In order to create the Victoria’s Secret Model Suzanne, I will wear a form-fitting t-shirt and biking shorts or leggings, then be wrapped in duct tape. After three layers are applied, Husband or whoever helps me with my project will cut through the tape and clothes in the back, then I’ll tape it back together and stuff the form. Viola!
While rummaging through my pajama drawer for a reject t-shirt I could use for my exciting project, I found the perfect sacrificial lamb. As you may recall, after I cam back from the BlogHer conference at the end of July, I wrote a long rant about why I hated Elexa condoms. I recanted my beefs about the condoms themselves after being schooled by a more knowledgeable source on what the deal really is with them, but I remain irked that the t-shirts that they gave out during BlogHer were so tiny. Only someone with the figure of a Victoria’s Secret model could wear that shirt and look decent.
Click! The light bulb went on when I found the shirt buried in my drawer. It is very tight on me and perfect for making a body double cast that clearly shows my gut. So exciting! Now I just need a pair of bike shorts or stretch pants to cast my undergut and thunder thighs.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
More on the Pubic Alert
As I finally drifted into a fitful slumber around 4 am (damn damn insomnia), I was still traumatized by the crotch pictures of young Brtiney Spears. (And also I forgot to hat tip the always delightful SJ of I, Asshole, which is where I first heard about the pictures.) Maybe 5 or 6 months ago, Lindsey Lohan had an incident where she was wearing a thong to the Kids' Choice Awards and her skirt was tangled in it or something and she flashed her ass to the audience of young impressionable minds. At the time, I wrote that this was one of those reminders that thongs are useless as underwear.
Back to Britney, as Suebob noted, who goes out in public with teeny skirts and no undies? At first I thought that maybe if she had been wearing her usual g-string, she could have avoided the worst of the situation. Then it occurred to me that the resultant photos could have been even more disturbing, with the string wedged into her pube-free cootch. That would have made some serious fetish photos. Suebob is also right that those gynerazzi are creepy to takes such pictures, and it is scary to think that this could happen to any one of us if we were famous and walked around with no underwear and what is essentially a long t-shirt.
Ultimately, the whole thing reminds me of my whole "Mother Nature" pubic hair theory of life: Think of pubic hairs as an organic warning system of sorts. It’s your guardian angel Mother Nature preventing you from humiliation by telling you to put some clothes on because you look obscene. I'm sure that Britney would not have gone out with no undies and a miniscule bottom if she had crotch hair hanging out all over the place. It would be protection from her own bad judgment and the vile photographers that took advantage of it.
Back to Britney, as Suebob noted, who goes out in public with teeny skirts and no undies? At first I thought that maybe if she had been wearing her usual g-string, she could have avoided the worst of the situation. Then it occurred to me that the resultant photos could have been even more disturbing, with the string wedged into her pube-free cootch. That would have made some serious fetish photos. Suebob is also right that those gynerazzi are creepy to takes such pictures, and it is scary to think that this could happen to any one of us if we were famous and walked around with no underwear and what is essentially a long t-shirt.
Ultimately, the whole thing reminds me of my whole "Mother Nature" pubic hair theory of life: Think of pubic hairs as an organic warning system of sorts. It’s your guardian angel Mother Nature preventing you from humiliation by telling you to put some clothes on because you look obscene. I'm sure that Britney would not have gone out with no undies and a miniscule bottom if she had crotch hair hanging out all over the place. It would be protection from her own bad judgment and the vile photographers that took advantage of it.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Important Pubic - uh, I Mean Public - Alert from CUSS
Forget my previous concerns about the random obsession people have for no explicable reason for jewish pussy, something I fretted over about 30 minutes ago. No. There is a much more important things that is causing the Campaign for Unshaved Snatch to now freaking out. Do you want a Very Important Lesson on Why Furry Beavers are Good? Follow the link to The Superficial. To help keep the innocent that way, the initial pictures of Britney Spears's completely bare snatch are censored. Click on them individually, though, and - the horror! the horror! A little pubic hair, maybe even dyed with that scary new pube dye that I saw at a store for $20 (!), would have covered up a bit. Even a little landing strip, aka "vagina mustache" - would help here. As it is, I can practically see the last person she fucked. Cringe.
She's clearly not a girl and not yet a woman, based on her nether regions.
She's clearly not a girl and not yet a woman, based on her nether regions.
Request for Information: Jewish Pussy
In the past two weeks, CUSS received 70 visits from people searching for jewish pussy. That averages to five hits per day for jewish pussy, a trend that has been going on for a few months now. While I am in possession of such an object of apparent desire, it seems to me that it is no different from other pussies. Dr. H, who is practicing vaginal medicine, if you will, also seems to find no ethnic or religious differences among her patients’ poons. So the quest for jewish pussy is very mysterious to me, but perhaps we can all learn something from it.
If you are here because of jewish pussy, can you take a moment to let me know what on earth you think you will find by searching for the term jewish pussy? Comments may be left anonymously, but may possibly enhance my understanding of the world. (The flip side being that it could reinforce my utter disgust with people.) You’ll be doing a mitvah if you take the time to explain!
Thanks!
If you are here because of jewish pussy, can you take a moment to let me know what on earth you think you will find by searching for the term jewish pussy? Comments may be left anonymously, but may possibly enhance my understanding of the world. (The flip side being that it could reinforce my utter disgust with people.) You’ll be doing a mitvah if you take the time to explain!
Thanks!
Ho Ho Ho
I love a good laugh, so I stopped in Saks Fifth Avenue this afternoon on my way home from an appointment. All the other women wandered around the store holding shopping bags from Saks or fancy boutiques; I had a plastic bag from Staples with two rolls of duct tape in it (for my Victoria's Secret body double - work to commence this weekend!). I also had half of a smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich on me. I considered eating it as a I poked at the expensive designer clothes, but then decided that would make me no better than the woman I saw who brought her dog with her into Bloomingdale's last month.
Things were all geared up for the Christmas tree lighting in Rockefeller Plaza later today. (Saks is right across the street from it.) It was kind of fun. I polished off my sandwich as I walked home between blowing more vile thick yellow mucus out of my very angry and raw nose. Call me Rudolph the Red Nosed Jewish White Trash Shopper.
Things were all geared up for the Christmas tree lighting in Rockefeller Plaza later today. (Saks is right across the street from it.) It was kind of fun. I polished off my sandwich as I walked home between blowing more vile thick yellow mucus out of my very angry and raw nose. Call me Rudolph the Red Nosed Jewish White Trash Shopper.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
I Hate Stupid Assholes
My sister told me that a parent who sends her 3 year old son to the local preschool threatened to pull him out because her husband saw him playing with Barbies when he picked the kid up at the end of the day. She insisted that her son would be gay as a result, and that it is the job of the staff to make sure that these things don’t happen.
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Speaking of stupid assholes, people in the modeling industry generally fall into this category. How fitting, then, that Theo has a new modeling photo posted. Not that he is a stupid asshole at all. (You may need to click on the November 2006 archives to take a gander at his splendor. Blogger is acting up again.)
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Speaking of stupid assholes, people in the modeling industry generally fall into this category. How fitting, then, that Theo has a new modeling photo posted. Not that he is a stupid asshole at all. (You may need to click on the November 2006 archives to take a gander at his splendor. Blogger is acting up again.)
The Ideas Warm Me Up
One of the symptoms of PCOS is insulin resistance, so I had to return to the creepy reproductive endocrinologist's office today and take a blood sugar test. This involved fasting after midnight and drawing my blood upon arrival, then drinking a bottle of what tasted like flat orange pop and drawing my blood again in two hours. Fine. I brought a lot of reading.
Why, however, does the doctor's office find it necessary to blast the air conditioning in the waiting room? I sat for two hours in my coat and gloves, sniffling and blowing out giant mucus balls. (I'm sure the other patients - almost all couples - were thrilled with me. This makes me laugh because misery loves company.) By the time I left, I was too sick to investigate the materials I need to buy to make my Victoria's Secret model body double.
However, I am bouyed by the wonderful suggestions that I received so far, as well as Dianne's offer to help. The duct tape idea is brilliant, although my concern is that it will not necessarily properly illustrate my gut hanging over and under the sides of string bikini underwear. As soon as I am feeling better, I will investigate. Cackle cackle. Really, I am so excited.
Why, however, does the doctor's office find it necessary to blast the air conditioning in the waiting room? I sat for two hours in my coat and gloves, sniffling and blowing out giant mucus balls. (I'm sure the other patients - almost all couples - were thrilled with me. This makes me laugh because misery loves company.) By the time I left, I was too sick to investigate the materials I need to buy to make my Victoria's Secret model body double.
However, I am bouyed by the wonderful suggestions that I received so far, as well as Dianne's offer to help. The duct tape idea is brilliant, although my concern is that it will not necessarily properly illustrate my gut hanging over and under the sides of string bikini underwear. As soon as I am feeling better, I will investigate. Cackle cackle. Really, I am so excited.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Advice Requested!
Yesterday evening, I was feeling very down in the dumps. Thanksgiving was over, my sister went home, I had nothing going on with my writing, I missed seeing a movie with Des because I felt like shit, and I still felt like shit. I spent some time reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, which is about inspiration, when, ironically, inspiration hit.
Wedged between the pages of the uninspiring article on how inspiring Gwen Stefani is was an ad for TELEVISION’S SEXIEST NIGHT! VICTORIA’S SECRET FASHION SHOW, which will be on CBS on Tuesday, December 5th at 10/9C. At first, I was a bit cheered up because the model (Giselle, I think) pictured is wearing last year’s Victoria’s Secret Fantasy Bra. I’m not sure if they will be attempting to hawk it again this year since my research (calling the Victoria’s Secret Fantasy Gifts Hotline) last year indicated that no one bought it, or if they will unveil a new obscene waste of human and natural resources this year at the show. Either way, I thought I could get some mileage out of this insanity again this year, which pleased me.
As the night wore on, I thought more about the fashion show in general and how much I loathe it. Steve Holt’s objections regarding my article on porn, “Men who view porn enter long-term relationships… with expectations that their significant other simply cannot meet…” seem much more applicable to the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show than they do to porn. First, not that I am a connoisseur of porn, but not every woman who appears in a flick or picture is surgically enhanced or perfect. There is a fairly wide assortment of body types, some unrealistic, and some more like every day women. This is not the case for Victoria’s Secret models, as they are all at least 6 feet tall and weigh 110-125 lbs., then get the shit air brushed out of them. How does this make for realistic expectations for anyone? Also, anyone with a TV can watch these “angels” prance about in skimpy lingerie on network TV. Porn is not quite as accessible.
What sort of protest could I launch this year? I was inclined to take some pictures of myself in Victoria’s Secret underwear and compare my real, lumpy body to those the show and catalogue, but Husband reminded me that there was a reason that I recruited Theo and the Giant Stuffed Penis to do my dirty work in the past. (See: December 2005 and January 2006 archives for photos.) It’s a terrible idea to put pictures of myself in my undies on the net, even to make an Important Feminist Point that Limited Numbers of People Will See.
I pondered a bit. What if I bought a body stocking and stuffed it to my exact measurements, thus enabling “me” to model my underwear, but not actually model my underwear? I liked it. I liked it a lot. However, stuffing something to my specifications seems tricky. The drawback is potential deformity, thus less realism. Perhaps a plaster of paris mold of my torso would work better? The benefit of a plaster of paris mold is greater accuracy, with a drawback of less realism. (Underwear won’t cause flab to bulge out, as nothing will be soft, and boobs can’t get lifted by a bra.)
Advice, please! I know that many of you are very crafty, creative, and handy. What would you recommend?
Wedged between the pages of the uninspiring article on how inspiring Gwen Stefani is was an ad for TELEVISION’S SEXIEST NIGHT! VICTORIA’S SECRET FASHION SHOW, which will be on CBS on Tuesday, December 5th at 10/9C. At first, I was a bit cheered up because the model (Giselle, I think) pictured is wearing last year’s Victoria’s Secret Fantasy Bra. I’m not sure if they will be attempting to hawk it again this year since my research (calling the Victoria’s Secret Fantasy Gifts Hotline) last year indicated that no one bought it, or if they will unveil a new obscene waste of human and natural resources this year at the show. Either way, I thought I could get some mileage out of this insanity again this year, which pleased me.
As the night wore on, I thought more about the fashion show in general and how much I loathe it. Steve Holt’s objections regarding my article on porn, “Men who view porn enter long-term relationships… with expectations that their significant other simply cannot meet…” seem much more applicable to the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show than they do to porn. First, not that I am a connoisseur of porn, but not every woman who appears in a flick or picture is surgically enhanced or perfect. There is a fairly wide assortment of body types, some unrealistic, and some more like every day women. This is not the case for Victoria’s Secret models, as they are all at least 6 feet tall and weigh 110-125 lbs., then get the shit air brushed out of them. How does this make for realistic expectations for anyone? Also, anyone with a TV can watch these “angels” prance about in skimpy lingerie on network TV. Porn is not quite as accessible.
