Beach Ready... Not Exactly

Speaking of being not at all ready for the beach, as I did below, Shape Magazine has this totally adorable Hawaiian girl on the cover, and notice not only are her abs and butt cute as can be, but she has a great tan. Now, I was getting my hair cut the other day and indulging in a flood of women's magazines and I'll tell you the big word on the street is SELF-TANNING.

But all things considered, it's now becoming the top requested treatment in a lot of spas and one magazine I read had a blow-by-blow description of the many variations on how women can have others spread on the goop that turns them tan. Some places spray you with it like an Earl Scheib car job. Other joints give you long rather torturous salt and lemon exfoliating body scrubs first and then apply the stuff. It takes about 2 hours and costs everything from $25 to $300, depending on the spa.

So all those cute tan girls at the beach are using self-tanners, many not done by "self" but others and all wearing SPF 48 and underneath the paint job, they' re white as ghosts.

Our Seven Month Winter

It's not that one chilly, rainy Saturday is such a big drag, but after the lovely weather yesterday WHEN MOST OF US WERE WORKING and now when we allegedly get a break and a few days off THE WEATHER STINKS, you get a bit down about it. And it's nearly May. Honestly after this winter from hell which could be justifiably described as lasting ... let me see, I know it snowed before Halloween this year ... so from October through April ... go ahead, count it with me OCT NOV DEC JAN FEB MAR APR -- a mere SEVEN MONTHS here in lovely Boston -- well, call me crazy, but it might be nice to have a pleasant temperate Saturday every 1/2 year or so. Crikey! Is that a word?

I was looking at some fat, drab housewives picking up laundry at the dry cleaner and I was thinking, "Yep, why bother, right?" When your slogging through seven months of winter in your L.L. Bean boots or hidden away in your house, the chances of you being bikini-ready by May, well, they are slim to none.

Yes, Make Your Bed

I got a lot of email thanking me for the post I wrote about just getting up and making your bed as a place to start feeling better instead of down. Here it is again. It's funny. Now that my mom's been gone for nearly ... golly, is it 6 years? Yes, for 6 years, it seems her words of wisdom are all the more right on and more alive in my life than ever.

Walking Sunset

I don't know why I remembered this story. I guess it was because I was emailing a new friend who lives in LA near where I used to live and I remembered this tonight.

I lived in an area right above downtown LA called Silver Lake, next to Los Feliz. When we moved from 14th Street and 2nd Avenue in New York to LA and moved into this neighborhood, I thought it was amazingly tropical and beautiful and beachy ... and it was compared to New York, I guess ... but in some ways it's very urban and for most Los Angelenos is considered a rather "downtown" location -- not beach-like at all. But this was all before I really started to learn about the beaches in LA and it looked so gorgeous to me to see mountains out the window of our little place and there was a big blue reservoir right there we used to walk around at night, just dreaming of what would happen to us in LA. Anyway it was a fun and lovely time, full of opportunity, and I was always coming up with these weird adventure ideas.

My husband and I were recently married, but then I got transferred for my job out there really quickly and to make the move easier, we moved in with an old friend -- he was a cinematographer going to AFI (American Film Institute) and so we had this great apartment with me, my husband and our friend Kev. You have to know the personalities to appreciate this crazy menage a trois (which it wasn't btw), so let me take a stab at that. I'm half hyper crazy zany risk-loving in the extreme and as some folks have noted, one of the most extroverted people in the world. My husband is a counter-weigh of Asian American good sense, patience, understanding, thoughtfulness. Kev, who's a doll, is frankly a worry-wart about everything and rather downbeat about what can happen to a person in the world. Reminds me of Eyore a little. He's a terrific cinematographer, cameraman and writer too.

So I was always coming up with these brilliant ideas (okay, it's very I LOVE LUCY, I know) sans Ethel. And one night, I read in a guide book that a really excellent AUTHENTIC Mexican restaurant was on Sunset Boulevard fairly near where we lived. Of course, anyone who knows anything knows that LA is the quintessential CAR town, but Halley decided --- no, no, no -- none of these adventures would be really fun unless we WALKED instead of drove.

