Note to self: Do not do a long reclining pose with your arm above your head ever again. Ever.
Not there are any comfortable poses, mind you. Don’t believe me? OK, why don’t you go lie down on the couch. Go ahead, get comfy. Put one arm above your head, put your other arm wherever you want (yes, you can put it in your pants, if that’s what moves you). All set? Now, hold that same pose for 30 minutes. You can fall asleep, but just don’t move. How’s that arm feeling? (Um, the one above your head, perv.) Is it asleep? Does it tingle? But wait! There’s more! Get back into that pose and hold it for another hour. It’s OK. I’ll wait for you. *whistles while filing nails*
Oh, you poor baby. Are you a bit stiff (ahem)? Feeling a kink in your neck? Got a spasm? Yeah, now you know how I feel, and you will believe me when I tell you that there are no comfortable poses.
I meant for this to be a longer post, but I must go model. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, in addition to revisiting the importance of music while modeling, strange requests, and other odd fodder.
Not only did the Poet have a knack for seducing each and every one of the two legged dear whose curvaceous and well stacked hourglass figures managed to catch his roving eyes. The brown haired, sky blue eyed and well hung two legged dear hunter also had the downright amazing and rather annoying ability to be in the right place at exactly the right moment as well. Like the time many years ago when he attended his college roommate’s family reunion, a shindig complete with lots of pretty half dressed women, one of the best and more popular county music bands around and more than enough beer to guzzle.
Bummed out by the loud music and the milling crowd of red necks swilling booze the Poet found himself walking down one of the trails through the nearby woods. In search of some solitude when he looked up to see a vision of loveliness storming towards him who was moving so fast that the two legged dear hunter could see the orbs of her melon sized breasts bounce wildly up and down upon her chest. Clad in a pair of blue jean cutoffs and light blue ribbed tank top that appeared to be at least one size, if not two, too small for the wearer. The Poet couldn’t help but become aroused as his male sexual organ began to harden with the desire to taste the sweetness of her wetness even as he wondered what had made her so made in the first place.
Moving to the side of the trail as the Poet watched the scantily clad curvaceous and well stacked daughter of mother nature storm towards him so that she could pass without having to step off the trail. The two legged dear hunter soon realized that once again he’d managed to be in the right place at the right time. When the curvaceous goddess reached out and grabbed his arm as she ordered in a commanding voice, “Come with me.” then set off in the direction from which the Poet had been coming as she pulled the two legged dear hunter along with her like a puppy dog on a leash.
Skirting the field where the pagan rites of dancing to loud music and swilling booze continued apace the scantily clad curvaceous and well stacked goddess. Led the well hung Poet down another side trail that ended up at an old barn out of sight of the line of sight of the drunken participants of the festivities. Opening the side door which squeaked loudly in protest upon its rusty hinges the daughter of mother nature, who is the goddess of reproductive love, led the Poet inside. Where she ordered the Poet in a commanding voice dripping with feminine sexuality to follow her up the ladder on the opposite wall that led upwards into the darkness of the hidden loft. Before scrambling up the ladder like a squirrel scampering across a tree limb where she disappeared into the looming oppressive darkness. Right before the curious up turned sky blue eyes of the well hung Poet who stood there at the bottom of the ladder gazing upon her cute heart shaped and tight little ass.
Upon entering the loft which was lit up with the soft filtered sunlight beaming down from the skylight window built into the roof into what appeared to be an abandoned storeroom of some sort or other. The well hung Poet found the raven haired scantily clad daughter of mother nature waiting for him where she stood beside a single bed that looked like it hadn’t been slept in for quite some time. Who by the time the Poet stepped off the ladder had kicked off the tennis shoes she was wearing and slid her blue jean cutoffs. Off the curves of her hips and down her clean shaven long slender legs and removed both of her feet from the puddle of cottony fabric around her ankles. Then as the Poet turned around to face the lovely raven haired goddess the daughter of mother nature had already crossed her arms and was in the process of pulling off over her head the light blue ripped tank top she was wearing. So that she stood there in the soft filtered sunlight falling down through the built in skylight clad only in her matching sexy red Victoria Secrets thong panties and pushup bra. As she greeted the well hung two legged dear hunter with a come hither too smile dancing upon the soft curves of her full lips as she reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp holding her red pushup bra together.
It only took a moment for the wayward curvaceous and bosomy goddess to shake out the melon sized orbs of the milk jugs perched upon her well endowed chest. As she released her ripe breasts from the lacy cups of their prison and tossed her red Victoria Secrets pushup bra off to the side where it lay upon the bare wooden floor. For the moment out of sight and out of mind as she bent over in order to remove the matching red thong she was wearing which soon joined her bra as she stood back up to her full height in all the naked glory of the al natural womanly beauty mother nature had blessed her wayward daughter.
But that was long enough for the brown haired, sky blue eyed and well hung Poet to get the silent message reflected in the liquid pools of her deceitful eyes as he watched in silence. As the ripe orbs of the two legged incubator’s mammary glands fell down towards the bare wooden floor where they swayed gently back and forth like the milk filled teats of a jersey cow as she removed her sexy red thong. Without averting his eyes from the spectacular sight of the curvaceous and bosomy raven haired goddess who now stood naked before him. The well hung two legged dear hunter absentmindedly removed his own clothes until a few moments later he two stood naked. Before the wayward raven haired daughter of mother nature who was intent on avenging herself of her unfaithful husband’s infidelity whom she’d seen making out with one of her cousin’s deep in the woods.