What sort of protest could I launch this year? I was inclined to take some pictures of myself in Victoria’s Secret underwear and compare my real, lumpy body to those the show and catalogue, but Husband reminded me that there was a reason that I recruited Theo and the Giant Stuffed Penis to do my dirty work in the past. (See: December 2005 and January 2006 archives for photos.) It’s a terrible idea to put pictures of myself in my undies on the net, even to make an Important Feminist Point that Limited Numbers of People Will See.
I pondered a bit. What if I bought a body stocking and stuffed it to my exact measurements, thus enabling “me” to model my underwear, but not actually model my underwear? I liked it. I liked it a lot. However, stuffing something to my specifications seems tricky. The drawback is potential deformity, thus less realism. Perhaps a plaster of paris mold of my torso would work better? The benefit of a plaster of paris mold is greater accuracy, with a drawback of less realism. (Underwear won’t cause flab to bulge out, as nothing will be soft, and boobs can’t get lifted by a bra.)
Advice, please! I know that many of you are very crafty, creative, and handy. What would you recommend?
How I Feel Today
Thanks to Mara for sending this.While I am feeling slightly better, I cannot get over how awful it is to vomit through your nose. Sister and Sister's Husband are gone, my head is killing me, and I seem to be generating a lot of rejections on the writing front this week. I should just put my pajamas back on and crawl into bed and not emerge until Thursday or Friday.
Wrapping up the Weekend
Korean BBQ is only good going down. I learned this in the wee hours this morning when my dinner, after sitting in my stomach for 6 hours, decided that it no longer wanted to hang around there. The only thing that sucks worse than Korean BBQ coming out the way it went in is when one hurls so hard it comes out one’s nose as well. Not cool. How the hell do bulimics do that all the time?
Before I had and lost my yummy dinner, Husband, Sister, Sister’s Husband, and I saw a fantastic improve show at Upright Citizens Brigade. Amy Poehler (she of the fine anti-waxed snatch comments in BUST magazine a few months ago) was part of it. A few other people from Saturday Night Live also performed. I realized that both Steph and the Big O have bright futures as monologists. Unfortunately, there was no chance to give Amy a CUSS sticker.
Anyway, I hope to enjoy the last seven hours that Sister and Sister’s Husband will be here. I can’t believe that the weekend is over already. Actually, I can’t believe that November is pretty much done, and that the year will be out in a mere few more weeks.
Before I had and lost my yummy dinner, Husband, Sister, Sister’s Husband, and I saw a fantastic improve show at Upright Citizens Brigade. Amy Poehler (she of the fine anti-waxed snatch comments in BUST magazine a few months ago) was part of it. A few other people from Saturday Night Live also performed. I realized that both Steph and the Big O have bright futures as monologists. Unfortunately, there was no chance to give Amy a CUSS sticker.
Anyway, I hope to enjoy the last seven hours that Sister and Sister’s Husband will be here. I can’t believe that the weekend is over already. Actually, I can’t believe that November is pretty much done, and that the year will be out in a mere few more weeks.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Fetishes in Nature
This holiday weekend, much fun has been had. Large amounts of food were also consumed by me. Unfortunately, that means spending lots of time in the throne room. In the time I am ruling, I read random parts of The New Book of Lists by David Wallechensky and Amy Wallace. (They are 2/3 of the team behind various other Book of Listses and even better, the People’s Amanacs, which are brilliant.)
During dessert on Thanksgiving, I made some crack about how a porcupine could be tied to a string and swung around like a mace. A discussion on porcupine mating ensued, and then yesterday while I was educating myself while waiting for my bowels to finish emptying, I came across a list called “11 Examples of Unusual Animal Mating Habits.” Oddly enough, porcupines were listed at #5. (Hippos, incidentally, were #2.) I found it fascinating, and want to share my new knowledge:
Take that, UrbanDictionary.com!
During dessert on Thanksgiving, I made some crack about how a porcupine could be tied to a string and swung around like a mace. A discussion on porcupine mating ensued, and then yesterday while I was educating myself while waiting for my bowels to finish emptying, I came across a list called “11 Examples of Unusual Animal Mating Habits.” Oddly enough, porcupines were listed at #5. (Hippos, incidentally, were #2.) I found it fascinating, and want to share my new knowledge:
The answer to one of our oldest jokes, “How do porcupines do it?” “Veeery carefully!” is not quite true. The truth is more bizarre than dangerous. Females are receptive for a few hours a year. As summer approaches, young females become nervous and then excited. Next, they go off their food, stick close by males, and mope. [Blogger’s note: The previous two sentences sound a lot like the behavior of teenage girls, doesn’t it?] Meanwhile, the male becomes aggressive with other males and begins a period of carefully every place the female of his choice urinates, smelling her all over. This is a tremendous aphrodisiac. While she is sulking by his side, he brings to “sing.” When he is ready to make love, the female runs away if she is not ready. If she’s in the mood, they both rear up and face each other, belly to belly. Then males spray their ladies with a tremendous stream of urine, soaked their loved one from head to foot – the stream can shoot as far as seven feet. If they’re not ready, females respond by 1) objecting verbally, 2) hitting with front paws like boxers, 3) trying to bite, 4) shaking off the urine. When ready, they accept the bath. This routine can go on for weeks. Six months after the beginning of courtship, the female will accept any male she has been close to. The spines and quills of both go relaxed and flat, and the male enters from behind. Mating continues until the male is worn out. Every time he tries to stop, the female wants to continue. If he has given up, she chooses another partner, only now she acts out the male role… It is advised never to stand close to a cage that contains courting porcupines.So not only is it interesting to read about golden showers in the animal kingdom, but also very practical wisdom for those who hang out near porcupines in captivity. As an aside, one might also take this advice to heart when dealing with hippos, as female hippos attract male hippos by peeing and shitting in a pile, then twirling its tail to spread it far and wide.
Take that, UrbanDictionary.com!
Friday, November 24, 2006
17 seasons too many
Rebecca, Rebecca's Friend, and Sister are watching Real World: Denver. Needless to say, it is horrifyingly trashy. Why was this made? It hurts to think about.
No Passport Required
Husband and I are taking Sister and Sister's Husband out to Brighton Beach later today. I've never really spent much time out there (usually I restrict myself to the boardwalk and Coney Island events), as the Russian community there is hardcore. I'm looking forward to it.
No other scandals to report thus far.
No other scandals to report thus far.
Dirty Birds
Thanksgiving involved 21 people from 9 different families and enormous amounts of food. Husband and I bought a 10 pound chocolate turkey, of which I will post pictures later. Good times.
During the course of the evening, Dr. H told Sister that she would be on call the next day, then on Saturday was flying to California to visit her sister and would not have time to do laundry. Sister advised her to just wear dirty scrubs on the plane. “At least it’s not the same as wearing my sister’s dirty underwear,” Dr. H replied.
Sister stared at her, and said, “Ewwwww. That’s really gross! Who would do that?” Then Dr. H reminded her of a road trip we took in June 1998. Sister and I shared a duffle bag for the trip, and by the end of the trip, our clothes were mixed together. Half way through the eight hour drive to Chicago from Minneapolis, we stopped at a wacky roadside eatery for lunch. The restaurant had a model train track that ran around the dining room, and a string that was hung high up that a mechanical bear on a unicycle went back and forth on.
Sister went to the bathroom, and when she returned, she had a funny look on her face. She explained that while she was going to the bathroom, she noticed that she was wearing green underwear. But she didn’t own blue underwear, so she figured out that she was wearing my underwear. Inside out. We all laughed. Then after a long pause, I said, “Oh, you said they are blue?” She nodded. “Hmmmm… I think those are dirty.”
Dr. H has a great memory.
During the course of the evening, Dr. H told Sister that she would be on call the next day, then on Saturday was flying to California to visit her sister and would not have time to do laundry. Sister advised her to just wear dirty scrubs on the plane. “At least it’s not the same as wearing my sister’s dirty underwear,” Dr. H replied.
Sister stared at her, and said, “Ewwwww. That’s really gross! Who would do that?” Then Dr. H reminded her of a road trip we took in June 1998. Sister and I shared a duffle bag for the trip, and by the end of the trip, our clothes were mixed together. Half way through the eight hour drive to Chicago from Minneapolis, we stopped at a wacky roadside eatery for lunch. The restaurant had a model train track that ran around the dining room, and a string that was hung high up that a mechanical bear on a unicycle went back and forth on.
Sister went to the bathroom, and when she returned, she had a funny look on her face. She explained that while she was going to the bathroom, she noticed that she was wearing green underwear. But she didn’t own blue underwear, so she figured out that she was wearing my underwear. Inside out. We all laughed. Then after a long pause, I said, “Oh, you said they are blue?” She nodded. “Hmmmm… I think those are dirty.”
Dr. H has a great memory.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I'm Thankful For...
Yesterday when I was at the reproductive endocrinologist, I had to fill out a questionnaire about my medical history, as well as my families’. Since most people seem to go to that practice because they want to pay thousands of dollars to ensure that they have a baby, the questionnaire also had a section with questions about the patient’s partner. This was fun to fill in.
One question asked whether your partner “had difficulty getting and maintaining an erection.” I couldn’t help myself. I wrote, “No,” and then drew a big smiley face next to it. One day, when someone actually bothers to look at my intake form, I hope it cracks them up as much as it does me.
One question asked whether your partner “had difficulty getting and maintaining an erection.” I couldn’t help myself. I wrote, “No,” and then drew a big smiley face next to it. One day, when someone actually bothers to look at my intake form, I hope it cracks them up as much as it does me.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Thanksgiving Surprises
Two big surprises were sprung on me yesterday. Alex and I planned to meet Husband, Rebecca, and Rebecca’s Friend (RF) for lunch. Then I needed to dash over to a doctor’s appointment. Alex and I waited and waited for our lunch dates to show, and when they finally did, I could not believe who came with them – Sister and Sister’s Husband!!! I was so excited, and all choked up when I saw them and hugged them up! Husband, Sister, Sister’s Husband, and about five other people (Mom, Dad, Brother-in-Law, Rebecca, and RF) conspired to get them here and surprise me. It was great!!! They’ll be visiting until Monday evening.
My second surprise was significantly less pleasant. Since my test for early menopause came back totally normal, the doctor decided to send me to a reproductive endocrinologist. The consultation was this afternoon, and I figured that I’d just be chatting the doc in his office and then getting some blood work done. After waiting an hour to see this expert, I was furious. After several surly answers to the good doc’s questions, he told me to go into the exam room. What? I had no plans to take my pants off that day. Good thing I showered in the morning.
Anyway, next thing I knew, a magic wand was shoved up my whim-wham. He poked at me. “You’re not that hairy,” he said matter-of-factly. (A symptom of polycystic ovarion syndrome is hirsutism.) Um, thanks. Perhaps I should have given him a CUSS sticker. A few minutes later, “Wow, you’ve got tons of cysts,” he exclaimed. I then started to like him because he let me look at the screen that showed my innards. I love seeing my innards.
So there it is. The happy unexpected surprise of Sister and Sister’s Husband visiting for the weekend and the strange surprise of actually having one of my mysterious ailments conclusively diagnosed. Happy Thanksgiving!
My second surprise was significantly less pleasant. Since my test for early menopause came back totally normal, the doctor decided to send me to a reproductive endocrinologist. The consultation was this afternoon, and I figured that I’d just be chatting the doc in his office and then getting some blood work done. After waiting an hour to see this expert, I was furious. After several surly answers to the good doc’s questions, he told me to go into the exam room. What? I had no plans to take my pants off that day. Good thing I showered in the morning.
Anyway, next thing I knew, a magic wand was shoved up my whim-wham. He poked at me. “You’re not that hairy,” he said matter-of-factly. (A symptom of polycystic ovarion syndrome is hirsutism.) Um, thanks. Perhaps I should have given him a CUSS sticker. A few minutes later, “Wow, you’ve got tons of cysts,” he exclaimed. I then started to like him because he let me look at the screen that showed my innards. I love seeing my innards.
So there it is. The happy unexpected surprise of Sister and Sister’s Husband visiting for the weekend and the strange surprise of actually having one of my mysterious ailments conclusively diagnosed. Happy Thanksgiving!
More on Porn! Now Chock Full of Double Entendres!
The article that I wrote about porn for Metro aroused many passions amongst readers. Five letters to the editor were published in the three days that passed since the article came out. Three basically said that I was full of shit, and then went on to site things that had nothing to do with my argument calling for more, but better quality, porn. Two got the point and said I got them off with my argument.
From yesterday’s Metro:
The other two letters Metro ran mostly sucked, in my esteemed opinion. One was blathering, sort of like I am doing now, and the other insisted that any guy who watches porn becomes an addicts and it destroys marriages and families. Again, a very heterocentric view, and also sort of hilarious. Alochol and prescription drug addictions destroy relationships as well, so probably we should ban them. You know how it goes down.
