Romance, Worship Saturday, Nov 7 2009

Where a man should spend some of his time.

Self explanatory.

I love this photo.  More here.

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Personal Jesus Saturday, Nov 7 2009

We interrupt the onslaught of self incriminating photos to bring you Johnny Cash’s reverent acoustic interpretation of Depeche Mode’s synth pop hit, Personal Jesus.

[Purge, Stiletto, purge.]

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The W – Scottsdale Friday, Nov 6 2009

Update:  Look who is in 944 magazine…

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A Very Hollywood Halloween Friday, Nov 6 2009

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What’s More Complicated than One Italian Thursday, Nov 5 2009

In your life?

Hollywood, California

Roll cursor over photo for answer.

Another story for another time.

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Beware a Certain Hotel in Arlington, VA – Part I Friday, Oct 30 2009

Let me preface this post by pointing out that I have stayed in many a hotel and this is by far the most horrible experience I’ve encountered.  Men, take note – think twice before you put your daughters, mothers, sisters, or wives in a similar dump just because you are a cheap ass mother fucker.  If they should never speak to you again, I can’t say I blame them.  Single female travelers, also take note – just don’t do it.

I fell into the latter category.  I made the unfortunate mistake of trying to save a few dollars by booking accommodations at a lower end chain because I would only be away for no more than four days and I figured I could handle a short stay in a dump of a hotel.  Also, it was ideally located in a upscale neighborhood where I could reach various destinations by foot or metro—how bad could it be?

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Destination WeHo Friday, Oct 30 2009

Driving to Los Angeles tomorrow for the annual West Hollywood Costume Carnaval where Ms. Adams and I will roam the streets among the weirdos and freaks and misfits and misanthropes and revel and roll and rock and roll and get our trick or treat on…

A lazy LA Sunday beckons a topless cruise toward Venice Beach where I’m eager to practice my love of photography and hopefully capture more freaks on film…

If I’m not visibly excited know that I am.  I’m a little tired of Phoenix (gasp!) and I’m gravitating toward the idea of moving again.  Want to get into some trouble of a glamorous sort.

Just a little.

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Vanishing Act Friday, Oct 30 2009

I’ve been psychically mauled and I’m still licking my wounds.  Story to follow.

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Leaving for Washington Sunday, Oct 18 2009

Flying out in the early a.m.  with little more than a few winter essential items stuffed in a gym bag (in other words, sexy dresses with sleeves)!  That means I’ll be sans laptop.  Have a great week!

[I wonder who will be sitting next to me, I'm almost always next to chatty people but at least they turn out interesting!]

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I Heart My New Colorist Friday, Oct 16 2009

The camera doesn’t quite pick up the depth of the color but it sure makes my arms look fat.  Sheesh.

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The Superficial Part I Thursday, Oct 15 2009

Boy #1 (who I’ll respectfully rename The Pilot at this point) dropped by for dinner last night at an hour that was pushing inappropriate.  Groceries in one hand and two bottles of vino in the other he whipped up his trademark spicy shrimp pasta dish while I sat in front of the television transfixed by burly members of a fugitive task force team as they cleaned up the mean streets of Jersey.

I was silently annoyed with The Pilot because he’d 1) come over late and I had curtailed my nibbling throughout the day 2) called from the gate just as the previous episode was reaching its climax, and 3) I’d discovered photos of his ex wife on Facebook which I found offensive.

She was fat and homely.

The thought kept pervading my mind – what if I was too hot for him?

I relayed my fear to the Old Man and he laughed.  And laughed.  And laughed and laughed.  A most hearty laugh.  I was frowning on the other end of the line.

“This is the most superficial thing I’ve heard,” he said, recovering from his fit of uncontrollable laughter.  “I love it!”

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Domme Meets Amy Winehouse Meets Vampire Thursday, Oct 15 2009

It’s going to be a very good Halloween.

Madame Whiplash can break necks from across the room.  This stunning PVC getup will hypnotically transmogrify men into their base form – worms.  Pay tribute, bitches!

