Tuesday, January 31, 2012

I'm Stupidly Excited for Superbowl Sunday

**dances around wildly flailing all appendages**  I'm sure you all know what a huge sports fan I am -- I may have mentioned once or twice here or on Twitter. I pretty much live for the Red Sox and Patriots, and wouldn't you know, the Patriots have made it to the Superbowl once again! (My apologies to you fans of Denver and Baltimore...um, not really.) This makes me very happy for more reasons than just Tom Brady's pretty face greeting me every time I turn around.

I have been in fucking football heaven this week with my favorite morning sports radio talk show covering every aspect of upcoming battle between the New England Patriots and (evil) New York Giants. The betting line gives the Patriots a slight edge on the spread, but on paper, the Giants look unbeatable. I've been down on the Patriots' horrible defense all year, and though they've made it to the big game, every player on that team is going to need to have a career day to take down Big Blue.

Eli Manning might be having one hell of a playoff run this year, but Tom Brady doesn't suck two weeks in a row and in the AFC Championship game, he sucked. Hard. But even at his suckiest, he still gets the job done. And I still wouldn't kick him out of bed. Even if he does wear Uggs.

You're probably wondering where the serious trash talkin' is? This is how I roll... I'm ridiculously superstitious when it comes to my sports teams. Let me tell you, trash talking is the biggest way to jinx your favorite team. Kind of like when a pitcher is tossing a no hitter -- you never mention the no hitter. And if one of the announcers even utters the words, say bye-bye to the no-no.

I find that if I go into a Superbowl (or any big game) that the Pats are playing in with a completely pessimistic attitude, they do much better. It's probably just me, but I sort of think they're trying to prove me wrong by winning. The one game I didn't go into feeling all glass-half-empty was the infamous Superbowl of 2008 -- the first meeting of the Pats and the G-Men. The Patriots came into the game virtually invincible having not lost a game all season. I was cocky as all shit going into that match-up.  The Giants had squeaked into the playoffs and there was no possible way New England could've lost that game. But they did. I was devastated. Crushed. Inconsolable.

So I will keep my trash talking to myself. I will cheer my team on wearing the same Patriots sweatshirt I wore for the last game. And maybe the same jeans, t-shirt and underwear too. I'll let Mishka the husky handle the Superbowl predictions.


Monday, January 30, 2012

Mind of a Minimalist, Heart of a Hoarder

I like watching "Hoarders" because it makes me feel like I don't have "stuff issues" - even though I do, a little bit. It's like when you watch "Intervention" and are content in the knowledge that your alcohol consumption is totally normal (if I start stashing airplane bottles in the toilet tank or downing mouthwash with the intent of catching a buzz rather than freshening my breath, feel free to call Dr. Drew). But I've always been a very sentimental person...I get attached to things and don't always let go.

 If Barbie was a hoarder  - the Dreamhouse overfloweth...

When my parents were downsizing about six years ago and moving out of the house I'd grown up in, my mom called me one day to ask if I knew anything about all of the random pieces of pine trees and scraps of paper she was finding in various pieces of pottery and pewter in her china hutch. Well of course I did - those were pieces of the our Christmas trees I'd saved when I was a little kid! It still makes me sad to see Christmas trees on the curb after the holidays but I've stopped short of trying to save them all. There were also notes to pets who had went to that big dog park in the sky. I didn't even bother telling them about the things I'd squirreled away under the built-in beds in my old bedroom - let the new owners (or their kids) scratch their heads at that collection.

In theory, I like minimalism. I like clean lines, uncluttered surfaces, and mid-century modern design. The reality is a liiiitle more complicated...  Look in my house and you'll see that Mr. Snarky and I do pretty  well when it comes to keeping things superficially clutter-free. But take a gander behind closed doors (basement, pantry, closet,  whatever - any closed door will do) and the facade is shattered: it's just a big mess up in there.

I realized when I was adding tatty t-shirts to the "bag of rags I'll use someday to clean some unforeseeable dirty object" that it might be time to just start tossing some of them in the trash. I'm not good at throwing things out or determining - with finality - that something has come to the end of it's useful life.

Not here yet, thankfully - once it goes in the trash, it stays in the trash. Almost always. OK, fine - I have gotten some really cool stuff on the curb. I ADMIT IT!

I mean, I have nail polish older than KStew, and that's not a brag. My pantry could use a massive overhaul, and while I'm at it, I might want to empty the contents of the freezer and get rid of anything unidentifiable (the fridge portion was cleaned out of necessity - top to bottom - a month or so ago during what I call "The Great Pickle Juice Disaster").

Someone had labeled this random not-my-refrigerator pic "astonishingly messy" - er, maybe I do have problems???

So while I've stopped making New Year's resolutions for the most part, I think that this will be the year that I get de-cluttered. I've been inspired by things I have seen online, in magazines, and at friend's houses... I know it won't be easy, and I'll definitely will have to change the way I accumulate things (or don't...). Like not stocking up on random items I don't need at the grocery store, only to find myself  putting them all away into my pantry like I am playing a game of high-stakes Jenga - one false move and that third can of tomatoes is going to break a toe! I don't want it to take renting a dumpster one day to come and rid my house of three tons of antiquated Twilight gear and 1,267 random mostly-full bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotions that I used a couple of times before deciding I didn't like them and stashing them away for an "emergency."

