Tag Archives: tom brokaw

The recreational activities of female genitalia.

Oh. My. God. Something beautiful has happened. In the past few days, HUNDREDS more people than usual have viewed my blog.  And it’s all thanks to a little search term called…vagina.

Plain ol’ “vagina” is bringing in the most people, but runners up include “big vagina,” “dirty vagina,” “vagina is purple,” “piece of vagina” (ah!), “light up vagina” (OOH!), and “how to make a finger vagina.” That last one sounds like it came from a terribly confused soul who inquired about a noun when a verb was intended.

In case you only recall there ever being talk of Barbara Walters lap dances or Tom Brokaw sex dreams on this blog, click here to see a giant bicycle vagina. That also sounds like it was meant to be a verb (giant vagina bicycling), but it really is a noun. It’s a giant bicycle vagina. And it’s amazing.

Well.  I got completely distracted by vaginas in this post.  Here are some less interesting things I may have done had vaginas not stolen the show:

  • Complained tirelessly about banks and their exorbitant overdraft charges.
  • Cooked you a steak like Cher in Moonstruck.  (You’d have eaten it rare while wearing a wooden hand.)
  • Wished you a Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
  • Referred you to this Craiglist ad.
  • Compared Kim Jong-Il to a summer’s day. 
  • Presented a hypothetical question asking: “If you were a predator, would you be less likely to pursue as prey someone who walked down the sidewalk wielding a fork?”
  • Reminisced about the Halloween I dressed up as a fork.
  • Mentioned the fork that is literally in my road, in the tar of my road.
  • Displayed an obvious affection for bullet points.
  • Retracted Kim Jong-Il comparison.

What’s Wrong With Me? (Cougars and Cupcakes Edition)

Upon doing research, I have learned that in order to make my eye stop twitching I need to stop thinking about my eye’s twitching…but here I am writing about it.

One of those WebMd-like websites confirmed what I already knew: that it is brought on by excessive fatigue or stress. It’s been going on (off and on) for about 24 hours now. I haven’t had this long of an eye twitch spell since one year ago when I had an internship with a non-profit production company headed by two terrible women.  They were purebred passive-aggressive bitches. 

Is that a Stump, or are you just happy to see me?

Is that a Stump, or are you just happy to see me?

One day, in the pouring rain, they sent me to fetch gluten-free cupcakes downtown.  That wasn’t why I quit, but it was the icing on the cupcake so to speak, and when I returned (sopping wet…like a dog?) I entered their office to speak my piece. On the way out I said, “Enjoy your cupcakes.” I’m not sure if they realized I didn’t mean it…

Anyway, the eye twitch is back. I think I’m just tired. I plan to sleep in tomorrow and wake up in time to see Ellen DeGeneres rip Jason Mesnick a new one. I, for some reason, am not all that outraged that he dumped Melissa and got with Molly five minutes later on national television, which must make me a bad person? Normal social/sexual mores just don’t apply in the world of “The Bachelor.” And whatever. Melissa annoyed me because she was all like, “I’m so close to being the happiest I’ve ever been. All I need is this man to put a diamond on my finger. Then and only then will I be truly happy.” NO! The only person responsible for your happiness is YOU, Melissa.

Now back to the whole what’s-wrong-with-me thing–lately celebrities keep showing up in my dreams.  Here’s what the Dream Moods dictionary has to say:

To see a celebrity in your dream, represents your beliefs and understanding about him or her. Something in you waking life has triggered these similar beliefs and feelings. It is not uncommon that your obsession with a certain celebrity may carry over onto your dream world. Celebrities are often seen as heroes and all that is mighty. Also consider any puns within the name.

To dream that you are having sex with a celebrity, indicates your drive to be successful. Consider what movies you associate this celebrity with or what makes this celebrity famous for clues as to where and what you want to achieve success in.

Here are three celebrities that I may or may not have had sex with in my dreams the past few nights:

Russell Brand.  Recently watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall--he has a lot of sex in the movie.  Also, keep seeing ads for his Comedy Central special.  Did not realize his hair is always like that.

Russell Brand. Recently watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall--he has a lot of sex in the movie. Also, keep seeing ads for his Comedy Central special. Did not realize his hair is always like that.

Gary Le Vox, lead singer of Rascal Flatts.  We didnt have sex, but he totally wanted to.

Gary Le Vox, lead singer of Rascal Flatts. We didn't have sex, but he totally wanted to.

Tom Brokaw.  What is the male equivalent of a cougar?

Tom Brokaw. What is the male equivalent of a "cougar"?

The Gentleman from Arizona

Charles Gibson’s name was on the tip of my tongue,

and Kathleen was sure I meant Peter Jennings,

“But isn’t he dead?”  Speaking of newscasters,

Tom Brokaw moderated the town hall style debate.

McCain kept calling us “friends,”

but he can’t comb his own hair

and I don’t have many 72-year-old friends.


An abandoned Rolling Stone

penned him the “Make-Believe Maverick,”

reporting he called Cindy a cunt who wears too much makeup

after she ruffled his non-existent hair,

but what about all of his cover up?


Two nights later we yelled about Sarah Palin in the yellow cab,

our legs grazing, our shoulders bumping,

our political passions on par with

those other passions we feel.  You know—

the ones you feel in places like (to borrow

the word from McCain) your cunt.

Monday Musings

If you have a passport and have experienced jet lag, please apply for this: http://newyork.craigslist.org/jsy/etc/868462315.html

It’s a sleep study in which you get paid to fly to Paris.  All you have to do is spend one night in a New York sleep study clinic, then you fly to Paris, spend time in their sleep study clinic, and fly back. 

At some point in my life I’ll probably participate in a medical research study.  I applied for one a couple weeks ago that involved an MRI and a PET scan, but when they called to interview me it just didn’t work out.  Long story involving pesky intimate details. 

In other news, I’m concerned about Tom Brokaw moderating tomorrow night’s debate.  I find his voice distracting.  And as long as we’re on the topic, Charles Gibson is of concern, too.  I cannot take him seriously.  Thoughts, anyone?

Talkin bout my generation.

Talkin bout my generation.

Nothing wrong with George Stephanopoulos

Nothing wrong with George Stephanopoulos