Of course, I managed to talk these poor guys into this expedition and off we marched on a hot night down Sunset Boulevard. If you ever go anywhere with me, you'll note that my map skills leave a lot to be desired. What was supposed to be fairly close by ... well, let's say it was about an hour and a half away. Not only that but it was hot as hell. And not only that, but it was through an area that went from fair to dangerous very quickly. I could read the message my husband and Kev shot back and forth to one another as the streets got more and more gutsy ... "Oh great, we've got this cute blond leading us down the street and those nice guys with the knives and guns might want to take her with them, but we get to save her since we're the menfolk here. Oh, shit!" Now there was much checking by both guys with me on the EXACT address of this joint. And of course, I'm not good with numbers and did that girl thing, "Don't worry, it' probably right up there." Well, it wasn't, but finally we got there.

And I don't know what the guide books definition of "authentic" Mexican food was, but this place, even I had to admit, was a total dump. A total dump I'd just dragged us through hell and heat and danger and a waste of nearly two hours to reach. There was not one white person in the joint. So, I suppose that was the "authentic" part. It was getting dark now, which made the walk BACK even more frightening for my two colleagues. We ordered some food. .

Next to us, there was a rowdy table of Mexican guys in cowboy hats and they were making a lot of noise, drinking a lot of beer and flirting with me. Both my husband and Kev were giving me dagger looks, like "do NOT talk to these guys." It was beginning to look like some bad B movie where they would have to have a fist fight to save my honor if it got any hotter.

The waitress brought us our food, which was very unappetizing and the two guys looked at me like, "Could this get any worse? Who's great idea was this?" Just as I gave one more cheerleader speech, "Hey, guys, dig in! It can't be that bad." and we sit, the three of us with forks poised mid-air, not quite ready to dig in. Suddenly, we turn and see one of the Mexican rowdy guys, who's obviously had too much beer, trying to get to the men's room past our table,. Well, he doesn't quite make it and vomits all over my huband's and Kev's shoes.

Of course, me being the blonde that way too often escapes unharmed, I was spared. And having orchestrated the disastrous evening, even I felt sorry the guy hadn't aimed for my shoes.

Well, if we weren't finding the food appetizing before, the odor of fresh vomit hardly enhanced our dining experience. There was a moment ... palpable to be sure ... when we suddenly realized, these other drunk guys were heading for us and that it was important to be totally OKAY with their friend's vomit on our shoes. And I think both my husband and Kev got up and gestured like "cool, no problem" and then we threw money down for the dinner we would never eat and got out of there fast. I was not asked to plan any more outings for a quite a while, nor did I offer.

Get Outta Here.

Go away. Just go. Yes, get lost. That's just what I like about blog posts. I wrote all this crazy shit here today and now, I can do some more posts and the other stuff goes away.

Go, shoo fly, beat it. Yes, go away, just go, get lost. Silly stuff about spanking and panties. Beat it buster. Here's your hat, what's your hurry. Sigh-o-nara. Adieu. Arrivaderci (spelling?) Cheerio. Get outta here.

Who Writes This Stuff?

I got a chance to read the copy on the Christian Thongs site a little more closely. Don't miss it!

WWJD? When faced with hard situations, sometimes you don't have the strength of will to just say "no." When the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, let these 100% cotton panties do the talking for you, "What Would Jesus Do?" These words will put a damper on a young man's ardor faster than a bedroom full of stuffed animals.

And what a perfect opening to share your Christian witness! Start with Revelations 3:20, "Behold I stand at the door and knock." Then remind your young man (or woman!) that "True Love Waits." End by asking your suitor to join you on your knees in the sinner's prayer.

Remember, all the angels in Heaven rejoice when another soul is brought to his knees!

