless, painless We'll take a trip to planet Uranus, --anus
Girl just put your trust in me And girl I promise destination will be A trip that you'll will never forget I'm gonna take you out of this wooooorld yeahhhh So hold on tight my dear--hold on tight 'Cus I'm about to take you out of here And get you to my...
Sex planet Come fly away with me Riding my ecstasy Out in the galaxy Welcome to my sex planet Get ready for take off babe Zoooooooooooom And have a safe trip babe
Ohhhhhh
Stick a flag on the moon First couple to ever make love on planet Neptune Ooohh Ooohh -uuune And if time allow us, We'll be gone for hours I won't stop until I give you meteor showers So if you want it, say: Oooohh! And if you need it say: Oooohh!! And if you really gotta have it say: Ooooohh!!! And you want me to take you to space
[Repeat Chorus 2x]
So get ready for lift-off babe Get ready for lift-off baby
Spoken: R.Kelly: [Breath] You ready? Breathy Chick: [Breath] Yes R.Kelly: Hold on to this...[breath]... Here we go...
R-minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Baby start our engines And now the liiiiiiiights Ooooh Ooooh Ooooh Baby Liiiiiiiiiiiiiights Ooooooh said it feels so gooooood Girl when we.... fliiiiiiiiight Oooooh my rocket is so full of fuel baby, yes it is Damn full We can ride on through the niiiight... We won't stop baby... we won't stop baby...
The Firings of a Scrambled Brain:
DJ Wang Williams? Seriously? I'm surprised given his massive ego/rocket-issues, he didn't just go with his second choice: DJ R. Kelly Has A Giant Dick.
Grossest Line Poll: Tasting milky ways? Trips to Uranus --anus? I got a giant rocket gliding into your pocket? Or R.Kelly's promise that he "won't stop until I give you meteor showers" ??? NO, YOU MAY NOT PEE ON ME R. KELLY!
When I have children, the first rule I'm going to teach them is to never ever EVER listen to R. Kelly if his says "put your trust in me" and promises it will be "painless, painless." Especially if he offers to take you to Uranus. He is not talking about the planet and that trip ALWAYS hurts.
Does all this space talk mean R. Kelly's joined Scientology? And if it does, would Tom Cruise let him play with Suri?
Is R. Kelly seriously so egomaniacal that he changed the traditional countdown beginning from T-minus to R-minus?? After several listens, the answer is yes.
Yup that's right. He has a child!! He is a proud parent. It says so on his official myspace page. He's 17 and he has a child. I don't blame him for that. But what I do think is wierd is that he never mentioned it on the show. Kinda sketchy huh? All of you little girls still think the same of him??? God I'm so glad he's gone. ______________________ Poster: Rachel-may Subject: RE:Sanjaya has a child
HOW.......CAN....YOU..BE..SO...*THINKING OF A WORD STRONGER THAN STUPID AND IDIOT*
PLZ....for the sake of your brain and ours tell me you are joking! ______________________
Poster: Amy723 Subject: RE:Sanjaya has a child
He could have been joking. People don't always tell the truth on their Myspace pages. He also said his income was $250,000! It may be close to that soon, but he made that page while he was still going to school. And if he does have a kid, it wouldn't change anything. After all, Lakisha has a kid. You're right about one thing, he never mentioned it. Meaning that it's probably not true. ______________________
Poster: VictoriaMalakar Subject: RE:Sanjaya has a child
Exactly Amy,
I know many people who put fake ages on their myspace page. They'll have that they are 99 or 100. I don't know why people do that.
______________________
Poster: dmer-l Subject: RE:Sanjaya has a child
How could he get a man pregnant? ______________________
Poster: blackraven030 Subject:RE:Sanjaya has a child
OMG LOL how can he get a man pregnant OMG LOL that is so funny! LOL i laughed for like 5 minutes and i started crying lol ______________________
And the blue ribbon for totally missing the point goes to...
Poster: kitkat-26 Subject: RE:Sanjaya has a child
Um? How can a man be pregant? Are you f ucking serious?!
Try- he knocked up a girl and she had a kid. Men are unable to be actually pregant. That's why I hate the saying "We're pregnant!" because the man does *not* have a baby growing in their body. God.