 Not my pantry but this looks familiar and will give you the general gist...

What are your decluttering tips??? Any websites or books that you found particularly motivating or inspiring? Either mail them to me so that I can add them to the other piles of paper and magazines and clippings that I have stuffed everywhere or leave them in the comments!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

My Love/Hate Affair With Shapewear

Spanx, body shapers, sausage casings, whatever you call them, I'm sure at some point in all our lives we've worn them. The things we do for fashion, am I right?

Because I'm anti-pants, I end up wearing shapewear on an almost daily basis. Sometimes I love them but for the most part... they just kind of suck.

First of all, the ads and commercials for these things are just full of shit. They always show a before and after picture of some rotund lady who suddenly becomes uber svelte and super thin just by stuffing herself into one of these girdles. Bull fucking shit.  Body shapers make me look thinner by .00000000023 pounds.

"And now I'm a size negative 2!" You're a goddamn liar, that's what you are.

Besides smoothing out the various lumps and bumps that go along with having a normal-sized body, body shapers are pretty awesome at providing a little extra insulation during the winter, which keeps me warm while I'm waiting for trains that never run on time. The downside to this is that I sweat profusely while sitting at the office and end up feeling like I've got a kiddie pool in my underwear.

Unless you're wearing these. The assless version provide a little "air-conditioning" effect.

Another benefit of wearing these things is the extra workout you get each and every time you have to go to bathroom. Ever been in a bathroom and the woman in the stall next to you sounds like she's wrestling an enraged alligator? That poor bitch is just trying to pull her extra-thinning girdle back into place. Seriously, I've broken a sweat trying pull one of those things back up.

In case you've never worn a body-shaping slip, let me give you a word of advice - don't try to put it on over your head or you're going to end up with the entire slip stuck around your tits in a bunch, effectively cutting off your circulation. And good luck trying to get it off without choking yourself. Step into the slip and go from there, trust me.

 It looks innocent until all 32 inches of it are wrapped around your neck.

My usual body-shaper are the gigantic undies that you hike up to your boobs, the idea being that it's going to slim your torso down. In theory, this is great. In actuality, the moment you sit down or take a deep breath, that thing is going to roll down to your vagina and then you're going to have to go to the bathroom for an alligator-wrestling session. Unless you're in the middle of a meeting, which is what usually happens to me. Then I end up sitting there while the boa constrictor the fabric has formed around my waist slowly squeezes me to death and only ends up making me feel chubbier.

It's exactly like this but without the penis

And yet, I still wear them. To be totally honest, as uncomfortable as they can be, I actually feel a little weird without being encased in micro-squeezing cloth. Plus, when I'm in the throes of wrestling my girdle back into place in the office bathroom, I like to mutter things like, "take that, you naughty bitch. Who's your mommy now, huh?" and moan loudly.

It really freaks the other ladies out.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Reckoner Part V [Twilight Fan Fiction]

Author's Note - 

So, I got sick again. Some awful spewing stomach virus ripped through the Myg house last week and pre-empted your usual dose of Reckoner. We all got it, me, the boys and Mr. Myg, and let me tell you, twin boys in diapers during a digestive illness is not something I EVER to experience again in my lifetime. 

I was back on the mend this week (sheesh, I am actually terrified to type that out loud) but an insane work schedule made writing time scarce, so again you've got a short update. But an update, nonetheless. I am projecting and hoping and praying that the next installment will actually be quite long, and there will only be a couple left before we're done here. Until then, hope you enjoy this.

As always, many thanks to the generous donors of Fandom Gives Back for making this story see the light of day.

Yours in sickness and in health, 

Reckoner, Part V

Heavy, cold rain fell. Fell in the cloud-shrouded dark, soaking the earth, forming pools on the surface of the road, flooding the ditches and the gutters. I remember thinking it should have been snow.

As Mercy drove, slowly and badly, and sometimes sang a few bars of something I’d never heard, I found my thoughts drifting ever so often back to that imaginary dance with the only woman I’d ever loved. For several moments I let myself fixate on her deep brown eyes, the way her hair framed her face, the feel of her against me. And then I tried to remind myself how ridiculous the whole thing was. How can you possibly love someone you’ve never met? How can you love someone you will never hope to meet? You can’t do it—it isn’t possible. It couldn’t have been love. This couldn't be real grief. It must have been some fucked up displacement of my grief for my mother. Yes, Dr. Freud would have approved of this interpretation. It had just been some bizarre fantasy I’d twisted Alice’s vision into, and it had to be over now. Whoever she was, had been, she was dead now. I had to bury the fantasy with her. But how?

As we got closer to Gray, I considered my next move. I’d see Alice and try to sort out what was going on with her, what she’d seen, and what I’d have to do to make that future disappear. But as soon as she was back to herself again, as soon as possible, I’d put Reckoner back in the water and leave. I’d sail south and just spend a year or so at sea. However long it took to get my head back together, if that was even possible. I just wanted to get far, far away from where I could do any more damage to anyone I loved.

We turned down the long driveway of the Cullen House and I balked a little as I considered what an asshole I’d been to Carlisle. I didn’t look forward to facing him again after what I’d done. But at least I could give him a proper apology. He deserved a lot more than that.

