Saturday, October 31

Sexy Saturday Video

Yes, it's a little unconventional but after all, it is Halloween.

So I feel more than comfortable admitting that quirky and dark beats start my blood a boiling. With the exception of Smashing Pumpkins 'Eye', this song was my favorite cut off the David Lynch soundtrack for 'Lost Highway'. With a Gothic Reznor, a killer drum solo and a video that plays homage to Edward Gorey's 'The Gashlycrumb Tinies' - I give you my Sexy Halloween Treat.


Friday, October 30

Black Leather Lust

It's almost midnight and I can't stop looking at them...

So many other things I could be doing like finishing up 'Psycho', it's coming on TCM and I've never seen it all the way thru.

I still have a half finished beer that needs finishing.

But they keep calling me, they want me to put them on again. And so I will.

Cause they're just that hot,

Cause they make me wanna do bad things,

Cause they make my legs look so sexy I can't stop touching them,

Cause I think they want someone to feel me up

So I'm gonna take the dress out the back of the closet - you know the one right? The one you buy cause it looks so good on you but you never wear cause it's too hot for an ordinary go out and now you're just a little apprehensive about showing that much skin. yeah, the goth spot is open till four and I'm in the mood for a little NIN and alot of lusting leering (cause that's all that ever really happens).

They'll go perfect with my new crop and I can already see it sitting on the bar next to my drink - the sight of which should start some interesting conversations.

Or I could just throw on the ex's shirt and make the midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and be a sexy Janet in black leather heels.

I gotta do something, they're itching to go out. And I'm sure the night will end the same way; a little buzzed and a tumble into bed with a slight grin. What more could I ask for? A little trouble maybe?

No matter what happens I've got my alibi all ready "The shoes made me do it".

Tuesday, October 27

Love The Wrong Way

An old friend got married this weekend and I for my toast I would have loved to have told an old story about how his new married status should be the cure for his habit of loving the wrong way. But on second glance the story seemed too crazy for wedding banter; no need to scare his new bride. I'm really happy he's hitched now, cause I thought I'd wind up turning him into the authority's sooner or later.

A couple of friends and I were out in Manhattan having dinner and dancing the night before my good friend Elle was coming to visit. After a couple of shots of Jack I found myself on the bad end of a allergic reaction. The itching started on my face, I tried splashing water on it, but in less than five mins it was out of control. I felt like peeling my skin back and just raking it. It was like a forest fire - it quickly spread from my face to my toes. I was a frenzy of scratching and clawing as we piled into the car, debating whether or not to go to the emergency room. I was starting to lose my cool cause the itching was turning into a painful burning sensation and I could feel my face starting to swell up. No one would let me look at myself in the mirror and I could hear panicked whispers from the back seat. Next thing I knew, I couldn't see and my face felt like it weighed a ton. Thank god for that 24 pharmacy. Whatever the pharmacist gave my friends knocked me out in nano seconds.

All I remember after that was waking up in bed twice during the night as one of my girlfriends continued to give me the medicine the pharmacist said would control the reaction and get rid of the hives.

I looked like Frankenstein after a bad night on the town, the pharmacist had said it'd probably take a day or so for all the swelling to go down. Under a haze of drugs I vaguely remember Fran offering to pick up my friend Elle from the airport the next day - which was cool with me, I had no desire to go out scaring the townsfolk. One of my girlfriends drove me home to Philly where I immediately got right back into bed.

All Fran was supposed to do was entertain Elle in New York for a day or two until I recovered. A day later I phone him up to tell him I was better and that he could bring her to Philly. He tells me that she's enjoying her visit so much that she's decided to stay an extra day. No biggie I thought, she was going to be staying with me for almost a month, she might as well enjoy herself.
The next day came and went, so I called to see how she was...

"Can I speak to Elle, Francois?"
"Sorry, she's out shopping."

Two more days past, so I called again.

"Fran, it's almost been a week now. Did she change her mind about coming to Philly? Has she said anything to you? Can I speak with her?"

"I'd really hate to wake her up. She's sleeping, she's exhausted, we've been out sightseeing all day. I'll tell her you called when she gets up."

An entire week passes and now I'm concerned. The phone call starts to go the same way the rest did until I hear his bedroom door opening and then her voice in the background.

"Fran, is that her? Are you talking to her Francois? Let me have the phone!"

There's what sounds like a struggle for the receiver and then, after an entire week of hunting her down she's on the phone with me - and she's angry.

"I can't believe you, if you didn't want me to visit you should have just said something. I came all the way from London to hang out and you stick me here!"

"What are you talking about Elle," I say. "I've been waiting for you all week, I thought you wanted to stay in New York awhile longer.

"Who told you that?"

"Fran did."

"Fran, did you tell her that I didn't want to come to Philly. Fran?! Well did you? Get your coat on Fran, we're leaving for Philly right now. Aren't we Fran, leaving for Philly?!"

I could tell from the way she said it that she wasn't asking. And when she arrived on my doorstep with a devastated and embarrassed looking Francois I got the most incredible story.

I lie to you not, Fran had been holding her hostage.

Let me explain.

