Monthly Archives: December 2006

Bloody Sunday

Right, so I’m emotional this week.

I don’t mind that I’m sensitive to the monthly hormonal flux that has me crying fat-ass tears when I watch the news. It’s who I am, and I get to feel what I feel without apologies.

Naturally, this morning, the end-of-the-year “People We’ve Lost” segment on CBS’ Sunday Morning had me wiping my cheeks.

This is predictable, for even if I weren’t bleeding from between my legs, that stuff is sad. It’s sad that Ed Bradley (cue video clip of Ed helping Vietnamese boat people ashore), Peter Boyle (roll clip of Peter dancing as Young Frankenstein’s monster), Gordon Parks and (god, I choked here) Dana Reeve are dead.

But it pushed me over the edge of sadness and into head shaking shock and disbelief, incense and, oh yes, disgust to watch the segment on over-the-top parties for which people spent seven figures.

Seven.

Figures.

For a party.

Because, as the event design guru Preston Bailey said, “You can’t take it with you, so you should enjoy it while you’re here.” Great advice, dickhead.

Like the woman who spent over a million dollars for her cancer-survivor husband’s 54th birthday party because she felt so blessed to have him alive and healthy and she wanted to celebrate his life with 400 of their closest friends.

I have a problem with excess, it’s true. But watching that piece disturbed the hell out of me. I wanted to shake the wife and that fey, smug Preston Bailey by the shoulders and shout, “Do you know how many cancer research grants could be funded with a million fucking dollars?”

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Can I Just Say?

On a day when I heard a college student behind me at the bookstore talking on her cell phone about all the expensive shit she got for christmas, sounding totally spoiled and gross, I have to say how proud and grateful and amazed I am that my kids can’t tear themselves away from the Crayola Color-it-Yourself Mini Posters they got from my brother for Chanukah.

They so seriously rock.

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Filed under Chanukah, Kids, Parenting

Hooker Geeks

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It’s pretty, right?

It’s a goddamn hypberbolic plane, crocheted by a mathematician.

I know! I got all quivery.

via BoingBoing 

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Filed under Art, Crafty, Knitting, Weirdness

Ho. Ho. Ho.

Sitting in the funky French bistro with my date, a fuckbuddy who’s twenty years my senior, I sipped my wine and admired the art and the other patrons. This guy always takes me to the best places.

I like him. He’s fun and uncomplicated. No strings, no attachments, just nice dates which, while they usually end with nakedness, always include expensive food and wine and the occasional show.

We sat at a small table, drinking and laughing. We genuinely get along and I forget the difference in our ages when we’re out.

A woman sitting a couple tables away, probably about the age of my date, gave me one of those looks which said more than she ever could have with words.

I wasn’t aware of it at first, since I don’t naturally view other women suspiciously, but I felt her eyes on me for longer than it would have taken to check out my outfit, which was awesomely cool and sexy. I met her eyes and smiled hello. She looked down at her meal and said something to her male companion.

A few minutes later I felt it again. I looked up and she was looking at me like I was the Whore of Babylon. I raised my eyebrows and nodded very slightly. I put my glass to my lips and tipped my head back.

Who cares?

I smiled and looked away.

My date looked at me quizzically, “What’s funny, baby?”

I signaled to the woman with my eyes, “I think I just got called a ho.”

“What does that mean, a ‘hoe?'”

It was so charming that I laughed and kissed him.

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What The . . . ?

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Not to Poke Fun (Or Diamond Scepters)

 

Constantly take refuge at my feet, my dear…
Be gracious, beloved, and
Give me pleasure with your diamond scepter.
Look at my three petaled lotus,
It is a Buddha paradise, adorned with a red Buddha,
A cosmic mother who bestows
Bliss and tranquility on the passionate.
Abandon all conceptual thought and
Unite with my reclining form;
Place my feet upon your shoulders and look me up and down.
Make the fully awakened scepter
Enter the opening in the center of the lotus.
Move a hundred, thousand, hundred thousand times
In my three-petaled lotus
Of swollen flesh.
Placing one’s scepter there, offer pleasure to her mind.
Wind, inner wind-my lotus is the unexcelled!
Aroused by the tip of the diamond scepter,
It is red like a bandhuka flower.

….Candamaharosana-tantra.