Like the moon helplessly ensnared within the orbit of good ole mother earth’s sphere of influence as it travels across the night sky. The well hung Poet found himself drawn into the outstretched arms of the scorned raven haired daughter of mother nature whose heart, mind and soul burned with anger and vengeance. Who drew the naked well hung two legged dear hunter down onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs as they playfully wrestled each other for dominance. Which the curvaceous and bosomy daughter of mother nature won hands down when she found herself sitting atop the Poet whom she’d managed to pin beneath her like a preying mantis in a display case. With the entire length of the two legged impregnator’s male sexual organ buried within the welcoming warmth of the love canal nestled between her legs. As she sat astride his bow-flex crafted and well hung body in the exact same unladylike manner that she enjoyed riding her father in laws expensive thoroughbred stallions.
Throughly enjoying being boffed by one of mother nature’s curvaceous and full bosomed creations. The Poet watched as the milk jugs of his unexpected sex partner bounced up and down like twin bowels of jell-o as she impaled herself upon the pole of his male sexual organ. In an attempt to ride out the storm of anger howling within her heart and mind as she sought vengeance upon her unfaithful spouse. (Who even now was in the woods boffing one of her cousins whom she’d never even suspected of being a rival for the sexual attentions of the father of her children.) By willingly acting as a sperm receptacle and perhaps baby incubator for the fertile seed of one of her unfaithful husband’s financial and sexual competitors. Unaware that she was sliding up and down the pole of a being who had the ability to not only read her mind but could make her become his willing sex slave. At any moment in time that he chose to do so as well as had the ability to consume the sweet essence of her inner being- her so called immortal feminine soul. In order to recharge the powers over the bodies, minds and souls of the individual members of the feminine gender; bestowed upon him by mother nature herself who as the creator of the entire human race in all of the splendor of its diversity is also the goddess of reproductive love.
Using his telepathic powers the Poet reached into the naked daughter of mother nature’s mind and stimulated the sexual pleasure nodes located within her brain. Intentionally holding back his own orgasm as he deliberately helped the troubled goddess to achieve the orgasm she so desperately wanted to experience at that very moment. Who responded by closing her eyes as she threw back her head and cried out ecstatically into the air as her loins climaxed again and again. Only to collapse a few moments later throughly exhausted and drained of the energy fueling the storm of emotions warring with each other inside her heart and mind until peace reigned at last.
Catching the naked daughter of mother nature within his arms the Poet quickly turned over and trapped his willing captive beneath his muscular bow-flex crafted body. As he intentionally took full advantage of her momentary weakness to pin her curvy backside to the mattress of the single bed upon which they were lying. Like a lovely butterfly in a display case as the well hung Poet allowed himself to cut loose in a flurry of motion as he humped the ever living daylights out of the wayward daughter of mother nature. Who continued to cry out in ecstasy as she writhed beneath the Poet’s well hung body as the two legged dear hunter took his latest willing victim to heights of sexual ecstasy till then unknown as she climaxed again and again and then some more. Until at last the Poet allowed himself to cum as the shaft of his manhood leaped for joy within her hot and wet pussy. As his little head deposited the tadpole which would win the race to impregnate the ovum that would develop within the daughter of mother nature’s womb to become another individual of his race of two legged dear hunters. A punishment that would fit her wayward and unfaithful husband’s many acts of infidelity by forcing him to unknowingly raise, care for and support the child of one of his male financial and sexual competitor’s as his very own.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of her multiple orgasm the curvaceous and bosomy daughter of mother nature fell into a deep sleep within the two legged dear hunters arms. Satisfied that she’d gotten the vengeance against the wayward biological father of her children only to awaken a short time later alone upon the bed within the hidden room of the loft of the long ago abandoned barn. Hurriedly the raven haired daughter of mother nature pulled on her clothes and fled the scene of the crime of her own sexual infidelity. Without noticing that the intimate garment of the red Victoria Secrets thong that matched her push up bra was missing; as she set out upon her new life as the chosen mother of a new member of the race of two legged dear hunter’s gestating within her womb at that very moment.
I played dead out of embarrassment. Although, what I would’ve REALLY liked to do was : walk up to the window in..um..my ’state’ and look the ogling perv IN THE EYE. And smile.
I’m SO inspired by Skins. Maybe it’s a good thing that the season’s over.
Nick Hornby is one of my favourite authors. That’s mostly due to his 2005 novel A Long Way Down, which should be compulsory reading for everyone who’s ever considered suicide, even as the remotest of all possible possibilities. And his other books aren’t too shabby either. (With the exception of Fever Pitch, which is non-fiction anyway and of which I never managed to read more than two pages. Football… what more need I say?)
Now: Juliet, Naked.
The story revolves around three characters: Duncan, a teacher in his early forties obsessed with Tucker Crowe, an 80’s singer/songwriter; Annie, Duncan’s girlfriend of fifteen years; and finally Tucker Crowe himself, now no longer a musician but a recluse and father of five. Fairly in the beginning of the book we realize that Duncan knows more about Tucker than is good for him and that, mostly because of the Tucker issue, his relationship with Annie had a definite expiry date. I’m not spoiling much when I say that the two will break up fairly early in the book and that Annie will get to know Tucker Crowe. And that’s all I’ll say about the plot, for despite all the criticism that I’ll heap upon the book in just a minute, it’s still a very good book and you might do well to consider giving it a read.
