I’m seriously addicted…

20 Aug

So I love shoes. I’m a girl. I also love eyeliner and shiny lip gloss. Call me crazy, but I like being a girl.

The disadvantage of course, with my love affair with shoes, is that I tend to buy too many of them.

After purchasing a new pair of Cole Haan wedges last night, the door to my bedroom slammed shut. Not from a ghost or my best friend in anger, but because I had a cross-breeze a blowing through the condo.

So I did what any sane, normal, well-adjusted girl would do.

I took my best friend’s make up bag and propped it against the door. Then I sneered at it every time I saw it. Which is a lot because my place is teeny tiny.

I sneered because I’m an “everything in its place in my place” kind of girl. I even have a basket next to the front door where all my flip flops live. I don’t like shit just lying around. Purses on the coat rack, pens/paper in the basket, coasters in their holder.

You might call it anal-retentive, but I choose to call it “personal tidiness”. T-Bomb calls it OCD. I will admit that I do count to 10 when I see something out of place before put it back.

So anyhoohaw, the door slams and scares the bejeesus out of me. Made me jump and almost made me spill my cocktail. And that’s no bueno.

I decided to go online to the Amazon gods to see what they have in the form of a door stopper.

This is what I found.

I seriously love shoes…

Like most of my shoes, I fell in love and bought it immediately.

My name is Lisa and I have an addiction.

50 Shades of dissapointed…

1 Aug

Nothing disappoints me more than wasting my time. Except of course, wasting my money. Or spilling a martini.

Thank god my Mom bought this trilogy and I got to download it for FREE. So there’s at least that. Oh, and that this little trilogy thingy gave me something to snark about. #FTW

I skimmed through finished the book in like two days. My friend Molly warned me that the sex scenes would spiral into mind-numbingly boring, so I was prepared at least for that. But the plot and writing was just so freaking absurb.

And it kinda pisses me off they refer to this as Mommy Porn. First, that’s demeaning to mom’s who like to get their freak on, and second, this was less e-rotica and more poor-rotica, so I found this hilarious picture that about sums it all up.

It’s been weeks since I finished the book and I am now just getting around to writing the review. Why you ask? Well, because I was raised on the adage “if you have nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything… until you have something really good and biting ready.”

The thing that disappointed me so much about this book is that it barely took off its panties to sit on the rim of sexual decadence. I expected a more uninhibited view into the world of psychological and sexual exploits.

Plus, these two characters are so annoying that I just want to flog the shit out of them both. And unfortunately, for them, they’d enjoy it, so what’s the point?

So I decided to not even bother picking stupid plot points out and mocking the crap out of them. Sorta. On the other hand, if you want a succinct review read Richard Branson’s – I’ll fly Virgin fo sho now!

Instead, I’ve decided to devote this blog to fantasizing about how the movie is going to capture the pure essence of certain scenes.

  • Tampon: Remember when Christian literally yanked the tampon out of Ana’s hoohaw so they could have sex? I almost puked at that – so I feel sorry in advance for the key grip.
  • Blow jobs: There is nothing our girl doesn’t enjoy more than playing the saxophone and even more fantastic for her is the instrument’s climactic finale.
  • Washing Toys: I can’t wait to see how they tackle this one. Open scene… Ana walking downstairs with butt plug in hand (pun intended) and runs into the maid on the way, who is clearly on her way to that playroom to clean the peen filled sheets. If there’s a God out there, she will write the scene with the humor that this affords. Please close up on the maids face when she’s taking inventory of the toy chest. Please!

My tip to you, if you haven’t read these books, is to hurry up and do so! You’ll either love it or hate it. Either way, conversations with and among women have never been more livelier, so for that, EL James, thanks. Errr, laters baby.

50 Shades of what the…

8 Jun

Somewhere around chapter 11, I noticed a big difference. I think E.L. James recognized she is a shitty writer and decided to fire her editor. Either that, or she fired herself as a so-called-author and hired a ghost.

Either way, the writing slightly improved. SLIGHTLY. The story, while still very much aimed at introducing teens to kinky fuckery  – at least showed some continuity.

I can see why everyone is talking about these books. First, where the EFF is the erotica? Second, I get the whole “I want to explore my inner submissive”. And third, what boundaries can you test without losing your goddamn mind?