From yesterday’s Metro:
Society obsessed with wrong pornMonday’s Metro had one pro and one con letter. (The con was very long, so I’ll fast forward to the money shots.):
MATT EMOND
Regarding “Porn: It just might cure what ails us” (Nov. 16): I agree with Suzanne Reisman’s view that our society is brutally obsessed with the wrong kind of porn. Our porn, as well as our pop culture, expresses the view that dominance, violence and inequality are essential to our human nature, while it is more likely that humanity originated out of community, mutual respect and open sexuality.
World needs healthy sexualityYou gotta admit that Elizabeth rocked the double entendres, but that Steve’s O’Doul’s crack was zesty. I’d say that the weakest argument in Steve’s very well written letter is that he assumes that only heterosexual men watch porn. What about women porn watchers? Gay porn consumers? I had lunch with a friend today who confessed that another friend of hers is a “gyne-friendly” film star. She must have very unrealistic attitudes about her partners. I’d love to meet her.
ELIZABETH PRIEST
Regarding “porn: It just might cure what ails us” (Nov. 16): I think Suzanne Reisman’s column on decent pornography was right on. This city, country, and world need more people with happy and healthy sexual relationships. We all want it – I don’t think anyone can argue that – but there are so many social restrictions places on sex. Between the controversy over homosexuality, the idea that sex is a sin if two consenting partners are not married and the age-old idea that women don’t enjoy sex as much as men do, sex is looked down upon. In a world without sexual tension, I have a strong feeling we would find a good number of people getting off every night in front of their television, watching happy, healthy pornography.
Porn is sexuality in its lowest form
STEVE HOLT
A healthy dialogue about sexuality is needed in our country, but I vehemently disagree with Suzanne Reisman…Porn is counterfeit… It is to sex what O’Doul’s is to beer… It creates unrealistic expectations. Men who view porn enter long-term relationships… with expectations that their significant other simply cannot meet… Finally, porn treats sex as if it means nothing. Contrary to Reisman’s opinion, it actually devalues sex... Porn declares that any person with whom you come in contact at any point of the day or night is a potential sexual partner. Porn declares that sexual chemistry – not unconditional love – is the real meaning of human interaction. Porn is sexuality’s lowest common denominator.
The other two letters Metro ran mostly sucked, in my esteemed opinion. One was blathering, sort of like I am doing now, and the other insisted that any guy who watches porn becomes an addicts and it destroys marriages and families. Again, a very heterocentric view, and also sort of hilarious. Alochol and prescription drug addictions destroy relationships as well, so probably we should ban them. You know how it goes down.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Really Offensive Things I Spent the Last 30 Minutes Reading
Someone arrived at CUSS by googling soft-serve vagina. I had written about Steph's friend in college who sculpted realistic female genitals out of bowls of soft-serve ice cream in the Weinstein dining hall. Tracing the link back, however, brought me to the wild land known as Urban Dictionary.com. You can learn a lot from this website, especially if you can handle extremely offensive things with a good sense of humor. If you are related to me, I highly recommend that you do not follow these links. You will be mad at me.
A repulsive term that is literally not funny at all is "soft jacob". This was the first term that came up in my anonymous searcher's quest for soft-serve vagina. (And I am not exaggerating its foulness. If you are easily grossed out, skip to the next term, which if offensive, misogynist, violent, and hateful, but also funny in the same way Borat is, but a bit more offensively.)
Rebecca, Elle, and I spent a good 30 minutes laughing hysterically out of shock and horror at definitions of the word "donkey punch". Derivations of the term "donky punch" provided extra fits of laughter, as did the hideous definitions of "pink sock".
Anyway, UrbanDictionary.com is a great way to kill time when you are bored, want to find another reason to hate people, and/or are about to participate in a contest to see how can come up with the most outrageous insults hurled at others. Eric Keroack would decidely not approve.
A repulsive term that is literally not funny at all is "soft jacob". This was the first term that came up in my anonymous searcher's quest for soft-serve vagina. (And I am not exaggerating its foulness. If you are easily grossed out, skip to the next term, which if offensive, misogynist, violent, and hateful, but also funny in the same way Borat is, but a bit more offensively.)
Rebecca, Elle, and I spent a good 30 minutes laughing hysterically out of shock and horror at definitions of the word "donkey punch". Derivations of the term "donky punch" provided extra fits of laughter, as did the hideous definitions of "pink sock".
Anyway, UrbanDictionary.com is a great way to kill time when you are bored, want to find another reason to hate people, and/or are about to participate in a contest to see how can come up with the most outrageous insults hurled at others. Eric Keroack would decidely not approve.
Thank You, "Women's Health" Magazine!
The always wonderful Count Mockula sent me this informational tidbit from Women's Health:
Girl Problem #4HA! This is what I have been saying all along, both about the evils of wearing ass floss and the usefulness of pubic hair as a vaginal eyelash of sorts, keeping germs outside. Thank you Count Mockula, for providing some evidence that I am not an entirely insane crotchety prude.
Falling into the crack
Never mind butt cleavage and wedgies, thongs can be a pain in the backside for other reasons. That thin strip of fabric may save you from the dreaded VPL, but it also serves as a superhighway for microbes. When the underwear hits your perineum (the patch of skin between the vagina and the anus), bacteria hitch a ride straight to your vagina. "A thong is actually a connector," says Adelaide Nardone, M.D., an ob-gyn in Providence, Rhode Island. As you move, the fabric shifts-- and before you can say "Monistat," you've got a yeast infection. To make matters worse, unlike granny panties, thongs tend to rub. This causes tiny tears in the delicate skin around your vulva and clitoris, creating access for microbes.
Problem solved: You don't have to toss your thongs, as long as they're cotton or have a cotton crotch. The breathable fabric keeps you drier, so bacteria can't grow as easily. You might also consider growing out that Brazilian bikini line: Hair serves as a barrier between you and your panties, so leaving more carpet on the floor provides cushioning for your delicates, Dr. Nardone says. And don't wear thongs when you exercise. Invest in some workout bottoms with cotton crotches and go commando.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Sometimes I Like Being Demeaned and Degraded, Asshole
From my buddies at NARAL:
President Bush's new head of federal family-planning programs believes that birth control is "demeaning" to women.Because nothing respects women, human sexuality and health, and happiness more than repeated unplanned pregnancies. Damn, if only there were more unwanted babies in this country, we'd be so fucking happy. That's what we are missing.
Late last week, after pledging to bring the country together after his electoral losses, President Bush appointed Eric Keroack to lead the Department of Health and Human Services' family-planning program - which helps more than five million people annually at 4,600 clinics nationwide.
Keroack has dedicated his career to telling women that birth control and abortion are wrong. His M.O.: "the crass commercialization and distribution of birth control is demeaning to women, degrading of human sexuality and adverse to human health and happiness."
That's One Top Model
Theo is working it over at Theo is America's Next Top Model. I have no idea what is actually going on with the show itself, whihc foolishly ignores this contender, but let them be warned: the bear is hot.
Put a Sock On It
Oh, the earnestness! Sure, there's practical advice, but don't you love how I acted all experienced and shit? Nothing's more erotic than Consumer Reports. Yeah.
Taking a safe route with condoms
The Washington Square News
Thursday, September 21, 1995
“Yesterday in Egypt, archaeologists discovered the burial site of the 50 children of Ramses II... Fifty children! What I want to know is, who decided to name a condom after this guy?”
- Conan O’Brien on “Late Night”
While Conan O’Brien’s quote is certainly funny, his comment is also quite timely. The larger question behind O’Brien’s witticism is this: while we are continually beseeched to use condoms to prevent the spread of disease and pregnancy, no one bothers to tell people which condoms are the most effective. Even booklets that safe sex institutes distribute do not answer this question. One might assume that since using a condom is better than using nothing at all, that it really should not matter which kind one uses. However, it does make a big difference.
To begin with, condoms, when used properly and consistently, only fail approximately two or three percent of the time. When condoms are used with a vaginal spermicide, the failure rate is even lower. Koromex was recommended by a gynecologist. However, she also said that as long as the spermicide contained Nonoxynol-9 it does not make that much of a difference. Unfortunately, most people do not use condoms correctly and/or consistently, and as a result, the failure rate is commonly held to be 12 percent. Hence it is important to use them both consistently and properly for maximum protection.
If either partner is allergic to latex, use the new polyurethane condoms instead of those made with animal skin, which by nature have tiny holes. Gay men may want to use a lubricant with the spremicide Nonoxynol-9 (water-based lubes only; oil breaks down latex) as an extra precaution as well. To use a condom wisely, the following advice is offered: Read all instructions on the condom box. Open the individual packet gently only when you are ready to use it. If it looks discolored, or feels sticky or brittle, do not use it. It is spoiled. If there is no reservoir tip in the condom, make sure you leave a half-inch space at the end to collect semen. Roll it on, and squeeze the air out. Remove the condom after ejaculation while the penis is still erect to prevent spillage. Remember, only proper use of a condom, along with a separate spermicide, can greatly reduce the chance of pregnancy or the spread of STDs.
As for which brands of condoms are best, Consumer Reports tested 37 brands for breakage and leakage rates. It is scary to note that Trojans, the brand most often used in the U.S., has 6 varieties that failed breakage tests (air-inflation tests). These types are: Trojan Extra Strengths (!), Trojan Mentors, Trojan Plus, Trojan Very Thin, Trojan-Enz, and Trojan Non-Lubricated. Another condom that failed CR’s tests was LifeStyles Ultra Sensitive. (Friends have also reported high breakage rates with these, so stay away!) On the flip side, the three best condoms were Excita Extra Ultra-Ribbed with spermicide (which, incidentally, has been since renamed Sheik Excita Extra Ribbed), Ramses Extra Ribbed with spermicide (so much for O’Brien’s theory), and Sheik Elite (renamed Sheik Classic). All three passed CR’s stringent tests with perfect scores. Unfortunately, Exita and Ramses Extra Ribbed carry slightly higher price tags, but what’s a few extra cents when your life may be on the line? The good news is the Sheik Elite are the ones given out by NYU dorms and the Health Center for free. Keep in mind, though, that spermicide on a condom should not replace a separate spermicide.
On a more intimate testing basis, Anka Radakovich, the sex columnist for Details magazine, also reported on prophylactics. She noted that Bareback condoms lives up to its motto. (“You’ll hardly know it’s there. It’s like wearing nothing at all.”) Needless to say, it broke. Radakovich says that the LifeStyles Vibra-Ribbed condom, which incidentally tested very well in Consumer Reports and should not be confused with LifeStyles Ultra Sensitive, made her feel as if she was “being pumped while driving over speed bumps.” What a turn on!
Kimono condoms tend to be rather small, and thus the plus size is recommended for men who are well endowed. Radakovich also tested Reality, the female condom. The company that produces Reality claims that when used properly and consistently, it has a failure rate of 5 percent. It is made of polyurethane and has two flexible rings at either end. Reality can be inserted up to eight hours before intercourse and Radakovich says it is “filled with a gooey, dripping lubrication made from silicone.” She also reports that Reality makes noise when it is used and after the act was done, “pulling it out was like pulling out a water balloon filled with man-splooge. Twisting the outer ring has the same feeling as closing a lawn and garden bag with a twist tie.” Enough said.
It may also be helpful to note that polyurethane is supposedly more resistant to tears than latex, and male condoms made from it, under the name Avanti, are available. Now that you know which condoms are the best, you have no excuses not to use them. They are relatively cheap forms of birth control and protection from diseases and are easy to obtain. Also, they can be quite erotic when included in sexual foreplay. Practice putting condoms on beforehand in a comfortable place where you have plenty of time to yourself. Condoms do not necessarily take the spontaneity out of sex. And they can even be fun. Use them.
Taking a safe route with condoms
The Washington Square News
Thursday, September 21, 1995
“Yesterday in Egypt, archaeologists discovered the burial site of the 50 children of Ramses II... Fifty children! What I want to know is, who decided to name a condom after this guy?”
- Conan O’Brien on “Late Night”
While Conan O’Brien’s quote is certainly funny, his comment is also quite timely. The larger question behind O’Brien’s witticism is this: while we are continually beseeched to use condoms to prevent the spread of disease and pregnancy, no one bothers to tell people which condoms are the most effective. Even booklets that safe sex institutes distribute do not answer this question. One might assume that since using a condom is better than using nothing at all, that it really should not matter which kind one uses. However, it does make a big difference.
To begin with, condoms, when used properly and consistently, only fail approximately two or three percent of the time. When condoms are used with a vaginal spermicide, the failure rate is even lower. Koromex was recommended by a gynecologist. However, she also said that as long as the spermicide contained Nonoxynol-9 it does not make that much of a difference. Unfortunately, most people do not use condoms correctly and/or consistently, and as a result, the failure rate is commonly held to be 12 percent. Hence it is important to use them both consistently and properly for maximum protection.