Now. If Juliet, Naked is such a jolly good read, why do I speak of criticism?
For one thing, because of bad marketing. Just like Shyamalan’s The Village got sold as an all-out horror movie (which it isn’t), this book gets sold as … ehm… something that it is not. Okay, maybe I’m being a bit too hard on Hornby and the marketing department of Penguin/Viking here. I thought, from the jacket text, that the book would be about Tucker and Annie, not necessarily in a romantic sense, but in a talking-with-each-other sense. And it is, but only on the last hundred pages or so. Before that, it’s mostly either Annie or Duncan or Tucker sitting in a corner and being miserable. Erm… I’m being unfair again, they’re not miserable, which seems to me to imply postmodern yack about how incomprehensible and unfair the world is. The protagonists are sarcastic, doubtful, often witty as they wonder about their lives and where they would be today if things had gone a little differently for them.
This is not a bad thing, per se. If I could change only one thing about the book I would tone Annie’s incessant whining about her state of childlessness down a bit. That’s about it.
If I could change two things I’d have her meet Tucker sooner. Because Tucker is the most fun character in the book, but he needs a conversational counterpart to realise his true potential for awesomeness. The clashing of rock-star and museum curator, of British middle-class and American wash-out, that’s where the book gets really brilliant. And there’s not enough of that.
I read Juliet, Naked in two sittings and after finishing the first at page 154 I wasn’t sure if I liked the book. Then I read the second part and I loved it. That’s just a warning. Give it some time.
One review I read basically said that the book was okay, only Tucker wasn’t a very interesting character and why didn’t Nick Hornby try to be a bit more mysterious and twisty. I think that woman needs her head examined.
Lately I’m reading and hearing a lot of reviews that essentially demand that every book read like an episode of Lost. Now, twists are all good and fine in their right place. I’m sure crime fiction would be poorer if every novel told you who dunnit in the very first paragraph. (Some do, and are better for it. The attraction of rare things, I assume.) But the attraction in novels like Juliet, Naked doesn’t lie in the answer to the question of who will sleep with whom because of what. Novels like this one are beautiful because we get to examine the motivations behind what the characters do, in seeing their journey, their evolution. And that is made all the sweeter if you can see all the elements from the very start. This is not a flaw, Miss Myerson, it’s perfection.
The video comes courtesy of a faithful reader. The comments come courtesy of, well, me.
Right, so a few thoughts come to mind after having watched this video 3 times (that’s right, once just wasn’t enough). I know you’re dying to hear (read) them, so here they are:
Did anyone else notice that the place was named the “White Tail” resort? Am I the only one? I didn’t see any other colors of “tails” there.
Am I the only one who thinks the man sitting over to the side didn’t appreciate the blocked, frontal view of the preacher and moved in for a closer look?
Gives a whole new meaning to “turning the other cheek,” don’t you think?
Uh, can we have assigned seats, please?
Then, I started thinking about my own husband, a licensed, ordained minister of the Gospel (though not currently practicing). I was thinking about how fastidiouly he prepared for Sunday mornings back when he was in that line of work. I, myself, checked his neck to make sure there was no hair on the back of it (a pet peeve of mine) and did a once-over on his outfit every week. Could you imagine the prepwork we’d have to do if he were to preach in this kind of church?
Not only have I got my lovely boy back, I’m also teaching him how to properly dry and straighten my hair which is a wonderful process.
He’s never really had the chance to do this before so it’s rather like teaching a small, rather clumsy child to do it… which is a touch worrying with straighteners!
He’s doing very well though and I’m terribly proud of him. He started by whining that he couldn’t do it, but now he’ll pick up the straighteners and get to it. It’s not an easy task as I have long hair and it needs properly separating into sections etc.
Yesterday when he did it, I told him to do it naked.
This is what I had for entertainment while he did my hair.
Dem Rep. Eric Massa Calls Rahm Emanuel the “Son of the Devil’s Spawn”
Here is audio of Democrat Rep. Eric Massa saying Obama’s Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel is the “Son of the Devil’s Spawn.” He also described an encounter he had with Emanuel in the House Gym’s shower, where he said Emanuel approached him while he (Massa) was “naked as a jaybird” and started yelling at him:
“I am showering, naked as a jaybird, and here comes Rahm Emanuel, not even with a towel wrapped around his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me.”
“He is an individual who would sell his mother to get a vote. He would strap his children to the front end of a steam locomotive.”
