an open letter to germs
Posted in Everything, Letters, Photos
chocolate red-hot shortbread cookies
I don’t cook as much as I used to, because normally when I come home at night I’m so tired I’m ready to fall over dead, but every once in awhile, I’ll have an idea for something that I want to try. And so it was with these cookies, a pretty straightforward chocolate shortbread recipe I found while I was trying to find a use for a box of unsweetened baker’s chocolate. Well, I didn’t want to use the whole box at once (that would’ve been a lot of chocolate) but I figured if I had a recipe handy, I could whip up something chocolatey from time to time as needed. Because sometimes chocolate is a necessity of life. Anyone who doesn’t believe that has obviously never had to be nice to people while inflicted with PMS. I’m just saying.
Anyway, I was lying in bed a few mornings ago and I was thinking about cookies. It’s much more pleasant to think about cookies than to think about getting up and going to work, wouldn’t you say? And I thought something like this:
That chocolate shortbread cookie recipe… that was alright, but I think it needed something. You know what would be good? Cinnamon or something. Oh! Something spicy! That would be even better! Remember in the movie Chocolat when they put pepper in chocolate? That’s totally a good idea. Remember also in that movie when Johnny Depp said something like “I’ll come by and get that squeak out of your door” and it’s INSANELY SEXY even though the line itself is not sexy at all, it’s just that Johnny Depp — why am I thinking about this? Oh, right. I think perhaps if I put cinnamon and pepper in the cookie dough, that would be a good idea. I’ll try that.
So even though I’ve been sick with some general creeping malaise since Thursday, I decided today, now that I’m feeling reasonably better but still kind of tired, that I would make some cookies. I used half the recipe that I linked above. Like so:
1 stick unsalted butter (room temperature)
1/4 c. powdered sugar
1 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1 oz. melted unsweetened chocolate
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
And then I added about a teaspoon of ground cinnamon and a couple of dashes of cayenne pepper.
Knead dough to combine ingredients evenly, roll to 1/4 of an inch thick, cut into whatever shape your heart desires, I suppose, though I just used a small drinking glass instead of a cookie cutter (I know I used to have cookie cutters, but I’ll be damned if I can find them) that was about 2 inches in diameter, and I baked them at 325 degrees F for 10 minutes. I left them to cool on the pan for an additional 5-10 minutes, which firmed them up some, and then I moved them to a wire rack.
So, the verdict –
Buttery, chocolatey goodness. The cinnamon really comes through, and just adds another note to the flavor, and the cayenne pepper is barely detectable (if I make these again — and I will — I think I’ll actually measure the cayenne; I think a little extra dash wouldn’t hurt, though it’s a delicate balance because I want the cookies to be chocolate with a kick, and not the other way around), but there’s a slight bit of heat at first bite and again at the finish. Maybe they’re perfect as-is. Though I guess it wouldn’t kill me to measure.
There you go. They’re at least as delicious as an innuendo-spouting Johnny Depp.
Posted in Everything, Food, Photos
the stuff nightmares are made of
My first reaction upon looking at this photo was to laugh uncontrollably. After that, I thought “That’s kind of terrifying. I look sort of… insane, and perhaps also like I’m about to kill someone and subsequently enjoy the hell out of said killing.” (Maybe that’s not an exact quotation of the thought that went through my brain, but close enough.) And then I thought “I’m uploading it!”
So that’s done, then.
This is the part where I become even less convinced that blogging these 365s is a good idea.
Posted in Everything, Photos
so. it’s tuesday.
I am perfectly aware of the fact that I’m not that great at blogging lately. I had this idea that maybe I should’ve had about three weeks ago, which was that perhaps since I am already doing this photo a day thing, I could also blog the photos and write something to go along with them. I’m not convinced that this isn’t a terrible idea, and maybe I’ll change my mind later, but for now, I figure I’ll go with it.
So, hi. Here’s a quick rundown of things that have happened since I have been not blogging and not posting my photos here, as a means of catching up:
I went to work a lot, so that’s one thing. I’m making a blanket and it’s purple and it’s awesome. I got into a fight with some ice and beat it with a hammer and then spent the entire next day trying to figure out why I was sore. I went to work a lot. I went to Missy’s birthday party, which was an interesting evening of mostly adults and a few of the children belonging to those adults. While there, a little kid said to me, “My eyes are blue! Yours are BLACK!” Well, little kid, my eyes are not black, but I guess they’re close enough. They’re pretty dark, I guess. Or maybe she was commenting on my ever-present under-eye circles which sometimes make me look like someone punched me in the face. One or the other. I got an email containing a link to a video in which Jennifer Love Hewitt talks about bedazzling her hoo-hah (er, “precious lady”) with Swarovski crystals, because that’s the kind of email I get and I bet you’re jealous. I met my brother for the very first time (perhaps more about that some other day, like when I meet my brother for the very second time). Also, I went to work a lot.