If either partner is allergic to latex, use the new polyurethane condoms instead of those made with animal skin, which by nature have tiny holes. Gay men may want to use a lubricant with the spremicide Nonoxynol-9 (water-based lubes only; oil breaks down latex) as an extra precaution as well. To use a condom wisely, the following advice is offered: Read all instructions on the condom box. Open the individual packet gently only when you are ready to use it. If it looks discolored, or feels sticky or brittle, do not use it. It is spoiled. If there is no reservoir tip in the condom, make sure you leave a half-inch space at the end to collect semen. Roll it on, and squeeze the air out. Remove the condom after ejaculation while the penis is still erect to prevent spillage. Remember, only proper use of a condom, along with a separate spermicide, can greatly reduce the chance of pregnancy or the spread of STDs.
As for which brands of condoms are best, Consumer Reports tested 37 brands for breakage and leakage rates. It is scary to note that Trojans, the brand most often used in the U.S., has 6 varieties that failed breakage tests (air-inflation tests). These types are: Trojan Extra Strengths (!), Trojan Mentors, Trojan Plus, Trojan Very Thin, Trojan-Enz, and Trojan Non-Lubricated. Another condom that failed CR’s tests was LifeStyles Ultra Sensitive. (Friends have also reported high breakage rates with these, so stay away!) On the flip side, the three best condoms were Excita Extra Ultra-Ribbed with spermicide (which, incidentally, has been since renamed Sheik Excita Extra Ribbed), Ramses Extra Ribbed with spermicide (so much for O’Brien’s theory), and Sheik Elite (renamed Sheik Classic). All three passed CR’s stringent tests with perfect scores. Unfortunately, Exita and Ramses Extra Ribbed carry slightly higher price tags, but what’s a few extra cents when your life may be on the line? The good news is the Sheik Elite are the ones given out by NYU dorms and the Health Center for free. Keep in mind, though, that spermicide on a condom should not replace a separate spermicide.
On a more intimate testing basis, Anka Radakovich, the sex columnist for Details magazine, also reported on prophylactics. She noted that Bareback condoms lives up to its motto. (“You’ll hardly know it’s there. It’s like wearing nothing at all.”) Needless to say, it broke. Radakovich says that the LifeStyles Vibra-Ribbed condom, which incidentally tested very well in Consumer Reports and should not be confused with LifeStyles Ultra Sensitive, made her feel as if she was “being pumped while driving over speed bumps.” What a turn on!
Kimono condoms tend to be rather small, and thus the plus size is recommended for men who are well endowed. Radakovich also tested Reality, the female condom. The company that produces Reality claims that when used properly and consistently, it has a failure rate of 5 percent. It is made of polyurethane and has two flexible rings at either end. Reality can be inserted up to eight hours before intercourse and Radakovich says it is “filled with a gooey, dripping lubrication made from silicone.” She also reports that Reality makes noise when it is used and after the act was done, “pulling it out was like pulling out a water balloon filled with man-splooge. Twisting the outer ring has the same feeling as closing a lawn and garden bag with a twist tie.” Enough said.
It may also be helpful to note that polyurethane is supposedly more resistant to tears than latex, and male condoms made from it, under the name Avanti, are available. Now that you know which condoms are the best, you have no excuses not to use them. They are relatively cheap forms of birth control and protection from diseases and are easy to obtain. Also, they can be quite erotic when included in sexual foreplay. Practice putting condoms on beforehand in a comfortable place where you have plenty of time to yourself. Condoms do not necessarily take the spontaneity out of sex. And they can even be fun. Use them.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Waxing Pornetic
Given that my special irritance with our culture these days is the pressure for women to wax or shave their cooties, one might naturally assume that I would not write an article saying that the world needs more porn. In porn, it makes perfect sense to have shaved beaver so you can see more of the action; bare lips make for hot close ups. Life, however, should not so closely resemble porn. Porn is great for fantasies, and sometimes fantasies are better off remaining that way. What do you have to look forward to in life if all your fantasies come true, and all that garbage?
Also, I don’t really think that porn is responsible for the spread (heh heh) of Brazilian waxing. I read an interview in Bitch magazine a while ago with a woman who wrote a book about women working in the sex industry. (I wrote about this before, but I can’t find it.) The author said that if porn was responsible for making Brazilian waxes trendy, it would be called a “porno wax,” not a Brazilian. Excellent point!
When I think about how we found ourselves in the situation where you can’t read one damn women’s magazine without being subjected to the glories of waxing and why every woman need to do or she will be hideous and unlovable, I blame the inexplicable rise in the popularity of thongs and g-strings. It is impossible to look decent in either of these torture devices while rocking a pubic ‘fro.
Incidentally, there is little chance in hell to look good in these “undergarments” if you have an ounce of fat or cellulite on you. Yes, average woman, this means you. This is why I cannot understand why anyone wants to wear them. And don’t give me that shit about panty lines and tight pants, because I still see plenty of lines when women wear stings in their asses instead of regular ass-coverers. The lines are just different types. Instead of a line circling the top of a woman’s thigh, I find myself staring at the Bermuda triangle that formed above her ass. Thus, wearing a thong to deflect attention from “panty lines” is a miserable failure.
Also, I don’t really think that porn is responsible for the spread (heh heh) of Brazilian waxing. I read an interview in Bitch magazine a while ago with a woman who wrote a book about women working in the sex industry. (I wrote about this before, but I can’t find it.) The author said that if porn was responsible for making Brazilian waxes trendy, it would be called a “porno wax,” not a Brazilian. Excellent point!
When I think about how we found ourselves in the situation where you can’t read one damn women’s magazine without being subjected to the glories of waxing and why every woman need to do or she will be hideous and unlovable, I blame the inexplicable rise in the popularity of thongs and g-strings. It is impossible to look decent in either of these torture devices while rocking a pubic ‘fro.
Incidentally, there is little chance in hell to look good in these “undergarments” if you have an ounce of fat or cellulite on you. Yes, average woman, this means you. This is why I cannot understand why anyone wants to wear them. And don’t give me that shit about panty lines and tight pants, because I still see plenty of lines when women wear stings in their asses instead of regular ass-coverers. The lines are just different types. Instead of a line circling the top of a woman’s thigh, I find myself staring at the Bermuda triangle that formed above her ass. Thus, wearing a thong to deflect attention from “panty lines” is a miserable failure.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Things that Are Causing Me Ire Right Now
The evening news is utterly unwatchable. It’s not just that the quality of reporting is depressing, but the news itself still causes me to want to move into a cave and live a hermetic life. For example, I watched the ABC evening news on Friday. Three stories made me want to set out on a shooting rampage.
First, there was a report that I only saw the end of, but had something to do with Vietnam veterans. The final quote from one of the vets was, “Vietnam was different than Iraq. In Vietnam, we wanted to overthrow the government, but in Iraq, we want to help.” Riiiiiight. The goal of the Iraq invasion had nothing to do with removing their government and replacing it with one of our choice. Help me if people actually think this.
The next news item was about the FDA’s re-approval of silicone breast implants. I am all in support of scientific evidence. I understand that there is no scientific evidence that conclusively links silicone leaking out of implants and carousing through a person’s body to other ailments. However, I also understand that there is no conclusive evidence that there is no long term effect. Can I remind people that silicone breast implants are a completely elective and cosmetic procedure? Lives are not saved with breast implants. And how jolly that silicone fake tits resemble real ones more closely than saline fake tits, as the traitorous woman plastic surgeon gushed on TV. Guess what most resembles real tits? Yes, real tits. Ladies, leave the girls alone! If you are sad and lonely, it is not because your tits are too small. Breast implants will not make your life better. Appreciate who you are instead of having bags full of weird chemicals stuffed into your chest. If you still insist on a boob job, and 15 or 20 years later, you are all fucked up because you have silicone blood, don’t come crying to me. I hope your insurance rejects all your claims because it pisses me off that I have to pay to fix something that never should have happened in the first place.
Sigh. Onto my next beef with the world. Hey! It’s the medical “profession” again! It seems that more and more doctors have decided that the practice of medicine includes theology. So if a woman is raped and asks for emergency contraceptive because she might kill herself if she wound up pregnant as a result, doctors needn’t consider what is best for the patient, but what the voice of Jesus/Shiva/Buddha/L. Ron Hubbard/Lubavitcher Rebbe in their heads want. So it’s completely subjective and interpretive. Whatever. Medicine is really about playing God anyway, right?
On the bright side, CNN had a nice interview with Richard Linklater about the horrors undocumented workers are subjected to after meat packing companies lure them here for jobs. It is nice to see someone stand up for undocumented workers, some of the most vulnerable people living in the US, and finally place the blame for the rise in illegal immigration where it belongs, which is on the giant companies that knowingly recruit them for jobs because it is easier to abuse them since they can’t complain about insanely dangerous working conditions.
At least I can flee the real world and hang out with Dr. H and Dr. P in shifts. They are lovely women. I don’t know what I would do without my pals.
First, there was a report that I only saw the end of, but had something to do with Vietnam veterans. The final quote from one of the vets was, “Vietnam was different than Iraq. In Vietnam, we wanted to overthrow the government, but in Iraq, we want to help.” Riiiiiight. The goal of the Iraq invasion had nothing to do with removing their government and replacing it with one of our choice. Help me if people actually think this.
The next news item was about the FDA’s re-approval of silicone breast implants. I am all in support of scientific evidence. I understand that there is no scientific evidence that conclusively links silicone leaking out of implants and carousing through a person’s body to other ailments. However, I also understand that there is no conclusive evidence that there is no long term effect. Can I remind people that silicone breast implants are a completely elective and cosmetic procedure? Lives are not saved with breast implants. And how jolly that silicone fake tits resemble real ones more closely than saline fake tits, as the traitorous woman plastic surgeon gushed on TV. Guess what most resembles real tits? Yes, real tits. Ladies, leave the girls alone! If you are sad and lonely, it is not because your tits are too small. Breast implants will not make your life better. Appreciate who you are instead of having bags full of weird chemicals stuffed into your chest. If you still insist on a boob job, and 15 or 20 years later, you are all fucked up because you have silicone blood, don’t come crying to me. I hope your insurance rejects all your claims because it pisses me off that I have to pay to fix something that never should have happened in the first place.
Sigh. Onto my next beef with the world. Hey! It’s the medical “profession” again! It seems that more and more doctors have decided that the practice of medicine includes theology. So if a woman is raped and asks for emergency contraceptive because she might kill herself if she wound up pregnant as a result, doctors needn’t consider what is best for the patient, but what the voice of Jesus/Shiva/Buddha/L. Ron Hubbard/Lubavitcher Rebbe in their heads want. So it’s completely subjective and interpretive. Whatever. Medicine is really about playing God anyway, right?
On the bright side, CNN had a nice interview with Richard Linklater about the horrors undocumented workers are subjected to after meat packing companies lure them here for jobs. It is nice to see someone stand up for undocumented workers, some of the most vulnerable people living in the US, and finally place the blame for the rise in illegal immigration where it belongs, which is on the giant companies that knowingly recruit them for jobs because it is easier to abuse them since they can’t complain about insanely dangerous working conditions.
At least I can flee the real world and hang out with Dr. H and Dr. P in shifts. They are lovely women. I don’t know what I would do without my pals.
What's in a Name (Part 700), or "Say My Name, Bitch!"*
There is one thing I hate more than being called Mrs. Husband. My name is Suzanne. When I introduce myself, I clearly state this. “Hi, I am SuzANNE,” I say. Not infrequently, the person I just gave my name to responds, “Hello Susan. Nice to meet you.” It must not be nice to meet me, as you are obviously speaking with someone else. Usually, I just restate my actual name and then the person is embarrassed and apologizes and all is fine from then on.
However, if I send you an email in response to a request like this:
While I am tickled pink that Lisa Daily found my insight on bikini waxing to be entertaining and used much of what I sent (score!), and even better, was kind enough to even put the CUSS URL in her piece on body hair for her Lavalife column (very much appreciated!), I am decidedly displeased that I am credited as “Susan Reisman.” That’s just sloppiness. Harumph. Although really, I so am happy that the CUSS URL is in the piece that it is forgiven.
But for future note, please do not call me Susan. Muchas gracias.
*Was American Pie not a shockingly great movie? Forget the sequels. The first was great.
However, if I send you an email in response to a request like this:
I need responses from both men and women on the topic of bikini waxes. Guys: Do you prefer when a woman has her bikini area waxed (Brazilian wax, a topiary wax, etc.) or do you prefer "the natural look"? Or, does it just not matter? Ladies: Do you bikini wax? Why or why not? Is the pain worth the payoff? This is for Lavalife, a leading international dating site with more than 9 million members. This column also runs on MSN Canada.I expect that you will get my name right. I sent it to you in print. It’s not like you can’t just copy and paste it.
While I am tickled pink that Lisa Daily found my insight on bikini waxing to be entertaining and used much of what I sent (score!), and even better, was kind enough to even put the CUSS URL in her piece on body hair for her Lavalife column (very much appreciated!), I am decidedly displeased that I am credited as “Susan Reisman.” That’s just sloppiness. Harumph. Although really, I so am happy that the CUSS URL is in the piece that it is forgiven.
But for future note, please do not call me Susan. Muchas gracias.
*Was American Pie not a shockingly great movie? Forget the sequels. The first was great.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
You Win Some, You Lose Some
Thursday was both exciting and a bummer. I was fortunate enough to get another article in Metro New York, so that was awesome. (It's about porn and is a much improved version of something I wrote 11 years ago. Much.) Someone cool contacted me through MySpace, which was also great. Someone vaguely creepy sent me an email through CUSS:
On the downside, I had two rejections for other articles. One was a rejection by neglect from the New York Times for an op-ed that I carefully crafted about fixing the child care system. They say if you don't hear from them in a week, you can move on. Well, it's been about a week (I sent it last Friday at 3 pm or so) and no word. Feh.
The other is another rejection on what I consider my comedy of errors masterpiece about my breast reduction surgery. So it goes.
On the plus side, I am making very good progress on another article. If all goes well, that will appear online at the end of November. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Also, my mom left a comment on a previous post that is busting me up. I will have to use the phrase "whim-wham" from now on. Brilliant. Like mother, like daughter.
Hello. Are yo [sic] the same Suzanne Reisman who wrote the column in today's Metro? If so, nice job! And may I ask you a few questions about it, please? I'm asking first so that I don't send a bunch of dirty words to someone who won't appreciate them. Thanks.No, don't send me a bunch of dirty words. I promise that I will not appreciate them, either. (Note to family and friends: I am not worried about being stalked. Yet.) I am looking forward to seeing if anyone sends any letter to the editor at Metro about my column.
On the downside, I had two rejections for other articles. One was a rejection by neglect from the New York Times for an op-ed that I carefully crafted about fixing the child care system. They say if you don't hear from them in a week, you can move on. Well, it's been about a week (I sent it last Friday at 3 pm or so) and no word. Feh.
The other is another rejection on what I consider my comedy of errors masterpiece about my breast reduction surgery. So it goes.
On the plus side, I am making very good progress on another article. If all goes well, that will appear online at the end of November. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Also, my mom left a comment on a previous post that is busting me up. I will have to use the phrase "whim-wham" from now on. Brilliant. Like mother, like daughter.
Lollipop, Lollipop, oh Lolly Lolly Lolly, Lollipop
Don't they sound like edible undies? Like you should be licking them or something? Either that, or the name strikes me as pedophalic (if that's is even a word). Why would you name women's underwear after a lickable/suckable candy given to children? Just curious. As for FreshPair.com, that also sounds rather perverse. They better damn well be "fresh" as opposed to "smelly" or "dirty" when I buy new underwear. I guess you need to spell things out in the wild and lawless world of virtual shopping.
I Didn't Know
Don’t you hate those commercials where people randomly tell you that they “didn’t know?” I’m thinking mostly of the one for the cancer drug Procrit, which helps generate new white blood cells for people undergoing chemo (if theire doctors did not tell them that chemo would destroy their immune systems, as they claim to not know in the commercial, then they are either not listening carefully or have extremely bad medical care) and the HPV vaccination. Well, yesterday, I found myself confronted with one of those shocking “I didn’t know” situations.
One of my more disgusting discoveries in recent years is that the best time to use Q-Tips to clean out my ears is right after I have a nice sweaty workout. It seems that the wax gets melted by my increased body temperature. (Gross, right?) So anyway, I walked into the locker room at my gym. As I reached for a Q-Tip, a naked, slightly overweight woman walked by. It as impossible to not see her Brazilian wax, and that’s when “I didn’t know” hit me.
I didn’t know that snatches can look flabby. I suppose I didn’t know that because thus far, either I’ve seen women with full bush or very thin women with Brazilians. But there it was. This woman in the locker room carried a few extra pounds (not unlike myself) and while overall she looked fine, the pube-less cootch struck me because it looked fatter than any other cootie I’d seen up until then.
Again, not that there is anything wrong with a fat snatch. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have even noticed it if she had a bit more pubic hair. This revelation just reaffirmed my decision to stay far away from the waxing salon. No need to add another insecurity into my life. (“Honey, does my snatch look fat today?”)
One of my more disgusting discoveries in recent years is that the best time to use Q-Tips to clean out my ears is right after I have a nice sweaty workout. It seems that the wax gets melted by my increased body temperature. (Gross, right?) So anyway, I walked into the locker room at my gym. As I reached for a Q-Tip, a naked, slightly overweight woman walked by. It as impossible to not see her Brazilian wax, and that’s when “I didn’t know” hit me.
I didn’t know that snatches can look flabby. I suppose I didn’t know that because thus far, either I’ve seen women with full bush or very thin women with Brazilians. But there it was. This woman in the locker room carried a few extra pounds (not unlike myself) and while overall she looked fine, the pube-less cootch struck me because it looked fatter than any other cootie I’d seen up until then.
Again, not that there is anything wrong with a fat snatch. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have even noticed it if she had a bit more pubic hair. This revelation just reaffirmed my decision to stay far away from the waxing salon. No need to add another insecurity into my life. (“Honey, does my snatch look fat today?”)
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
The Treasure of Mi Loca Madre
Since my exciting new Hanes hipster cotton underwear costing less than $1.50 per pair, turned out to be not such a great deal, I braved the wilds of Macy’s today, which is having a mega blowout sale. Battling crowds of savages, I fought my way through the “intimates” department. Ida Lupino would be proud.
Of course, the entire lingerie section was on sale except for the underwear that I wanted. At $18 for 3 pairs, I turned up my nose and went hunting for sports bras. I think you know what is coming next. Not one sports bra was on sale. Still, I had a coupon for $10 off a $25 purchase, so I picked up two. We’ll see how they work out as they are made of some weird stretchy material that is supposed to keep me “dry” while I am drenched in sweat. All I ask is that they hold my tits firmly in place while I run or whatever. Is that so much to want?
As I was approaching the labyrinthine checkout line, I saw a small display rack out of the corner of my eye. I rubbed them to make sure that I was not hallucinating, but the Holy Grail of underwear remained in front of me. Was it possible that the only brand of underwear that my fussy mother (and both grandmothers, which should tell you something) will wear was right here at Macy’s? The brand that I swear no one has produced since 1974 because they are so fuddy-duddy? With no elastic on the leg band, and an ass that could fit an entire football team? I picked up a package. Yep, they were Lollipops. (I am not making that up. “Lollipops” is actually the name of the most old lady underwear on the market .) She’s been on the hunt for these for ages.
I had found the treasure of mi loca madre. At $15 for 3 pairs, it was a steal given that the buyer would walk away with a rare and ancient relic. My mother will be pleased. Happy early Hannukah!
Of course, the entire lingerie section was on sale except for the underwear that I wanted. At $18 for 3 pairs, I turned up my nose and went hunting for sports bras. I think you know what is coming next. Not one sports bra was on sale. Still, I had a coupon for $10 off a $25 purchase, so I picked up two. We’ll see how they work out as they are made of some weird stretchy material that is supposed to keep me “dry” while I am drenched in sweat. All I ask is that they hold my tits firmly in place while I run or whatever. Is that so much to want?
As I was approaching the labyrinthine checkout line, I saw a small display rack out of the corner of my eye. I rubbed them to make sure that I was not hallucinating, but the Holy Grail of underwear remained in front of me. Was it possible that the only brand of underwear that my fussy mother (and both grandmothers, which should tell you something) will wear was right here at Macy’s? The brand that I swear no one has produced since 1974 because they are so fuddy-duddy? With no elastic on the leg band, and an ass that could fit an entire football team? I picked up a package. Yep, they were Lollipops. (I am not making that up. “Lollipops” is actually the name of the most old lady underwear on the market .) She’s been on the hunt for these for ages.
I had found the treasure of mi loca madre. At $15 for 3 pairs, it was a steal given that the buyer would walk away with a rare and ancient relic. My mother will be pleased. Happy early Hannukah!
A Pubic 'Fro to Dye For
A few weeks ago, my friend Minnie mentioned that she went to a beauty supply store to buy some hair dye and was surprised to find pubic hair dye. My initial reaction was to wonder where I could find such a product to make fun of it. I reserve the right to a second opinion, and hereby invoke that right.
Yesterday, Min Jung Kim wrote about pube dye at BlogHer, and I decided that it is a good thing. Sure, it is silly as hell. But at least there is an assumption that you freaking have pubic hair in the first place. This is a good thing.
It seems that Husband knew people in college who were well ahead of the times, as he was friendly with one couple who used Manic Panic to dye the little head ‘fros violet to go with NYU’s school colors. I’m not sure why anyone would want to show their love of NYU (aka “The Evil Empire”) on their genitals, but whatever. Wacky college kids!
In a very tangentially related note, dying ones pubes blue for no reason at all reminds me that Husband knows someone who has his $250,000 Italian sports car custom colored to match the tapestries in his home. The compulsion to match crosses all socio-economic groups. Isn’t it nice to find common ground?
Yesterday, Min Jung Kim wrote about pube dye at BlogHer, and I decided that it is a good thing. Sure, it is silly as hell. But at least there is an assumption that you freaking have pubic hair in the first place. This is a good thing.
It seems that Husband knew people in college who were well ahead of the times, as he was friendly with one couple who used Manic Panic to dye the little head ‘fros violet to go with NYU’s school colors. I’m not sure why anyone would want to show their love of NYU (aka “The Evil Empire”) on their genitals, but whatever. Wacky college kids!
In a very tangentially related note, dying ones pubes blue for no reason at all reminds me that Husband knows someone who has his $250,000 Italian sports car custom colored to match the tapestries in his home. The compulsion to match crosses all socio-economic groups. Isn’t it nice to find common ground?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The L Words
WhileI read over 300 blogs in four days for my duties (snort) as a volunteer NaBloPoMo blog reader. In the course of reading these blogs, several people have questioned the volunteers’ qualifications as reviewers. Rest assured, bloggers with blogs beginning with H-L - here are my qualifications: 1. I can read; 2. I had a lot of free time on my hands to read over the past few days; 3. I volunteered to do so; 4. I am a dedicated blogger. I believe that this makes me as qualified as you to review blogs and opine about them. I always read several posts at each blog. If you disagree, that’s cool. You should review blogs as well. There is nothing stopping you from doing so. (I am not being facetious about this.) If you disagree with my reviews, I welcome your comments. Anyway, this brings me to the last 106 blogs that I read. They all begin with L. There were too many blogs for me to properly count who was not posting every day. Sorry about that, but my eyes and brain hurt when I tried to do this. I still categorized the blogs, though:
For a variety of reasons (funny, thoughtful, clever, snarky, and/or well written, etc.), I really liked La Dee Flippin’ Da, Laid-Off Dad, Lately Bothered, Leila Loves Television, Letter B, Life and Times (a special shout out), and Losing True.
In particular, I found:
Something I noticed over the course my blog reviewing is that many liberals and/or Democrats are affiliated with NaBloPoMo. I did not read one blog that griped about the Democratic takeover of Congress. I read many blogs hating on Bush. This is something I enjoyed mightily. It also may explain why so many people have been willing to read reviews of blogs on a site that claims to be about not waxing one’s box, although, like every blog, it is so much more.
That wraps up my blog reviewing for NaBloPoMo. Thanks for sticking with me for this fun opportunity. I’m sure I’ll be reading many of your blogs over the long haul!
I Paid (Slightly Under) $6 for This?!?!?
About a year ago, I bought a four pack of Hanes women's cotton hipsters. The patterns on two of the four are hideous, and the other two are bright neon, but they fit great, even if the cotton is a bit on the flimsy side. A few weeks ago, I was at Target and decided to invest $5.79 or so into another four pack.
I could not obtain good photo evidence, but you will have to trust me that Hanes seems to believe that both of these pairs of women's cotton hipster underwear are a size 6.
An observant individual might notice that the older pair (with the hideous color pattern) fits very well within the new pair (with the hideous black and white pattern), with much room to spare. I wore a pair yesterday anyway, and I needed to tuck the butt in to fit into my jeans. (Theo models both pairs at Theo is America's Next Top Model.)
If someone can explain to me how these are the same size, I would be grateful.
I could not obtain good photo evidence, but you will have to trust me that Hanes seems to believe that both of these pairs of women's cotton hipster underwear are a size 6.
An observant individual might notice that the older pair (with the hideous color pattern) fits very well within the new pair (with the hideous black and white pattern), with much room to spare. I wore a pair yesterday anyway, and I needed to tuck the butt in to fit into my jeans. (Theo models both pairs at Theo is America's Next Top Model.)If someone can explain to me how these are the same size, I would be grateful.
Monday, November 13, 2006
L is for...
It is almost 2:30 am. In performing my final reviewer duties (heh heh - I said doody; OK, this joke works much better verbally, but whatever)for NaBloPoMo, I read 34 of the 107 blogs that begin with the letter L thus far. Now I must sleep.
However, before I get some shut eye, I want to point out to L-related things. First, two guys in my magazine pitch class told me that they initially thought I was a lesbian because I am so outspoken. (Clearly they missed my prior post on my cock eating habits.) I suspect it is really because of my short hair. After all, the first time the Sauce (my friend since I was 9 years old), practically the first thing out of her mouth was, "You look butch." Lesbian or not, I am certainly loud and proud.