As you may remember from my previous post Stress Relief: Twizzlers, Make-up, and Sex with Ghosts, I owe you a book review of the sizzling latest addition of the Harlequin BLAZE series Kiss and Dwell by (former senior NASA writer!) Kelley St. John; which makes me really wonder if crazy is one of the hiring criteria at NASA these days (just ask Lisa Nowak), because Kelley St. John credits "The Sixth Sense" as her biggest inspiration for her ROMANCE novel series the *drumroll please* SEXTH Sense! If somewhere else sells crazier crazy, I haven't found it yet.
Not only has Kelley St. John written for NASA, but she's also won over 50 writing awards. Wait a second--over 50 writing awards? Seriously? First of all, I find it hard to believe any awards listed on a web page in Papyrus font are from a credible I-didn't-just-use-the-MS-Word-certificate-template-to-award- myself source. Especially with award titles like "1st Place, 2004 RWA Sweet, Spicy, and Spooky Award" or "3rd Place, 2004 RWA Hook, Line, and Sinker Award" or "3rd Place, Thunder and Roses Online Paranormal Contest."
I'm thinking it's time for me to win some writing awards. If you could please leave me some in the comments, that would be super. Oh, and if you can work in how awesome/hot/brilliant I am in the award title, that would be super too. Like "The Award for Total Awesome and Complete Dominance of Life (and Writing)." Something like that, but even awesomer-sounding. Maybe I'll even make myself my own little Papyrus awards page. So there!
So what does NASA on your resume and over 50 (!!!) writing awards get you?
It gets you metaphors:
Monique swallowed thickly. The rain and wind claimed dominion outside, but an entirely different kind of storm dominated her senses. A storm of lust and desire, an ache that covered her so completely she trembled with need.
And rules, lots of rules:
Rule #1: When dead grandma summons you to help a ghost, you better do it or your flesh will start melting.
Rule #2: You are emotionally bonded to your spirit (read: you want to screw his brains out) until you've helped him cross over into heaven. You can't screw a ghost when he's on God's side.
Rule #3: No lying (aside from the physical sort) allowed!
Rule #4: (And this one's a bitch) A medium may not touch a spirit. (But um... about all that sex that needs to be happening...?)
Rule #5: Ghosts can't see you in the nudie unless you think really hard about how you want them to see you naked. (Um, when am I not thinking really hard about ghosts seeing me naked?)
So we have our heroine Monique the medium and our ghostly hero Raoul Ryan who desperately want to screw each other (for no clearly articulated reason aside from the fact they're insanely attractive characters in a romance novel). Monique's job is to help Ryan cross over from purgatory by helping him complete the unfinished business of falling in love.
One thing I love about romance novel characters is their stroke victim-like mental (in)capacity for seeing the obvious. Take this book's premise: Ghost must fall in love. Girl must help ghost fall in love. But who should ghost fall in love with? What a difficult question to answer! Um? How about another ghost? Or um, this lampshade. My oh my! Why can't we find someone for this ghost to fall in love with???
And then, at the end of the novel, a light bulb. Wow, ghost! We've been wanting to do it all through the book... maybe that means we're in love! Let's do it!
So how do they *do* it, exactly? And I directly quote:
Thank goodness there weren't any rules banning a spirit's use of vibrators.
But to keep things romantic, they don't use the vibrator in the boring, traditional way. They use it in the "let me rub it all over your body while asking you to imagine the vibrator is actually my lips kissing you" sort of way. Swoon.
And when the vibrator game gets old, they move on to "brain sex." Apparently they're so bonded they can just think about getting each other off and it works. But even that technique gets old after a few desperate pages. So then it's on to the "touch yourself with a loofah in the shower phase" before they flat out break down and beg Grandma (the head ghost) for permission to screw in the proper sense.
Because nothing says romantic like playing (Grand)Mother May I? with ghost intercourse. And then: Huzzah! Permission granted! And we're too busy being horny in love to care that grandma is involved and one of us is actually dead!
So, if you were a ghost granted one night to spend with the love of your life--in that passionate moment when you finally are able to consummate your undying other-worldly love--what would you say to your partner to fully express how you feel in this moment: to let her know how much you love, cherish, and respect her. If you're the romantic lead in this book, you'd tell her (in your most romantic voice, of course):
You're as hot, as tight, as I knew you'd be.
You can't get more romantic than that, really. Remind me to have my future-husband-to-be write that one into his vows.
Considering that last quote, I'm thinking giving this book any kind of rating based on fingers going up or down would be highly, grotesquely inappropriate. So I'll award it 1 million Stanleynickels and anxiously await the release of St. John's next Sexth Sense book: Ghosts and Roses.