As for "asking your suitor to join you on your knees"... seems fine to me to stand by your man in those pretty panties and for him to go down ... on his knees, I mean ... to pray, of course.

Prayer Thongs -- Halley-loo-yeah

Now I've seen everything. Thong panties with Christian messages. I want some.

Blog Spanking

I've been warned that I can not blog at work. If I blog at work I get spanked. Problem is, I kindof like getting spanked ...

Don't tell anybody!

As much as I like getting spanked, I really like doing things I'm not supposed to do.

So, don't tell anybody. Also, don't tell anybody I really wrote this earlier and I'm just posting it now, so I don't actually qualify for a spanking.

Boston Bloggers Beach Bash

Save the date. We'll convene at Woodman's on Saturday May 10 at noon, up on the North Shore for lunch and then anyone interested can retire to Crane Beach if you like. Need a ride, drop me an email.

Ray Ozzie Welcome Wagon

As the self-appointed welcome wagon lady of Blogsville, I'm thinking about going up to the North Shore to leave a "welcome back" basket for Ray on his groovy Groove doorstep. This week I have Seth Godin and Kevin Werbach visiting at Harvard Business School and a ton of things to do, but surely I could throw together a little welcome wagon basket for this great guy. Hmmmmm .... thinking. Now if I could just fill it with treats from my favorite North o'Boston hang out, Woodman's!

Thanks to Doc for the update.

My Story And I'm Sticking To It

I have this idea. My idea is that we went horribly astray in the 80's and 90's mistaking business for sex. I don't mean anything about sex businesses. I mean, we started to get off on making money even more than on plain old getting off. We were very mixed up. (Go rent Wall Street starring Michael Douglas.) We were beginning to think cash was erotic. And if you want to talk TWISTED -- and many people think talking about sex is a little twisted ... mistaking money for sex is way more twisted.

So here's the weird thing about this new decade. Everyone loses their job, everyone loses their retirement savings, everyone loses it in just about every way lately, but at least we all come back to our senses to realize ... ready ... sex is sex! I'm telling you, it's a big breakthrough for our society. We'd gotten really off track. Even people with jobs don't find them sexy anymore, because god knows you can have one today and it's gone tomorrow.

Some people feel we are awash in too much sex (I don't think so) and too much sexuality (again, I don't think so) and too much porn (with this I do agree). But it's a time of recalibrating the whole system. No, your Lexus doesn't turn me on. No, it's no turn on that you're doing a job you hate for the money. Yes, plain old you and a roll in the hay turns me on.

Show Me The ... er, Money

If you were bored like me on Easter and read the post "Come, Come" below where I wrote a long, fairly dry critique of the idiotic porn spam that defiles my Inbox on a regular basis, you'll love Bacchus' "rebuttal" here. Notice the careful crafting of the answer to stay in harmony with the Easter Bunny theme, delivering up a number of carrots as visual aids. I have now, with Stacy the Starving Bio Major, gotten quite a lesson in anatomy and stand semi-corrected in my naive assumptions.

Bacchus, thank you for so precisely educating me on this subject. I was in serious LOL mode, I can tell you. Still, I wonder if there's a viable business model in all this. Show me the money ... seems like a lot of work for some pleasure and about as much fun as having 10 guys stuffed in a phone booth. Too close for comfort if you ask me.

NYC Bloggers Dinner

Save The Date -- Looks like Doc and I are organizing a NYC Bloggers Dinner on the evening of Thursday, May 1. Details to follow. Let's hope and pray Doc is not whipping up a meal for us from his 1974 Weight Watchers Meal Cards.

Dancing Queen

I love pop music. And I love this A Teens CD which is a re-do of the ABBA tunes including "Dancing Queen". And I love dancing. And after sitting in my chair blogging for the afternoon, I just wanted everyone to know I've got Dancing Queen cranked up loud and I'm ponying.

The other day at work I overheard someone telling someone about The Frug and then demonstrating The Monkey! Christ! Get your retro dance steps straight. I nearly had to make a citizen's arrest. But instead muttered to myself "Forgive Them Father. For They Know Not What They Do."