In other L news that amuses me to no end, someone in Dubai did a google search on the term i need some lingerie that shows my vagina. It seems that CUSS could not deliver the goods, as the seeker of such an item spent about a second here. On the other hand, I made a strange lingerie discovery when I tried to wear a new pair of Hanes cotton hipster undies today. Photographic questionnaire to follow later because I need help understanding what went wrong. (Fortunately, not a photo of me in said undies, although such a photo would possibly bring on fits of laughter, andother fine word brought to you by the letter L.) Ooooh, a cliff-hanger!
Remember when I promised a long time ago not to post things while I was tired because the things I find amusing when I am falling asleep are not so hilarious in the harsh light of day? I should adhere to that now, although "i need some lingerie that shows my vagina" is damn funny no matter what time of day I read the phrase.
However, before I get some shut eye, I want to point out to L-related things. First, two guys in my magazine pitch class told me that they initially thought I was a lesbian because I am so outspoken. (Clearly they missed my prior post on my cock eating habits.) I suspect it is really because of my short hair. After all, the first time the Sauce (my friend since I was 9 years old), practically the first thing out of her mouth was, "You look butch." Lesbian or not, I am certainly loud and proud.
In other L news that amuses me to no end, someone in Dubai did a google search on the term i need some lingerie that shows my vagina. It seems that CUSS could not deliver the goods, as the seeker of such an item spent about a second here. On the other hand, I made a strange lingerie discovery when I tried to wear a new pair of Hanes cotton hipster undies today. Photographic questionnaire to follow later because I need help understanding what went wrong. (Fortunately, not a photo of me in said undies, although such a photo would possibly bring on fits of laughter, andother fine word brought to you by the letter L.) Ooooh, a cliff-hanger!
Remember when I promised a long time ago not to post things while I was tired because the things I find amusing when I am falling asleep are not so hilarious in the harsh light of day? I should adhere to that now, although "i need some lingerie that shows my vagina" is damn funny no matter what time of day I read the phrase.
Eating Cock
Saturday night, I ate cock in front of a lot of people. It was succulent and juicy. The meat practically fell off the bone. I had sauce all over my face. Husband even had a taste. (He was not impressed, and will probably not eat much cock in the future.)
I indulged in cock once before when I was in Paris last November. My cousin took Husband and I to a neighborhood joint near her apartment in Montparnasse, and she recommended ordering the cock. I loved it and craved more, although it took me a year to get my act together to get some, mostly because I am too cheap to pay for cock, and you gotta go to the right places to get some. Cock ain't cheap.
Yes, coq au vin at a French bistro (in Saturday's case, Les Halles) is delectable. Who knew that roosters could be so tasty?
I indulged in cock once before when I was in Paris last November. My cousin took Husband and I to a neighborhood joint near her apartment in Montparnasse, and she recommended ordering the cock. I loved it and craved more, although it took me a year to get my act together to get some, mostly because I am too cheap to pay for cock, and you gotta go to the right places to get some. Cock ain't cheap.
Yes, coq au vin at a French bistro (in Saturday's case, Les Halles) is delectable. Who knew that roosters could be so tasty?
Monday, Nov. 13: I Am Alive, Just Maybe Not Kicking
Yes, I’m late today. How the hell did it get to be after 11 am so quickly? Sure, I woke up late, feeling sick (ate too much good – i.e. fatty – food again this weekend; crapping out of brains commenced). Ate breakfast. Wrangled a piece for BlogHer that I’ve been puzzling over for about a week now. More crapping. Everything these days is at least a double-flusher. Meaning: must flush contents of toilet before any toilet paper can be thrown in, for fear of massive clog. Second flush is all the dirty paper, and sometimes additional paper flushes are required. Again, the goal is avoid any stoppage.
Yesterday I discovered a creepy bruise on my nose. I have no idea where it came from, but I am extremely self-conscious about it. Brother-in-Law (BiL) did not make me feel better last night when he said, “Oh, that’s a bruise? I thought it was a huge zit.” Thanks. He also screamed in horror in when I rolled up my pants leg to show off a non-creepy bruise I have near my left knee, courtesy of stopping a couch from crashing down some stairs on Thursday night when I helped my friend chuck her to the curb like a skeezy boyfriend. It seems that my lack of leg shaving is a source of nightmares for some. Harumph. You be the judge:
Zit, bad hairstyle, or both?
Scariest leg you've ever seen, nice wood floor, or both?
Yesterday I discovered a creepy bruise on my nose. I have no idea where it came from, but I am extremely self-conscious about it. Brother-in-Law (BiL) did not make me feel better last night when he said, “Oh, that’s a bruise? I thought it was a huge zit.” Thanks. He also screamed in horror in when I rolled up my pants leg to show off a non-creepy bruise I have near my left knee, courtesy of stopping a couch from crashing down some stairs on Thursday night when I helped my friend chuck her to the curb like a skeezy boyfriend. It seems that my lack of leg shaving is a source of nightmares for some. Harumph. You be the judge:
Zit, bad hairstyle, or both?
Scariest leg you've ever seen, nice wood floor, or both?
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Violating My Code of Ethics
OK, so I generally am repulsed by couples with huge age differences, especially because they tend to consist of young, plastically attractive women and much older men who are usually wealthy but gross. It's all about the valuing women for their looks and men for their status, which of course, is a dichotomy that I abhor. The thought of knocking boots with someone old enough to be my parent or worse, grandparent, is nasty! (And don't tell me about if you happen to be one of those people whose "true love" is 32 years older than you. Good for you for finding love. There is definitely not enough in the world, I agree. But it still grosses me out, daddy-fucker, so spare me the story.)
Anyway, yesterday I was huffing and puffing on the treadmill when I became engrossed in the closed caption presentation that was on one of the TVs in the gym of 3000 Miles to Graceland, a horrendously good movie starring Kevin Costner and Kurt Russell as Elvis impersonators (sort of, it’s more complicated than that) who rob a casino and the double crosses and high jinks that follow. The plot makes no sense, and there is way too much killing of random people (all by Costner), but damn if it isn’t fun. I wound up changing my running time from 20 to 55 minutes so that I could keep watching, which was good as I am getting really damn flabby and need the exercise.
What really drew me into the film, though, was how fucking hot Kurt Russell is.
PS - Dennis Quaid also falls into this category.
Anyway, yesterday I was huffing and puffing on the treadmill when I became engrossed in the closed caption presentation that was on one of the TVs in the gym of 3000 Miles to Graceland, a horrendously good movie starring Kevin Costner and Kurt Russell as Elvis impersonators (sort of, it’s more complicated than that) who rob a casino and the double crosses and high jinks that follow. The plot makes no sense, and there is way too much killing of random people (all by Costner), but damn if it isn’t fun. I wound up changing my running time from 20 to 55 minutes so that I could keep watching, which was good as I am getting really damn flabby and need the exercise.
What really drew me into the film, though, was how fucking hot Kurt Russell is.
PS - Dennis Quaid also falls into this category.
Rest Gently, Ellen Willis
Ellen Willis' funeral is being held next door to me today as I write. (The funeral home next door also had Jerry Orbach's funeral and is known as the place to be for the important secular Jewish dead.) I didn't know enough about her before she died, but in reading all the obits and tributes to her, I realize how much I have missed and what a big hole she is leaving in the world.
Her excellent article about Israel, human rights, the American left, and self-hating Jews is fantastic. I feel the same way, but obviously write about it far less eloquently. (She doesn't use the word "fuck" or any derivation of it.) She also wrote many wonder ful articles about feminism and porn, and is a belated role model for me.
I am so sorry I missed her while she was alive.
Her excellent article about Israel, human rights, the American left, and self-hating Jews is fantastic. I feel the same way, but obviously write about it far less eloquently. (She doesn't use the word "fuck" or any derivation of it.) She also wrote many wonder ful articles about feminism and porn, and is a belated role model for me.
I am so sorry I missed her while she was alive.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
It's a Miracle!
Yesterday during the height of the evening rush hour, my undies suddenly felt wet as I stepped onto the subway amidst a crowd of Wall Street suits. “What the fuck?” I thought. “Did I just pee myself? The last thing I need right now is mysterious incontinence.” It didn’t seem like I peed myself, though, as my bladder was not full.
This “suddenly wet” sensation has happened before. The first time I held my friend Elli’s older son (at which point he was her only son), I was sitting on the couch and suddenly the sides of my thighs felt warm and wet toward the back. I pondered whether I peed myself, but it seems that the infant was a very talented urinator, and got his stream arced up over his diaper and into the crack of my legs so that the pee trickled to the back of my thighs but didn’t get the fronts wet, which I would have not believed possible. Talent!
Unfortunately, I was not holding an infant last night, so I either was peed on by a commuting businessman as I entered the subway car (very unpleasant thought) or by myself (even more unpleasant? I’m torn). During the 20 minute ride I tried to focus on finishing the crossword puzzle, but the nasty wet undies bothered me. Only when I exited the subway at my stop and went to run two errands (1. pick up Thanksgiving menu from Italian take-out place that makes amazing stuffing; 2. buy more hard food for Tycho Bunnae) that it dawned on me that my period might cause this.
I rushed home (menus weren’t available yet at the take-out place, incidentally) and sure enough, my white cotton underwear were bloodied up. Damn if that has not happened in eons. I’m seeing to a reproductive endocrinologist on the 22nd, and I’m quite curious what he will think of this.
This “suddenly wet” sensation has happened before. The first time I held my friend Elli’s older son (at which point he was her only son), I was sitting on the couch and suddenly the sides of my thighs felt warm and wet toward the back. I pondered whether I peed myself, but it seems that the infant was a very talented urinator, and got his stream arced up over his diaper and into the crack of my legs so that the pee trickled to the back of my thighs but didn’t get the fronts wet, which I would have not believed possible. Talent!
Unfortunately, I was not holding an infant last night, so I either was peed on by a commuting businessman as I entered the subway car (very unpleasant thought) or by myself (even more unpleasant? I’m torn). During the 20 minute ride I tried to focus on finishing the crossword puzzle, but the nasty wet undies bothered me. Only when I exited the subway at my stop and went to run two errands (1. pick up Thanksgiving menu from Italian take-out place that makes amazing stuffing; 2. buy more hard food for Tycho Bunnae) that it dawned on me that my period might cause this.
I rushed home (menus weren’t available yet at the take-out place, incidentally) and sure enough, my white cotton underwear were bloodied up. Damn if that has not happened in eons. I’m seeing to a reproductive endocrinologist on the 22nd, and I’m quite curious what he will think of this.
Friday, November 10, 2006
'K, We are Done with that Category
Do I have nothing better in my life right now that I revel in catching someone who has missed a day blogging, and is no longer eligible for a prize from NaBloPoMO? I think the answer is obvious, given that I reviewed 195 blogs in the past three days, so please, spare me your comments. A whopping 25% of the blogs that begin with K are about knitting. I know nothing about knitting except that I suspect that I would like it and should learn one day. My friend is always knitting cute things. But I digress… I feel like I should have subcontracted the knitting blogs to someone who has expertise in the area. Sorry about that.
That said, here’s the stats for the K blogs:
- 35% are out of the running (If a person posted daily through Nov. 9, I gave credit. Again, too many people with lives!)
- 41% are about random things that happen to people in the course of every day life, stories, and other things that pop into people’s minds as they blog
- 10% are mommy/parenting blogs (this is very low compared with other letters)
- 40% seem to be about the arts (photography, painting, etc.), writing, or crafts (knitting, sewing)
- 2% seemed to have a food focus
- 10% focused on other things, such as politics or exercise and dieting
(These add up to more than 100% since blogs often cover more than one topic.)
All the blogs were of course wonderful (and many reminded me that I could be a bit more crafty if I spent less time on the computer), but the ones that really stood out to me were, in alpha order because it is getting late and I want to finish this before Husband gets home so we can have a nice evening together:
Kaleidoscopic Eclat - Damn, I love the inspirational story about the girl who played basketball, and the accompanying picture was the three point throw on the buzzer that won the game for me. Delicious. Plus the URL has “gonfalon” in it, and no one uses that word enough these days.
Karen Road Chronicles - Who can’t relate to her tales of sticking it to the Man when the Man tries to stick it to her? OK, the language may be a bit graphic for some, but I felt it was perfect and in fact often describe those situations that way. Funny stuff.
Kari’s Couch - I admit to a smidgen of bias here because Kari once did a hilarious blog exchange with my friend Alex, but the fish lusting after the alcohol earns a nod alone, not to mention the caption claims that the Cat took the picture.
karlajean.net - I have never seen a blog laid out like this. I’m not even sure how I feel about it, but it is really different. I’m just saying.
Katie + Blog = Fun? - So I threw my Chicago bias out there earlier, but this one has no exciting city pictures. It does, however, mention that one of her friend’s hates the word “panties.” I loathe that word as well. What are the odds? Plus there’s a report on an exciting bra shopping expedition that reminded me of the “good” old days, before I had breast reduction surgery. Rockin’!