When I was in 7th grade, my small, private Florida school called all of the girls together in Ms. Parker's English classroom for a group meeting. The boys, I believe, were also detained in their own classroom for a "talk." A gender divide for a grade-wide chat? This could only be about one thing and it started with an S and ended with an EX! There is nothing I enjoy more (even then) than an awkward presentation of a serious topic by "grown-ups" trying to communicate some impending doom upon the youth.
While I'd like to tell you that the impetus for this talk had something to do with rumors spread around my own personal adventures; my never-been-kissed buddies and I hadn't been in the know enough to have even heard said rumors (and given the content of the talk, there MUST have been some seriously juicy ones floating around) let alone played a role as the salacious subject matters.
After we settled into our seats, Ms. Parker stood in front of the class holding one delicious, trans-fat filled Oreo cookie in her hand. "I'd like you to pass this cookie around the room. As you pass it, you can do whatever you want to it: take a bite, lick it, whatever you please."
And so began the solemn passing of the cookie. My mind filled with questions. Would there be more cookies? How awkward would it be if I just popped the cookie in my mouth when it came to me? Is that in violation of the rules? Is this about eating disorders? Where is my sex talk?
As it turned out, no one had the guts to do anything to the cookie except pass it along like a hot potato. When it finally got back into Ms. Parker's hands, she held it up for us all to see. Yes, it was still an Oreo cookie. "Would you want to eat this cookie now that so many people have touched it?" (Um, yes?) "I didn't think so. Remember this girls. Don't be that dirty Oreo."
And that was it. We were dismissed. And from this day on, when I think of Oreo cookies, I don't think of the traditional glass of milk that usually accompanies them. I think of sluts. Dirty dirty sluts.
The new Fergie video is out for her song "Big Girls Don't Cry"!!!!! Though the title gave me great hope, it is NOT a Ferg-ified (read: butterface-skankified) version of the Four Seasons ditty of the same name. In fact, it is a tender lost-love ballad of the "I'm dumping you" variety.
Harder to believe still, she's dumping that hot Milo dude from Heroes/Gilmore Girls. To make him fit to be plausibly dating Fergie (aside from the major brain rewiring that occurred behind the scenes), they had to give him one of those sexy (read: white trash) pony tails and tats (tattoos for the ink-free laymen out there) up the wazoo including a beautiful neck piece.
Yummy.
Other things of note: Fergie's attempt to bring the oh-so-sexy Debbie Gibson look back: And my favorite lyric (though I'm sure I'd find worse if I could stand to listen to it again): "I'll miss you like a child misses their blanket." (Well, at least it is fitting with her 'I'm a big girl now!' theme... perhaps there is a line about Pull-ups nestled romantically in there somewhere.) First it's fat kids loving cake and now we're taking their blankets away? When will pop stars stop using children for their own cruel metaphorical drivel!?! Oh, the humanity!
Also...Fergie's voice=surprisingly not as horrendous as I imagined. (Though maybe the studio lasers were at work helping her out on that one--See, I had this theory growing up that it was lasers that made Mariah Carey's voice go that high...Oh, the sweet sweet idiocy of youth!)
And for the record, I had the "My Humps" midi ringtone before Michael Scott started rocking it out on The Office. And that makes me feel really, really, REALLY cool. (For serious.)
*A Debbie Gibson-hat-tip to bestweekever, for bringing my attention to this important piece of cinematography. Could yall please hire me so I could stop ganking your breaking news? Becausethatwouldbetotallysweet.
1. Though my hopes were continually flying high--like that CGI American flag flying behind Spidey in the movie's climactic action scene--Mary Jane does not die in this movie. God, I hate you Kirsten Dunst.
2. The idea of Tobey Maguire playing "aggressive" is hilarious. What a pussy.
3. Emo...Err..."Evil" Spidey is half Conor Oberst (think hair, general depressiveness) And half John Travolta circa-Saturday Night Fever (think the strut scene, dance sequences). No joke--click the links and see for yourself.
4. Reason number 5-bajillion that I love the folks over at best week ever: When searching for an image to put up of Spidey's awesome emo look, I found this:
5. The best villains come from my favorite tv shows growing up: Wings, That 70s Show, and Freaks and Geeks. God, I hope Venom is coming back in the 4th one because I love me some Topher Grace.
I was off getting rained out of tonight's Sox game and therefore missed the tragedy that was Melinda Doolittle (Shrek to some of you) getting eliminated on American Idol.
For shame America! For SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAME!
