Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Monthly Archives: July 2007
Monday Night Pimpfest, Part Three!
Last but not least, check out Blue Gal’s tryst with Bill Clinton. I see hugs from Dennis Kucinich in BG’s future real soon, provided she survives her cat fight with Hillary.
Just hope I don’t have nightmares of that floating head of Hillary . . .
D.
Monday Night Pimpfest, Part Two!
Smartest PR gal ever emailed me this afternoon. She must know that bloggers pay little attention to mass emails, even if they do come from someplace as beloved as Comedy Central. So she didn’t just drop some ad-spam on me. Oh, no. She read my blog first:
Hi Douglas-
While your readers are busy blinding themselves after clicking through your “Potter Spoilers” post, I thought you would be interested to know that Comedy Central’s Indecision 2008 campaign (http://www.indecision2008.com/) is officially underway, keeping tabs on all things political so that you can either laugh or cry your way through the upcoming elections.
The site is updated daily, with embeddable clips from the Colbert Report, Daily Show, and Lil’ Bush. There are also customizable widgets and polls, which are also fully embeddable, so you can keep your readers in the loop on Today’s Conservative Talking Point (“Lure Mexicans across border with candy on a string”) and what happens if they Google “Hillary Clinton + Sexyâ€.
You and your readers also have the chance to visit the “Candidate Casting Couch” to weigh in on which candidate fulfills the role of the best Harry Potter characters (preview: Rudy Giuliani = Draco Malfoy, and it actually makes sense…)
So, um YEAH I’m gonna give y’all a shout if you read my stuff! Plus, that “Candidate Casting Couch” really is pretty cute. (“Al Gore = Hermione Granger. Lovable know-it-all; has grown noticeably ‘shapelier’ over the years.”) They want to know who = Harry Potter. But isn’t it obvious?
Answer below the fold.
Monday Night Pimpfest, Part One!
Received in mail today: the ARC for Jackie Kessler‘s The Road to Hell, sequel to Hell’s Belles. (Read my interview with Jackie here.) Karen and I both give Hell’s Belles thumbs-up, FYI. Smart and funny writing does it for us every time.
Undoubtedly, Jesse returns for more nasty demonic action. Don’t know for sure, just got the book, can’t speed-read like all of you Harry Potter-philes. But here’s a snip from the middle of the book. Apparently, Jesse’s coming on to an angel:
“Feel that?” I asked, my voice low, one conspirator to another. “That tingle in your breasts, that touch of heat in your crotch?” The widening of her eyes told me I’d hit the description right on the head. Of course I had—maybe I wasn’t a Seducer anymore, but I still knew how to kiss with power, magic or no magic. “That’s lust.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “How do you know what I’m feeling?”
“Your nipples are erect.” Pointing with my chin, I motioned toward the two bumps on her boobs that pushed against her white scrap of clothing. Until that moment, I’d wondered if angels had the anatomy of Barbie dolls—breasts without nipples, a slit with no clit. “That’s not just from the air conditioning.”
Ooh, baby, that’s my Jesse. Hey, Jackie — mind if I read this out of order?
One criticism, though. That cover? I like my succubi with more junk in the trunk, if you know what I mean.
But I’m really looking forward to this one . . .
D.
SBD: Help me end this thing.
I’m close. So very, very close.
At the risk of abusing Beth’s Smart Bitches Day tradition, I’m going to use this morning’s post to solicit help in ending my romance. Specifically, I need information. I figure the collective experience of my romance-reading readers beats the crap out of my meager investigations any day of the week.
We want . . . information.
Is it, or is it not de rigeur in a romance novel for the hero to overcome challenges and prove himself in the denouement? Well, whether it is or not, I’d like you to give me examples of how this was done in your favorite romance novels. Or in your most hated romance novels, for that matter — it’s all grist for the mill.
Trust me, I have something in mind for all of this information, and it’s not what you think. My betas will, I hope, be pleasantly surprised.
D.
Those Potter spoilers for which you have yearned
Now that the Rowling wench has profited from her lies, I supposed you would like to know the truth of the matter. Sans filigree, sans varnish, as those Americans say.
First and foremost, I am fine, as you can plainly see. In the bone-chilling denouement of our misadventures, I most certainly did not get my hair caught up in one of Voldemort’s Convolvulus spells; my scalp warms my pate still, nary a drop of blood spilt. Nor did that spell foreshorten Little Lord Potter’s wand, as is evident here. (That last image is neither safe for work nor conducive to good corneal health. Click only if you wish to indulge your most self-destructive tendencies.)