KidKate - Any blog that has a really good fart story is a winner in my book. In addition, she has a lovely shower. Also, Kathryn reminds me of a dear friend of mine who also moved from NYC to London recently. Maybe they will meet some day.
Kinuk - Fascinating stories that are well written about her travels and time in Poland.
Knock Knox - A blunt, funny woman who tells it like it is. One line, “Only when I am picking my nose, picking my ass, smelling my daughter’s butt to check her diaper, burping or falling down does anyone look at me.” Need I say more? I thought not.
I am glad that I was able to cover H,I,J, and K this week. Unfortuantely, I won’t be able to invest the proper time to investigate 107 blogs that begin with the letter “L” until Monday. I like to pretend that I have a life when the weekend hits. Given the enormous task ahead, I suspect I won’t finish it until Tuesday, but I’ll try my best. No more promises.
In the meantime, if you think I’m full of shit, I don’t necessarily disagree. Feel free to use the comments to nominate yourself or other blogs and let us know why. Also, if you are a hardcore blogger who switched to blogger beta, let me know what you think. I finally got an invite and am debating about whether to take the plunge.
Oh, J: Good Reads Through NaBloPoMo, without the Acid
While the “I”s had it, I also enjoyed the Js. First of all, there was 30 less blogs beginning with J, which made me less stressed. Also, the J bloggers are busy people outside of the blogosphere, so there were not as many posts to plow through, leaving me with more time to savor things. The J bloggers are also a slightly more diverse group, as it had more men included than the Hs or Is. Despite all the good things, I discovered a third pet peeve. (Quick recap of other two: 1. yellow font that is hard to read; 2. links to “here” or “this.”) Yellow font may give me a headache, but I will not even bother trying to read white font on a pastel or patterned background. People! You kill me!
That said, here’s the stats for the I blogs:
- 35% are out of the running (If a person posted daily through Nov. 9, I gave credit. Again, too many people with lives!)
- 67% are about random things that happen to people in the course of every day life, stories, and other things that pop into people’s minds as they blog
- 21% are mommy/parenting blogs (two were group blogs by both parents)
- 14% seem to be about the arts (photography, painting, etc.), writing, or crafts (knitting, sewing)
- 2% seemed to have a food focus
- 6% focused on other things, such as politics or exercise and dieting
(These add up to more than 100% since blogs often cover more than one topic.)
For a good read, log onto Jester Tunes, unless you are easily offended. I was hooked the second the page opened and I saw a cartoon jester making rude comments about someone’s dick size. Then I read the toilet phobia post. To quote Borat, another master of offensive hilarity (and whom for no apparent reason I lately seem to keep calling Barak - as in Barak Obama, who is nothing like Borat from what I can tell), “Eees verrry nice.”
Jabbering in My Jammies is a wonderful writer. Her Nov. 10 post on coupons and refunds made me think very fondly of my mother-in-law. Both are very thoughtful and practical women.
What caught my attention about The Jake Silver Show is that the blog was nothing like I expected. First, his Nov. 1 post to his wife was super touching. Second, despite being in the military, he’s a Democrat. Third, he somehow has posts from the future (there’s one from Nov. 15, although today is Nov. 10). Also, the guy blogs more often than I do, which is an impressive feat. I like people who remind me that sometimes I am a biased idiot.
A blog that lives up to its name is Jason’s House of Random Stuff. Yes, it is indeed random. Random is good, especially when copious amounts of snark are involved.
If you just want great writing on a variety of topics, Just Another Day could be just what you seek. Nice and amusing stuff about life lessons, and it’s been around for a few years, which is great.
More good writing can be found at Just Sayin’. It’s chock full of thoughtful ruminations on the past and present, and provides recipes, as well as movie reviews. Sort of like a one-stop shop for topics.
Thank you, J. We had some great times, but I must move on with life, and I’m leaving you for K. Stay tuned…
The "I"s Have It (ba dum dum cha)
First, let me start off by admitting that I agreed to review blogs beginning with the letters H-L because, while I wanted to be helpful, I am also a lazy ass and I thought to myself, “Ha! How many blogs will start with the letter I?” As often is the case, my instincts were as off base as Rumsfeld’s “they’ll greet us as liberators” instinct on Iraq was. Thankfully, my mistake merely costs me time, whereas Rumsfeld’s minor error cost many people their lives and tons of dollars down the highly paid contactor’s toilet.Anyway, the I’s are a lovely bunch of blogs. All 85 of them. Although I do have one more request to bloggers (Wednesday’s request was not to use yellow font because I have to squint to read it and it hurts, thus distracting from the blogger’s lovely writing) – please do not name your links “here.” Tell me what the fuck it is you are linking to. Is it Mary Jane's blog? The White House home page? PETA's latest press release? I am not so into surprises, people! (Nor am I the only one who feels that way, as Joan from It’s Always Something wrote about linking, “ …it's not a hidden one like the pro's do, that say look here, and here, and here, till you what to throw up, and your finger gets tired of punching in the links that take you to a web sites you don't care about.” Thank you Joan!)
That said, here’s the stats for the I blogs:
- 31% are out of the running (If a person posted daily through Nov. 8 or Nov. 9, I gave credit. Again, too many people with lives!)
- 53% are about random things that happen to people in the course of every day life, stories, and other things that pop into people’s minds as they blog
- 24% are mommy/parenting blogs (two were group blogs by both parents)
- 13% seem to be about the arts (photography, painting, etc.), writing, or crafts (knitting, sewing)
- 5% seemed to have a food focus
- 7% focused on other things, such as politics or exercise and dieting
And the special mentions go to:
Chicago Bonding Award: I don’t know - It has a nice template, lots of commentary about Chicago (hey, I’m a Chicagoan by birth and I can’t resist!), and cute baby pictures.
Great Writing Award: idea.s - Another interesting template (that admittedly confused the hell out of me at first, but the journal is really cool).
Funny and Irreverent Award:The Idle Thoughts of an Idle Person - This cracked me up. I love people who are irreverent, oh yes I do.
Utterly Laugh-Out-Loud Hilarious Award: I’ll get you, my witty… and your little blog, too - Yes, Abi definitely did. Seriously funny.
Insight Everyone Must Read Award: Indecisive Peach, particularly for the brilliant garage sale tips.
Snarky Award: Innocent Bystander - Great writing when it comes to all things pop culture, an admirable skill in my mind.
Best Disgusting (non-porn) Picture(s) on the Internet: Inside Voice for the Nov. 9 bug and Nov. 1 truck full of pig carcasses. Perfect, if like me, you love this kind of stuff. (Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
All-Around Thoughtful Award: The Insider
Best Random Theme: Irrelephant manages to stick to the theme admirably.
OK, that does it for I. I hope that you had fun, as I certainly did, although it was quickly becoming my nemesis. Now to the J’s, which shall be joyful, of course.
I Adore My Husband
He sent me the following email:
I am a lucky woman.
Does anyone else's spouse send them emails with the subject line "That's Right, Motherfucker!"? He warms my heart and makes me smile.
From : husband
Sent : Thursday, November 9, 2006 3:25 PM
To : Suzanne Reisman
Subject : That's Right, Motherfucker!
Allen to concede, giving Democrats Senate
I am a lucky woman.
Thursday, November 9, 2006
OK, I Lied
Sorry, but I'm going to have to bring the I's on tomorrow with the J's. I had the best intentions, but first I got into a rumble at the Jewish cartoon film festival I attended, which wore me down. Basically I brought a bag of popcorn that made a lot of noise when I opened it, so the woman in front of me rightfully gave me a dirty look. I tried to open it again, hoping that I could muffle the noise with my coat, but was greeting instead with another glare. Right after that, though, the bitch started talking to her friend while the 'toon unspooled. Dude, don't fucking complain to me about making noise and then chat your friend up! So I opened the bag a final time and the whore turned around and asked me if I couldn't wait to do that until the break. To which I replied, "Well, it's not like you are not talking or anything like that. Geez!" She had the good sense to turn around quickly and shut the fuck up for the rest of the evening, while I munched the popcorn I bought at the wacky vegan 7th Day Adventist cafeteria.
Anyway, after all that my friend asked me to help her move her couch to the curb so that there would not be any issues when her new one arrives tomorrow. I forgot it is a sofa bed. Damn, that shit is heavy.
So I am too tired to finish up the I's, and I may lie to the public, but I am still above the unethical Republicans in that I will not be bribed!
Anyway, after all that my friend asked me to help her move her couch to the curb so that there would not be any issues when her new one arrives tomorrow. I forgot it is a sofa bed. Damn, that shit is heavy.
So I am too tired to finish up the I's, and I may lie to the public, but I am still above the unethical Republicans in that I will not be bribed!
Quick Check In
If you are here to see my glorious, utterrly unbiased reviews of NaBloPoMo blogs that begin with the letter I, I'm half-way there. Meaning: It is not too late to try and bribe me. NO! I am just kidding. Anyway, I hope to have the review up and running before midnight EST tonight, but no promises. The rest of my life is getting in the way.
Which brings me to another topic for the regular CUSS readers. I went to visit a friend this afternoon who had a c-section on Monday. This is clearly a case where I give shaved snatch a double thumbs up. More importantly, Friend and Baby were doing very well.
Friend told me that the doctor comes by regularly to check in her discharge. She also exlained that her boobs suddenly became enormous and hard when the milk came in yesterday. I explained that is reason 455 that I do not plan to have kiddies. It's very nice for most, but every time a friend has a kid I think about how little interest I have in birthing up (or adopting) one of my own. So much work and pain! It tires me just to think about it.
Which brings me to yet another topic. I received my test results yesterday and it seems that everything is "normal." If someone wants to explain to me why I haven't menstruated without the aid of pharmacological products since I was 17, I'm all ears. Otherwise, I am off to see the third reproductive endocrinologist in 10 years. Whoopdedoo. I may not want kids, but it will be nice to one day know why shit don't work. Thinking of this makes me tired, too.
Off to unpack the ungodly number of new dishes we received today for our Thanksgiving extravaganza, then to a series of short cartoons by Jewish cartoonists, followed by my favorite pizza, Two Boots! (And after I am full of pizza, I promise the I's...)
Which brings me to another topic for the regular CUSS readers. I went to visit a friend this afternoon who had a c-section on Monday. This is clearly a case where I give shaved snatch a double thumbs up. More importantly, Friend and Baby were doing very well.
Friend told me that the doctor comes by regularly to check in her discharge. She also exlained that her boobs suddenly became enormous and hard when the milk came in yesterday. I explained that is reason 455 that I do not plan to have kiddies. It's very nice for most, but every time a friend has a kid I think about how little interest I have in birthing up (or adopting) one of my own. So much work and pain! It tires me just to think about it.
Which brings me to yet another topic. I received my test results yesterday and it seems that everything is "normal." If someone wants to explain to me why I haven't menstruated without the aid of pharmacological products since I was 17, I'm all ears. Otherwise, I am off to see the third reproductive endocrinologist in 10 years. Whoopdedoo. I may not want kids, but it will be nice to one day know why shit don't work. Thinking of this makes me tired, too.
Off to unpack the ungodly number of new dishes we received today for our Thanksgiving extravaganza, then to a series of short cartoons by Jewish cartoonists, followed by my favorite pizza, Two Boots! (And after I am full of pizza, I promise the I's...)
Throwing Caution to the Wind
Last night as I stuffed Hershey's Kisses into my mouth as if the Republicans planned to ban chocolate as the ultimate "fuck you" to the electorate before this session of Congress ends, I came across one that was slightly deformed. "Hmmmm..." I thought, "I hope this isn't poisoned." After a very short pause to consider, I said, "Oh well," and I gobbled it up. It was extra chocolatey, I swear.
After eating the damaged Kiss and two others, it occurred to me that had I known for a fact that it had been tampered with, there was a good chance that I still might've ingested it anyway. This is disturbing, particularly because it was not like it was my last Kiss. (Oh contraire, a good 10-15 remain to taunt me.) Yet the allure of a chocolate in my hand was too much to resist.
Maybe Rumsfeld had the same problem. I am doomed.
After eating the damaged Kiss and two others, it occurred to me that had I known for a fact that it had been tampered with, there was a good chance that I still might've ingested it anyway. This is disturbing, particularly because it was not like it was my last Kiss. (Oh contraire, a good 10-15 remain to taunt me.) Yet the allure of a chocolate in my hand was too much to resist.
Maybe Rumsfeld had the same problem. I am doomed.
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
This Afternoon's Best Comedy Hour
I love when Bush takes questions from the press. He always gives the funniest answers to questions, such as when he gets all upset because most Americans are "risk averse when it comes to Social Security." I mean, since we all have rich families and trust funds, it is totally crazy that most people want Social Security to be solvent when they retire. Wacky Americans!
The Bush Administration is the most hilarious satire on TV. I can't wait until it gets canceled so that W. can continue his antics on a reality show.