As much as I love Melinda, it is more my fear/loathing/complete non-interest/attraction/positive feelings towards Blake that have me concerned. HE MUST. BE. STOPPED.
Yeah, I can spit into my hand too and make the mad beats. But that doesn't mean I should win American Idol.
It means, if my name is Blake, I should die. (At least in a metaphorical, losing Idol sense--we're smart enough here at diverted motion not to make death threats...though apparently use the royal "we" now, so it all evens out in the end. Wicked smaht, fosho.)
I have no earthly idea why 12 year old girls are so into Blake. I've drawn men in Microsoft Paint hotter than him. In fact, why don't we make a deal, girls. I'll give you a new Idol to vote for who is way hotter than Blake:
So next week when it's time to vote for your American Idol you can dial 555-HOTR-THN-BLAKE to vote for this Paint dude instead. If he gets enough votes he'll come perform at your next birthday party. Does that sound like a deal or what??!?
Now, for the last time (at least on AI), our fallen hero:
One more reason why I'm voting Steven Colbert for Jon Stewart's Dick Cheney in the next presidential election in my mind:
Colbert can really move his hips! It's a little too hot for me to handle.
I can only hope that one day my hip-hop group--A-Kris-Krostic--can put out an amazing video like this.
[UPDATE: Sorry to all of those feeders out there (Kev, I'm looking at you). I clearly shouldn't embed video without coffee on my side. This is the real one. Now I'm off to enjoy my day off with the family :-)]
The Problem: our office is dangerously low on binding supplies for our binding machine!!!!
The Discovery: a Senior Admin staff-member notifies the Underling Admin staff-member (that would be me) that we are dangerously (!!!) low on binding supplies [dramatic emphasis all mine].
The Complication: in an office comprised of several projects with separate budgets, who exactly pays for office-wide office supplies?
The Email Chain:
Email #1 Senior Admin->Underling with CC to Office Manager, "We need binding supplies, but who will pay??"
Email #2 Office Manager->Senior & Underling Admins with CC to Office Financial Manager, "I don't know who should pay for this stuff either."
Email #3 Office Financial Manager->Everyone, "What do we need to buy?"
Email #4 Senior Admin->Underling, "Do you want to figure out what we need to buy or do you want me to do it?"
Email #5 Underling->Senior Admin, "I can do it. Where do we order from and what do you think we need?"
Email #6 Senior Admin->Underling, "We order from Staples and we need spines and covers."
Email #7 Underling->Everyone, "Here is a list of what we need and how much it will cost, now who is paying for this?"
Email #8 Office Manager->Everyone, "Don't get those over-sized covers you put on the list. They're awful."
Email #9 Office Financial Manager->Everyone, "I just talked to the center director and she wants the Senior Admin to order the supplies and charge it to the center account, then take everything and lock it up in a special filing cabinet so no one can get at it, and then email everyone in the center to let them know where the supplies are."
Email #10 Senior Admin->Everyone, "Okay, I can order the supplies but I'm not authorized to use that project code on the online Staples account. Oh, and I agree, those over-sized covers Underling picked out are terrible. I'll order regular ones."
Email #11 Office Manager->Everyone, "You can fill out the paper form and I'll get the Office Financial Manager to sign it. I'm glad you agree about those covers because I really hate them too."
Email #12 Senior Admin->Everyone, "Okay, I filled out the form and left it for the Office Financial Manager to sign. Thanks for your feedback and help everybody!"
It's classic pre-vacation syndrome: the Universe says "Ha! Fine, take a break if you want, but you're going to have to EARN it." And then everything goes crazy and you only have so many hours to get a week's worth of things done in a couple days before hurtling headlong into your relaxation.
So what do I do to deal with the pre-vacation stressfest? I buy stuff.
It started off innocently enough, with some candy. But after convincing myself it was not necessary to eat my weight in Twizzlers--even though they were only 2 giant bags for 3 bucks--I realized one bag of sweetened plastic chew would not be enough to comfort me. So I dove into the girly cosmetics aisle--because clearly everything I had in black I needed in brown, for those 2 days out of the month where my wardrobe dictates a softer eye look. (I've been watching too many make-up commercials, clearly.)
Twizzlers dangling from my mouth and a full set of brown war paint in hand, I was still feeling a little antsy (I'm sure all the coffee I drank this morning wasn't helping in that regard). And then I hit the grocery store book aisle. In that moment, I discovered the solution to all my problems: the trashy romance.
At first, I was afraid their romance selection would be too high-brow for my tastes. Danielle Steel and Jennifer Crusie write romances that sound like they could actually happen to semi-real if not annoyingly stereotypical people. What a waste. What's the point of realistic fantasy?
But then I found it. It took a careful browsing because the title alone, Kiss and Dwell, did not scream out to me--though I did enjoy that it was part of Harlequin's BLAZE series, which apparently means AMAZING.
The front tagline: "Haunted by his touch..." caught my eye. As well as the saucy cover photo of some lady thighs, candles, and a dude with the requisite opened tuxedo shirt and bulging muscles.
But it was the back blurb that won my heart and--I'm not being hyperbolic here--brought tears to my eyes (a reaction that happens whenever I encounter horrific fiction... Sometimes there is just so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's caving in...)
She wants him. She needs him. But she can never have him. He's a ghost... Monique Vicknair has a secret--she's a medium, dedicated to helping spirits cross to the other side. Unfortunately, she's been so busy, she hasn't taken care of her own earthly needs. And it's been a long, long time. So when she meets recently deceased--but oh-so-sexy--Ryan Chappelle, she's more than ready for a fling. Even if it is with a ghost!
Ryan is no stranger to the pleasures of a woman's body, and his death hasn't changed that. But he's never wanted anyone the way he wants Monique. So he's refusing to leave the world until he makes love to her. And if he has to break all the laws of heaven and earth to do it, he will. Again and again and again...
The Sexth Sense-- Where the sex is out of this world...
Yes, that's right, you read that correctly: the SEX-th sense. How could you not cry, reading that??
Is it just me, or hasn't this whole sex with ghosts things been explored before? And I'm not talking Patrick Swayze pottery-style. I'm thinking crawling up your leg Anna Nicole Smith-style ghost sex. Mayhaps our hero Ryan Chappelle gets around.
A full book review is forthcoming where all mysteries surrounding supernatural sexathons will be revealed! Stay tuned!
I've resisted posting about this because the thought of it being true melts my brain into a little ball of jiggling giggling joyous goo (now try saying that 3 times fast and you'll understand my state of mind as I write this).
Could it really be...? Sanjaya has thrown his hat into the ring to win New York's heart?!?!?!?
His profile on the I Love NY site has got to be a fake... right? A fake that got itself 68,359 votes (and second place in New York's online heart)--but a fake nonetheless. Right? Right???
And then they twist the knife of hope deeper into my heart by drawing my attention to this amazing video of Sanjaya--posted on his I Love NY2 profile in which Sanjaya demonstrates his extensive experience with college girl orgies...I mean...err...candy.
I recommend* lying in your bed in the dark with the audio looped and cranked up high. Hug your teddy bear tight and you'll get the general idea of what it would be like to get your freak on with Sanjaya: lots of giggling, 12 year-old kissey noises, and some...um, awkward coughing? Is that consumption I hear? (Readers' Poll: What else does Sanjaya have in common with an old French prostitute?)
I have this beautiful image of New York chasing Sanjaya around the mansion--giant double ds flouncing in the wind--shouting "I am the HBIC and you're going to give it up to me!"--yes, New York talks in rhyme in my imagination--while Sanjaya runs away squealing into the waiting arms of New York's manservant Chamo.
Yes, it's probably a fake, but the dream is just too beautiful to not entertain.
*only if you never want to sleep or have normal sexual relations again
Nothing says "I'm ready for love" like mysterious headwounds (boils?). Meet The Fire Man.
This gentleman is "looking for a chick to drink some booze, smoke lotsa cigarettes, and do other things I can't mention. I like to party, but most of all I want to find a woman who I can make sweet love with and rock on to the break of day. I'm a student at Rutgers University, and a guitar hero."
Just check out the way this dude eats his cereal. If he doesn't deserve a chance to find televised love, I don't know who does!
According to the latest Bonnaroo update (bonnaROOOOOOO!) there will be showers at this year's festival. Read it and weep dirty hippies!
ACTIVITY SPOTLIGHT: SHOWERS HOSTED BY GARNIER FRUCTIS®: STAY CLEAN AT BONNAROO
Want to make sure you are keeping fresh for the length of your Bonnaroo stay? No worries! With the help of Garnier Fructis, Bonnaroo will feature showers throughout the campgrounds. Designated areas will have shower facilities available for a small fee. Garnier Fructis will be providing shampoo and conditioner at each of our locations to enhance your experience.