From OpenCongress.org
before he disappears from the site, at least the bills he introduced are there for now:
Most Recent Sponsored Bills
H.R.4704To provide public safety officer disability benefits to officers disabled before the enactment of the Federal public safety officer disability…
Introduced Feb 25, 2010 10 Views
H.R.4665To designate the facility of the United States Postal Service located at 23 Genesee Street in Hornell, New York, as the “Zachary Smith Post Of…
Introduced Feb 23, 2010 19 Views
H.R.4448To direct the Secretary of the Interior to conduct a special resource study to evaluate the significance of the Newtown Battlefield located in…
Introduced Jan 19, 2010 5 Views
Before he disappears on congress.org a few of his letters from across the country today. When he’s gone at least the titles sentiment show:
DO NOT LEAVE CONGRESS!!!!!!!!! - Deshler, OH – 03/08/2010
Your Resignation - Lincoln, CA – 03/08/2010
Rescind your resignation and stick it to these thugs! - Apex, NC – 03/08/2010
Stay in the House - Kingston, MA – 03/08/2010
STAY IN YOUR SEAT - JENNINGS, LA – 03/08/2010
support - Casco, MI – 03/08/2010
Corruption in our Government - Lancaster, CA – 03/08/2010
YOUR CONSTITUENTS VOTED FOR YOU – NOT THE DEMOCRATS! - Henderson, TX – 03/08/2010
PLEASE STAY – DEMS ARE AFRAID OF YOU! - Henderson, TX – 03/08/2010
Stay In Congress - Estero, FL – 03/08/2010
Rescind Your Signature of Resignation~Send the Mobster/Gangsters in the White House a Powerful Message !! - Las Vegas, NV – 03/08/2010
Rescind Your Resignation, Please! - Oxford, NY – 03/08/2010
Rescind Your Signature of Resignation~Send the Mobster/Gangsters in the White House a Powerful Message !! - Las Vegas, NV – 03/08/2010
well-wishes from former shipmate - Merritt Island, FL – 03/08/2010
Don’t resign -we need you -switch parties & keep talking - Wesr Haven, UT – 03/08/2010
Oppose Obama’s Health Plan - Naperville, IL – 03/08/2010
Oppose Obama’s Health Plan - Corning, NY – 03/08/2010
THANK YOU for telling the truth! - Fulton, NY – 03/08/2010
Please Rescind your Resignation - Pine Island, MN – 03/08/2010
Oppose Obama’s Health Plan - Trumansburg, NY – 03/03/2010
From reviewing all of the information that I could garner, it would seem that this man is under attack, and purposely! I wonder…… if it could be from the current administration? I believe he wants the world to know just in case of ? No wonder he resigned!
I just woke up, and although I have work in a bit (I need to be dressed, teeth brushed and on the bus stop in 45 minutes, ideally), I just had to blog this dream, it’s made me feel really strange. What’s worse is that it’s the closest thing I’ve had to a nightmare, and you will all probably think it is the most hilarious dream out of all of those that I’ve blogged. Yet it’s left me with a really uneasy feeling… :S
—
I was the same age as I am now, but it was like we were back at school, and we were all in changing rooms getting changed back into our clothes after what was ostensibly a swimming lesson. I was keeping myself to myself, but in the same changing room there was a group of 3 or 4 guys from my year group at school, one of whom was R whom I used to have a massive crush on back in the day. Anyways, it was meant to be his birthday, and he was having some sort of party, and they were talking (the group of guys were all twats, essentially) and discussing how much they were going to drink, what they were going to do, who they were going to try and sleep with etc. I kept my head down and tried to get changed, but for some reason they were looking at me and asking why I was getting dressed so slowly, did I like being naked with them, I had no chance of anything happening, I should hurry up because I was keeping them all waiting. I was getting changed as quickly as I could, but when I looked up, they were all dressed and suddenly a teacher came in and informed us that if we didn’t hurry up, the last 6 people might not be able to fit on the bus as there was limited space.
After that, I remember some sort of classroom game, but only vaguely. What happened next was that my school colleagues appeared to vanish, and were swiftly replaced by the people on my careers guidance course at uni. Our tutor, Mary, came out and split us into our two practice groups (which is how we’re split up for quite a few of the activities on the course) and told us to go outside, where we’d receive details of the task we would have to prepare. We all crowded outside, a lot of people were chattering excitedly but I was feeling somewhat melancholy after my earlier experience, so I was still quiet. Outside it was a replica of my patio at home, but a lot larger in order to be able to fit 23 people sitting around the edge. Mary stood in the middle and told us that one member from each group had to be a Smurf and entertain a group of youngsters while also doing some sort of exercise instruction class. I was immediately horrified, while several members of the group laughed. Then Mary announced that she had chosen one person from each of the two groups to perform this task, while everyone else was going to role-play being the children and watch in the audience. I don’t remember who she chose from the other group, but from my group she chose me.
I was mortified, and I sat still as the group became more excitable. I wandered around the outside of the patio trying to evade the task, but the group of my friends started heckling me and told me to be a good sport and have a go. I was so uncomfortable, I didn’t want to dress as a Smurf, and I didn’t want to expose my body. I didn’t want anyone to laugh at me. Plus, it was also a ridiculously stupid activity, and would be of no value to the kids, and I don’t know why Mary would have selected people (let alone me) as normally she would let us come to a democratic decision. So this made me feel pretty upset, and as I stood in front of the group of my friends, I had to fight back tears, and I started to dance awkwardly before abruptly stopping and pleading with someone to swap with me. Mike got up and stood next to me and put his arm round me and told me it was going to be alright, that it was just a bit of fun and not to take things so personally. I felt a little better for that, but I still really didn’t want to be a Smurf. I asked if someone would please swap with me, but the group was too busy talking and laughing, or watching the other group’s Smurf, to really pay attention. Finally, my friends started paying attention to me, and I repeated the idea of swapping out of being a Smurf, since I didn’t feel up to it. My friends started going “aww” and “it’s only fun!”, but then I realised that Mike was volunteering to swap with me. I was not happy about this, because I would have liked to sit and gossip with Mike (as we usually do), but since he was the volunteer essentially saving me from a fate of wearing a nappy and being giant and blue, I let him take over and sat in the corner. Immediately, Clare put her arm around me and told me not to worry and just to relax and enjoy myself, but I felt somewhat disappointed in myself that I didn’t have the strength to perform a task I had been chosen for. I looked up and was again horrified by what I saw: Although Mike’s face was normal, he was now stripped to his underwear, grinding while my group were all heckling, laughing, whooping, trying to reach out and touch his body which was ridiculously thin, muscled and tanned to a deep bronze like that of a body builder (but slim) – in reality, I have not seen Mike naked but I am quite confident his body is not like this! I was horrified and as Clare and some of the women in the group started to grope his underwear (which seemingly fell away), I began to cry with embarrassment that I had been chosen for such a task, that I couldn’t do it, that Mike had had to save me and yet was enjoying being naked and playing the clown in front of the group (which I thought was utterly humiliating and sorta disgustingly prurient), and then I woke up.
