The greasest sociological experiment of our time, the Jersey Shore, might be over but its tragic heroine, Snooki, still has wisdom to pass down to us.

"Jersey Shore": The Wisdom of Snooki

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Everyone who knows me, knows I'm a devotee of Dan Savage. I follow his blog, video's on the youtube and read Savage Love. But it occurred to me today as I was watching his latest clip, these things are not enough. Someone needs to start the Cult of Dan Savage. Oooh, ooh, [flapping arms excitedly] the web address is available. I mean Jesus has sooooo many cults and he doesn't even have a blog, not to mention he's dead.
So I'm starting the Cult of Dan Savage, membership one... so far. Anyone want to join on the ground floor?
Benefits will be: you'll get to decide on what beliefs are canonical, what is heresy, and you'll get to shun non-believers, all the while basking in the ever living glory of the Dan Savage.
</fangirl>

I was reading about full body scans. Apart from finding the images unnerving hot, the engineer in me thinks just the fact that we can do full body scans THROUGH clothes is Fan-FUCKING-tastically AWESOME. It's just like in Total Recall. Bring the tech on!
The the quasi-liberatarian/liberal winnie side of my brain thinks that Ben Franklin was right, giving up liberty for security is bad news. My cynical side thinks this so won't fix the threat. Now those terrorist douche-tea-baggers will just put the bomb up their asses or inside a surgically created flesh pouch in their abdomen. Duh! Okay I just realized what it will take for me to stop flying- compulsory colorectal scans.

I just got back from Las Vegas, where I spent 3 days taking it all in. I had never been before. What was initial impressions? Whoever designed the layout of the casino-hotels should get slowly spit roasted on a series of un-lubricated horse cocks IN HELL. They use grandeur and flashing, noisey things to confuse and direct (often misdirect) the shit out of you SO you have to spend as much time as possible walking past slots or gambling tables, all designed to pick your pocket. Seriously, FUCK them in the ear. And I wish I could have taken a picture of the smell. It was like ... an omnipresent mix of cigarette smoke and the strongest perfumes being maliciously spritzed into your face.

Now that I've vented that, apart from those two things, Vegas was a blast. The food was superb but you had to hemmorrhage money to get it, well the good stuff anyway. My favorite was L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon. (I'm drooling on myself, great.) The shows were A1 awesome sauce. We saw Pen and Teller do their full on libertarian magic show. We saw two Cirque du Soleil shows, Mystere and KA. They were French circus meets John Woo and Patton Oswald's take on it is spot on, although there was no hedgehog with a boner per se.

Other cool stuff ... we rode up and down a two story circular escalator at the Forum Shops (a mall at Caesar's Palace which wins the prize for 'Most over the top, argh my epilepsy!'), we saw tigers, lions and dolphins at the Mirage (one of these animals bit off Roy's face, I didn't care which, I just pretended they all took turns), and while walking the strip we collected escort trading cards (gotta catch'em all!)

Oh and ya we did gamble. I put a dollar in a slot machine, it did not give it back. And Jeff and I played $10 blackjack at the MGM Grand for an hour. Jeff bought me a strategy card which I used rigorously while he counted cards. We made $20. Good on us for walking away ahead.

Overall, I found Vegas surprisingly enjoyable. It is the one true temple to all things moneyed, and all true blooded Americans should visit it once a decade to pay homage to the capitalism Gods.

Last night we had one of our infrequent girls dinner out. We went to Brasa, which is suppose to be excellent but turned out to be only meh. The service ranged from so-so to terrible, this put the only real damper on the night.

On the other hand the company was excellent. Topics of conversation included: the island of Majorca (a friend is moving there for her dream job and we're all invited to visit), Opera (I know next to nothing about this but at least I learned you have to sing it from your legs or something), pirate weddings (they look way cooler than my wedding did), the Garfield assassination (medicine used to really bad), you get the idea of the sort of odd-ballian women you are dealing with. Let's see what was my contribution to our civil discourse ... Delayed gratification is for suckers. Perhaps I could have reached deeper within myself.

The conversation de-evolved on the drive home, finally, thank god. Robespierrette brought up magic cock (James Bond has one), we came up with a new meaning for the phrase "violating the prime directive" (my new favorite euphemism for sex with aliens), how naughty plant parts sound (the stamen, the pistil, I better stop, I'm blushing already), and I learned about this book and yes it is likely to be added to my Christmas list.

Ever since her "historic" vote on the shitiest possible health care reform bill ever constructed by man, I can't decide if she has the best or the greatest republican name ever. Either way her wiki entry is worth a read. If you believe reading is for suckers (which it is) you can also see what she is like through the palatable lense of the Daily Show here...

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
The Joy of Rx
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Ron Paul Interview

I found my first gray hair, and yes it was on my head. My reaction was somewhere between a shrug and elation. Shrug because seriously who the FUCK cares. The earth is about to explode from overuse, my aging does not matter one iota. And elation because I'm one of those sick, twisted women who thinks gray hair makes a person look wise, and distinguished.
I have no idea when I'll go fully gray since every old woman in my family dyes/ed their hair. I think I'll plan to let myself go, gray that is, not to stick it to the man, or out of spite but rather so I can walk around the rest of life having this conversation:

"Friend": [Pointing at my hair] So ... going gray eh?
Me: I don't know what you mean. I'm a platinum blonde.


PS- Speaking of things gray, Alan Grayson is my new political boyfriend. His eyebrows alone make him dreamy.

Hump, the world's most family friendly porn festival, is about to come (pun intended) to Seattle. Tickets go on sale today. It is always sold out and the theater is always packed. As always, I am happily bouncing in my chair waiting to buy tickets. Yes I meant to put the plural, you see I have enticed my friends to join me in sin. I take great pride in this. Yesterday I made sure some of my friends will come (snicker) with me. So I'm not stuck sitting next to a Seattle-style skeevy, middle-aged guy "reading" War and Peace (Ya, sure buddy you're not fooling anyone) which actually happened the last time I went alone. Buy your tickets very soon (read today), if you want to come (snorting snicker) along.

In the mean time, to warm up the right areas of the brain, please watch this.

Come count: 3, damn, I was hoping for more.

PS - Tickets purchased. I will be going on 10/10 @4. See you there.

I spent last weekend with Patton Oswalt. He is in my not so humble opinion the best fanfucktastic comedian in our hemisphere. Friday night I saw him live at the Moore Theater and laughed tears. Saturday night we purchased the iTunes version of his stand-up routine, called My Weakness is Strong.

Here's an amusee bouche in the form of his riff on religion:


Sunday night we went and saw Big Fan. The indie movie he was perfectly cast for and is currently running. I got to watch him masturbate AND get beat senseless. Good times.

I can't wait for my sky cake! That is all continue about your business.

I was going to write more about PAX but then my spare time got devoured by playing Defense Grid: The Awakening compulsively on my XBox.

Then I read about this show, Hoarders. I can't stop watching it. If you have a VERY strong stomach, this is the ultimate disturbing reality show that does not involve a guy named Mystery.