Additionally, be sure to stop by the Garnier Fructis tent located in Centeroo to relax, get styled, and pick-up free samples! Our Bonnaroo Map, which you will receive as you enter the festival, will help you find these areas, as well as many other exciting amenities provided for our fans. Check out www.bonnaroo.com for more information on the rest of our festival features!
I say this as if I'm actually going to shower while I'm at Bonnaroo... I'm really more of a splash-down-at-the-communal-trough kind of girl myself.
People might think booking Tool was the final stake in Bonnaroo's hippie jam band heart, but I'm telling you, it's the showers and the sweet sweet smell of Garnier Fructis hair products that will deal the final blood-spurting blow. (Hey, don't look at me; I'm taking all my beat-the-dead-metaphor cues from Grey's Anatomy.)
Meet JoshSmith (a.k.a "Mr. Pasty"). This bad boy rocker is looking for a little love from Ms. New York. According to his blog post titled "New York is my soulmate":
So most of these jive ass turkeys aren't really down with this sweet Angel that America knows as New York. I've watched her grow as a person through every episode of FOL, and on her own show. She's a really down to earth girl and just needs a man like me to settle down with. I'm awesome, and thats the bottom line. Vote for me and I'll buy you a candy bar!
Who wouldn't want a candy bar from this hottie??
His rock out pose definitely says "This is a guy I should settle down with" to me.
Mmmmm pasty thighs. And this winner already has 22,022 votes!
I heard the name Ron Paul today, and because I'm so on top of this whole politics thing, my first reaction was Ron Paul who? You mean RuPaul? *
*(aaaaactually, in the spirit of full disclosure I said "Rue Paul...Rew Paul? How do you spell that?" until I was duly corrected--thanks Kev!)
According to that bastion of cultural knowledge and correctness, Wikipedia, RuPaul is not dead. In fact, s/he is working on and album Title Not Yet Announced and appeared in two recent movies: 2006'sZombie Prom(as Ms. Strict) and the soon-to-be-released-straight-to-the-adult-section-of-your-local- video-store-which-is-purely-speculation-based-on-the-title-alone Starbooty: Reloaded (as Starrbooty/Cupcake).
Meet JohnnyB. (a.k.a "Mr. Freak on a Leash"). JohnnyB is a 25 year old shockingly-single hottie from Connecticut looking for "a chick who wants to experience Johnny Blazer."
Bonus points for the Korn reference in his promo video!
How could New York not love a man who's got the whole world in his hands???
Praise the Lord! There is still a chance for New York to find love!! No, not New York the state, New York the lady. If this isn't ringing any bells for you, well I'm just going to have to shake my head and speak very slowly.
Once upon a time (say, the 80s) there was a rap group know as Public Enemy. This group was very important and influential in the hip hop community. One of their members, William Jonathan Drayton Jr., went by the flashy moniker 'Flavor Flav' and was known for his groundbreaking fashion sense, particularly his love for wearing giant clocks around his neck.
In 2004, Flavor Flav appeared on Vh1's 3rd season of their "celebreality" show The Surreal Life along with fellow "stars" Charo, Dave Coulier (Uncle Joey!), Jordan Knight (NKOTB!!), Brigitte Nielsen, & Ryan Starr. Flav and Brigitte hit it off in a really creepy way, spawning the aptly titled spin-off show Strange Love. When that love fizzled in 2005 (shocker!) Vh1 offered Flav his own The Bachelor-style dating show, Flavor of Love.
Flavor of Love is where we first met Tiffany, whom Flav nicknamed "New York." New York made it all the way to the final two before being eliminated in favor of Hoopz. When Flav's relationship with Hoopz fizzled, he signed on for a second season of Flavor of Love. In a surprise twist, Flav again brought on the first season runner-up New York to face off against the new crop of girls, only to cruelly eliminate her for a second time in the rain of some tropical island.
Clearly, it was time for another spin-off. I Love New York was Tiffany's turn to search for love in all the publicly-televised (read: wrong) places. After much romancing--and some seriously ew!ew!ew!-inducing kissing:
New York finally chose the "stable" guy Tango over the wild card Chance (pictured above). The show ended in a dramatic proposal by Tango, which New York accepted and then followed with a what-the-fuck-did-I-just-do face and an attempt to swallow the ring to hide it from her mother. Tiffany had found love and was about to become a wife!
And then the reunion special struck. (Remind me when I get engaged to never agree to do a reunion special). Apparently, after watching the show, Tango was not impressed with New York's description of his mom as being "as boring as a wall" and "fat". (What a whiny Momma's boy!)