The Bush Administration is the most hilarious satire on TV. I can't wait until it gets canceled so that W. can continue his antics on a reality show.
H is for Hilarious, Hot, and (Making Me) Hungry
To keep myself busy with things that don’t pay (thus cementing my kept-woman status), I volunteered to review blogs for National Blog Posting Month. (As a person who is addicted to blogging, I signed for NaBloPoMo as soon as I heard about it. After all, I already blog at least once daily - if only methadone or some other detox pill were available - and there are prizes that can be won! Prizes! Husband loves prizes!) I promise to be on my best behavior as a reviewer. That said, I have one request: please, people, do not fucking post in yellow! Do you know how much squinting I had to do to complete my task?!?!?Anyway, it is raining and miserable here, and so I read 58 blogs with titles beginning with H this morning while still in my pajamas. A quick breakdown:
- 38% are out of the running (If a person posted daily through Nov. 7, I gave credit. But it is scary how many people can’t keep up for a mere seven days. What, they have lives or something? Madness!)
- 46% are about random things that happen to people in the course of every day life, stories, and other things that pop into people’s minds as they blog
- 26% are mommy/parenting blogs (two were group blogs by both parents)
- 7% seem to be about the arts (photography, painting, etc.) or crafts (knitting, sewing)
- 7% seemed to have a food focus
- 2% are in the student/teacher group (again, that's probably short, it's hard to tell who students are sometimes)
- 3% were not in English, meaning that my pathetic American-educated brain could not understand what was written
- 12% focused on other things, such as work support or animals
H is for “honorable” and “hilarious,” and there are many honorable mentions to go around for humorous blogs. The Half Head brought a smile to my face. Two Heathers (stay away from Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, ladies!), Heather Ann and Heather Nicole completely cracked me up. Heather Nicole is utterly irreverent. Love it. How Now, Wit? lives up to its lofty goals as well.
H does not stand for “good writing” or “art,” but whatever. I liked the writing and stories found at Hectic Mom’s Blog, Hollywood Flakes, and Happily Ever After, especially her post on formula feeding her kids. I also like the funky artworks highlighted every day at Hashiworks
Tomorrow's reviews will be brought to you by the letter I.
Fashion is Torture
So Americans voted yesterday, and one of the things we seem to be voting against is how things are going in Iraq. Extrapolating a bit, you could say that Americans are against torturing prisoners. On the other hand, an article from The Guardian about how fashion for women is often literally torturous is an excellent read. Over the past year or so, I’ve been wandering around muttering about why “sexy” seems to mean “extraordinarily painful” for women. What is attractive about grimacing from physical discomfort? (And why is my grimacing over the stupidity of others not considered nearly as attractive as clenching my teeth in pain?) But men nor women seem to object to this abuse. Fanny Johnstone, the author, is on that fine wavelength, and the article amusingly attacks many of my pet peeves.
She reminds us that, “this autumn's shoe of the season - with versions by everyone from Kurt Geiger to YSL - has a nine-inch heel and a three-inch platform sole, which forces its wearer into the toe-pummelling posture of a ballet dancer on points.” In a historical context, this is nothing, as 15th Venetian prostitutes and women of wealth both wore shoes called chopines, which could have platforms as high as 30 inches. But think about it: neither or these women spent much time on their feet. Perhaps women who wear such inane shoes today also have servants to support them as they walk into lunch at The Ivy or wherever it is that the fashion conscious eat salad these days.
Since the article was about clothes, there was no mention of the insanity of having pubic hair ripped from the sensitive nether regions for style purposes (and certainly no reference to having crystals glued on to the newly bare area), but the torture sentiment is the same. Don’t believe me? Read Dawn’s so-funny-it-hurts (literally) account of her Brazilian wax at I am doing the best I can. Sure, it might be less painful next time, but why on earth would there be a next time if it was so excruciating in the first place?
She reminds us that, “this autumn's shoe of the season - with versions by everyone from Kurt Geiger to YSL - has a nine-inch heel and a three-inch platform sole, which forces its wearer into the toe-pummelling posture of a ballet dancer on points.” In a historical context, this is nothing, as 15th Venetian prostitutes and women of wealth both wore shoes called chopines, which could have platforms as high as 30 inches. But think about it: neither or these women spent much time on their feet. Perhaps women who wear such inane shoes today also have servants to support them as they walk into lunch at The Ivy or wherever it is that the fashion conscious eat salad these days.
Since the article was about clothes, there was no mention of the insanity of having pubic hair ripped from the sensitive nether regions for style purposes (and certainly no reference to having crystals glued on to the newly bare area), but the torture sentiment is the same. Don’t believe me? Read Dawn’s so-funny-it-hurts (literally) account of her Brazilian wax at I am doing the best I can. Sure, it might be less painful next time, but why on earth would there be a next time if it was so excruciating in the first place?
Tuesday, November 7, 2006
Lunatic Watch
If anyone else is watching the election coverage on CNN tonight, can you plesae verify that Bill Bennett is a complete crack head? He just insisted that every 6 years, about 25 seats in the House turnover. Maybe that's the case, but he seems to have pulled that stat out of his ass. If that's how he gambles, no wonder he lost so much money.
11:16 PM Update
Yes, Bill Bennett is delusional. He just insisted that Bush will change his approach to Iraq. I'm not sure where Bennett has been for the past, oh, six years, but Bush only digs his heels in deeper when questioned or challenged.
11:16 PM Update
Yes, Bill Bennett is delusional. He just insisted that Bush will change his approach to Iraq. I'm not sure where Bennett has been for the past, oh, six years, but Bush only digs his heels in deeper when questioned or challenged.
We Need a Plan B in the Voting Booth
I voted this afternoon, although there is nothing particularly exciting about the election here in New York City. On the other hand, Plan B did hit pharmacy shelves so that as of today, women can buy them without a prescription. It's sort of symbolic of what might happen with the election results - abort 'em!
Just kidding. Not about the assholes who make our national laws these days, of course. We really do need to get rid of them, although I really don't want a big victory for Democrats. Like an unwanted pregnancy, there is no good solution for the situation the US finds itself in these days. Since there is not way to fix Iraq, the deficit, security, etc, I don't want this hanging over the Democrats' heads in 2008. Not that Dems are not partly to blame for the mess, as most of them went along like sheep (my friend Mara calls such people "sheeple" - love that), but the Republicans deserve to really baste in the juices that they so eagerly squirting into the roasting pan.
And I didn't even mean that in a perverse way.
Just kidding. Not about the assholes who make our national laws these days, of course. We really do need to get rid of them, although I really don't want a big victory for Democrats. Like an unwanted pregnancy, there is no good solution for the situation the US finds itself in these days. Since there is not way to fix Iraq, the deficit, security, etc, I don't want this hanging over the Democrats' heads in 2008. Not that Dems are not partly to blame for the mess, as most of them went along like sheep (my friend Mara calls such people "sheeple" - love that), but the Republicans deserve to really baste in the juices that they so eagerly squirting into the roasting pan.
And I didn't even mean that in a perverse way.
Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon (or Not)
From completely bare, a dementedly popular torture chamber - er, I mean waxing salon - that seems to believe that people are not mammals:
Who says you can't be sexy even when its not summer...
Like all fashion trends, beauty treatments come and go, one day they're hot, they next day they're not. The need for hair removal doesn't change, but how you get to be bare down there and the style you choose, like fashion, changes from season to season. The experts at completely bare know that the Brazilian bikini is out. Now it's time to go completely bare with a flair. Accessorize your own jewels…with crystals.
Whether your choice of hair removal is completely bare's core treatment - EpiLight™ permanent hair reduction - or a French wax, - you can be sure that your bikini area will sparkle.
Accessorizing your privates is the hottest rage. From crystal flowers to customized favorites, you too can now decorate your own jewels. Whether it's a special occasion or you just want to sparkle everywhere, you can choose from an assortment of real swarovski crystal designs so you can shimmer and shine.
There are several points at which I refuse to believe that the proprietors of completely bare are not falling on the floor as they shreik with laughter. "Can you believe that women pay for this shit?" I imagine them asking themselves, wiping the tears from the corners of their cosmetically enhanced eye sockets and high-fiving each other. I mean really, who on earth can in one paragraph admit that beauty trends come and go, but that they have the secret to the one trend that will stay cool forever? (Of course, it better stay in style forever for those womenwho neglect to understand that styles "come and go" and permanently remove their pubes.)
Another response: is there not something frighteningly childish about tearing out all your pubes and gluing sparkly things on in their place? If I were a guy (or woman) about to engage in some hot action with someone and I saw that, I would run away screaming. As fast as I could. Because this is something that 8 year olds think is cool. And this is coming from a woman who really likes sparkling things and bows and ribbons. It's not like I am the most mature and age-relevant person out there.
(Incidentally, when I showed this picture to Husband, he thought that it was a tatoo of a zipper. I admit that would be kind of cool, as it demonstrates some bitchin' humor.)
Ladies: crystals on the cootie are creepy. Show some fucking respect for yourselves and your adult "jewels."
Who says you can't be sexy even when its not summer...
Like all fashion trends, beauty treatments come and go, one day they're hot, they next day they're not. The need for hair removal doesn't change, but how you get to be bare down there and the style you choose, like fashion, changes from season to season. The experts at completely bare know that the Brazilian bikini is out. Now it's time to go completely bare with a flair. Accessorize your own jewels…with crystals.Whether your choice of hair removal is completely bare's core treatment - EpiLight™ permanent hair reduction - or a French wax, - you can be sure that your bikini area will sparkle.
Accessorizing your privates is the hottest rage. From crystal flowers to customized favorites, you too can now decorate your own jewels. Whether it's a special occasion or you just want to sparkle everywhere, you can choose from an assortment of real swarovski crystal designs so you can shimmer and shine.
There are several points at which I refuse to believe that the proprietors of completely bare are not falling on the floor as they shreik with laughter. "Can you believe that women pay for this shit?" I imagine them asking themselves, wiping the tears from the corners of their cosmetically enhanced eye sockets and high-fiving each other. I mean really, who on earth can in one paragraph admit that beauty trends come and go, but that they have the secret to the one trend that will stay cool forever? (Of course, it better stay in style forever for those womenwho neglect to understand that styles "come and go" and permanently remove their pubes.)
Another response: is there not something frighteningly childish about tearing out all your pubes and gluing sparkly things on in their place? If I were a guy (or woman) about to engage in some hot action with someone and I saw that, I would run away screaming. As fast as I could. Because this is something that 8 year olds think is cool. And this is coming from a woman who really likes sparkling things and bows and ribbons. It's not like I am the most mature and age-relevant person out there.
(Incidentally, when I showed this picture to Husband, he thought that it was a tatoo of a zipper. I admit that would be kind of cool, as it demonstrates some bitchin' humor.)
Ladies: crystals on the cootie are creepy. Show some fucking respect for yourselves and your adult "jewels."
Monday, November 6, 2006
Post-Party Hangover
Husband and I went to Brother-in-Law (BiL) and Future Sister-in-Law’s (FSiL) engagement extravaganza yesterday. We had a very nice time chatting up friends and family, overeating (OK, that was me, not Husband, who showed amazing restraint when faced with a buffet overflowing with super yummy breakfast foods, plus cookies, cake and ice cream), and engaging in hysterical laughter with Rebecca as we reminisced about the great moments in Borat (OK, also me, not Husband). Two things left a bad taste in my mouth when I woke up this morning, though.
The first was acid reflux and a horrid stomach ache, which I blame squarely on my in-laws for providing such an amazing amount of delicious food. Damn, I way overdid it, but how could I help it? The French toast was calling to me like Sirens to a ship in a storm. I dropped two torpedoes in the toilet last night, and nuclear payload this morning. Danger!
However, I am more or less used to this reaction to a party, so I am not too bothered by it. What is proving to be a stick in my craw is a disturbing conversation that Husband and I had with two other guests, a husband and wife. We were talking about my (hopefully) new career as a freelance writer, and so the topic of women changing their names when they get married arose. Felicia said that it wound up being a huge pain in the ass to change her name. Jack justified his insistence that she do so by repeatedly noting that 1. her former surname was “boring,” and 2. she didn’t need to carry on her family legacy because she had siblings who could do so. Jack’s father jumped in and said that Jack should just admit that he is a traditional person and that is why he asked Felicia to change her name. Jack refused to acknowledge this, instead reiterating that Felicia’s last name was too typical and that she had siblings; otherwise, he could understand if she wanted to keep her name. As it is, changing one’s name was “no big deal.”
Juxtapositions
I am thankful for:
2. Blogging and email.
3. My short physical stature.
4. I have heat on cold days.
5. Ideas come easily to me.
But:
2. Addiction. Withdrawal when internet is not available. Shaking. It hurts when a fix is not available, or worse, I have not received any new email or comments.
3. Shortness is due to a lack of torso. Do your ribs end at your hips? I didn’t think so. There’s something to be said for proportionality.
4. There are two types of landlords in
5. The best ideas pop into my head just as I am falling asleep, then I am up all night writing.
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