Now that we’re all caught up to the present, I’ll kick off writing about today by mentioning that I went to work. Then I went to lunch and there was some terribly attractive guy at the restaurant where I was, and maybe I kept checking him out while pretending to be engrossed in the book I had with me, though it’s kind of hard to pretend to be engrossed in a textbook, but anyway, I was so impressed with how good looking he was and I didn’t know if there was anything in the world that could possibly break the spell I was under. Then he took a phone call, and it turned out that when he talked, he sounded exactly — I mean exactly — like Kermit the Frog. As much as I like Kermit the Frog (because what’s not to like?) I couldn’t imagine having a conversation with this fellow while keeping a straight face, or at least not while asking “No, but could you sing ‘It’s Not Easy Being Green’ please?” at least once every five minutes. And there it is: Kermit voice — not a turn on.
To bring things back to today’s photo, back when I lived in Venice, I was amused by a few of the vaporetti that had weird sayings on the sides. My favorite had to do with Pasternak and borscht and the whereabouts of the letter H, but a close second was “My sweetheart, you are a mystery, so I like you.” (Not “I love you,” no. “I like you.”)
I sort of feel that way about my hair.
Posted in Everything, Photos
thy eternal summer shall not fade
So, Caryn, who is a source of information about things that I never would’ve even thought about imagining, shared a link with me the other day about a product. I believe my first reaction to seeing this product was to say, “Oh my god.” Do you want to know what it is? I’ll tell you: it’s labia dye! Yes. Labia dye. I wonder if you can use labia dye and Betty dye at the same time. Huh.
Anyway. At first I thought that I didn’t really have anything to say about this, because, of course, someone invented labia dye. Of course. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that, what the hell? Someone invented labia dye. And… WHY?
Well, friends. It turns out that there are four shades of labia dye — Marilyn, Bettie, Ginger, and Audr[e]y (they can’t seem to decide on the site whether there’s an e in Audrey or not) — and each shade is a little darker than the last, with Marilyn being the lightest shade and Audr[e]y being the darkest shade. And… I don’t know. Let’s take some information from the site and see what we learn.
My New Pink Button ™ is a temporary dye to restore the youthful pink color back to your labia.
Right.
There is no other product like it.
I believe that’s true.
This patent pending formula was designed by a female certified Paramedical Esthetician after she discovered her own genital color loss.
Oh. I know it’s difficult, but let’s ignore the fact that “patent pending” should be hyphenated. So, okay. This lady, this Paramedical Esthetician* (do I have to keep capitalizing that? I say no) was examining her lady parts and said “Egads! My labia have lost their youthful glow!” (Maybe that’s not an exact quotation, but it’s sort of like one of those dramatic reenactments, except in an entirely text-based form.) So my first question is, how much time do you have to devote to examining your lady parts to notice any changes in shade?
While looking online for a solution she discovered thousands of other women asking the same questions regarding their color loss.
THOUSANDS. She discovered THOUSANDS. THOUSANDS OF WOMEN have been staring helplessly at their labia, bemoaning the fade of the pink. Really.
After countless searches revealing no solution available and a discussion with her own gynecologist she decided to create her own.
Whoever wrote this copy should look into the use of commas. But back to the point. Since Google didn’t reveal any solution to the horrible tragedy that is labia color fade, this bold paramedical esthetician took matters into her own hands (heh heheheh heh) and invented labia dye! She’s like a labia superhero!
Now there is a solution!
Oh thank goodness.
Okay, then, now it’s clear why someone invented labia dye. It’s because she was distressed about the fading color of her own labia and saw that THOUSANDS OF WOMEN were crying out in agony and despair for something to restore their youthful labial blush and she came to the rescue! Someone needs to nominate this woman for a Nobel Prize already.
But wait. I have a few issues with this product. Let me explain them to you now.
Issue #1: What?
Okay, so who the hell is all up in their own business, staring at it enough to notice changes in color? Do they do the old mirror-between-the-thighs trick every morning and then note on a spreadsheet how pink it is? Are they getting complaints from sex partners? Something along the lines of, “I’m sorry, I just can’t deal with your old, faded lady bits. We have to break up.”
I mean, really? How much attention is one supposed to pay to the color of one’s labia? Isn’t everything okay as long as nothing turns black and falls off?
Issue #2: Why?
Okay, seriously. I think all women have a friend or two with whom they can talk about anything (ANYTHING) because with those friends, there’s no such thing as TMI. I think this is a good thing, because sometimes you just need to tell someone that you have cramps and your boobs hurt and you just ate an entire pint of chocolate ice cream and everything is making you cry. Or that you somehow sliced open your armpit when you were shaving. Or that you have a urinary tract infection and you’re afraid that the people you work with are going to start thinking you have a drug habit because you keep disappearing into the bathroom every 15-30 minutes, because you always feel like you’re about to pee your pants but then when you do go, it’s like, two drops, and you just want to yell “WHY IS MY BODY TORTURING ME?”
Sometimes you need to share, is what I’m saying. But in all that sharing, I’ve never once had a conversation about the color of my labia, or anyone else’s labia, for that matter. It’s just… not really something that comes up for discussion. I believe the reason for this is because it’s not an issue. I mean, really? Listen. Women have enough body anxiety as it is, and whether or not this is an entirely stupid phenomenon is probably another discussion for another day, but the point is, let’s not add to the list of things to worry about, okay? On top of everything else, I don’t need to concern myself with wondering whether or not my labia are pink enough. I just don’t.
Issue #3: How?
I find that the website is less than forthcoming with information. From the FAQ:
Q. “Where do I put it exactly”?
A. Please see our detailed instructions with the self-explanatory diagrams. Its easy as 1-2-3!
It’s/Its. OH MY GOD.
Anyway, I always find that instructional diagrams are less than self-explanatory. Be that as it may, I’m just imagining someone lying there (I doubt this can be done while standing) holding a diagram in one hand and a dye applicator in the other hand and sobbing because she just dyed her mattress and inner thigh Bettie Pink.
As a bonus from the FAQ:
Q. “Can you use this solution on other body parts”?
A. Yes, this can be used on the nipples and men’s genitals.
It’s nice to know that at least men aren’t left out of the dyeing of genitalia.
So, yeah. Labia dye. Who knew?
___________________________________________________________
* Have you been wondering what exactly a paramedical esthetician is? I looked it up for you.) I’m helpful that way.
be my awesome valentine
Hi, you guys. I know it seems too early to start talking about Valentine’s Day but I was just in a store yesterday and they had all kinds of Valentine’s Day decorations, and you know, stores are really the best gauge of when to start celebrating holidays. Or something. Anyway, as it’s time to start talking about Valentine’s Day, guess what? It’s time for the 4th Annual Be My Awesome Valentine Swap. I know!
What? Well, Caryn and I have been hosting a handmade valentine swap for the past three years and it’s time to do it again! Yay! Pictured above are the valentines I made last year. They were awesome. I don’t know what I’ll make this year — I’ll just see how the spirit moves me, as it were, but the point is that over the past few years, the swap has been so much fun. It’s fun to make stuff to send, and it’s fun to get handmade crafty awesomeness in the mail. I’ve gotten all kinds of things — barrettes, soap, an ornament, a tote bag, temporary tattoos and a glittery Darth Vader — the list goes on and on.
The Deal:
1. This is NOT a CD swap. It’s for handmade valentines. In our world, handmade can mean going all out with construction paper, pipe cleaners and spray-painted macaroni, or it can mean hand-altered greeting/post cards. We’re flexible. Like bendy straws, which are also very handy craft items, by the way.
2. Sign up by Saturday, January 23. You can sign up by sending an e-mail to either Jamelah (jamelah dot earle at gmail dot com — please note the change in address, and also note that if I had your info before, I no longer have it, because my old email doesn’t exist anymore) or Caryn (caryn dot stein at ymail dot com). We are partners in crime, so you don’t have to e-mail both of us. (Maybe say something like you’re signing up for the V-Day Swap in the subject line, just to be helpful.)
3. You will receive an e-mail from us by Monday, January 25 telling you who’s in your group and giving you their mailing addresses.
4. No more than 4 to a group.
5. Open to every country in the world! (If, say, you don’t want to do international shipping, then you can say so in your sign-up e-mail… but really, it’s just a card. A fabulous, wonderful card, however.)
6. Mail your valentines by Monday, February 8. This gives you plenty of time to make fabulous creations. This should also give your fabulous creations time to get to your groupies by V-Day. Except maybe if you’re mailing internationally, in which case, it’ll be, like, a President’s Day Valentine. Whee!
7. This should’ve gone up higher, next to the stuff about the valentines being handmade/hand-altered, but whatever. Hand-altered doesn’t mean that you just sign the inside of a card or the back of a postcard and call it good. Spend a little time being creative… draw hats on the people on your postcard with a Sharpie or something. I have faith that you can handle it.
8. If you don’t sign up, you’re dead to me. Yes, that is a rule.
9. Tell your friends and family! That’s a rule, too.
An additional note, wherein I lay down the law:
For the past couple of years, people have signed up and then not sent out anything, which is super lame. One year, a person seemed to have all of the “I’m going to sign up but not mail any valentines” people in their group, so they mailed stuff out and got, I think, one in return, and that’s not how it works. It’s a swap, which means exchange, which means if you’re not interested or you’re not able to send anything to anyone else, don’t sign up.
I don’t want to be mean or anything, I’m just saying, don’t be a dick. I’m sure you’re not a dick. I just have to mention it so everything is all rainbows and unicorns. I’m sure you understand.
Anyway, yay! Let’s get to swappin’! Send out those sign up emails soon, and if you have any questions, let me or Caryn know. Hurrah!
For more info, or to discuss things with fellow swappers or to show off what you made: http://www.flickr.com/groups/lit-fuse/
Posted in Everything
well, it’s 2010
Why hello there, boys and girls. How are you feeling today? Me? Oh, I’m fine. I mean, I have a raging headache, the kind where I feel like something might come bursting through my skull, but since I’ve had this headache for the past three days, I’m not going to complain about it. At least I’m not hungover. I was going to go out last night, and I would’ve, I’m sure, had some kind of story for you today, but instead what happened is that a friend of the friends I was supposed to go out with ended up being admitted to the hospital with something very serious-sounding (let’s all send good wishes to her in the hopes of quickly-restored health!) and so the friends I was going out with went to the hospital to be with the other friend, and I had a quiet evening at home with my headache. Well, it wasn’t exactly quiet. At midnight, a bunch of my charming neighbors lit fireworks and shot guns, because I live in Redneck World: Icy Tundra Version.
Anyway, here we are at the dawn of a new year. A new decade, even. (Unless you’re one of those people who argue that the new decade technically doesn’t begin until 2011, in which case, we can still be in the same old decade, and let’s not get worked up about it — though — and I don’t know, because it’s not like I’m actually doing any research on this — if we think of the Gregorian calendar from the beginning of the common era, the Anno Domini years (does it annoy anyone else when people think A.D. stands for “After Death”? Do you know anybody like that? Because I do. What do these people think the 33 years that Christ lived are called? TJY — The Jesus Years?) begin with the birth of Jesus — and yes, I know that the actual timeline of this is hazy at best — the first year of his life would’ve been the first year of our lord, and it wouldn’t have begun a year later, otherwise there’d be some kind of random gap year, I think. Like I said, I’m not doing research, but if anybody knows anything about this and/or cares to do so, feel free to correct me, as needed.)
Let me start over.
I don’t believe in making new year’s resolutions, not really. I think self-improvement is a laudable goal, but I feel that it’s a process, and not something that magically begins on a certain date. When you really think about it, outside of historical documentation purposes, a year is an arbitrary measure of time anyway, so I say let’s all just do the best we can while we’re still alive, and we can break old habits and create new ones as we need to do so. Be that as it may, I am resolute on a couple of points, though they both stem from the same thing.
I started working a little over two months ago, and it’s changed a lot of things for me. I’m okay with most of these changes, except for the fact that I feel like I’m at work all the time. I’m not actually at work all the time, and I know this, it’s just that I have this schedule that makes it so that on the days when I am working, I haven’t figured out how to have time to do anything else, because the hours I work come in a chunk that seem to take up the entire day. Because of this, for the past couple of months I’ve felt largely disconnected from myself, or from the things that make me, well, me. In short, I feel uncreative and dull. It’s making me grumpy. And I don’t want to be grumpy, so I’m at the point where I have to do something about it. That means it’s time for a project. A little over a year ago, I finished with a 365 Days project, the goal of which was to take a self-portrait every single day for a year (due to a leap year, I actually did a 366 project). I simultaneously hated and enjoyed the project, and my primary goal was to finish it. Mission accomplished. I thought this time around, I would attempt a similar, yet less rigorous project — the 52 Weeks project (one self-portrait a week for a year), but then I remembered other times I’ve attempted weekly projects and how every single time, I’ve failed at them because I forget from one week to the next, and then I go three weeks without doing anything and I think “Oh damn.” There’s another version of the project that involves taking a photo a day for a year (any subject), but it presents a similar problem, in that I tend to have a hard time focusing on things when they’re not specific. So after a bit of hemming and hawing, I have decided that it’s back to pictures of me for another year. Still not that interested in myself as a subject, but at least this way I’ll have a focused task, and I do like the idea of a daily photo, if only because it will force me into thinking creatively for at least a few minutes every day. I miss feeling like I have some sort of consistent outlet.