My inner goddess never cheered Anastasia on. I thought she would. I mean, I opened this book with an equally open mind. I have NO problem with exploring the more naughty and wicked sides of our pysche, but I just cannot and will not see an innocent girl EVER in a position of accepting the Red Room of Pain with an open mind. That is likely why this call this crap Mommy Porn.

I wanted to bitch slap her subconscious every time she referenced herself as being a ‘ho’. Hey, if a gazillionaire wants to buy you some fancy clothes, computers and a car, let him. Jeez Louise. She’s willing to take one for the team, but oh no, not a Macbook? Silly chit.

She knows he’s way the fuck fucked up yet still thinks he can love her vanilla style right out the gate? Is this really how the youth today process through complicated situations? Me, Me, Me, Me, MeMeMeMeMEMEMEMEMEME…. Put a pacifier in her mouth next time Christian, she’s such a whiney fucking idiot.

In case you don’t know what Vanilla style sex is…

Anyhoohaw. I am now on book two. It’s called “Darker”. So far, my favorite mocking moment is when… under threat at 2am by an ex-sub-gun-toting-suicidal-lunatic, Anastasia wants to discuss literal comments he makes in an effort to protect her.

You see, his ex-sub trashed the car he bought her. She wants to know how the ex even knew it was hers. He confesses he bought that same car for all his subs. She thought it was her graduation (from college you pervs) present.

He replies: “…despite what I hoped, you have never been my submissive…” And this people is now all she can think of. That he still secretly wants her in his playpen of feathers and canes and ropes and chains.

The big problem I’m finding with this story line, besides the lack of hot nasty sex, is this child-woman is at her first junior high dance and thinks she has a pimple but really her date just wants in her pants. But even I can tell, E.L. has decided that this lil innocent dove has saved the depraved Christian from his lonely past and only she can free his lost soul. Gag me now with a velvet sash.

P.R.E.D.I.C.T.A.B.L.E.

Ain't no real kinky fuckery in this book...

So as I finish this book, I’m not surprised that they have only done some slightly benign yet mildly erotic things. And not surprised that she fell even more madly in love with our twisted hero, and when I start  book three titled “Freed”, I’m sure it will live up to the title. Hence, no serious bondage or true kinky fuckery.


50 Shades of what?

24 May

So my mom and sister are all hyped up over this book. I think one of my besties told me about it too – I think she fanned herself when she told me it’s filled with hot, erotic sex. So naturally, I had to immediately download this to my Kindle and pour a martini.

Chapter 1.

What the FUCK people? This is a poorly written Harlequin Romance novel, with the most idiotic prose I have read since I was twelve. But since I am, after all, a 12-year old at heart, I keep reading, my mind drifting back to 5th grade and Molly, my reading buddy, bestie and first girl kiss. I wonder if she’s read this? (She’s reading this blog post so perhaps she’ll share?)

****SPOILER ALERT****

Don’t read this post if a) you don’t want to read me mocking this book so far, or b) if you intend to read it and wonder if the maiden gets her rose petal plucked and plundered by his manly sword.

Now if you weren’t aware, this is Twilight fanfiction – where a serious fan decided Edward and Bella should actually be into kinky fuckery. The fanfiction turned into something a bit more lucrative and the author changed the characters’ names to Anastasia and Christian. Whatevs.

Anyhoohaw, I just finished Chapter 8. So far, our mousy and clutsy heroine (who probably has a secret smell that is Christian’s personal brand of heroin) has asked him if he’s gay, drunk dialed him, vomited in front of him, been man-handled in an elevator (OK, that was hawt.) Then, he whisks her to Seattle in a helicopter, gives her some wine, and makes her sign a non-disclosure agreement about anything they do or talk about. What the FUCK people?

He says he needs to show her his playroom. Her reply was something like “you want to play with your XBox?” I expected his reply to be filled with innuendo and was sorely miffed that he didn’t even try. Harrumph.

The playroom was filled with all sorts of shit I have no idea how it’s used. I’m certain the clinical descriptions provided in chapter 7 are quite accurate, buy *yawn*, didn’t make my heart pound.

Keep in mind people, Anastasia is a virgin. Kissed maybe two or three times in her LIFE. So I find it humorous that she doesn’t run for the hills. Instead, they calmly discuss Tess of the d’Ubervilles and debasement.

Me: Dear Author, I prefer less literary reference and more innuendo with my erotica, thanks.