As the house came into view, we saw Alice standing in the middle of the lane, in the downpour without her penguin slicker or her boots this time. Her feet were bare. She wore a pair of Jasper’s running pants that hung off of her and an old black fleece with rug lint all over it. I almost didn’t believe it was her. A light flickered and went out in the kitchen and then Jasper came to the window and then backed away.

“Oh dear,” Mercy said, pulling the car to a stop. 

“Wait here,” I said. I got out of the car and approached Alice cautiously.

Her thoughts were garbled and fragmented, conflicted, confused feelings of agony and relief but no words I could decipher. I couldn’t tell the last time she’d bathed, but it wasn’t recent.

“This is all my fault,” she said out of nowhere, wringing her hands. Her eyes were weary, like she’d actually seen the horror of my assorted futures with them instead of in her mind.

“No, Alice,” I said. “It’s not your fault at all. It’s my fault.”

You’re going to get yourself killed and it will be my fault. My fault that I ever showed you that woman…

“This is exactly why I asked you to stop watching my future.”

I’d stop watching if you’d stop trying to get yourself killed.

“I’m not trying to get myself killed,” I said. “I just wanted—”

“Vengeance,” she said, her eyes flashing in the dark. 


We stood there facing each other. Her hair was soaked and sticking to the side of her face. She buried her head in her hands and when she did that, I couldn’t help myself. I put my arms around her and pressed her tightly to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left.”

You never even said goodbye. It’s like you don’t care what happens to the rest of us anymore. All you care about is her, and that’s my fault. 

“Alice,” I said, feeling defensive, but then I caught myself. Really, after how I’d behaved, what else could she think? 

“Just tell me,” I said. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Stay,” she said.

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t want to say no. But I really didn’t want to say yes, either.

Alice looked up at me, doubtful. The expectation of disappointment I read across her face told me she didn’t—couldn’t count on me anymore. And I didn’t want to be that guy, the one who was so self-absorbed with his own bullshit that the people in the world he loved the most couldn’t count on him. Couldn’t trust him. However much I’d fucked up in my life, especially recently, that just wasn’t who I was—who I ever wanted to become.

“Will Carlisle even take me back?” I asked.

He already has.

Over her shoulder I could see Carlisle, Jasper and Esme emerging from the house, cautiously observing us. Emmett came out next, a little befuddled, but there was a sense of relief too. Rosalie peered at us through a window upstairs. Mercy got out of the car and joined them on the porch, where Esme hugged her and thanked her for finding me, and I was immobilized there in the lane, facing a most uncharacteristically bedraggled Alice and her pessimistic eyes, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. And like the asshole’s own asshole because still, all I could think about was leaving. All I wanted was to be alone until I could figure out some way to move forward in my existence without resenting every moment I had ahead of me. But that wasn’t what I would do. I knew it not from my own thoughts, but from the small, grateful smile Alice gave me then, and the sigh of relief when she put her head back on my shoulder and hugged me.

I stood there quiet for a couple of minutes, my eyes shifting away from hers, over to the porch where my family looked worried and haggard.

“How do I get over this, Alice?” I asked. “Tell me I get over it.”

“I don’t know, Edward,” she said. “I can’t see it. But maybe that’s because you haven’t tried.”


So I tried.

I apologized to Carlisle and asked if I could come back. Of course, he welcomed me back as a Cullen without any caveat, any reprimand, any warning. None was needed, I knew the expectations well enough. My apology was accepted with hardly a comment, just an “I know you’re sorry, Edward. I’m just glad you’re home.”

I did swear to stop plotting Allston Kaine’s death, and immediately Alice’s appearance changed, not quite back to the old Alice but much improved from the depressed and half-deranged one. I swore off decree killing forever, again, and felt immediately better. Carlisle was right about that. He always had been. 

I also agreed to return to Forks with them at the first sign of trouble. Rosalie was pissed at the prospect of moving back to “the most depressing place on earth,” as far as she was concerned, but then Rosalie was pissed off most of the time anyway. 

“She’ll deal with it,” Carlisle said. “And hopefully things won’t get that far.”

The very next night, Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett and I met with Allston and his muscle in Portland at Jim’s Bar and Grill. We picked a public place for obvious reasons—nobody was likely to get their legs ripped off in a bar. We hammered out a new truce with the Kaines—one where they wouldn’t out me to my enemies in Boston and I wouldn’t go around killing their suppliers. I had a very, very hard time with this, I will admit. But I agreed to it. For Alice. For all of my family. It went more smoothly than I expected, but just as we were leaving, Allston gave one last taunt.

You can thank Mercy for this new arrangement, he thought. She paid me a special visit last night and that girl has always had a way of being persuasive.

Then he shared a vision of Mercy in his bed, as though this would rankle me with jealousy, as though Mercy hadn’t taken to the bed of more random lovers than I could ever count or name in the time I’d known her. Had the image been real it would have bothered me anyway, just because he was such an asshole. But the fact that he didn’t realize I’d know immediately that he was lying nearly made me laugh. Instead I tried to appear duly perturbed, and I must have been convincing because he smirked and then turned to Carlisle and said, “You really must bring the family over sometime soon. We’ll get Mercy to perform and make a night of it.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Carlisle said. And that's all he said.

We never did get that invitation to the Kaines, though that was fine since the following week I went into the studio with Mercy and we recorded those songs we'd worked on before I left. I have to say, that helped my mood a lot. At least it gave me something to do all day. Nothing had really changed between Mercy and me, other than I found myself completely uninterested in sleeping with her, or anyone, actually. That certainly didn’t put her out or slow her down any. She brought plenty of guests home, but instead of watching or joining like I once might have, I just went out for long walks, went to midnight showings of classic films. I spent hours in Carlisle’s library reading medical texts for the hell of it. I did anything I could do to not think about vengeance. To not think about that fantasy or that beautiful woman I'd never know.

Over the following weeks, Carlisle relaxed and Esme encouraged my newfound tranquility. Spring came and I hunted religiously every week with Emmett and Jasper, just to keep myself focused. Best of all, Alice was back to her old pixieish self, and that made the effort feel well worth it. It seemed as though maybe I was really on my way--maybe I would find a way to get over things. It certainly looked that way on the outside, and Alice was relaxed enough that I could almost believe it. But inside of me something was still wrong.

And that was my thirst.

Until next week...

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Breaking Dawn Part 1 - The Musical? WTF?

What. The. Fuck? Seriously, the exact words that flooded my work-addled brain after hearing that there was actually something called Breaking Dawn Part 1: The Musical. And leave it to Letters to Twilight to bring us such a fucking masterpiece.

If you haven't seen it, you must watch it RIGHT NOW! Put down your smartphone, let your dinner burn to a crisp, let the kids turn to prunes in their baths... just take 8:47 minutes of your life, do yourself a favor and watch this sparkly genius! DO IT!! After you do (and after you've commented here, of course!), please head on over to Letters to Twilight, read their two cents on this stunning work of art, and leave 'em a little love for the sheer brilliance!

Believe me, I was skeptical, knowing the horrific nightmares I had just thinking about what could happen to BD Part 2 with the threats of a daddy-daughter duet with Edward and what's-her-name. I even commented in my previous post about it turning into some kind of twisted Cullen family vampire-y Sound of Music.... So you can imagine my surprise to hear the The Cullen - Favorite Things song! Oh ma gawd, I nearly shit my pants. Wicked creepy. I must be a mind reader or something.

I honestly can't even begin to tell you about all the amazing talent that went into the production of this musical. But let's just say there are many, many parts that holy mother fucking fuckity fuck, nearly caused a major nose disaster involving snorting and Diet Pepsi. I want to watch it over and over again.

The only thing that would make this video better is... well... nothing. It's perfect!

Thanks to LTT for making my day. Hell, you made my week which has been nothing short of shitastic until now!

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

YouTube: Not Just for Cute Animal Videos Anymore!

Like most people, I turn to YouTube for my fix of cute animal videos. Well, I'm lazy, so I often let Cute Overload do the vetting for me. But it's recently come to my attention that there is more to YouTube than dogs denied bacon, twitchy sleeping puppies, talking cats, and rambunctious baby dwarf goats. There's even more to YouTube than Robert Pattinson porn and the eighty gazillion videos of screeching fans that never fail to catch me off guard and leave me lunging for the volume control. 

Case in point: last week, Sister Snarky sent me an email with a link saying "This is hysterical and don't you wish you would have thought of it first?"

It was actually a link to one of my all-time favorite YouTube finds, My Drunk Kitchen. If you are not familiar with the wonderfulness that is My Drunk Kitchen, it's pretty much what it sounds like: a drunk cooking show. Well, a mini drunk kitchen show. Most episodes clock in at around five minutes, and feature the ridiculously cute and witty Hannah Hart cooking...something and drinking a lot of appropriately themed cocktails, wines, and other assorted spirits. Who doesn't love a person who makes mimosas by adding an eye-dropper of orange juice to a bottle of champagne? Girl after my own heart...


Have you ever had poutine? No? If you drink, stay up too late, and wander home in the wee hours of the morning searching for the perfect bad-for-you food that sounds dirty, tastes delicious after 2 a.m., and probably absorbs its weight in alcohol, look no further.


For the record, my response to Sister Snarky's "Isn't this hysterical and don't you wish you'd thought of it first?" was "YES! aaaand kinda but not really." It's hard to be that witty when drunk, and to look that cute drunk. Many of you who have met me in person have seen me drunk. Actually, almost anyone reading this unless you are a crazy stalker following me around my local grocery store has seen me drunk either in person or in a video, since I find it nearly impossible to calm my social anxiety and face any sort of meet-up sober. And between you and me, if you ARE following me around the grocery store, the odds still aren't really in your favor that I was totally sober. I mean, you never know who you might run into at the grocery store. I believe in being prepared for any eventuality, people.

I am not a cute drunk. Oh sure, I'm generally a happy drunk, but I get the wonky eye where one of my eyes starts to get a little droopier than the other, thanks to a childhood bout of Bells palsy. There are no pictures of me at parties where it looks like both my eyes are open. Also, I tend to burn and injure myself in the kitchen a lot more than she does since I am naturally Bella-level clumsy, and adding hot things and sharp knives just ups the danger level tenfold. But if you need a quick pick me up, you are guaranteed to be cheered by watching an episode of My Drunk Kitchen. You also might have a strong desire to have a drink; plan your watching environment and stealth flask placement accordingly.  