Of course, I’m not guaranteeing that it won’t be a series of photos like this one, in which I am nearly dead upon returning home from work, all I’m saying is that I’m going to take some pictures.
It seems counterintuitive, perhaps, to hope that committing myself to a project will give me a needed kick-in-the-ass in other areas, because where do I think all this time to do these things is coming from? But I am hoping that pushing myself toward being more creative will help me get back into a groove with some other stuff, namely, The Novel. I’m still sorta working on it, but I’ve discovered that the thing about writing a book is that no matter how much you think you know about the book when you start it, the truth is that the book will turn around and sucker punch you with its own surprises as you work on it. So, what I mean is that I done been sucker punched. A different thing seems to want to emerge from everything that I’ve already done, and trying to reconcile that with all the previously-accomplished work is… daunting. I suppose that’s a nice way of putting it. It’s kind of infuriating, actually. But there it is. I have a lot of work to do, anyway, more than I thought I did. I’ll tell you what: if you’re not crazy before you attempt to write a book, the process itself is enough to push you over the edge. Keep that in mind if you ever decide to write a novel.
So what I hope is that by proving to myself that I am not actually at work all the time and I have time to do things that I want to do, I might inspire myself somehow to wrestle control back from my wacky schedule.
Or not.
We’ll see how it goes.
Anyway, um, I’m sure that was really interesting. I’m mostly just putting it out here as a means of having written it down. I think writing things down is important.
And now I can get to the really important part, which is to say, happy 2010, you.
Posted in Everything
things i learned from this month’s cosmo
Earlier this month, I received a request from Emily Ann:
Jamelah, I have a request of you. I really really need you to do your “What I learned this month from Cosmo” on the January issue. Please see the linked reason why. Also, I will love you forever.
Well, I am not one to turn down being loved forever, so I looked at the link she helpfully provided. And… here it is. I feel that the cover of this issue has already been well taken care of, so I suppose it is up to me to write about how to have a sexy vagina.
By the way, writing the phrase, “I suppose it is up to me to write about how to have a sexy vagina” is something that gave me a moment’s pause, wherein I had to consider how it is I’ve gotten to this place in life, the place where I’m the one people turn to when they need someone to write about sexy vaginas. Considering other places in life I could be, I have to say… not bad.
But now it is time to get down to business (as it were), so here are 10 things I’ve learned from this month’s Cosmo. Let’s all be enlightened. That will be my Christmas present to you.
1. Sparkly leggings are in! I saw a pair in a store last weekend and I believe when I looked at them, I said something intelligent like “HA!” Because it was clearly a joke, right? A pair of skin-tight, sequin-covered pants (well, they’re not really pants) can’t be for real. I mean, have we slipped into some kind of David Lee Roth fashion vortex? But apparently they are for real, and though Cosmo never mentions it, 2010 is the year of styling oneself after Diamond Dave. Or something. What Cosmo does say is this: “They’re serious attention grabbers, but layer on additional shine and you’ll end up looking like the floor after a New Year’s Eve party. So limit the sequins to your legs, and balance them out with a boyish top — like an oversize tee — or a boxy blazer.” Actually, this is less Diamond Dave and more… early 90s. The leggings with the giant t-shirts. And the boxy blazers? Really? Nothing says “flattering” like a pair of skin-tight not-exactly-pants paired with something that makes you look like you’re built like a refrigerator. Next thing you know, they’re going to bring back stirrup pants. DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU.
2. Cosmo asked 100 guys on the street, and three-quarters of them (75, then) said that a mid-winter spray tan was too fake.
3. “If you mindlessly do your makeup in his line of sight, you’re missing an ideal opportunity to push his lust button.” (Lust button?) “The next time you reach for your beauty gear, use tantalizing application techniques to tease him. What tantalizing application techniques should you use? Let me tell you! Or, rather, let me just quote directly from the source:
Lipstick
Part your lips slightly so that your mouth is open and relaxed (guys are into that), then sensually trace the shape of your lips with the tube. One coat is all you’ll need.Mascara
Swipe the wand dramatically through your lashes a few times (resist layering too much). Channel Marilyn Monroe, and flutter them a bit before you look up at him.Powder
Turn away from him, and hold up a compact that has a built-in mirror. Sweep on powder, and then “accidentally” catch his eye in the mirror as you flash a sexy smile.
