Lot's Wife

What are you Promising, Ciara?

When listening to "Promise" I was thinking "sweetest love song ever."

Ciara was obviously thinking "He is so fucking hot and I am going to fuck the hell out of him."

PORN.

Flashback to 1998

I was 16 when Courtney sneered "just shut up, you're only 16" on "Awful." And I was oooh so into it.
Smashing Pumpkins and Hole were still huge, though at twilight, and Celebrity Skin a (mostly) critical and commercial success-- a fantastic collaboration between Corgan and Love. I listened to the album earlier today, and it's aged well.

A lot has changed over the past decade. Largely written off, I was surprised how giddy I was when I saw this picture taken a couple of days ago. They look good. Courtney's new album (as a real-life sober person) is supposed to come out later this year. Billy co-wrote some of it. I'm strangely hopeful.

Beauty and the Geek

Giving in to the advertising blitz was inevitable: Gawker, MySpace and Netflix tear-offs?

But I was struck, struck! with something-- two of these "geeks" from (ASHTON KUTCHER'S! OMG!) Beauty and the Geek are clearly bone-able and have no business being on such a trivial, dittly show. That I totally planned on watching weeks in advance. With excitement.

First, and most importantly (the object of my sad, sad cyberstalking), is Nate. Here's his MySpace profile. We'll come to that in a second.

Exposed! A photo montage, proof that virginal geeks were not the only ones sought to be on this show--oh no! Producers, casters (ASHTON KUTCHER??!?! OMG!!) sought out a couple of SEXYGEEKS, geeks that, in the right place, in the  the right circumstances would be getting PUHlenty of sweet ass if they so desired. And they could still talk about their StarWars Tribute Band or advanced calculus or whatever. Because the girls I watched the show with would SO HIT THIS.

And so. would. I:

Such Mystery!

Some poor soul found this gay, gay little blog yesterday after he (I'm assuming sex, but I'm assuming right) googled:

Satisfying Wife

I am so very intrigued about This Man.

Is This Man a wonderful, loving husband? Always on the search for exciting, gloriously pleasuring techniques that will keep his partner writhing and gasping for more, yes, more? Or looking for ways to meet her every emotional and (I daresay) spiritual needs? Is This Man on a quest to pave the rose-petaled road to a lifetime of marital bliss, a union of souls to become the thing of legends? When asked what makes him whole, happy to be alive, This Man doesn't have to think about the answer. "Satisfying my Wife," this man says, his voice breaking just slightly.

Or does This Man hate his life? He finds the memory of shared nuptials the greatest of frauds? Hearth and Home a world a misery? Is This Man desperate for something sexier, something younger? None of what has come to be is This Man's fault, not one little bit. It is Her! The Evil Woman! So now This Man is searching, desperate to find that one thing that makes life worth a damn. "A Satisfying Wife," he says, the look in his eyes betraying his firm voice. This Man no longer really believes in such a creature.

To both This Mans-- he of gentle spirit, and he of no soul:

You're both shit out of luck around here.

You Croon, Too?

My boyfriend Peter Sagal, rightfully, gloats/boasts about being listed as one one the "Sexiest Men Alive" on this SF Chronicle list during last week's Wait Wait (with Amy Sedaris guesting). A quick google image search provides a most darling picture of Sagal with Carl Kasell:

Peter, you are dashing.

Hugely Satisfying

Percy Walker (totally a real person, I swear it!) is genius.

I'm not sure why I felt so smug and filled with joy when I read this post on Gawker this morning. Oh Forbes. Why, why are you so very dumb?

Grrrrrrr!!

  OK we all know I LOVES me some bears. There is nothing funnier in this world. And I mean that in a "funny-mmm-mmm-good-laugh-while-we-fuck" kind of way. Two time CFDA runners up Jeffrey Costello and Robert Tagliapietra are just non-stop.

Their clothes are gorgeously not Bearish.

I just love that this HyperAmericanMasculinity thing is so played out in such the opposite way. Tongues firmly in cheek. Except for mine, which is licking my lips.

FourFour praises Chunk.

I praise RUGGED EXCESS.

Dial: Set to Swoon

Though it pained me to leave my early twenties yesterday, it was made easier thanks to the BFFs. Try to imagine, if you will, people so paralyzingly gorgeous and talented that to be around them is that strangest of potions: completely intimidating... and completely non-stop-boner-ville. If you imagined correctly, you imagined my friends.

Perhaps I love them for understanding the genius of the man. (why is he brooding so?)

Who could have guessed that heaven is a crisp, white button up?

Oh. Yes. This Video.

A few issues regarding my evaporating sanity:
1) Despite it being profoundly uncool to like Moby, I love this song. LOVES the video.
2) Apparently my taste in boys is moving from geekchic to ubergayBOI or something: I want to have sex with "PJ" in this video.
3) Debbie Harry is perfect.

OK, number three is a normal opinion. Still OK in the noggin.

The Story of My Life

if you've ever wondered what goes on behind my eyes...
it's mostly just like this: