>As I finally drifted into a fitful slumber around 4 am (damn damn insomnia), I was still traumatized by the crotch pictures of young Brtiney Spears. (And also I forgot to hat tip the always delightful SJ of I, Asshole, which is where I first heard about the pictures.) Maybe 5 or 6 months ago, Lindsey Lohan had an incident where she was wearing a thong to the Kids’ Choice Awards and her skirt was tangled in it or something and she flashed her ass to the audience of young impressionable minds. At the time, I wrote that this was one of those reminders that thongs are useless as underwear.

Back to Britney, as Suebob noted, who goes out in public with teeny skirts and no undies? At first I thought that maybe if she had been wearing her usual g-string, she could have avoided the worst of the situation. Then it occurred to me that the resultant photos could have been even more disturbing, with the string wedged into her pube-free cootch. That would have made some serious fetish photos. Suebob is also right that those gynerazzi are creepy to takes such pictures, and it is scary to think that this could happen to any one of us if we were famous and walked around with no underwear and what is essentially a long t-shirt.

Ultimately, the whole thing reminds me of my whole “Mother Nature” pubic hair theory of life: Think of pubic hairs as an organic warning system of sorts. It’s your guardian angel Mother Nature preventing you from humiliation by telling you to put some clothes on because you look obscene. I’m sure that Britney would not have gone out with no undies and a miniscule bottom if she had crotch hair hanging out all over the place. It would be protection from her own bad judgment and the vile photographers that took advantage of it.

Tags: Uncategorized

>Forget my previous concerns about the random obsession people have for no explicable reason for jewish pussy, something I fretted over about 30 minutes ago. No. There is a much more important things that is causing the Campaign for Unshaved Snatch to now freaking out. Do you want a Very Important Lesson on Why Furry Beavers are Good? Follow the link to The Superficial. To help keep the innocent that way, the initial pictures of Britney Spears’s completely bare snatch are censored. Click on them individually, though, and – the horror! the horror! A little pubic hair, maybe even dyed with that scary new pube dye that I saw at a store for $20 (!), would have covered up a bit. Even a little landing strip, aka “vagina mustache” – would help here. As it is, I can practically see the last person she fucked. Cringe.

She’s clearly not a girl and not yet a woman, based on her nether regions.

Tags: Uncategorized

>In the past two weeks, CUSS received 70 visits from people searching for jewish pussy. That averages to five hits per day for jewish pussy, a trend that has been going on for a few months now. While I am in possession of such an object of apparent desire, it seems to me that it is no different from other pussies. Dr. H, who is practicing vaginal medicine, if you will, also seems to find no ethnic or religious differences among her patients’ poons. So the quest for jewish pussy is very mysterious to me, but perhaps we can all learn something from it.

If you are here because of jewish pussy, can you take a moment to let me know what on earth you think you will find by searching for the term jewish pussy? Comments may be left anonymously, but may possibly enhance my understanding of the world. (The flip side being that it could reinforce my utter disgust with people.) You’ll be doing a mitvah if you take the time to explain!

Thanks!

Tags: Uncategorized

>I love a good laugh, so I stopped in Saks Fifth Avenue this afternoon on my way home from an appointment. All the other women wandered around the store holding shopping bags from Saks or fancy boutiques; I had a plastic bag from Staples with two rolls of duct tape in it (for my Victoria’s Secret body double – work to commence this weekend!). I also had half of a smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich on me. I considered eating it as a I poked at the expensive designer clothes, but then decided that would make me no better than the woman I saw who brought her dog with her into Bloomingdale’s last month.

Things were all geared up for the Christmas tree lighting in Rockefeller Plaza later today. (Saks is right across the street from it.) It was kind of fun. I polished off my sandwich as I walked home between blowing more vile thick yellow mucus out of my very angry and raw nose. Call me Rudolph the Red Nosed Jewish White Trash Shopper.

Tags: Uncategorized

>My sister told me that a parent who sends her 3 year old son to the local preschool threatened to pull him out because her husband saw him playing with Barbies when he picked the kid up at the end of the day. She insisted that her son would be gay as a result, and that it is the job of the staff to make sure that these things don’t happen.

——-

Speaking of stupid assholes, people in the modeling industry generally fall into this category. How fitting, then, that Theo has a new modeling photo posted. Not that he is a stupid asshole at all. (You may need to click on the November 2006 archives to take a gander at his splendor. Blogger is acting up again.)

Tags: Uncategorized

>One of the symptoms of PCOS is insulin resistance, so I had to return to the creepy reproductive endocrinologist’s office today and take a blood sugar test. This involved fasting after midnight and drawing my blood upon arrival, then drinking a bottle of what tasted like flat orange pop and drawing my blood again in two hours. Fine. I brought a lot of reading.

Why, however, does the doctor’s office find it necessary to blast the air conditioning in the waiting room? I sat for two hours in my coat and gloves, sniffling and blowing out giant mucus balls. (I’m sure the other patients – almost all couples – were thrilled with me. This makes me laugh because misery loves company.) By the time I left, I was too sick to investigate the materials I need to buy to make my Victoria’s Secret model body double.

However, I am bouyed by the wonderful suggestions that I received so far, as well as Dianne’s offer to help. The duct tape idea is brilliant, although my concern is that it will not necessarily properly illustrate my gut hanging over and under the sides of string bikini underwear. As soon as I am feeling better, I will investigate. Cackle cackle. Really, I am so excited.

Tags: Uncategorized

>Yesterday evening, I was feeling very down in the dumps. Thanksgiving was over, my sister went home, I had nothing going on with my writing, I missed seeing a movie with Des because I felt like shit, and I still felt like shit. I spent some time reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, which is about inspiration, when, ironically, inspiration hit.

Wedged between the pages of the uninspiring article on how inspiring Gwen Stefani is was an ad for TELEVISION’S SEXIEST NIGHT! VICTORIA’S SECRET FASHION SHOW, which will be on CBS on Tuesday, December 5th at 10/9C. At first, I was a bit cheered up because the model (Giselle, I think) pictured is wearing last year’s Victoria’s Secret Fantasy Bra. I’m not sure if they will be attempting to hawk it again this year since my research (calling the Victoria’s Secret Fantasy Gifts Hotline) last year indicated that no one bought it, or if they will unveil a new obscene waste of human and natural resources this year at the show. Either way, I thought I could get some mileage out of this insanity again this year, which pleased me.

As the night wore on, I thought more about the fashion show in general and how much I loathe it. Steve Holt’s objections regarding my article on porn, “Men who view porn enter long-term relationships… with expectations that their significant other simply cannot meet…” seem much more applicable to the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show than they do to porn. First, not that I am a connoisseur of porn, but not every woman who appears in a flick or picture is surgically enhanced or perfect. There is a fairly wide assortment of body types, some unrealistic, and some more like every day women. This is not the case for Victoria’s Secret models, as they are all at least 6 feet tall and weigh 110-125 lbs., then get the shit air brushed out of them. How does this make for realistic expectations for anyone? Also, anyone with a TV can watch these “angels” prance about in skimpy lingerie on network TV. Porn is not quite as accessible.

What sort of protest could I launch this year? I was inclined to take some pictures of myself in Victoria’s Secret underwear and compare my real, lumpy body to those the show and catalogue, but Husband reminded me that there was a reason that I recruited Theo and the Giant Stuffed Penis to do my dirty work in the past. (See: December 2005 and January 2006 archives for photos.) It’s a terrible idea to put pictures of myself in my undies on the net, even to make an Important Feminist Point that Limited Numbers of People Will See.

I pondered a bit. What if I bought a body stocking and stuffed it to my exact measurements, thus enabling “me” to model my underwear, but not actually model my underwear? I liked it. I liked it a lot. However, stuffing something to my specifications seems tricky. The drawback is potential deformity, thus less realism. Perhaps a plaster of paris mold of my torso would work better? The benefit of a plaster of paris mold is greater accuracy, with a drawback of less realism. (Underwear won’t cause flab to bulge out, as nothing will be soft, and boobs can’t get lifted by a bra.)