I also need to give a HUGE round of applause to the equally cute Kristin and her "Dirty Signs" videos. I think the following says everything that needs to be said about how much I love her -

Well, that and this -

It's possible that recently I may have inappropriately merged the two and angrily signed something along the lines of "Fuck you you fucking pancake waffle!", but really, I think I probably still conveyed my general point.

And last but most certainly not least...love Star Wars? Have two hours to kill?

You're welcome, and may the Forks be with you.

Share your favorite YouTube go-tos and guilty pleasures in the comments!

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

I Hope They Have Catnip in Heaven

I know I usually write about the absolute stupidest things my brain can conjure, but I'm a little off my game right now. I had to put my best friend to sleep this past weekend. My eleven year-old cat Shakespeare became very suddenly and very seriously ill. He was actually probably sick for a while, but he was such a tough cat that he never showed any symptoms. He was my first baby and he will be very deeply missed.

Those of you with animals know they are more than just pets; they are part of the family. I've never lost anyone close to me before and I don't understand why his brush and toys are still here but he's not. I miss the strangest things about him. He loved water so I haven't taken a solo shower in over a decade. He loved the holidays. He would run to the door every time a trick-or-treater rang our doorbell. He loved the Christmas tree and was constantly covered in glitter from using the low hanging ornaments to brush his back. He would wait patiently while we opened presents on Christmas morning because he knew his turn was coming and it was going to be awesome. He had to wash his paws in his water bowl after every time he ate. Then he would move the bowl into the middle of the walkway because he not so secretly enjoyed watching me kick it over every freaking morning (and slip in the spilled water) and yell "Gawddamnmotherfuckingsonofabitch!" Almost twelve years and I never learned. He was smarter than us all.

I haven't been able to process the loss yet to form any kind of coherent sentences, so I'll just share some pictures.

Shakespeare was a better parent to my son than I'll ever be. They've been inseparable pretty much since we brought The Boy home from the hospital. 

 This is the nest he made in the middle of the living room floor from the tissue paper he dug out of my baby shower gifts. Shakespeare was the only one who ever got a pass on my OCD madness. I let him keep this chaos for a month. Anytime I even talked of cleaning it up he would throw himself of top of it protectively and give me a look that said, "I will shit somewhere you will only be able to smell but never find. You know I will."

 This is him just days before he passed, laying on BabyTK's blanket and using her doll as a pillow. He's pretending to be asleep in hopes he won't get evicted from this forbidden zone.

 I liked this cat better than just about any person I've ever met. He was a better person than most people. My spot on the couch won't ever be the same without him.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Yet Another Poon Post

Want to know what words I never want to hear when I'm at a family gathering, sipping coffee and eating ice cream? And, you know, surrounded by my family?

"So, I was reading your blog the other day and--"

This actually happened a few Saturdays ago. I probably would have been okay with it (sort of, not really) except I had recently written about my fucking vagina -on-fire issue and one family member not only read it but was about to spill the beans to the whole family. (I love you, family member, if you're reading this blog again. :) <-- See?)

Anyway, because I'm a glutton for punishment, I bring to you yet another poon post. But this time it's okay, because I'm not talking about my cock-pocket specifically.

For the most part, I'm pretty in sync with my love muffin. I get the general gist of how it's supposed to work and try to keep an eye out for things that might go wrong, like, say, having flames shoot out of it or something. I'm not a doctor but I'm pretty sure if my funhole is incinerating my panties, that's a problem. All I'll say is that I'm mostly fully aware of my lady parts.

 I call dibs on this name when I open a brothel. Just sayin'...

Then I came across this article that is apparently an excerpt from a book called What's Up Down There? Questions You'd Only Ask Your Gynecologist If She Was Your Best Friend and realized that maybe I don't know my cock-pocket as well as I thought I did. Or, well, cock-pockets in general, really.

Also, the mental image of Snarkier Than You being my gynecologist has pretty much scarred me for life.

 The stuff of goddamn nightmares...

Anyhoo, I came across some interesting facts in the article. For example:

There are 8000 nerve endings in the clitoris, dedicated exclusively to female pleasure. The penis only has 4000. 

Ha, ha, people-with-penises. We have more nerve endings than you. Now get to work stimulating them. 

Pubic hair is not just a biological accident that forces us to the waxing salon. It serves three critical functions. First, it protects the delicate vagina. Second, it serves as a reproductive billboard to alert potential mates that you are biologically (if not emotionally) prepared to procreate. And last, it's a pheromone carpet and traps the scents that lead potential mates to the promised land. So you might think twice before you shave it all off. It's there for a reason. Embrace it.

I'm not entirely sure ML will be all excited if I grow in a pheromone carpet. Personally, I prefer the "landscaped" look but hey, whatever you suits you. I hear pubic hair is coming back into style anyway.

And I can't believe I just wrote that last sentence.

 Someone's gonna need a weedwacker to find the clitoris in that thing...

Vaginas have something in common with sharks. Both contain squalene, a substance that exists in both shark livers and natural vaginal lubricant. (Cue music: "She's a maneater...")

Um, maybe I don't know my bearded clam as well as I thought as I did. I'm totally going to start singing the Jaws theme song the next time I'm doing some naked-time with ML. I'll bet that will turn him on. Or freak him out. Win-win for me, either way.

I'm ready when you are...