Okay, let’s talk about this for a minute. In what context is this happening? When you’re getting ready in the morning or getting ready to go out? Okay, maybe. But if you’re out and you notice some dude checking you out, is that ever the time to put on mascara? Also, how do you dramatically sweep a mascara wand through your lashes? I mean, I know how to put on mascara, but I don’t know how to DRAMATICALLY put on mascara. I think if I tried I might accidentally stab myself in the eye. Just a guess.
4. I’m pretty sure I learned this from Cosmo already, but I guess we can’t learn too many times that men’s favorite sex position is girl-on-top. Right? Can’t learn that too many times? Something? I don’t know. I told you, though: Cosmo repeats itself a lot. In this way, the magazine is much like that one person at parties and other social gatherings. You know the one. The person who nobody wants to talk to, because if you get stuck talking to that person, you’re going to have to hear some FASCINATING story about something, but you’ve already heard this FASCINATING story at least a million times, and this person just won’t get new material, and then you accidentally say hi and then you’re stuck over by the guacamole for an hour listening to this person go on and on and you’re like “DUDE, I KNOW” and it doesn’t matter, and then you keep trying to make eye contact with your friends so that you can get one of them to rescue you, but your friends are smarter than you are and they’re not coming over, because they know that if they come over, they’re going to get trapped too, so you make the best of it by eating the guacamole (it is pretty good guacamole, at least) and then you accidentally drop a blob of it down your shirt, but it’s not really an accident, because now you are finally free, even if it’s just to run to the bathroom to get mashed avocados out of your bra. And then for the rest of the night you’re known as Guacamole Tits. AGAIN.
5. Okay, there’s this article/list called “50 Fun Ways to Fire Up Your Love” such as, “Write reminders in his BlackBerry calendar on the sly, like ‘Ravage Sarah tonight.’” (Jamelah Note: And then ask “WHO THE HELL IS SARAH?!?” Because I’m sure that would ALSO be fun.)
6. “Fun, Fearless Way to Meet a Guy: Target a hot guy in headphones at your gym or while riding the bus, and get close enough that you can overhear his iPod. Tap him on the shoulder and gush that you looove the song he’s listening to so much and you need to know who sings it… then ask if he has any other cool music picks he’d recommend.” Really? Because I think that even though some people listen to music on headphones loudly enough for other people to hear it while not standing too close (and those people will be deaf someday), the majority of people don’t do that, right? I don’t know, maybe not, but I think I’m correct. So anyway, my point is, how close do you have to stand to some dude at the gym to hear what he’s listening to, and, um, what are you supposed to do? Jump on the treadmill behind him? And then when you tap him on the shoulder, before getting to the part about how much you love the song he’s listening to, say “Don’t be alarmed”?
7. Make your own nude! Oooh! Paper dolls! What am I talking about? I’ll show you:
So you cut out one of those celebrity heads, and the choices are staggering. Why, there’s Brad Pitt, making his best “I have really bad gas” face! And pasty, pasty Robert Pattinson! And there’s John Mayer, and… okay, we need a close-up of John Mayer for this:
The squareness of his head, combined with the paper doll flaps… well, those flaps could look like bolts, couldn’t they? And you know who has a really square head and bolts? Frankenstein. SEXY.
Anyway, you take one of those paper doll heads and you stick it on this:
And there you go. You get your very own Frankenstein naked picture! Yay! (By the way, the caption on that photo with the conveniently-placed towel? “Ding-dong! Did someone order a package?” HA. Ha. Ahem.
8. “Hold your shoulder: A man who touches you here is attracted to you. The way the shoulder fills his palm is reminiscent of the shape and feeling of a breast.” For real? Oh god.
9. The #1 new sexy wardrobe essential? A jumpsuit. STFU, Cosmo.
10. Okay, the vagina thing. On the cover, it says “Get a healthy, sexy vagina,” and you know, in that GFY post I linked way up near the beginning of this post, Jessica summed it up pretty well: “[A]ccording to this cover, now I have to get a sexy VAGINA? Are you SERIOUS? SERIOUSLY, COSMO, ARE YOU SERIOUS? Worrying that your vagina is not sufficiently sexy is like being concerned that your ear drums are flabby: IT IS RIDICULOUS. Don’t we have enough to worry about — unemployment, teen pregnancy, insufficiently voluminous hair, and the possible resurgence of clogs — without being told we need to be sitting around wondering if our vagina looks frumpy? STOP THE MOTHERF’ING MADNESS. EVERYONE’S VAGINA IS FINE. WORRY ABOUT THE CLOGS.”