Advice, please! I know that many of you are very crafty, creative, and handy. What would you recommend?

Tags: Uncategorized

>Thanks to Mara for sending this.

While I am feeling slightly better, I cannot get over how awful it is to vomit through your nose. Sister and Sister’s Husband are gone, my head is killing me, and I seem to be generating a lot of rejections on the writing front this week. I should just put my pajamas back on and crawl into bed and not emerge until Thursday or Friday.

Tags: Uncategorized

>Korean BBQ is only good going down. I learned this in the wee hours this morning when my dinner, after sitting in my stomach for 6 hours, decided that it no longer wanted to hang around there. The only thing that sucks worse than Korean BBQ coming out the way it went in is when one hurls so hard it comes out one’s nose as well. Not cool. How the hell do bulimics do that all the time?

Before I had and lost my yummy dinner, Husband, Sister, Sister’s Husband, and I saw a fantastic improve show at Upright Citizens Brigade. Amy Poehler (she of the fine anti-waxed snatch comments in BUST magazine a few months ago) was part of it. A few other people from Saturday Night Live also performed. I realized that both Steph and the Big O have bright futures as monologists. Unfortunately, there was no chance to give Amy a CUSS sticker.

Anyway, I hope to enjoy the last seven hours that Sister and Sister’s Husband will be here. I can’t believe that the weekend is over already. Actually, I can’t believe that November is pretty much done, and that the year will be out in a mere few more weeks.

Tags: Uncategorized

>This holiday weekend, much fun has been had. Large amounts of food were also consumed by me. Unfortunately, that means spending lots of time in the throne room. In the time I am ruling, I read random parts of The New Book of Lists by David Wallechensky and Amy Wallace. (They are 2/3 of the team behind various other Book of Listses and even better, the People’s Amanacs, which are brilliant.)

During dessert on Thanksgiving, I made some crack about how a porcupine could be tied to a string and swung around like a mace. A discussion on porcupine mating ensued, and then yesterday while I was educating myself while waiting for my bowels to finish emptying, I came across a list called “11 Examples of Unusual Animal Mating Habits.” Oddly enough, porcupines were listed at #5. (Hippos, incidentally, were #2.) I found it fascinating, and want to share my new knowledge:

The answer to one of our oldest jokes, “How do porcupines do it?” “Veeery carefully!” is not quite true. The truth is more bizarre than dangerous. Females are receptive for a few hours a year. As summer approaches, young females become nervous and then excited. Next, they go off their food, stick close by males, and mope. [Blogger’s note: The previous two sentences sound a lot like the behavior of teenage girls, doesn’t it?] Meanwhile, the male becomes aggressive with other males and begins a period of carefully every place the female of his choice urinates, smelling her all over. This is a tremendous aphrodisiac. While she is sulking by his side, he brings to “sing.” When he is ready to make love, the female runs away if she is not ready. If she’s in the mood, they both rear up and face each other, belly to belly. Then males spray their ladies with a tremendous stream of urine, soaked their loved one from head to foot – the stream can shoot as far as seven feet. If they’re not ready, females respond by 1) objecting verbally, 2) hitting with front paws like boxers, 3) trying to bite, 4) shaking off the urine. When ready, they accept the bath. This routine can go on for weeks. Six months after the beginning of courtship, the female will accept any male she has been close to. The spines and quills of both go relaxed and flat, and the male enters from behind. Mating continues until the male is worn out. Every time he tries to stop, the female wants to continue. If he has given up, she chooses another partner, only now she acts out the male role… It is advised never to stand close to a cage that contains courting porcupines.

So not only is it interesting to read about golden showers in the animal kingdom, but also very practical wisdom for those who hang out near porcupines in captivity. As an aside, one might also take this advice to heart when dealing with hippos, as female hippos attract male hippos by peeing and shitting in a pile, then twirling its tail to spread it far and wide.

Take that, UrbanDictionary.com!

Tags: Uncategorized