We have all been subjected to the new (stolen) Jay Leno Show promos during the Olympics. I’d like my curling finals Palin-free, but it’s apparently not to be. Thanks to his prime-time failure, Jay has his old show back.
I’m a Letterman girl; I can’t help it-whining bugs me. Sarah Palin will appear right alongside gold-medal winners as one of Jay’s welcome back guests next week. How can this be?
David Letterman’s unfortunate joke last summer had a long shelf life. Half of the Paliban think Letterman actually raped one of the Palin girls. Why wouldn’t they? Her statement insinuated he was a pedophile.
Jay Leno, however, is in high-favor with the half-term governor. Sarah, what’s the difference between jokes about your daughter being impregnated by Alex Rodriguez and John Edwards? Do tell.
On September 2, 2008, Jay Leno joked: “Governor Palin announced over the weekend that her 17-year-old unmarried daughter is five months pregnant. Oh, boy, you thought John Edwards was in trouble before, now he’s really done it!”
WOW! Sarah is going on the air with a guy who said John Edwards impregnated her daughter who was a minor? Don’t get me wrong, John Edwards is an asshat, but knocking up a minor? Well, we’re still waiting for that tape. Dang, is this covered in the “Sarah Palin Satire Clause”?
Later he joked: “And we’re learning more and more about Governor Palin. Apparently her daughter’s name is Juno.”
Precious!
AND then …”All the Republicans are heaping praise on Governor Palin. Fred Thompson said, as an actor, he could see them making a movie about Sarah Palin and her family. Didn’t they already make that movie? I think it was called ‘Knocked Up!’”
I think Sarah owes David Letterman a fruit basket and an “I’m sorry I jumped on your case, it was working for me then.”
So many jokes from Jay Leno, but I found one I agree with: “She said at her church, Governor Palin, said she asked everyone to pray for a natural gas pipeline, which she said was God’s will. And today, God said, “Hey lady, I don’t deal with oil companies. That’s more Satan’s area.”
Yet another chapter of Hypocrisy Now! With Sarah Palin. (My apologize to Democracy NOW! With Amy Goodman)
I spend a lot of time in the car for work, and since Richmond has yet to produce a radio station that comes anywhere close to being as satisfying as my favorite station ever (and because a girl can only listen to the GLEE soundtracks so many times without going hoarse from singing along), I also spend a lot of time listening to audiobooks. And I love it…but I find that I can’t review audiobooks with the same level of detail I like to include in book reviews because I’m devoting attention to driving, and I don’t have a way to take notes, both of which are good things for the people of Richmond. Lord knows this city doesn’t need any more bad drivers.
Thus, I give you mini-reviews of what I’ve been listening to lately. You can’t go wrong with any of them.
Naked by David Sedaris
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I love David Sedaris. Naked was the first of his books I ever read, and it’s been a good six years since then, so it was about time for a re-read. As funny as Sedaris’s stories are on paper, they are infinitely better when presented in his voice, and this audio recording of my favorite Sedaris book really hammered that message home. Opening with “A Plague of Tics,’ which is easily my favorite piece in any of his works, Sedaris describes the odd compulsive behaviors that defined his childhood—licking light switches, making strange vocalizations, and rocking back and forth just a few among them—and recalls witnessing his mother and teachers imitate him during supposed parent-teacher conferences.
His first night in college, as he attempted to rock himself to sleep, his roommate assumed the bunk beds were shaking for an entirely different reason, and Sedaris just let him believe it…..because what’s weirder, really, an eighteen-year-old man masturbating at bed time, or one rocking himself to sleep?
The title essay is also a favorite, as Sedaris recounts vacationing at a nudist colony with the goal of becoming more comfortable with his body. He learns the importance of carrying a towel with him everywhere and begins to understand nudity as the great equalizer, all the while residing in a trailer with no lock. Sedaris’s sister Amy provides voices for many of the female “guest stars” in the collection, and I loved the texture and humor she added. This is one funny family.
Whether you’re a longtime Sedaris fan or you’re simply looking for an audiobook to keep you company in the car, at the gym, on your walk, or wherever, I highly recommend Sedaris and Naked.
Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen
I first heard about this book when Deborah reviewed it, and I knew it would fit right in with my obsession for memoirs about religion. I tend to be drawn to the ones about weird, unusual, or seemingly crazy religious sects, and for me, the Mennonites fall into the “unusual” category. I really didn’t know much about Mennonite culture, and I was intrigued by this memoir by a former Mennonite who defied her parents and peers, left her community, married an atheist, and became an academic.