But wait a second. When you get to the article itself, it is called, “Everything You Need to Know About Your Vagina” and it doesn’t really have anything at all to do with how to make a vagina sexy. Like, it doesn’t say to dress it up in a feather boa or anything like that. Although maybe that thought just cracked me the hell up, because CAN YOU IMAGINE? Anyway, I suppose that if there are any suggestions on sexing up, er, sexy-ing up your vagina, it would be the suggestion on doing Kegels (though the article never actually uses the word “Kegels” it’s talking about Kegels, okay?), and also it mentions this: “THE HAIR AROUND IT ISN’T NECESSARY Back in caveman times, pubes shielded the vagina from bacteria and trapped odor to attract men. Today, we have clothes to protect us. And as for attracting a guy with your hairy crotch, the opposite may be true: Some guys are turned on by seeing a woman’s bare V.” So there’s that. I’m not really sure what this means for the makers of pube dye, however. Though of course, attracting someone and being at the point where he’s turned on by the fact that yes, you got a Brazilian are two different things. I mean, you don’t walk around pantsless so that dudes can see whether or not you waxed (and therefore have a sexy vagina), right? Right? I mean… okay, I’m nitpicking, but really.
Anyway, the main thing I learned from this article, which I will share with you now, is the following: “Usually, the walls of the vagina lie compressed against each other. But when they need to open — to accommodate a tampon or penis — the sides separate and widen, kind of like the way an umbrella opens or a pleated skirt unfolds.” You guys! An umbrella! Is that funny to anyone other than me?
Right-o. There’s some Cosmo-learnin’ for you. Happy Holidays.
Posted in Cosmo, Everything
so, that happened
I guess I mentioned that I was going on a date, and now that the date is in the past, I’m supposed to mention how it went. Well, it’s a tale as old as time, really. Met up with everybody at a restaurant that was very crowded. Had a drink while we were waiting. Finally got to sit down and have some food (the food was good), and there was talking, you know, normal date conversation: strippers and whatnot. And then after dinner we went to a bar to continue hanging out and someone (not me) played a lot of Radiohead songs on the jukebox (what kind of jukebox IS this? I’m in love!) and I said “You guys! Radiohead!” a lot and that was kind of awesome, except it makes me sad when people (and maybe now I’m talking about the people I was with) aren’t familiar with Radiohead because, pardon the caps, but OH MY GOD THEY’RE SO FUCKING GOOD. And then, I don’t know, there was a liberal amount of bourbon (this is why I love liberals) and perhaps after awhile it turned out that I was oh, so very drunk, and maybe I had a conversation about how I couldn’t feel my face, and if ever there’s a time for someone else to touch your face, I suppose it’s right after you say “I can’t feel my face.” You know, because what does it matter? It’s not like you can feel it.* I’m just saying. And maybe it was pointed out to me more than once that some other dudes were checking me out, and that’s kind of awkward, right? I think so. After awhile, and I don’t know, because the timeline gets a little hazy thanks to the manufacturers of Maker’s Mark, but at some point during the evening, there was a game of darts. And I didn’t kill or maim anyone. Don’t be concerned. But I sat down at the bar to get out of the way, and wouldn’t you know that there was a guy right next to me? There was, for real. And oh my gosh, I’m so friendly, so we started talking, me and this guy sitting at the bar, and it is such a small world, you guys, because we went to the same college! What are the odds? Not at the same time, or anything, because he’s a bit younger than me, and perhaps I said “Well, now I kind of feel like Mrs. Robinson,” and he was pretty cute, I think, I mean, what do I know? I was drunk at the time. But my brain came to my rescue and told me that it was a bad idea to flirt with a random guy sitting at the bar while I happened to be on a date with someone else, so nothing happened, okay? Geez. I can’t help it that I’m irrepressibly charming. Or something. But really, it was just one of those things that could’ve happened to anybody, or at least it could’ve happened to anybody who’s a gregarious drunk. And um, we left not too long after that, and I didn’t go home because it was not a good idea for me to drive anywhere, and also it was snowing. So the dude drove us back to my friends’ house and I crashed with them (well, not with them, but in their house), and at 6 a.m., their cat knocked their Christmas tree over, or maybe it was just that at 6 a.m., they discovered that their Christmas tree had been knocked over by their cat at some point during the night. In the morning we ate a greasy hangover breakfast (mmm, hash browns) and watched the show Survivorman on TV and commented more than once on the fact that the dude on Survivorman is not ripped like the dude on Man vs. Wild, and then one of my friends drove me back to my car and I went home, hungover as all hell, and I spent part of my Sunday wishing that there was another day in the weekend. I also watched a few episodes of The Wire.