Yes, it's true -- your vagina can fall out. Not to belabor the sock metaphor, but it can turn inside out just like a worn out sweat sock and hang between your legs as you get older. But don't fret; this condition -- called pelvic prolapse -- can be fixed.


What the fuck does that mean, "fall out"??? Like, someone tells a funny joke and I start laughing and snorting and the next thing I know my vagina is flapping against my knees-- OH MAH GAHD, HOLY FLAMING SHITSTICKS!!!

{Scrolls back up to reread...}


Okay, so maybe there are a few things I don't know about my lady bits. And maybe you weren't aware your vagina can end up... fucking fall out. If you want to know more, read here.

And for the love of all that is hole-y, do your kegels.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Breaking Dawn II to Feature Father-Daughter Duet

According to Hollywood Life, Robert Pattinson and Mackenzie Foy will be doing a father-daughter musical duet in Breaking Dawn Part 2. Or should we call it A Star Spawn is Born? Is this a Twilight movie or a fucking episode of Toddlers and Tiaras? I'm sorry but this is sounding just a bit too hokey for me. It looks like both Rob and Mackenzie will be playing the piano -- I think I'd be ok with this scenario if she maybe just sat there and watched.

Leave that kid alone for two seconds and this is what happens!

Are they going to have Kristen Stewart dancing a tap number to the song too? I'm sure Vamp Bella would be far more capable of pulling this off than regular clumsy Bella. But I digress...

I don't give a flying firetruck how cute that little girl is, this movie does not need to turn into the vampire rendition of the Sound of Music. If any other members of the Cullen clan are involved in this number, I'm most certainly going to puke in my popcorn.

The piano scene in Twilight was sweet and sexy -- actually one of my favorite scenes of the movie. This piano scene sounds creepy and... just creepy. It's been a while since I've read Breaking Dawn so please help job my memory. Was this in the book? I don't remember it but that doesn't mean anything. My mind is like a steel sieve.

What do you think this song will be about? Is RPattz going to serenade his half-breed spawn? If he is, he's going to have really hard time finding something to rhyme with Renesmee... or maybe not.

Oh my Renesmee...
What do you say... 
Let's go into the woods today... 
And eat some eer-day. 

(Bet you didn't know I was fluent in pig latin.)

I truly hope this scene doesn't remind me of how I felt when I saw this...

*gag* *vomit*

So level with me... am I being too hard on this duet or what? How do you feel about RPattz having to share his piano spotlight with the kid? I'm still hoping it's some kind of cruel joke...

PS - Holy mother fucking shit on a stick! Breaking Dawn Part 1 DVD comes out on February 11th??? That's like right around the corner!! Oh please please please let there be some good extras on that thing!

Thursday, January 19, 2012

An Open Letter to my Friends About Chain Letters

My e-mail is out of control. Of course, it doesn't help that I have multiple accounts and can't keep up with any of them. But I digress... I try really hard to read all my e-mails and make mental notes to respond to all (-ish) of them. [If you are waiting on a response from me, please know that I will make every effort to respond to you in the next six to eight years. Give or take a few.]

The situation just gets worse when my spam filter breaks down and I have to wade through mail about penis enlargement, free Viagra, senior singles in my area (Note to sender: This is not amusing.), weight loss pills, and some unknown South African uncle who has managed to side-step apartheid, genocide, man-eating lions, and poisonous snakes to become a billionaire before his death. My inbox can be a real ego boost.

My penis is totally the right size for a woman of my build.

If that's not annoying enough, I also get the mother of all annoyances in the mail world — chain mail. It was bad enough when you would receive the random chain letter in the mail back in the day. (Not that I'm old, as my spam folder seems to suggest.) Then e-mail came along and these crazy spammers could find you almost anywhere. You were safe as long as you didn't check your e-mail. Until... the chain TEXT rolled into town. That's right. I received my first chain text the other day. The scene in my house was pretty much like this:

Me: Oh! A text. Tralala. Let me check that. Someone probably sent me something that is crazy urgent and needs my immediate attention.
Still me: What the...? [insert primal scream]

This, my friends, is where I inform you that if you send me chain mail you are dead to me. I'm not talking about the e-mails and texts with funny pictures and videos. (Please keep sending those!) I'm talking about any correspondence that ends in "Jesus / Allah / Gandhi / Tom Cruise wants you to send this to ten people, including the one who sent it to you..." or "Bill Ackerd didn't forward this within three seconds and he died in a fire. Twice." Few things make me more insane. Like fly-into-an-irrational-rage-and-want-to-smash-things type of insane.

This will be me. And I don't care.

I realize that I've taunted at least ten of you into spamming me with chain letters. My retribution will be swift and terrible.

Fess up — does anyone here send chain mail? Am I the only one with an irrational hatred of it?

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Pondering Breaking Dawn II [Too Soon??? Nah...]

I know it's been a while, but believe it or not, I'm actually going to write a about something Twilight-related tonight. We know that the Twilighty content has been...light lately, but seriously, YOU try writing about Twilight and Twilight-y related stuff only - five days a week - for THREE YEARS and get back to me. Also, today is Twitarded's three year anniversary. Pretend you are drunk and covered in glitter and confetti and let's move on, shall we?

They're coming! (and I sorta wish they were going to look like this...)