As it turns out, Mennonite in a Little Black Dress isn’t really a book about religion, but it’s a great book nonetheless, and I found Janzen’s sarcasm, sense of humor, and candid revelations about her life very refreshing. I cracked up several times as she described spending time with her practicing Mennonite family members, navigating awkward dinner conversation with female relatives who lack boundaries and any sense of social propriety, and learning to date again after her husband left her for a man he met on gay.com. Really.
Along the way, I picked up interesting bits of information about Mennonite history, beliefs, and culture, learned about the most popular shame-based foods in Mennonite communities, and relived a few of my own embarrassing experiences as Janzen recounted similar childhood foibles. Mennonite in a Little Black Dress was a great listen, and I’d recommend it to anyone who enjoys a well-written, humorous memoir.
Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell
It’s official. Sarah Vowell is my new author crush. If I ever decide to extend the list of #pantyworthy authors (those at whom I would throw my panties out of admiration for their work. It’s purely intellectual….well, except with Joshua Ferris. But have you SEEN him? Yum.), she’ll be on it.
But I digress.
This love affair started when I finally got around to reading The Wordy Shipmates last month. I’ve always been fascinated by the Puritans, and Vowell brought them to life in a way no other writer I’ve encountered has managed to do. Several of you commented that if I liked Vowell’s books, I should check out her audio, which she reads herself, and I am so glad you did.
In Assassination Vacation, Vowell records her travels across America researching the assassinations of presidents Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley. Her oh-so-unique voice adds to the nerdiness of this endeavor (she provided the voice of Violet in the movie The Incredibles) and puts her right up there with Sedaris on the list of authors whose work is even better when read aloud. In fact, Vowell and Sedaris remind me a lot of each other, and I think it’s safe to say if you’ve enjoyed audio by one, you’ll enjoy audio by the other, even though their subject matter couldn’t be more different. Both are intellectual, witty, and have a way with well-placed snark, but where Sedaris is plumbing the depths of personality quirks and social awkwardness, Vowell turns outward to explore underappreciated bits of culture and history. And she’s less vulgar, which is a plus for those of you who would like Sedaris if he weren’t quite so dirty (which is something I don’t mind at all).
Now that I’ve enjoyed these, I’m having a major dilemma. What to listen to next? Make some recommendations and help a lady out!
I am tall and straight, arms spanning a horizon
like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man of Proportions, in the sun
with one thousand black osprey perched atop saguaros
along the rough seaside track from Bahia de Kino
north to that little Seri Indian village at Desemboque
near Isla Tiburon, every bird facing northwest to catch
mid-morning sun on their primary feathers outstretched,
the last drops of night’s cold rising off their backs
into the sere desert air, vanishing into the hard light.
I stand naked, Renaissance Man exposed to the hot wind,
sun-baked all to one tone like the earth’s tough skin
beneath the ocotillo, ironwood and palo verde,
the color of the belly of the Indian girl heavy with child
who sits upon the driftwood log and mends the nets,
strand by strand, with a patience that is natural
in such places where sea and sun and sky are all.
I perch in the sun like the fish hawk, I stand tall
as a cactus, I sit like the girl and face the sea.
The “X” page will contain more risque “stuff’ including what some may consider nudity. It will not contain explicit sexual content but the first pics consist of very revealing photographs of Lady Ga Ga and let’s just say it’s now very obvious what sexual organ she possesses. Enter the X Page with caution and be 18 or older.
So I’m currently cleansing my ears (that’s pure beauty right there) from the amount of Capital and Capitalesque music my ears have had to endure today. Whilst I love sitting on poolside, there is only so much I can take, only so much I can take, before my knees start to buckle and my arms start to shake. Sorry about that drifted off into Rise Against mode, nice bit of Faint Resemblance there for you… Yeah so for me sitting on poolside is a beautiful pastime as it’s one of those beautiful occasions where you can just chill. I mean there is nothing like it, I sit there staring blankly into the mesmerising, calm, blue water, gently swooshing into the gutter (obviously observing that nobody is mindlessly killing themselves at the same time) and my mind goes completely blank. It’s a beautiful release from the stresses of life and it gives me that rare opportunity to reflect and mull things over in my mind. Mull – what a beautiful word.
Righty, back to this furious rant about Capital! The first fault I have with this beautiful station is that they only have about 15 songs for the day. I mean I’ve probably exaggerated a bit there, it’s probably less than that. Very cleverly, in an attempt to cover this up, they just chuck in a tonne of adverts and what will be coming up later. A clever tactic when what’s coming up later is… more adverts and more talking about what’s going to be happening later. I mean it even annoyed the old woman WHO WAS SWIMMING in the pool!(No, not on the side beside the pool) You can barely hear the music when you are swimming! I can’t actually remember what my other point was… but it was very important so we shall all reflect over how important it is for a moment or two
Well that was good, wasn’t it? I still can’t remember what it was. Perhaps something to do with the crazy presenters. They are far too happy! I don’t want someone happy badgering on about stuff at me. Nightmare! Also what is it with calling their concerts, “gigs“. They are not allowed to do this because I said so! Take White Lies, I’d classify them as non-Capital material on the whole… So if I’m not gunna get hot and sweaty with some fat half-naked bloke at a White Lies concert, I’m definitely not going to at a “Neyo” or whoever James May calls himself when he’s pimping out the stage with his banging tunes, blud. In truth I’m far to chilled out and happy to rant. Tis a shame as this is something that really annoys me!