And there you have it. Pretty standard group date.
___________________________________________________________
* Back a few years ago, when I worked at this one place that… I don’t even know what the hell is going on with it anymore, there was this guy, and I think he was in his 70s at the time, so, you know, he was a total player. He used to come in and before he’d leave, he’d pause at my desk, which happened to be located near the door, and he’d kind of lean over my computer monitor and look at my boobs (and I never timed it right — I always happened to be wearing something with a V-neck on those days, dammit — and then he’d touch my face. He’d kind of… lightly caress it a little. I think we can all agree that this was sort of creepy. So maybe Captain Von Face Toucher ruined it for me, but I have a hard time not flinching when someone tries to put the moves on me in a face-touchy sort of way. Also — and this just goes to show you how weird I am — I mostly just think “I wonder if he’s washed his hands recently.” So, not romantic, anyway, is the point. But if it’s gotta happen, then I guess it’s best for it to occur during a bout of alcohol-induced numbness.
Posted in Annotated, Everything, I'm A Jerk, Single Life
why hello, pumpkins
Did you notice how I’m one of those people who, after finishing that NaBloPoMo thing, drops into blogging retirement? It’s not that I meant to retire, it’s just that I didn’t have to write a post every day. Also I didn’t have any more questions to answer, and that question thing spoiled me a little bit, I think. Also also, I didn’t really have much to write about. I mean, I’m not actually at work all the time, but I feel like I’m at work all the time, and oh, the things that happen at work! The stories I could tell! But I can’t tell you any of those stories! Sorry! I’ll just laugh about them to myself.
Anyway, I just wanted to drop by and point out the fact that I am not dead. Winter has come to Michigan, and you know, winter is a jerk. People who are all “Oooh! I LOOOOOVE snow!” don’t have to drive in it, I bet. And I also bet that their commute times don’t double just because they get hit with the Awesomeness Duo also known as snow and freezing rain. And they probably don’t have to work all day and then go outside in 9-degree weather and clean off their cars and then drive forever and ever when all they want to do is be home so they can eat some damn food already. This is my theory on people who love snow. Either that, or they’re just insane. One or the other.
Except for my dog. My dog loves snow and she is adorable.
Adorability goes a long way.
In other news, I guess I have a date tomorrow. Sort of. I mean, yeah. It’s… I’m going to meet a dude and there will be dinner and talking involved. My friend’s wife is friends with this guy and last week, she had the brilliant idea that OH MY GOD HE AND I SHOULD DATE. As far as I can tell, it’s because we’re both hilarious. (Did you know? I’M HILARIOUS.) And so tomorrow I’m going out with my friend, my friend’s wife, and aforementioned hilarious dude. I think it’s nice that my friends will be there because blind dates are like Hell, basically, and they can probably help facilitate conversation so it’s not an entire evening of “So yeah, how about those breadsticks?” and “I sure do enjoy carbs.” So pretty much I just have to brush my hair and show up and try not to be… what I’m like when things are awkward, which is:
a. taciturn, or
b. the complete opposite: overly talkative about things that are painfully nerdy and/or insanely embarrassing to the point of being irritating, so irritating that I can tell I’m being irritating but I CAN’T SHUT UP I’M SO SORRY.
And also maybe I’ll try not to wave my hands around a lot so I don’t wind up accidentally hitting anyone in the face. What? It happens sometimes.
It’s going to be great.
In case anybody wonders why I’m still single, I think I may have covered a few of the highlights in the above paragraphs.
I have about 24 hours to figure out what I’m going to wear, and also to hope that my hair would stop with whatever it’s been doing lately over there on the right, because it is… very odd. I think it’s mad about winter, too.
And that is all. Hope you’re well.
XOXO,
Jamelah
Posted in Everything, I'm A Jerk, Single Life
Categories
- Annotated
- Cosmo
- Everything
- Food
- Fun With Grandma
- I'm A Jerk
- internet-ish
- jamelah.net-ish
- Letters
- Lists
- Live
- Me me me
- Memes
- Misty Watercolor Memories
- NaBloPoMo 08
- NaBloPoMo 09
- Photos
- Politics
- Pop!
- Random Question of the Day
- Resident Nerd
- Single Life
- Things I Shouldn't Have Written About
- Video
- Wednesday Favorites