Her flight arrived on Monday. Fran picked her up from the airport and immediately took her back to the apartment. He told her about my being in bed for a couple of days. Elle had been concerned and wanted to call me right away but Fran had told her this wasn't a good idea and that I'd surely call her as soon as I felt better.

Apparently, she hadn't done any of this so called sightseeing that he'd mentioned. Instead Fran had gotten up for work early and left her sleeping. It wasn't until she decided to go out for some fresh air that she discovered he'd locked her in the apartment. When confronted, he swore it was a mistake.

Meanwhile whenever I'd call he'd tell me that Elle was too busy having fun to come to Philly and then turn around an tell Elle that I was still sick and couldn't entertain company.

To make up for 'accidentally' locking her in he took her out to see some sights, only she had to see it out of the car window - no getting out. "There's a shortage of parking in NY, best to do it this way." At one point she needed to get some money exchanged so Fran stopped her by an American Express. Well, Fran has sleep apnea so when she got back to the car he was out cold. "I swear, she said, I screamed freedom and started running around looking for a payphone so I could call you. He'd been watching me like a hawk since Monday - it was getting creepy." But alas Elle has never really gotten the hang of using American pay phones. When she realized she couldn't understand how to dial out, tears ensued and feeling defeated she walked back to the car.

When I called, Fran said they wouldn't be coming to Philly because he'd arranged wine tastings at some Long Island Vineyards. "You know how long a drive that is," he'd said. "By the time we're done I'll be to tired to drive her to your house." Seems like only Fran thinks they had a good time. According to Elle there was no winetasting, instead he took her to his job for lunch and introduced her to his staff. They sat in the cafeteria as he tried to insinuate with odd body language that she was his girlfriend. Later that evening he did take her out to Long Island for dinner where she proceeded to cry and ask repeatedly what was going on, wanting to know why I hadn't called her. Fran told her he didn't know why I wasn't calling but that he was determined to make her visit a good one, because it was becoming obvious that I wasn't committed to that purpose.

Well Friday was Fran's day of reckoning....Elle had started to suspect that something was wrong. Fran's house phone had been restricted from making long distance calls and when she tried to sneak and use his cell she found it locked. "Can't I just take a train to Philadelphia? she asked. He told her I'd asked that he not let her come to Philly just yet. "Couldn't we leave the apartment for a while and hang with some of your friends? she asked. "I don't have friends." he replied. And that's when I called. Elle was listening at his bedroom door and could hear my loud voice on the other line.

Next thing I know it's early Saturday - two in the morning and Elle walks through my door and collapses in my arms crying...he freaking made her cry. At the time I was still confused and didn't understand what was going on. All I know is Fran didn't even stick around, he came in, used the bathroom and hit the road. Needless, to say I was horrified when she told me what happened. She'd genuinely started to believe that I'd invited her to come all the way from England only to change my mind about letting her stay with me.

That morning we called British Airways and cancelled the reservations Elle had managed to make to return home that Sunday. She figured she was going to wait for him to go to sleep - grab her bags and make a run for it.

Yup, that's what happened. Only thing Fran ever said about the incident was that he just wanted her to like him, and he'd thought getting her to spend some time with him would help accomplish that. I always wondered if I'm really allergic to Jack or did I have an allergic reaction because Fran gave me the Jack . Needless to say I never taken a chance on either after that.

Saturday, October 24

Sexy Saturday Video

Today a Sexy Cover Song.

I make no bones about loving me some Elvis Costello - the man has some deep thoughts. You match the power of his lyrics with the voice and emotion of Fiona Apple and BOOM it explodes!

Tuesday, October 20

Reform Me

I’m a holy girl looking for an unholy man. It’s not that I don’t want them to be religious it’s just that I only seem to be attracted to heathens. In the beginning I want to reform them to make myself feel more spiritual but then after I do, I run into the annoying problem of having a man that’s not remotely interested in helping me fall off the path every once in a while into Dirty Land. And then I’m disappointed – then I’m bored.

See, catching them while they’re already holy could mean a lifetime of missionary and a fear of bondage. Plus, if they have the ‘no sex before marriage’ rule that’ll mean I’m not supposed to see the goods before the’ I do’s’. I have nightmares of being stuck with a man with a less than appealing package – and that fear can only be assuaged by a test drive. So now I’m back to the so-called ‘unholy’ guy because the last thing I want to do is corrupt the mind of a guy I might be sitting next to during the next service. Especially if we don’t work out cause then he’ll go and tell everyone that I’m a heathen – and I don’t want to be the heathen. At least not until I’m having one of those certain moments in which I am not myself but instead the someone I need to be at the moment. ;)

Plus I’m sure there’s a bigger punishment for touching a holy hot guy than there is for touching the hot guy who’s already touching other people. Right? We’re all flawed; I just want the universe to give me one guy that’s perfectly flawed. Therein lies the dilemma, I want the impossible. I want to be in a Merchant Ivory movie – corseted and restrained in emotion and the next I’d prefer to peruse the shelves for the perfect crop while being served absinthe. The more spiritual part of me wonders if that makes me dirty, inquisitive, experimental or merely imperfect. Hmm…I think I’ve just found great adjectives to describe my dream guy.