I kind of missed the boat on writing much about Breaking Dawn: Before the Spawn (catch me after the dvd comes out), but lately, I will admit that I have been holding back comment on my gnawing fear of Breaking Dawn II: I Don't Have a Clever Name for You. Yes, it made me squeak a little when I read in Entertainment Weekly's "movies coming out in 2012" spread the one sentence devoted to BDII - "The vampire romance concludes." but I am not ready to have that conversation yet. OK, part of me is REALLY ready to have that conversation, but that is for another day.

What I have REALLY been wondering is if Kristen Stewart is going to step up and deliver the goods in BDII. Don't get me wrong; I am not a KStew hater - far from it - and I think she's made a good Bella thus far. Buuuut I think that she has largely played characters that are...kind of like how I envision her to be in real life, minus the profanity. So the way I see it, in BDII, shit's gonna get real. Because instead of playing a somewhat sullen, vaguely clumsy and uncomfortable-in-her-own-skin teenager, she has to make a convincing Vampire Bella. No clumsiness, not awkward in the least, doesn't stammer, twitch, or even blink unless she's putting on an act. In addition to turning on the steam with Edward (without the charming "OMG THIS IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE!!!" vibe she worked so well in BDI), she'll need to be a convincing ferocious vampy momma who would do anything to save her child while coming to terms with the fact that her "eternal happily ever after" has been shortened to...less than a year.

Photoshopped and not vampy, but I think this works.

I'm hoping that when November rolls around (and Summit, you can suck a dirty dick for making us wait an entire year for part two), I'll be pleasantly surprised. So what do you think? Kristen seems to have gotten much more comfortable in her public appearances in the last year - maybe it's a sign of good things to come!

...aaand hopefully we will see very, very little of anything like this. Alice would NEVER allow Renesmee to wear crappy flip-flops!

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

We're Sorry: The Blog You're Looking For Has Been Shut Down

Normally we don't get into politics here but this one affects ALL of us.

In solidarity and protest against SOPA and PIPA, Twitarded is joining the big wigs of the internets like Reddit, Wikipedia, Boing Boing and hundreds (if not thousands) of other sites and blogs by going on strike tomorrow, January 18th from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm.

SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act) could have a devastating effect on numerous websites, even little ones like ourselves. We are taking a stand against Censorship and urging everyone to educate themselves on this bill and contact your representatives if you agree that SOPA is a really bad fucking idea.

Why is it so bad? (Excerpt taken from here)
The broad definitions in the bill create tremendous uncertainty for nearly every site online. This sounds like hyperbole, but it is not. Defenders of the bill like to claim that it is "narrowly focused" on foreign rogue infringing sites. Nothing could be further from the truth. While PIPA targets only foreign sites, the mechanism by which it does so is to put tremendous compliance and liability on third party service providers in the US. SOPA goes even further in expanding the private right of action to domestic sites as well. We've already seen how such laws can be abused by looking at how frequently false takedown claims are made under the existing DMCA. Of course, under the DMCA, just the content is blocked. Under SOPA all money to a site can be cut off. Under PIPA sites will just end up in court. Or, with both laws, an Attorney General can take action leading US companies to have to effectively act as network nannies trying to keep infringement from being accessible. None of this is good for anyone building a startup company these days. The massive uncertainty around this, combined with the need for a huge legal department sitting in "the garage" as a startup begins, will certainly slow down the pace of innovation in the US, while likely driving it elsewhere.
While it's true that our President has said he will not allow the SOPA bill to pass (but PIPA is still alive and kicking), it's important that our government realizes that we will not tolerate their efforts to take away our freedom of speech. Copyright infringement is a shitty thing, without a doubt. But these two bills are the absolutely dead wrong way to handle this.

List of sites joining the strike - here

Joining in the blackout? Register here We encourage anyone who wishes to participate to join in the blackout.

Find more information about SOPA here, here and here. Oh, and even though this is Cracked.com and not meant to be taken seriously, here is a very funny and alarmingly true possibility with PIPA/SOPA.

Or check out this video from Stop American Censorship:


P.S. - if you are participating in the blackout, please let us know in the comments before 8 am tomorrow!!

Monday, January 16, 2012

My Latest TV Obsession: United States of Tara

I recently came across the Showtime series called United States of Tara created by Diablo Cody, the Academy Award® winning writer of Juno. Suburban wife and mother Tara Gregson juggles her family and career while suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder — a condition formerly known as multiple personality disorder. It's never a dull moment in the Gregson household, as Tara's supportive husband Max and their two teenaged children, Kate and Marshall, try to lead as much of a "normal" life as possible.

Tara and her alters... can you guess who's who?

Tara's family is saddled with having to deal with the various people Tara becomes -- Alice - a 50's housewife desperate to make everyone happy, Buck - an ornery Vietnam vet who loves his beer and the titty bars, and T - a slutty 16 year old who seems to get Tara in trouble a lot. And that's only the first season. But I don't want to ruin it for you so you'll have to watch to meet the other "alters".

 Let's just say I'm obsessed with this show right now. I love that it's just a half hour so I can easily sneak an episode here and there. And it's only 3 seasons -- totally manageable and I expect to finish season 3 tonight. Toni Collette is ridiculously amazing as Tara and her many personalities. It has got to be a lot of work keeping them all straight! John Corbett is totally humpable in his role as Tara's husband Max. And their two kids are very entertaining -- Kate, a sassy teen (Brie Larsen), and intellectual Marshall (Keir Gilchrist) -- I almost watch it more for the cast than the actual plot.