So what brings this unusual mood??? Well I suppose it comes off the back of a pleasant day. I may be exhausted but I just feel like I’m at peace with life for the time being. It will surely try to fuck things up again shortly, but I will ride this wave as long as I can. I’ve spent a pleasant few hours revising, and then I saw Beth which was lovely. I then jammed off to work to sit on poolside for almost the entire shift! Naughty! Very much against the NOP! There I think I had the realisation that life was good. So following that, I jammed off to explorers to make some pancakes. Better Together has just starting playing following a nice bit of interpol, mmm just sums up life. I think only summer would top this. So anyways the pancakes were pretty tasty and for once I had fun. I mean numbers were stretched to say the least! But either way it made me feel kinda accepted again, it’s been a long time since I felt socially at ease and even satisfied.
Being it’s the month of hearts and love and all those mushy things, I decided to treat myself with a nice leather corset. The corset came in this week. It was a nice purchase off of good old ebay. The intention was to capture myself in a still shot with a lot of attitude and little clothes. Everyone seems to look so hot in leather and lace. What about me? First of all, I hate lace. Second of all, these little breasts of mine has never been bustled in a corset before. I was quite happy with the fitting. After a few shots and awkward positions, I was able to capture this shot. It was the perfect shot after a black and white processing. What do you think?
Allegedly, Madonna has moved on from Jesus Luz onto this model. This news is all over the web including MSN.com. They say: “Poor Jesus Luz! The Brazilian model only managed to keep his place in Madonna’s heart for less than a year. The insatiable man eater is now to be seen alongside another Latin lover, the very sexy Jon Kortajarena. The singer fell for this 24 year old Spanish model during the premiere of the film by Tom Ford, “A Single Man”, in which the olive skinned hunk has a small role. Madonna certainly has taste: last December “Forbes” magazine placed Jon Kortajarena among the 8 best top models in the world! As for Jesus Luz, he has plenty to worry about. Furious that he had the audacity to announce their break up to the press himself, Madonna has vowed to ruin his career. That’s what happens when you get involved with a human praying mantis!”
Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Isaiah 55:6 NIV
God, as I bare my soul to others, may my doubts give others confidence; may my cry allow others to laugh, and my discomfort allows others to be comforted?
As I search for you and wait to hear your voice, may others hear your voice through me.
I thank you God for allowing me to be the instrument, the vessel for others to find their way. I pray that in the process I too will find my way. Amen
I have my suspicions,
really I do, however I
will refrain from accusing
any or all of the conspirators
at this time, but at another time,
I may name names without prior
consent and/or warning.
What is wrong with you people?
It’s a good thing that I’m such
a well adjusted morning person,
or there very well may have been
consequences and/or repercussions
for some or all of the guilty party or
parties.
I misspell repercussions and inconvenient
every single time.
Most of my studio work is usually done with aspiring models who advertise themselves on sites such as Purestorm or Model Mayhem. This is good in many ways as they are usually able to pose themselves and the direction is quite easy. However, I do like to challenge myself work with people who have no intention to be a model and just want some beautiful photographs of themselves.
Saturday was one of those days where I took up the challenge due to being let down by one of the ‘professional’ models from one of the aforementioned sites. I had been talking to this girl for a while and she wanted some photos to give her back some self-esteem as she has a bad self image of her body. I think the results capture something special in her and I would appreciate your comments. It’s good sometimes to be a bit of a Gok Wan and hopefully give someone a little boost with my photography
Despite the fact that most of the Dutch people don’t feel at ease the entire day – or even a bit dirty – if they don’t shower in the morning, nearly half doesn’t shower daily.
Palmolive conducted a research about the showering habits of the Dutch people, this research was executed by Goos Marketing Research.
The results concluded that the Dutch were practical minded during showers. For example for useful activities like brushing teeth (31 percent), working out ideas (younger than 65 year olds do this more often: 24 percent to 11 percent) or the cleaning of the shower (23 percent).
Another activity during the shower is singing (17 percent), listening to the radio or a CD (15 percent), or having a conversation with relatives that are present. Only a minority of 16 percent locks the doors during the shower.
A majority of the Dutch people goes to the toilet before showering. Women significantly do this more often than men. (54 percent against 41 percent).
Nonetheless, the shower is as well as a tranquil moment as a moment of irritation. The most often mentioned is a weak stream (52 percent), suddenly cold water (51 percent), a too cold stream (41 percent) or a too hot stream that can’t be adjusted (14 percent), dirt on the floor or the wall tiles (49 percent) and a cloughed up drain (38 percent).
Women are significantly more irritated about untidiness, cloughed up drain and the lack of clean towels than men.
The research by Goos Marketing Research was participated by 502 people. The results are representative on the variables: sex, age and family composition.
Six hours is a long time to sit naked in a wicker chair. It’s a long time to inhale oil paint and turpentine — especially when the old guy who’s auditing the class knocks over a jar of it, pauses, and says “Did I do that?” in a guttural Urkel with emphysema voice while toxic fumes fill the studio and our lungs.
Needless to say, we were all a bit punchy by the end of the night. And then someone busted out the tube wringer. Yes, I know what a tube wringer is for, but I also remember this really old game show called “The Liar’s Club,” where celebrity guests were given a strange object and they would make up stuff about its use. And much like “Match Game,” if they could turn it into something bawdy, they would. I clearly remember this one contraption that was in fact used to circumcise baby penises — and it looked a lot like the tube wringer. ANYWAY, the (other) cute redhead in the class asked what it was for, and I said something about circumcision, giggles ensued, and she squealed, “Ewwww!! I don’t want to touch it! I don’t know how many baby penises have been in that thing!”