Ok, this is going to have to be a ‘to be continued’ post – I’m going to ponder this some more as the half raspberry gin, little bit of grapefruit is starting to kick in.

Saturday, October 10

Sexy Saturday Video

I don't care what you think,
Annie's red hair + her stance + a man's suit + the crop = Sexy.
I remember the 1st time I saw this and thinking "Can women really be this cool?" Hell yeah!

Wednesday, October 7

US Pole Dancing Championship 2009

I shall be back with regular post tomorrow.
But until then, watch and be amazed.
Who do I talk to get tickets to this?!

Saturday, October 3

Sexy Saturday Video

You knew we had to do Madonna sooner or later.

Sexy cowboys and dirty knees and genius choreography - who knew that could be so steamy? Madge did. And that's why she's still the Queen.

Friday, October 2

Modern Day Dorothy's

A friend of mine has informed me that she is revamping her wardrobe, because as she so eloquently puts it, "According to a new study, men seem to think that women who are fashion forward hold money and material possessions in high esteem -an attitude which forces love and spirituality to be runner-ups in a relationship." The article went on to categorize how men view a women's viable relationship worth based on their clothing choices. Since she's tired of being 'out' of a relationship she's looking to spice up her wardrobe with choices that convey, 'safe, stability,' and I suppose overall weakness in personality.

The day after our conversation, I watched a man step off a bus; his look was polished, immaculate and very stylish…immediately I thought that this was a man who took pride in his appearance and perhaps other aspects of his life as well. But of course, I couldn’t read his life story with crystal ball divination. The sane part of me realizes that outward appearances cannot serve as the sole judge of character. But was another woman watching him at the same time thinking, "Is he vain because he dresses nicely? If we were in a relationship, would he care less about our future or more about his next outfit?" Who knows? I just know that to say anything to credit or the discredit of his character based on clothing choice would be a guesstimation.

While these were my friend's thoughts on the matter (not to mention that twisted survey from the magazine that thinks they know what men are thinking), I have to admit that some people still assess me based on my wardrobe, using choice key words that start to morph into adjectives to describe my personality instead of my style. "different, flaky, unique, spacey, other-worldly." I do sometimes refer to myself as an 'odd bird and I suppose I repeat it because that's what people have been telling me. Yet, I feel incredibly normal. So is it perhaps that what the men from the article really want is conformity? Are they threatened by women women who choose to express themselves through clothing? As I type this; the thought sounds silly, but what else could it be?

My friend then suggests that I experiment by dressing differently for a month to see if people's attitudes or comments toward me altered any. Could I change my single status with the power of new clothes? I went home to contemplate it but instead switched on the television and the Wizard of Oz came on (70th Anniversary ya know).

And because I tend to get carried away with things, my mind ran with the realization of how brave Dorothy was. There she was, a girl leading men on a journey for their own personal freedoms. A different sort of girl in a strange world. Off down a road in search of a brain, a heart, and some courage. I started thinking of celebrating these essentials on a grander scale. I could be a Modern Day Dorothy in a weird Wizard of Oz reconstruction.

I can picture my inner Dorothy:
This is the Dorothy dizzy with the realization that she’s in OZ. This Dorothy doesn’t want to go home; she enjoys discovering what life is like in strange little places like this. So she looks and plays the part: ruby red lips, panties of gingham underneath her low rider knee length khakis, a green tin of Altoids in her cargo pocket -- ‘don’t want to offend the little people’, she thinks, as she takes them and pops them into her mouth two at a time; they fizzle and dissolve on her tongue. There's no group singing cause she’s come equipped with her Ipod. Earphones get pulled over her head as tiny speakers sit casually in her ears. She presses play and the music beats rhythms that speak to her like brain waves. She looks down at the yellow brick road shaking her head - "heels don’t really work well with brick." she thinks. "Oh well, can’t let a few cracks stop you."

Does she dare set her own boundaries? Does she, dear?

You see, for this Dorothy, every boundary she crosses, every rope she unties from herself makes her feel more complete, like the women she has always admired. Unbounded, she walks taller, laughs lighter. One would imagine that releasing such a force would cause her eschew a less cautious approach and stomp through life’s moments, but she tiptoe’s slowly, absorbing every ping and pang of emotion. She’s the girl who would pause in the middle of the yellow brick road and pick out her wedgie. She cares naught for who saw it, or what would be said about her - and that only says more about her. The road to Oz is laced with insecurities, ready to grab hold of the imagination to weld against one’s courage, one’s will. And this Dorothy is sick of the adherence to social stigmas that don’t allow one to be human.

Briefly, I thought about how easy it would be to be so-called normal and fit into the mold – to morph into what other people perhaps might want to see me as. It can become increasingly difficult to stay true to oneself and not allow other judgments of you take root and grow. I have faith that the more women come to terms and embrace their own selves including the imperfections and flaws without picking at and obsessing over them will make others unafraid to expose their own. The inner you should never be costumed by someone else – celebrate it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, to hell with that article.