Love this family -- this cast is so much win!

So during my marathon watching this weekend (it's been too cold to do anything else but snuggle under the blankets and watch TV), I noticed something... This show takes place in Overland Park, Kansas. There is a scene in season 2 that shows the exterior of a restaurant. I thought it looked really familiar so I went back and sure as fucking shit, it's the exterior of a restaurant in Freeport, Maine called Azure Cafe. I nearly crapped my pants.

Seriously... I even had to take a picture of my TV screen!

And even funnier, in season 3, daughter Kate appears to be schlepping around a brand new LL Bean tote bag -- which doesn't fit her style at all. Looks like the production crew did a little shopping while filming locations in Freeport. I totally cracked up. Kate has a very eclectic style -- in one episode in the final season, she wore a bear jumper that was freaking awesome. If you're looking for something fun to add to your Netflix queue, I recommend giving Tara a try.

I can't figure out why I love this jumper so much, but I do. And I don't even like dresses.

It's a quirky dark drama with some laughs sprinkled in... especially when Buck is around. And if you've already seen this show, what did you think of it? I don't have much experience with mental illnesses but I thought this show was done well.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Who needs a new internet time-suck?! YOU DO!

Everyone needs a good distraction, right? I'm vaguely reluctant to tell you about my new favorite time-suck as there is the possibility that you will forsake Twitarded for the shiny new toy, but I trust you. Mostly.

I recently discovered Imgur. We are woefully behind the times and/or late on just about everything, so you might already be haunting this site, but humor me. It's basically funny pictures. Who doesn't like funny pictures?! I'm long-winded but not really great at actually explaining things, so I'll let the images speak for themselves. Below is a ridiculously random sampling of the photos you'll find on Imgur:

For the sake of full disclosure, let me come right out and admit that there is not a lot of this - 


...but it's still - strangely! - genuinely enjoyable. Sometimes people just post cool photos of their relatives- 

Three generations of awesome.

...and as the laws of cute internet time-waster sites require, there are a LOT of great pet photos. Because really, outside of the Twidom, what is the internet really for other than entertaining yourself with cute dog and cat pictures? 

I want one. All of it.

But wait! There's more!

This one made me think of Latchkey Wife...

I don't have kids but I feel your pain...

 Come closer, mailman...

Baby hamsters!!!

Anti-snooze-alarm clock (please just get a new clock, whoever you are).

Not on Imgur either, but you wouldn't need an alarm clock if you had this in your bed. j/s.

Plus there are funny memes...

...and the people who respond ("Dumb Guy Poses" below) -

There are also lots of awesome gifs, but I don't know how to copy a gif into the blog, so you'll just have to take my word for it (and if you know how, please send me detailed instructions).

There is the usual plethora of hot chicks in geek regalia. If you have boobs and anything resembling a storm-trooper outfit, you will find love here. As long as your definition of love is fap fodder, there won't be any problems.

In fact, my only minor problem with Imgur is that according to their FAQ section, "Imgur" is pronounced "imager-er" or "imager." But I guess it's the interwebs and if you want to say that ";oskhd;hbxlkjhbg" is pronounced "Smooches!" and enough people believe you, then more power to you.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Stop-Motion Bookstore = Full of WIN!

I was paging through boingboing looking for distractions at work the other day when I came across this absolutely delightful video - really, it's the most charming non-Twilighty, anti-snarky, not-even-a-little-bit-smexy thing I have ever posted here. Probably. My memory is for crap, so who can say definitively? Anyway, happy weekend - enjoy!

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Heeeeeere's... Flowbeeward?

People, the world has ended as we know it. There are flames shooting out of the center of Earth, aliens are doing bad things to innocent people and we're all fucking goddamn dead.

Or Rob Pattinson shaved his head. One of those.

(You must check out the rest of the pictures over at ROBsessed!!)

Nooooo! Where's the sex hair??

Oh! Sexy crooked smirky thingy!! Me likey...

 As you're reading this, someone is madly writing out a steamy BettyWhite/Rob Pattinson fan fic. Guaranteed. Rule #34, bitches.

Gone is the disheveled coif, the sex hair, the bouffant. I daresay this is more on par with the what-the-fuck-were-they-thinking hairstyles he sported in all the movies except Twilight. What was he thinking? Did he wake up one day and decide, "fuck it, this hair is too much trouble and gets in the way of my smoking and drinking Heinekens" and decided to take a trip to a barber?

From Bellasugar:

The scruffy beard might possibly negate that haircut...

Or maybe him and KStew hit the sauce, got loaded and Flowbee'd it off in a drunken stupor.

Either way, he's got a sort-of-but-not-really-shaved head. Honestly, I'm not exactly sure what the fuck it going on but all I know is his hair is missing. Well, most of it, anyway. But here's my thing - WHY is he the only guy with a mostly-shorn head that doesn't look bad-ass?

Okay, he looks kind of badass here. Or drunk. Or bored.

Here's a video clip of his new 'do (from Hollywood Life)

Now that filming for all the Twilight saga movies is complete (sob!) I wonder if he's going to keep his hair short or grow it back to it's you-know-you-want-to-fuck-me length.

Level with me, Twitards - do you love it or hate it?