Any domme worth her weight in whips must have all the necessary accoutrement such as this stunning raven tressed wig ala Amy Winehouse to lull victims into long locked lunacy.

Bite into this – my domme happens to be a vampire.  There’s no rest for the undead as Madame Whiplash eternally roams the earth and the hottest Halloween parties as a succulent blood sucking succubus!

Yes, there will be pictures.

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Looks Like Adonis, Hung Like Mandingo Tuesday, Oct 13 2009

A certain stunningly beautiful girl I know is married to a man who comes equipped with six pack abs and the type of baggage that is the stuff of wet dreams for writers of daytime drama.  He looks like Adonis, he’s hung like Mandingo, and he’s a maniac, inside and outside the sack.  She can’t let him go, even after:

• He gave her herpes.
• In the butt, too.
• And gono.
• He choked her.
• More than once.
• The IRS is on his ass for not paying.
• More than once.
• Let’s not even get into the credit cards.
• He is a cocaine addict.
• A pill addict.
• A heroin addict.
• An alcohol addict.
• A porn addict.
• A sex addict.
• And even a low carb diet addict.
• He lies.
• He steals.
• He cheats.
• He played hooky from work.
• With his ex wife who lives thousands of miles away.
• His ex wife didn’t know about the new wife.
• She does now.
• He had a job.
• He lost his job.
• He had a job.
• He lost it again.
• His house is gone too.
• Make that two houses.
• He’s homeless.
• He lives with his in-laws.
• He’s called the police.
• Twice.
• Once on the girl.
• Once on her mother.

And now, he’s just made bail.

For felonious drug possession.

The  guy is so crazy out of his mind that after getting into a tiff with his mother-in-law he called the police to her house and claimed she sold him pills.  He then proceeded to show them the “evidence.”

[Or as we call it, a stash.  Make that one very large stash].

The cops rightfully determined he was delusional and arrested him.

If she does not divorce him now then she will be stupider than the fucking moron who inadvertently incriminated himself.

[Also he called the police on the girl because she would not write him a check for more than a thousand dollars on a Thursday and he could not wait the next day when he got paid.  That clearly constitutes idiocy and 911 abuse and she is an idiot for giving him that kind of money.  That must be some really good sex.]

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Buy This Pillow, Now Sunday, Oct 11 2009

Kohl’s is having a sale and you need to buy this pillow now.  I cannot emphasize enough what a difference this had made in my life or how well I have been sleeping since I’ve purchased the Perfect Comfort Pillow.  Nor can I recall the last time I’ve had several nights of recuperative rest in a row. This is no exaggeration – I wake up feeling as if I had just slept on a cloud.  My back is no longer out of whack, there is no pain in my neck, and I can twist my head without wincing.

Basically, I will be saving a lot of money on massage therapy sessions.

Basically, the fancy goose down pillows  on my bed are worthless.

Basically, I no longer feel I got hosed paying $$$$$$$$$$ for a name brand mattress I thought turned out to be crap when it was really the pillows.

I can’t pimp out this pillow enough. If I could I would buy one for all of my friends.   Be good to yourself and grab one.

[Also it says it is for side sleepers but I pass out on my back too and it works just as good.]

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The Knife Incident Sunday, Oct 11 2009

Almost two decades ago while living in Europe my ex husband and I invited my father and his date, a redheaded anesthesiologist from Texas, over to our house for dinner.  I had just finished baking a roast in our finicky oven (I cannot recall whether it was gas or electric but it had issues) and as soon as we sat down my husband began carving the meat.

My father’s face turned a funny color, perhaps a shade similar to his date’s hair, and he asked my husband if he could see the knife.  My ex passed it to me and I passed it to the redhead who in turn passed it to my father.

Twisting and turning the nondescript knife in the light which emanated from the chandelier, my father frowned.  How did you come to get this? he asked.

I was busted. “I borrowed a few things before I moved into this house,” I said quickly.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head.  “Your mother stabbed me with this knife.”

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