After that, pretty much everything we said was followed by “that’s what she said,” and we were all giggling like a gaggle of schoolgirls.
And then today, with that whole Greg Oden thing (all show, no grow, bro) and the iPad (I’m waiting for the iPad with wings). I’m telling you, it’s just too much for a girl with a crude, juvenile sense of humor.
Well, it’s time for me to go get naked for another art class. I have a feeling that I’ll have that damn smirk on my face all night.
The feature that has outraged some of the Cambridge top brass has made the online version of ‘The Tab‘ an instant hit. The section which features skimpily clad students is called Tab Totty.
An epitome of geeky talent and spectacled bookworms has just got some taste of explicit spice. The students of the ‘one of the top education institutions in the world’ have added a new section to their monthly print and online magazine which features students (girls) in skimpy outfits and revealing bikinis.
The feature that has outraged some of the Cambridge top brass has made the online version of ‘The Tab’ an instant hit. The section which features skimpily clad students is called Tab Totty.
This month, the student who featured in a Bikini admitted that she was wary of her father’s reaction to the photo shoot, but did it because she wants to break the ‘boring’ image that Cambridge students are usually identified with.
“Cambridge used to have this preconception that you can’t be both smart and beautiful but the Tab’s kind of smashing that. It’s not like I’m naked, it’s just a bit of fun. I was worried that I’d be really nervous but it was actually really casual. No pressure,” Brittany, the student model was quoted by a news website.
[Heidi as featured on the Tab website]
Student models who appeared earlier in the section were seen wearing boxing gloves, provoking criticism that the photographs demean women. The Tab was launched in May 2009 as the university celebrated its 800th anniversary.
Its controversial section has a blonde student, Becky Adams, standing in a pink bikini and high heels, a brunette English graduate from Downing College called Heidi dressed in a kickboxer outfit, and Emmalina Thompsell, from Gonville and Caius pictured in a bikini on her college lawn.
Cambridge Student Union women’s officer Natalie Szarek has reportedly called for the editorial team to remove the photos, saying: ‘Tab Totty plays into the idea of women as sexual objects.’
bron: www.merinews.com, www.hln.be, www.dailymail.co.uk
Extraordinary contemporary artist Catherine Brooks is based in Richmond, VA and I think she is rad.
“She traveled alone.” My paintings are part of a story, a science fiction diary, rich in allegorical symbolism.
“Mirror Gaze.” They are not self portraits, but instead physical manifestation of the lives within me.
“Waiting for Epimetheus.”
At a superficial blush, I think her paintings deal with imagery and conventional styles that are popular right now in the commercial world of art: lissome nymphs interacting with the natural world, an almost photo-realistic style, like a photograph or illustration recreated with oil paints, but I feel like that is, like I said a superficial comparison. The truth is that she really finds the darkness at the heart even of the popularity of those images, and more nakedly and skillfully tells the story behind them.
“Isabel’s Secret.”
The work has authority. I suppose maybe if you were to just striaghtforwardly describe her painting next to another, similar product on Etsy or something, telling only what you literally see vis-a-vis the subject matter and depiction, it could be accidentally mistaken for one of this genre of lesser and more wanly committed artistic storytellers, trendy but sort of twee, but that is not the case for me with Brooks.
“Wanderingbel.”
Besides her obvious superiority even of strictly mechanical talent — which gives her paintings a sophisticated weight lacking in some illustrations that deal with similar subjects and imagery — for me, there is more going on thematically in her compositions.
“The Gaze.”
I feel like if you look at her work, Brooks digs much deeper, like her work is a more authentic prototype than a lighter imitation, a more complete interpretation of an older and overarching theme.
“Reverent and revered.” I am fascinated by the legends and tales that have been passed down through the rise and fall of empires and how they are weathered by oral tradition and cultural change.
“A Promise to Return.” I work with my own personal mythology to reflect ideas on love, memory, and the inexplicable human talent for anthropomorphizing the cycles of life and all its manifestations. (via)
“Isabel and the Life Web.” Adjusting to being Single and Living in Richmond is a bit of a roller coaster ride, but I’m pretty sure its more Tank Girl and less Hope Floats so it ain’t all bad. (blog)
Love Tank Girl. Sold.
“Driving Into the Sun.” To discuss commissions or wholesale orders (or just to say howdy!) please drop me a line at: Robotroadkill [!at] gmail.com. (etsy)
“Half a second,” my favorite one. I should first mention that all my analogies of life tend to be nature based, I was raised in an all female landscape business that was founded and run by my mother, for years we shared generations of stories over the tops of the flowers we cared for. Those ecosystems provided a framework and context to talk about the more complicated parts of life. That is where my imagery comes from. (interview)
Naked by David Sedaris
Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen
Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell
Being it’s the month of hearts and love and all those mushy things, I decided to treat myself with a nice leather corset. The corset came in this week. It was a nice purchase off of good old ebay. The intention was to capture myself in a still shot with a lot of attitude and little clothes. Everyone seems to look so hot in leather and lace. What about me? First of all, I hate lace. Second of all, these little breasts of mine has never been bustled in a corset before. I was quite happy with the fitting. After a few shots and awkward positions, I was able to capture this shot. It was the perfect shot after a black and white processing. What do you think?
Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Isaiah 55:6 NIV