The first sex scenes are kinda just so-so. So far, I don’t see the hype. Am I the only one rolling my eyes at the prose?Readers, enlighten me? What am I missing, besides really good writing and story telling…

I’ve lost it…

9 May

I seem to have lost something. Maybe I left it in a drawer in my old house. Or it’s sitting in a box on a shelf in my storage closet? I used to carry it with me every day and now *poof* it’s simply gone.

The odd thing is I don’t remember losing it. I guess I didn’t even notice it was missing, which is almost more upsetting than not having it anymore.

I’m talking about my snark. My passion for sarcasm and antics. My funny.

I used to find this hilarious…

I’ve worn it like a trench coat covering my naked body, allowing me to flash my goods at random passersby and feeling all proper at the same time.

Just a year ago, I was discussing the family dominatrix with my friend’s father. Just before that, I was dancing on a table with a hot young actor. Since then, nuttin.

So now I begin the hunt for my old humor and mirth. I’ll start at Walmart to see if I can find it there.

Does this really need a caption?

One giant fart…

9 Apr

So I get a text message from Suz yesterday morning at 6am. She lives in Oklahoma and possibly forgot that the left coast wasn’t up yet. Or maybe she just wanted to be my alarm clock. After all, she knew I was at the cabin with T-bomb so maybe she just wanted to find out how hungover we were. Apparently she read my previous post and figured we were fucked up when we wrote it. She was right 😦

In any event, after wishing me a Happy Easter, she tells me her house smells like one giant fart.  I had to think about that for a while. At first, I thought she was complaining about her teenage son. Then I thought maybe she ate too much broccoli. Then I realized she was hard-boiling eggs. Or so I hoped.

Does it sound wrong that I miss coloring Easter eggs and eating jelly beans or that I wish I had a cute spring dress and white Mary Jane’s? Even though I have no kids…?

Should I be mocking myself now or will you do this for me?

Pffft. *Giggle*

Thought for the day: Never hold your farts in. They travel up your spine, into your brain, and there is where all the shitty ideas come from… You’re welcome.

My winking ass…

7 Apr

I think the hiatus is over. The writer’s strike has ended with an increase in snark and immaturity. (Preface: I have no particular problem with large ladies, I’m just relating the antics here…)

For example, today my bestie, T-bomb, and I were at our favorite local hangout for our bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado sammies (except she ruins it by putting Feta cheese on hers). We’re drinking some vino and laughing and maybe feeling sentimental because we’re here after all to start the packing party (the ex and I just sold the place). And then, out of nowhere, she turns around, and with extreme shock tells me “Shut up! I know that chick over there – in the barf pink shirt!”

I disregarded the whole SHUT UP thing cuz that’s what besties do.

I see pepto-dismal bitch and ask what’s the backstory (I’ve been finding EVERYTHING has a back story…) And she proceeds to tell me that some little piglet had been bullying T-bomb’s gorgeous girl for years and one night, during a school dance where T-bomb was chaperoning, she had the udder misfortune of running into the little piglet and her farm friends. Who were oinking and pointing at her beautiful girl.

Apparently, Farmville isn’t a myth on Facebook. It’s alive and well, and snuffling in the suburbs.

So T-bomb decided enough is enough, the trough was E M P T Y.

Nice teeth, but you smell like shit. Just saying.

She flipped her hair and confronted the little swine. “I’m watching you. Keep this in mind.”

Later, after the dance, T-bomb was feeling pretty proud of herself – no one is gonna mess with my kid! But then, dun-dun-dun! Here comes the little piglet’s mama. She had the nerve to put her pudgy finger in T’s face and snarl “You talked to my daughter?”

T: Um, yeah.

Mean mama: The next time you have something to say, you can say it to me.

T: Well, the next time your daughter tries to bully mine, we’ll have a problem.

Mean mama: *snuffle* Oh yeah? You think I care?

T: You better care.

Mean mama: *glaring* This isn’t over.

T: Yes, it is.

G L A R E

………………

So today, I saw the Mean Mama and I gotta say, I’m afraid. Besides the barf pink t-shirt, she looked friggin scary. I wouldn’t want to tangle with that one.

But I gotta give high props to the T for protecting her girl. Mother’s love knows no limits. Especially when it comes to confronting scary women whose nasty daughters are mean girls. Or little piglets as T puts it.

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