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April 26, 2006

Not Your Average Congressional Trophy Wife

 Since I have a policy of only writing about good-looking people, I knew that one of these days I was going to have to do a profile on my sister-in-spirit, Kimberly Vertolli-Kirk. A Congressional Spouse, Annapolis-grad, Shih-tzu owner, Possessor-of-Northwestern-Law-Degree-and-Size-2-Body, Kimberly could kick Hil Clinton's ass, although I'm sure she'd rather pose for a photo.

In other words, ladies & gentlemen, she's a hottie from Biscotti. (BTW, I have no idea what that means, only that she and her hubby say it a lot to describe attractive individuals, and ... well ... say it out loud. Sort of addicting, right?) Below, the photo that ran with the piece, of Kimberly and some guy who looks like he wishes his hand were slightly ... higher ... up ...

Kimberly with Bush.jpg

April 24, 2006

Dating Advice From a Women Who Crusades Against Organized Sock Drawers

Bonnie Fuller Book Jacket.jpg

Today's AM New York column, Full 'Er Up: Dating Advice From Bonnie, is yet another self-help book induced article (yes, my editors have banned me from writing about these types of tomes for at least a month).

If you don't know who Bonnie Fuller is (uh, my mom didn't), get thee to a magazine rack. I have six words for you: YM, Marie Claire, Cosmo and Glamour ... and now I have two more words for you: Us Weekly. And one more word, also for you: Star. Magazine. Damn, that's two words. [Don't you love the literary device "I have ___ more ___ for you"? I never get to use it in print. Hmm ... now I know why people love writing blogs! They can use horribly kitschy rhetorical tools and make it look cool. Or tell themselves it looks cool.]

Anyway, the Bonster edited all of those magazines, and then, because she wasn't Busy enough (she really, really likes being Busy), she wrote a book with a really, really long title (33 words. I counted. Twice.) Basically the book goes like this: "If you, as a woman, think you can't handle having a wickedly-successful career with a hottie hubby and four mini-yous, then you're a giant pussy. So grin and bear it, cause this is the FULL life, beyatch!"

I'm all for the full life. Sometimes I schedule more than one appointment in a day. Occasionally I'll go crazy and leave a dish in the sink ... for twenty minutes. Once in a while I'll get less than 9 hours of sleep (it's horrible, I don't recommend it).

Okay, okay. So maybe I should stick to Real Simple ...

PS - The Bonster has the most melodious voice I've ever heard. If she wants to add another career to her life (sounds like a Fuller thing to do), she could definitely get her own show. (Or maybe be the Robin Quivers of Opie & Anthony??) I'd listen!

April 20, 2006

So, Seven Sex Columnists Walk into a Room ...

People love to say that New York is a "small town" - usually after finding out they slept with their boss's brother (oops!). But it's not REALLY a small town. It's an enormous town - they just had bad luck. The New York that sex columnists inhabit, on the other hand, really IS a small town, er, community. Damn. That analogy almost worked ...

Anyway, my point is that we all know each other - or at least know OF each other. So when Village Voice sex goddess Rachel Kramer Bussel invited me to a special themed evening called "True Sex Confessions" with half of the sexperts in this city, I had to go.

To be honest, I really wasn't in the mood (I'm rarely in the mood for anything that involves putting on "real" clothing and leaving my cocoon-like nest, er, apartment), but that certainly changed when I walked in to the stereotypical LES hipster bar to find it crammed with people listening to topics that would make your mother faint - (hell, I was shocked!): fisting, lost tampons, sex poop. Please don't ask me to explain the last one. I can't bear to think about it.

The one person I was especially excited to *finally* meet was Jessica Cutler - aka "The Washingtonienne." Ever since she stole my DC Hussy Thunder I've been bitterly bitchy about it, for several reasons, which I'll go into in another blog entry. Suffice to say, she has a much more defined jawline than I, and that's about all it takes for me to fly into a jealous rage. Anyway, a photo of us (along with uber-blogger Nichelle) is below. Note Jessica's chiseled half-Asian features, which I pine for. Damn her!

In the Flesh reading.JPG

April 17, 2006

Men are from ... oh, please. THEY'RE JUST DIFFERENT, DAMNIT! ACCEPT IT!

Bee Pollinating Daisy.jpg

So, yeah, I actually took that photo (of the bee pollinating the daisy, or throwing up on the daisy, whatever) - it's supposed to represent BIOLOGY (you know, the birds and the ... bees) [Digression re: "the birds and the bees" - Can someone please explain why this is the chosen euphemism for awkward sex talks? Why isn't it called "the bees and the flowers"? What do the birds have to do with anything? Who's ever seen birds do it, anyway??]