Happy Easter All!

Come! Come!

I get the most ridiculous porno email. It starts to make no sense whatsoever. And as a writer who can write about sex fairly well, I find this stuff insulting and totally idiotic. I wish I could rewrite some of it and send it back with editorial comments. I just got one in my email that says, really, check this out.

Stacy is a starving biology student. She said the reason she would take two huge cocks inside her was because "I need the money!" What a whore, but with a DAMN fine pussy.

What the hell is this supposed to mean anyway? First of all I've known a lot of biology students. And most of them were pre-med students. So start with the fact that they are probably not starving -- I mean a lot of pre-med students are having a tough time, true, but many are well-off sons and daughters of doctors. They are NOT starving.

Your basic biology major spends a lot of time in a biology lab where, if things got really dire, there are the occasional lettuce leaves (rabbit food) to scarf down or even a mouse if you were pressed for protein. And if things really when to hell in a handbasket, you could probably swill some agar mixed with a little alcohol in a petri dish and drink that. You would feel no pain at least and the agar is reputed to sustain life, at least until the end of the semester.

So forget Stacy the starving biology student -- very implausible. And then this alleged Stacy does what ... "takes two huge cocks inside her" oh, yeah, that's easy to do. And how many biology students are quick to put "two huge cocks" inside them anyway? They know from germs. Biology students have a much more finely attuned awareness and appreciation for condoms than your ... say, Poli Sci major ... so I have to say again, "No way would Stacy the not-so-starving biology student" feel the need to put two huge cocks inside her. And what is she -- a rather greedy little biology student -- that she insists on TWO cocks. Can't she share? Isn't there another biology student who could use that 2nd cock in their little lab assignment. What's with Stacy asking for two? What else does she want, two pipettes, two beekers, two microscopes, two stools? I'd give her an "F" for teamwork.

And WHY is this alleged biologist-wannabe putting these two cocks in her vagina -- and this makes, I'm telling you, NO SENSE -- the writer tells us "I need the money!" Because she needs the money?. Who, exactly, is paying for this transaction?

Let's posit for a moment that, in fact, she is a bio major who moonlights as a common whore -- a stretch of the imagination dear readers, I know, but stay with me on this. If she were propositioning guys to fuck her with huge cocks -- why on earth would any reasonable man pay to compete with another customer's huge dick for space in Stacy's cunt? It just does not make solid economic sense. Stacy is no business major. So instead of getting two guys paying to fight over what is essentially one parking place, shouldn't she reconsider the whole scenario and take them on one at a time?

I have news for Stacy. If she thinks the "starving biology student" schtick is going to work with customers, she's wrong. At some point these guys are going to wonder about her credentials as a biologist -- she certainly is not impressive in her knowledge of the female anatomy.

And now to add insult to injury (possibly), the writer ends with this inscrutable, unsupported, highly unlikely claim, "What a whore, but with a DAMN fine pussy." Well, I can tell you right off, any biology major moonlighting as a common whore, having two guys sticking two huge cocks in her vagina all night is not going to meet the morning light with a DAMN fine pussy. And besides, she'll find she didn't get much of her bio homework done either.

Eight At One Blow

There was some story with a tailor that sewed a belt with that written on it. You see these hopeless lacunae I'm forced to live with ... the brain decays day by day. Anyway, all I meant to suggest is suddenly, finding a paucity (or is it a dearth), no .... I'll say scarcity of content here on Easter Sunday ... I decided to do a pile of postings and may do 8 or more before I'm through with you. It's a veritable Linotype machine today.

This may mean I've come down with SARS -- Sessum's Acute Ranting Syndrome -- where certain people do more than 30 posts in a single day. It's a frightening disease, except in the hands of a master like Jeneane Sessums. The rest of us untrained professionals should not attempt it.