I have included the extended version of the finale (for strictly educational purposes). There is a lot more of the back and forth lobbing of the f-bomb, but it's worth it to watch to the end, if only to see Mr. Boston (another suitor who was previously eliminated) demonstrate to Tango the proper way to "handle" a woman.
After this regrettable, but highly entertaining fiasco, I am thrilled to see New York is willing to try finding televised-love again. There is currently an open casting call for men interested in romancing New York. And I, your intrepid blogger, am committed to bringing you the latest breaking news on the men with the most potential to sweep New York off of her gold-glitter stilettoed feet once and for all.
Stay tuned as I bring you New York's most eligible bachelors!
It might be a little early for this, but I've repealed my caffeine ban (which lasted all of 2 days) and have been listening to Prince all morning (and an AMAZING cover of SexyBack by Rock Plaza Central) so I'm feeling up for writing about duck genitals this morning. That's right: duck genitals. They exist apparently (who knew!) but the interesting fact is not only that they exist, but how they've changed. According to the Cosmos Magazine article (with a fantastically punny title), "Duck Genitals Locked in Arms Race":
Female ducks have evolved "maze-like" genitals with many twists, pouches and dead ends, in a bid to prevent rape and retain control of who fathers their offspring...
Apparently rape is a big issue for mallards, with 40% of all matings being forced. The female mallards are often injured or drown during these attacks. But evolution is helping them fight back! As they evolve, their genitals become more complicated and difficult for these aggressive males to successfully reproduce with them. The female duck genitalia are described as having: "oviducts with many folds, pouches and dead ends, which were spiralled in the totally opposite direction to the male phallus." (This article comes with a picture, which I guess could be considered NSFW if you work with a bunch of ducks.)
Crazy. I think I'll stick with my insane kickboxing skills and deadly stare to keep the aggressive males at bay. But good for those lady mallards.
I ate a meal under a dinosaur... Listened to a band called (seriously) "Hush" cover Norah Jones, Jimmy Buffett's "Margaritaville," and Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around Comes Around" (It was even worsely hilarious than you would image)...Learned 50+ year-old women do not dig the "latin" beats, they only get down for motown...Learned you should always ALWAYS skip the business meeting and time it so you show up just when the open bar starts serving, but before everyone gets out of the meeting...Discovered riding up and down escalators in stilettos is one of the scariest experiences in life...Will proudly take credit for getting every man in our office (all 3!) out on the dance floor at the same time...Realized all of life's problems would be solved if everywhere you went had an open bar and a dance floor.
Bank of America is rocking its free museums in May promotion again this year. I thought it was just a special Boston thing, but according to BoA splash page, this deal also applies to New York, New Hampshire, Maine, Connecticut, Florida, California, New Jersey, Vermont, Pennsylvania, and Rhode Island. Who's up for a cross-country road trip??!? I'm willing to spend a ton of gas money to get in somewhere free--how about you?
I'm definitely going to rock this out when my parents come to visit in a week. I've actually, tragically, never been to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (though that's soon to change) but I am a huuuuge fan of the DeCordova Museum and Sculpture Park in Lincoln, Mass. Now that the weather's nice, I highly recommend a drive out there to check it out if you're in the Bostonish area. Sadly, The Museum of Bad Art (MOBA) located under a movie theater in Dedham, Mass. is not on the freebie list. But as God is my witness, I will make it there one day!
To celebrate, here are some pics I took in the DeCordova's sculpture park:
If you live in Boston, or like to visit, you should read The Bostonist. It's where I get all my great Boston-related news, like this free museum tidbit.
Of all the weeks for Sanjaya to be gone! It's Rock 'N' Roll Bon Jovi-style week!! Which is funny, because just this morning I declared that Bon Jovi's "Living on A Prayer"--a constant staple at pretty much every pub I've ever entered, and having lived in both Ireland and Boston that's a TON of pubs,--enrages me to a degree that only the vocal stylings of Five For Fighting have managed to achieve. Talk about stabbing 80s nostalgia in the face with a jagged beer bottle!
So how hard did the final six ROCK!!?!! Oh, let me recount the pain...
Phil--"Blaze of Glory"? More like "Blaze of Boring." According to Phil, he used to sing this song into his comb. Um, Phil? You're bald. And CLEARLY you have always been bald. Stop lying. And stop boring me. My prediction: the puns on "Blaze of Glory" will burn bright tomorrow night when he gets smoked off stage. (See what I did there? This material is priceless, Ryan: take note!)
Jordin--Carrying the hair mantle Sanjaya dropped and rocking the afro. Oooh! Totally edgy guitarists on stage! Hair gel! Oh my! Nothing says ROCK! like spiky hair. I love Jordin because she makes Ryan look so itsy-bitsy when she stands next to him. I might even forgive her for singing my most hated Bon Jovi song, but in the end she won't be getting an Idol vote from me. Sorry, you're sweet but you crossed the line with that one, hun.
LaKisha--There is something perfect about the fact that she's heard of Bon Jovi because she saw him on Oprah. Deep Thought of the night from Bon Jovi on her choice of "This Ain't A Love Song": "It says it ain't a love song, but it is a love song." Wow, that's deep Mr. BonJo. Way deep. Her performance? Sassy molassy! But will it be enough to keep her around? Maaaaybe. The show takes a turn for creepsville when Simon kisses her and says she has soft lips. Ew. And who exactly is surprised that Ryan is turned on by Simon in lipstick?
Blake--Singing "You Give Love a Bad Name." A secret game plan, he claims? Could it, by chance, involve, dare I say it... Beatboxing??? It does!?! Woah, such a surprise! The real shocker? The dye job! Blake's hair goes black and escapes comments from the judges? What is this singing competition coming to?? And the fan signs: "Blake takes the cake." That's the best his fans can come up with? Yikes. God I hope he goes soon, but I'm afraid he's got at least another week in him.
As an aside--Seriously, how old was Simon's mom when she birthed him? Twelve? When they panned over to her in the audience, my reaction: "Ha ha! They got the wrong... oh! Damn."
Chris--Gets introduced with a Timberlake joke, snap Ryan, double snap for you. Very fitting he's singing "Wanted Dead or Alive." I choose dead, Chris. Definitely dead. A very punny choice, I'm sure we'll be hearing some fantastic jokes from Ryan tomorrow when Chris gets the boot. God I'm praying he forgets the words and starts crying. That's my favorite thing about Chris--I love me some criers. I would throw a vote his way if he could just squeeze out a single tear while singing. But sadly, no tears tonight. I'm hoping for many more tomorrow when Daughtry sings him home!!
Melinda--Picked "Have a Nice Day"--like Mrs. Nicey McNice would pick anything else. Aw, the Doolittle-dorbs meter was at a 10 tonight, between the shy "I like church" comment and her confusion over which way the rock fingers go. She doesn't know how to rock, eh? I think not! Rubbing butts with the guitarist on stage is definitely rock and/or roll in my book. She's going to rock her way into that number 1 Idol spot, I'm telling you.
Other moments of the night, specifically chosen to torture me:
Bon Jovi's use of creative (read: incorrect) grammar during his commentary. Consider gems like: "The audience are..." and "I couldn't sing half that good..."
What could be more fitting to cap off Bon Jovi night than a personal video message from George W. and Laura Bush?!? Particularly fun because my reaction to seeing Bush on tv is strikingly similar to a vampire's reaction to sunlight: hand over eyes, lots of hissing.
Have a nice day, indeed. I'm going have to be more careful about what I complain about while driving to work. If I start complaining about global warming, I'll probably wake up to a glacier attack.
1. Because I get to hear jokes like: "What happens when an attorney gets old? He loses his appeal!" 2. Because I have to answer questions like "Do Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse live together?" 3. Because I get to hear the story of John the Printer's Son--a man my dental hygienist kissed in Ireland 4. Because I like trying to talk with fingers in my mouth 5. Because gum pain is good pain 6. Because hearing how highly evolved I am since I only have one tiny "tusk" of a wisdom tooth is good for my self-esteem 7. Because I love getting offers to remove my wisdom tooth and turn it into a necklace 8. Because I don't spit out blood often enough 9. Because being able to shoot water through the newly-cleaned gap in my front teeth is awesome 10. Because I've never met these people before in my life, and yet know all about the pot smoking on Daytona Beach, the extra Red Sox tickets that need to be given away, the 40 year old red-headed boyfriend, the most popular pub route through Watertown, trips to Montreal to see live music, and drunken adventures in Mexico
Bailey Triggs is the premiere Awfsome-ologist of her generation. She spends her free time culling the internets for the most frightening, discomforting, and hilarious things she can find. Her (unhealthy) obsessions include fanfiction, emo kids, and reality tv dating shows.
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