Norbert the dragon did not, with a fiery belch, roast the hapless Luna Lovegood. Luna and Hermione presently cohabit in a kitschy Soho flat, but don’t expect La Rowling to provide those steamy details. No, she’d rather turn the poor girl into Lovegood flambé than scandalize her young readers and jeopardize her precious profits.
Given Ms. Granger’s present lifestyle choices, I needn’t comment on her on-again, off-again histoires de coeur with that Weasley sniveler. But never fear: I understand Nymphadora slipped Weasley some Amortentia potion at last year’s Sorting Ceremony Feast, and now he is an official Tonk Boy Toy. I was wondering why she asked me for a dram of Rohypnol . . . the woman never did have confidence in her potion-making abilities.
What about all those deaths and resurrections of which Rowling is so very fond? All of it untrue. Yes, yes, life is so dreadfully undramatic, isn’t it? Why, just the other day Albus and I were giggling over our butter beers on this very point. We had received our advance copy of Deathly Hallows (Rowling grows a positively fetching tail if she fails to send us each an ARC) and for all the laughter, we could not see through the tears. Voldie swung by our table and made a grab for Albus’s copy.
“What is it? What is it? What confabulations has that hideous muggle wrought now?”
“You — you’re dead again,” said Albus. “Sorry old chap.”
I didn’t have time for Voldie’s grumblings. He was bringing us all down. I said, “Simply be content you’re not the object of slash fiction couplings with young Potter.”
That stopped him. “Much of that, is there?”
“Reams of it,” I said.
“Oy,” said Albus. “You’re making me hot. I wonder what Minerva’s up to tonight?”
S.
Mmmm, bagels
Yes, I’ve blogged my bagels before. I’ve given you a picture. I’ve given you a recipe.
But I’ve never given you a closeup.
My photography skills truly suck; this seems a bit out of focus, doesn’t it?
I’ll try to post later. Right now, I have to serve these guys up with some peanut butter (for Jake), cream cheese, lox, shallots, and capers (for Karen & me). Then it’s off to the hospital and gym, and if there’s any time left in the day, I need to crack open my manuscript, because . . .
I’ve finally figured out a satisfying ending. Now I just have to write the damnable thing.
D.
When you ain’t got nothin’
. . . that’s when you visit YesButNoButYes.
Seriously, though, I’m feeling ill, and it’s hard to be creative when your intestines think they’re trying to have a baby. I thought about writing a post on the Total Body Orgasm. Here’s how it would start:
Last night, whilst doing research on YouPorn, I came across an instructional video on Total Body Orgasm.
Right. A pun, the lowest form of humor. Where is my head tonight?
Anyway, YesButNoButYes provides the necessary accoutrements for enjoying YouPorn, as well as an apropos YouTube video.
If I can’t make you laugh tonight, maybe they can.
D.
Friday Flickr babe: sexy
Would it be demeaning to use car slang here? I like her lines. The human form (hers included!) is so very, very beautiful.
As much as I love this, y’all know what I really like: a pretty face.
. . . Below the fold.
Thirteen things I learned from Cosmo, Part … eh, whatever
If there were even 10% truth in advertising, one issue of Cosmo would make me a happy man. Think about it: June’s “75 Hot Mattress Moves” would have yielded (rounding down) seven new tricks to wow my wife. Seven!
. . . which just happens to be the exact number of “boundary-pushing moves all men secretly crave.” All men? We’ll see about that.
50 Ways to Be Closer to Him: will I find five that would work on me?
(Undoubtedly.
1. “Hey, come here.”
2. “You coming to bed, or what?”
3. “Rub this, why don’t you.”
4. (pointing)
5. “Ahem.”
Have I mentioned yet, I’m easy?)
Follow me below the fold for more Cosmolicious (their word, not mine) goodies.
Cin Cin
According to the Urban Dictionary, “Cin Cin” is Italian for “Cheers!” It “derives from the sound of the glasses clinking together.”
It also fails to transcend cultural boundaries:
Years ago I toasted my Mother not with the usual “Kampai!” but with my new uber-cool “Cin Cin” picked up from South American friends.
Mom blanched. Who knew cin cin is Japanese slang for penis?
More to the point, Cin Cin (Vancouver, BC) has a deeper meaning for me and my family because it provided ONLY THE BEST MEAL WE’VE HAD since Hoppe’s in 1996, okay?
Follow me below the fold for food, glorious food.