Cowcatcher My Ass

Am I hallucinating or did it really say that Babbage invented the cowcatcher ... (see post below) ... as well as a few more important things. But I've always thought it was one of your most poorly named devices. Ask any cow. It's that pointy front piece on the head of a locomotive train which is hardly in the business of bovine benefaction, but rather should be called something like a COWPLOUGH as it's sole intent is to peel cows off the track and send them hurtling head-first anywhere but here.

About Bag and Baggage

I mentioned it below casually as the scene of the crime where I got addicted to Vanilla Diet Coke -- Denise loves the stuff and now I do too and of course everyone loves Denise because she's equal parts brainiac lawyer and total babe. Babe and Babbage I think her site should be called every now and then since she does know a lot about all things computerish and she's a babe and should be proud of it. (I'm testing your knowledge of Babbage here ... go look it up if you don't know the reference.).

Anyway, she's got an interesting post today referring to Danielle Crittenden in the LA Times talking about writing serial fiction on the web and selling a book out of it. I've actually sold one of my stories "Melting The Mint" to Penthouse after posting it to my site. Cool, eh? And like the author she mentions, there's something incredible in publishing on a Monday and getting reader feedback on a Tuesday. No writer has ever had such an interactive medium as that. In fact blogging does remind me much more of stand-up comedy in that respect than any other form of published writing.

I Guess I Could Tell You What I'm Eating

Well, I was invited to my sister's house for a big Easter dinner sit-down deal, but after a busy morning at church, and lots to do here at home, I just couldn't do it. One of the big upsides of my mom and dad both being gone now -- and maybe I sound like a rat for saying it -- is that there are no more "command performances" on holidays. And yes, I was glad to be invited, but I just have to get some stuff done around here and have been falling into that bad habit of writing stories out in long hand and need to transcribe some, not to mention do some laundry, roast a garlic chicken on 450 very hot, very fast, the way my Chinese mother-in-law taught me.

And I did tell you I would report on what I've been eating. Thing is, when my son's not here I don't eat a whole helluva lot. I'm just busy doing other things and don't think about it. So this morning before church I ate ... a can of Kirkland (Costco brand) Slim-Fast which they call something else, which is a little more watered down than the regular Chocolate Milk flavor Slim-Fast and I ate it just so I would eat something, because often I don't eat anything and suddenly notice I'm starving at 4:00. So I drank a glass of skimmed milk, drank a Kirkland Chocolate Milk Slim-Fast, drank some seltzer water, didn't eat anything, then took a Dannon Coffee Yogurt with me to church and ate that there in the back room where they'd already set up the Coffee Hour food. I came back here and ate a Bagel Sandwich I got at Dunkin Donuts -- egg, bacon, cheese on a poppyseed bagel toasted -- and an iced-coffee (decaf, milk no sugar) and I also bought but haven't eaten 2 Berry Berry Bagels. I'm not big on sweets but completely nuts for carbs. I could eat my way through a bread bakery -- you can keep the cookies, cakes, pies for the most part. I made my son an Easter Basket of no food, only toys, kites, little cars, gift card to Toys R Us. I knew all the other relatives would completely drown him in candy.

And after trying not to eat any chocolate or candy this holiday, I broke down and ate a few pieces of Cadbury Roses chocolates I brought back from London in February. Couldn't resist. Also, I am addicted (and will admit it here) to VANILLA DIET COKE and blame Denise Howell of Bag and Baggage for that, as she wrote about it last year a bunch and I got hooked on the idea, even before getting hooked on the drink.

At church I ate some cherry tomatoes and celery with dip, and Trisscuits and no wine no wafer today. Oh, yes, also ate a bunch of Garlic Matzos which I'm wild for. They make crumbs all over the place though.

I Guess I Could Just Write Something

I'm dragging my lazy ass or lazy mouse around blogsville here today looking for new and interesting stuff. What are people doing today on Easter ... what are they up to ... what are they thinking? And finding very little. So then I finally come to the connclusion that I could actually WRITE something myself if I feel there's not enough out there. But what the hell would I write?