It’s just that now, I’m gonna totally start calling my vag by its tantric name: the three-petaled lotus. And thank god someone finally called a clit a buddha.

Because, really.

(Via The World of Tantra)

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Toasted Marshmallow Jelly Bellies

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Best

 Post

 Orgasm

Snack.

Ever.

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Chanukah Blog Tour 5767

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Okay, so I got tagged as a Jew. It was bound to happen once I posted those half-naked Chanukah photos.

Normally I dislike these things, as I really don’t understand the whole purpose and I’m not much of a joiner, and I’m not a total link whore like some people. But Amy Güth asked so nicely (plus, she has an umlaut in her last name, is hot and wears glasses), and so I said yes. It’s like a mini-promotional tour for her book, Three Fallen Women, which I believe should be sent to me, free of charge, for my participation. Kidding! (Sort of.)

Anyway, in the spirit of the season, and of Chanukah miracles, here it is: a meme completed by yours, truly.

Drumroll . . .

1. Quick! You must turn a plate of latkes into an upscale gourmet delight
(as if they aren’t already?). What would you add to them to dress them up,
flavor and/or garnish them?

My latkes are already made with yukon gold and sweet potatoes. For me, that’s fancy. But I think that tonight I’ll serve them with a special dollop of sour cream and some green onion. You know, like at Taco Bell. Mmmmmm, E-coli.

2. What is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard anyone say about Chanukah?

“It’s twelve days, right? And you eat matzah? And the candles represent the light of the star that guided the shepherds?” (I, by the way, nodded sagely and added, “And then we drink the blood of Christian babies.”)

3. What’s the best possible use for olive oil?

I think olive oil is latex-safe, right? Hang on, I’m calling Babeland.

4. Settle it once and for all. Latkes or hammentaschen? Which to you
prefer? What about pitting the winner of that contest against sufganiyot?

Savoury always beats sweet in my estimation. So, latkes it is.

5. What’s the best way to mix up a game of dreidel?

Add an expletive whenever calling out the result. Example: “Gimmel, Motherfucker!”

6. My novel, Three Fallen Women, shockingly enough, is about the lives of
three women. Which three women would you like to have over this year for
latkes and why?

My friends who are far from me: Karine, Ronit and Minxy. Because they are awesome blondes who live very far away. Also, they would have to bring their children, two apiece. Imagine a chorus of twelve shouting, “Gimmel, Motherfucker!”

7. Other than Three Fallen Women (har har), what book do you think would
make a great Chanukah gift this year? What book would you like to receive
as a gift this year?

I’ve got Dreams From My Father on my list so I seem like a smart and civic-minded gal, but really I’d like about a hundred copies of Naked on the Internet, so I can plaster the Midwest with Anna‘s ass and Audacia‘s awesomeness. Ahem.

8. What bloggers didn’t participate in Chanukah Blog Tour 5767 and you
think should have? (link to them)

I can’t hear you, these latkes are really crunchy. I’m like that dude in the cereal commercial who keeps getting insulted and goes on masticating, oblivious to the people talking in front of him.

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“Math Test. Oh, No.”

Miles: Jack, remember that flying beautiful creature? Well, at the end, the kid wished for him and remember those dummy kids from the beginning? Well, they fell into a dumpster!

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No Snow In Africa

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Um, seriously.

I was driving in the car this afternoon and that song “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” by Band Aid came on the radio.

And you know, it’s got that 80s pop beat and George Michael before he was “gay” (yeah, whatever) singing all soulful and stuff and Bono (fuckin’ Bono) kicking off his “excuse me, I’m busy approximating god here” phase that’s lasted 20 years, and there’s all this Culture Club, Duran Duran and Bananarama boppy, overproduced excessive goodness and even though I don’t celebrate Christmas I got all grinny and happy, dorking out and driving and singing.

Then there’s that part which starts out, “And there won’t be snow in Africa this Christmastime/The greatest gift they’ll get this year is life” and I totally choked. Like, I had to take a breath and then tears welled up in my eyes and I started laughing because I’m a big emo dork.

Seriously? What is THAT? Next thing you know I’m gonna crack when Bob Seger sings the Little Drummer Boy, which everyone knows is much better when Bing Crosby and David Bowie sing it as a duet:

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