Anyway, biology is the subject of today's AM New York column, titled: Relationship Biology: Hard Wired to Frustrate?

In this article, I interview Scott Haltzman, author of The Secrets of Happily Married Men. As I say in the article, although I'm neither married, nor a man, I've never met a Self-Help book I didn't want to read (while lounging in a lightly scented bubble bath with Toto playing in the background).

Secrets of Happily Married Men Book Jacket.jpg

My favorite quote? "The average man, unless pressed for answers, does not actively think much about relationships," Haltzman says.

About how far into his MD do you think he was when he discovered that?

April 10, 2006

Hef's 80th: Viagra Should Make a Special Edition Pill In His Honor

Girls Next Door.jpg

I have a small obsession with The Girls Next Door - you know, the reality show featuring Hugh Hefner's trifecta of busty blondettes being surprisingly sweet to each other. It's their distinctive lack of cattiness that I like - more, even, than their cute ditzy comments or their tiny costumey outfits. (I love tiny costumey outfits!)

The women of reality TV, on the whole, fall into one of two categories - they're either bitches or they're hos who enjoy a good catfight while wearing stilettos. Krista, Bridget and "#1 Girl" Holly are just like Paris Hilton ... except not totally fucking annoying. In other words, they look like Barbies, dress like Barbies, talk like Barbies, but they're Nice Barbies so I like them. In fact, if all women sleeping with the same guy enjoyed each other's company as much as they did, the world would be a very strange, BIg Love friendly place.

Speaking of the guy they're sleeping with (or so they claim, although I have my doubts), his 80th birthday was today, so I did my AM New York column on the old Viagra-popping goat.

In conclusion, will a Playboy publicist PLEASE invite me to the Mansion already??

April 07, 2006

Prom Dress Donation Charities - So I Can Continue to Relive My Prom Ad Infinitum (and, uh, help people.)

Pink Dress 2.JPG

This is not the dress I wore to my prom. But I did love it enough to take a self-photograph (MySpace style!) while SITTING IN THE DRESSING ROOM at Nordstrom, oh, approximately four years ago. And while I don't wish I had bought it (there really aren't nearly enough opportunities to wear enormous fuchsia toile ball gowns that could kick Cinderella's glass-slippered ass), I do love the IDEA of wearing it. And if I could ever relive my prom, I probably would (wear it there) ... because that's the only place you could ever justify such a confection. That, and Halloween. Oh, and maybe your local Drag Queens & Queers Ball.

But I digress. The point here is that tonight I'm going to Seventeen magazine's Prom Dress fashion show at Macy's on 34th Street. Not because I'm desperately trying to become 18 again (cough, cough) - but because Operation Fairy Dust, NYC's resident Prom Dress Donation Charity - has a booth there. I'm writing an article on the stories behind the women donating their old prom dresses (for a magazine which shall remain nameless - it's bad luck until it goes to print). After all, memories from the Prom are amusing as hell - did you get laid, get drunk, make out with an ice sculpture? (No, No, ... uhhh ... maybe ... )

So giving the beautiful dresses to a new group of girls is a bit cathartic. Or maybe it's just our chance to live it all over again, this time, without a pink monstrosity. And the fake ID.

April 06, 2006

Trite and Meaningless - But Enjoyable!

From a "fan-email" I received today: “Although I do find your columns trite and pretty meaningless I actually enjoy them...”

Now that's book-jacket blurb material right there.

Given, it's a little unfair to judge someone on the basis of her extremely space-and-subject-limited 450 word dating column (YOU try writing something remarkable about dating for a "family subway paper" in approximately seven paragraphs!).

But that said, I don't completely disagree - sometimes what I write IS trite and, yes, even a little meaningless.  And, hell, sometimes it's not even enjoyable!  Although I hope at least THAT is an exception ...

So, in an effort to do something original (un-trite) and relevant (un-meaningless), I'm starting what I hope will not be an un-enjoyable blog, although I am officially making no promises.

Thus, this is My First Entry of My First Blog (things are so much better when they're capitalized).  I suppose it was about time, given that I was quite possibly the last human being on earth with an internet connection not to blog daily.  Christ, even my mother now has her own blog (no, I will not tell you the URL).  So, a full 4 years after it was actually trendy, I’m preparing to jump on this aggressively un-hip blog bandwagon.

Again, low expectations are the key to success here.  At least that's what I've been telling my parents for the last decade or so ...