... can you tie 'em in a knot? can you tie 'em in a bow?

dear cisco adler,

i would like to recommend that you take some of your trust fund and invest in a ball lift. although, by the looks of it you are actually storing all of your hard earned cash in your nuts, hence your struggling battle with gravity. in a flury of genuine concern and mostly mockery, we decided to consult unibloggal's favorite medical expert, dr. jarrett, about your sagging.

"well now. there are two competing medical theories here:
1) hot tub syndrome - the opposite of jumping in cold water...I have "heard from friends" that a few minutes in the tub can have such an effect.
2) his nuts are made of solid gold...making them much heavier than plain ole nuts.
Treatment options: nothing! why the hell would you want to get rid of such an impressive set of low hangers."

my own personal theory is a combination of the two previous mentioned with the additional "your girlfriend drags you around by your balls all day long". well in that case, she deserves the black eyes she inevitably receives when trying to find your dick amongst your giant testicles. all in all, my best advice is this: invest in a wheelbarrow and some protective eyewear for mischa.

your band is real sucky.

best of luck,
unibloggal

teen beat: air force two

since the weee age of nine years old i have been obsessed with the nba and it's plethora of insane looking men. this obsession started with michael jordan and is alive today with dewayne wade, kobe bryant and lebron james. for the most part, they have better bodies than most humans on the planet. all in all, they are well dressed and much younger than me, as i am now aged.

one sunday, the friend family was gathered on a favorite couch of ours when this gem (girl porn) popped up.

i mean, with the exception of tony parker (who is a massive douche brain) and steve nash (who is a great player, but looks like a baby dinosaur), this is a collection of eye sizzle deliciousness. i'm slightly obsessed. in addition to my other faves, we have paul pierce! jermaine oneal!

then, one of my favorite boys, sent me this behind the scenes piece of awesome. it shows juelz santana getting bangery on the tune:


BONERZ!

me: how fucking cute is this Great Pyrenees? can we get one?
Cate: cute, but i don't like white dogs that much

me: racist

Cate: dirt shows on them too much.
like a white jacket.
or white people.

dumb dumb

sometimes (often), i confuse some words which make me sound highly retarded in the course of some daily conversation. i have two examples of this for you here:

HYPERBOLE vs. PARABOLA
hyperbole: a deliberate exaggeration or overstatement
parabola: Set of points equally distant from a focus and a directrix.

on the "shut up you fucking baby" comedy cd by david cross, he talks about how president bush took a hyperbole pill when discussing terrorism post 9/11. at first i was very confused about why the big cheese would be taking pills that made him discuss 10th grade geometry. weird.

ANECDOTE vs. ANTIDOTE
anecdote: short account of an incident (especially a biographical one)
antidote: a remedy that stops or controls the effects of a poison

once when i tried to write a witty email to a bunch of coworkers i was telling a story, you know a giggley little anecdote, only i called it an antidote. like a flu shot. what a douche.

Chaiya Chiaya

I missed African Dance class this weekend, but made up for it with Masala Bhangra, Indian dance, last night. Yes, I’m soooo cultured. It was surprisingly fun, although my shoulders are killing me today.

I originally took Masala Bhangra it to impress my sister, who, after a recent business trip to Bangalor, is obsessed with India. She returned home with not one but two Indian boyfriends emailing her from Bangalor and asking her to marry them. She now calls me in the middle of the night asking for advice. “Ankor is always so sweet and romantic, but Nundik is just so much cuter.”

I don’t think she’s made a decision between the two yet, but she is planning on returning to India soon and got two “Learn to Speak Farsi” language tape series for Christmas. She is also obsessed with Indian movies. Her favorite video online right now is from a popular Bollywood film. I’m going to keep going to the Masala Bhangra dance class so I can soon look like the woman in this video. My sister will be so impressed.

For those of you that have not spent a lot of time in New York, this is pretty much what it's like to ride the subway to work every day. Well, on the nice days anyhow, when the conductor lets us dance on top of the train.

you made me gay, (insert band here), you made me gay

I know I'm a posting maniac today but I couldn't resist passing this little gem on. Seriously shit like this makes me want to give a big fat finger to Christians. Love God's Way Ministries has a list of bands that are "gay or propagating a gay message." According to the website, people can catch "gayness" through song. Duh. I mean the first time I heard "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" by the Rolling Stones I realized I love women. Satisfaction....oral sex....vagina...come on now, the message is obvious.

The website states, "One of the most dangerous ways homosexuality invades family life is through popular music. Parents should keep careful watch over their children's listening habits, especially in this Internet Age of MP3 piracy."

Notable gay-loving offenders include: Metallica? Kansas? Ghostface Killah? Lil' Wayne? John Mayer? Ok, I'll give them that one. You can check out all the offenders here. Thankfully they have also provided a list of "safe bands," and while they may not be propagating a homosexual lifestyle many of them will make your ears bleed.

*Update* - Thanks to a loyal unibloggal reader I have recently been informed that the Love Gods Way website is a fake. In fact its a parody and quite a brilliant one I may add. You can learn all about the man behind the hoax here.

kids are brillant

Here's a four year old's response to Bush's SOTU speech. Genius!

confessions of a wannabe stripper

I'm official hooked. I have found my calling in life or at least my passion since 'calling' denotes I have a talent for pole dancing and that, my friends, is FAR from true. I still cannot get myself around the pole in any sort of fashion close to graceful, much less sexy. Mainly I just hold on for dear life and in three seconds find myself on the floor in pretzel formation.

The bruises I'm developing all over my legs I wear as battle scars. I keep adding new ones each week which provides a nice array of all different colors, shapes and sizes to grace my uber white "canvases," if you will. These battle scars are evidence that I will stop at nothing to officially execute one damn trick.

This class remains the funnest yet most humiliating hour of my week, but my hope is that eventually I will get it. I am convinced, even if it takes months, that I will finally have my A-HA moment and I will understand how to work with the pole instead of against it. For now, I'm going to watch this video and daydream that its me. I kind of look like Kate Moss, right?

wtf!

the plural form of youth is YOUTHS?!!



Main Entry: youth
Pronunciation: 'yüth
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural youths /'yü[th]z, 'yüths/
Usage: often attributiveEtymology: Middle English youthe, from Old English geoguth; akin to Old English geong young -- more at YOUNG
1 a : the time of life when one is young; especially : the period between childhood and maturity b : the early period of existence, growth, or development
2 a : a young person; especially : a young male between adolescence and maturity b : young persons or creatures -- usually plural in construction3 : the quality or state of being youthful : YOUTHFULNESS

Limit: 2 per week

and now i bring you the what the fuckiest news of the day:

Don't Eat The Squirrels

TRENTON, N.J. (AP) -- New Jersey is warning residents to limit their consumption of squirrels killed near a toxic waste dump.
Many residents of Ringwood are members of an Indian tribe who hunt and fish in the area.
A squirrel contaminated with lead was found there two months ago.
State officials sent out letters advising that adults who eat squirrels should eat no more than two a week. It should be even fewer for children and pregnant women.

and people from new jersey wonder why new yorkers want to have nothing to do with them. hmm...

today officially blows

see, today at 2pm i will have 2 (not 4) wisdom teeth ripped from my skull. i am not too much of a dentist wimp and i like pain pills, milk shakes and movies on the couch all day, so that isn't bumming me out too much. however, after working a 10 hour day yesterday with many meetings and spreadsheets, i went out to dinner with 20 coworkers to celebrate the middle of a long week. we ate and drank cocktails and wine and then beer over karaoke. at midnight i tore myself away because my bed was calling loudly to me through the radio in my metal fillings (jk, dudes). i got home and furiously chugged a little bit of water that i found in a bottle halfway down my bed. i woke up this morning to a pounding headache, a wine induced sugar buzz and the UNability to drink ANYTHING. that's right! no food or bevs for 8 hours before surgery. so, here i sit, back at my desk with a grumbling hungover belly. all that will satisfy me is some kind of egg, cheese and bread product mash up with ketchup on the side and a large coffee to wash it down, followed by a litre and a half of water. HOWEVER, i will sit here in dreaded agony until this afternoon when i am told to count backwards from ten. this blows.

Did somebody say...meat?

Slate recently ran an interesting article on what Americans are shoplifting these days. The answer, meat! Meatlifting has become a problem in markets across the country. And not cheapo chicken cutlets or drumsticks, but filet mignon, rib eyes and other expensive cuts.

Apparently, people are not meatlifting out of financial hardship, but as a reward. This makes sense. I've often said to myself, "Julie, you've worked really hard this week. You definitely deserve a rack of lamb. Please help yourself."
(Full Disclosure: In this case "rack of lamb" refers primarily to "vodka soda.")

The most prevalent meatlifters are "gainfully employed women between 35 and 54." These ladies peruse the shelves, filling their carts with essentials like milk and toilet paper before standing in line with the hordes of other shoppers. The only difference? Unbeknownst to everyone else, Felicia has a rib eye stuffed in her pocket.

I'm not yet in the meatlifting demographic, which probably explains why I haven't had the urge to loot a loin of pork. But ladies beware. I'm watching what you're putting into that $2000 Fendi bag -- lamb chops.

teen beat: award season is upon us!

for the next couple of months we will be bombarded with constant awards show buzz. if you're like me, you're already planning the in-home red carpet and specially designed ballots to be printed in time for your own oscar party. ok, maybe not, but still. today i will be providing you with some babe-o-thons related to what many film industry pundits are calling the greatest year in film so far this century. wow!

borat is kind of gross and while funny, i don't want to french him. however, sasha baron cohen is a full on sex pot. he's especially babe-o-rific in his suit. i also think his fiance is cuter than crap.

ryan gosling, previously mentioned in this weekly feature, was nominated for a best oscar nomination for his role in half nelson. i've yet to see this film, but he's a babe and if i had him as a teacher when i was young, i'd turn him into the male version of mary kay laterno.

and for next year's awards, i am hoping they will make a "best body" award at the oscars. if this is the case, i am hoping that my boy justin will be leading the pack. despite his sick inland empire tattoos and that pesky life sentence, i'm thinking he is the hottest person alive. and he was actually great in alphadog.

"My butt hurts."

I don’t know if anyone else finds this as funny as I do, but it’s been cracking me up all weekend. I finally just ordered the T-shirt. I also tried to order the guy in the T-shirt, but he was all out of stock.



Need a closer view?

No No No No No

According to Fashion Wire Daily, the latest look for men this fall is, (pause) leggings. How can this be? How will they comfortably situate their twig and berries as to not totally offend the masses? Very few women can successfully pull off leggings. I'm guessing even fewer men.

I have yet to accept the hordes of Brooklyn and Lower East Side gents strutting around right this moment in skinny jeans. Jeans about as skinny as the burning cigarette dangling off their bottom lip. (Shudder)
I never thought that style could evolve any further, but alas, I'm wrong.
"Leggings made of microfiber cotton and wool, shown in violet, forest green and Milan fog gray, all of them with stirrup straps, except of course for a couple of them cut above the knee, accompanied half the looks in this poetic, polished and unexpected collection," said FWD.

Stirrup straps! Above the knee! This would never happen in Pittsburgh. But I fear they will come to Brooklyn. I can't wait until the day some guy in a large winter coat shows up innocuous enough to a bar only to shed the coat and, GASP!, there he will be in all his glory. Violet stirrups and all.

Sweet Sweet Fatty

okay. i promise this is my last american idol post. i just think ya'll need to meet jonathan jayne aka "sweet fatty" as newagey and i lovingly refer to him. i don't know exactly what it is about him that makes my heart feel so swollen. his lisp? his song choice? his shirt? who knows. sometimes love just works in mysterious and unexplainable ways.

"Don’t Do That"

Baby Dayliner has a new song! Arguably, it’s not his best work. But still, beautiful Baby D. can do no wrong in my mind. Give it a listen.

Incidentally, this picture, on his myspace page, is from the show I attended over the summer at the Bowery Ballroom. See me in the bottom left? I’m the one with brown hair.

friday dating tip: totally cheating!

no, today's tip is not going to advise you on how to best annihilate the balls of or titty twist the hell out of a cheating male or female mate. in today's dating tip, i will show you how to cheat your way into being a uniblogger. you see, i have a job. i know, shocking! and as of late, i've actually been quite busy. so busy that i've had very little time to give a flying eff about you and your miserable lack of dating skills. so, this week, i'm actually stealing the thoughts of two of my female friends who apparently have NOTHING to do but IM each other all day. i cannot vouch for their skills, but i'm going to steal them anyway. here are ten things NOT to do on a first date, especially if you're a man. i mean, can you imagine?

1. cry
2. mention your therapist
3. spiral into a jealous rage at dinner and throw you drink in the waitresses face screaming "you whore" when she asks your date if he's all through with his/her food
4. wear a padded bra - don't set the expectations too high
5. don't bring him/her to a party at your friend's and point out everyone you've slept with there
6. tell him/her you shaved your legs just for this occasion
7. bring him/her to a madrone night. gotta work up to sloppiness.
8. discuss your IBS extensively when deciding what to order
9. have bad breath. don't drink a cup of coffee, eat a tuna fish sandwich, and smoke a cig
10. order dessert and then talk about how fat you are and how much you are going to have to work out the next day to burn the calories from dinner

THANKS, LADIES!

It's snowing!

It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!



It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!



It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!



It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!



Sorry, I'm from California.

best/worst/best again

You gotta have love for this one.

confessions of a wannabe stripper - bringing sexy back

Last night was my second foray into the juggernaut that is my pole dancing class. Although still extremely embarrassing last night proved that going a second time really does make a difference. I was much better this time, found my rhythm again (sort of) and even completed one move around the pole! Hallelujah there is a god (and she's clearly sympathetic to the art of stripping.)

One of the reasons for my newfound success at the world's oldest art form could be the fact that this time I came to class armed with "stripper shoes." I have to admit, it does provide an entirely different feeling when your dancing in heels. Its much easier to get into character when you're not parading around in rolled up yoga pants with nasty old bare feet. However, though I had on the required attire, its still embarrassing to look at yourself in the mirror and see some awkward girl with bright white legs stuffed into platform stripper heels glaring back at you. I understand now why tans are sexy.

Last night we learned our second sexy stripper floor routine set to "My Love" by a one Mr. Justin Timberlake. It was super fun, until I realized that most of the routine was literally on the floor and my knees were not happy about it. This morning I woke up and it looks like I spent last night blowing everyone in the state California. I think these bruises are here to stay for some time so hopefully, (fingers crossed) I can attend next dance class with stumpy white bruised legs and be the sexiest bitch around. I can't wait!

Don't cha wish you weren't such a SUCKY singer

i'm embarrassed to admit it, but these first couple of episodes of american idol have become my newest guilty pleasure. i turned the t.v. on last night just in time to see drunk ass paula telling yet another contestant that she thinks they're "rully beuuuufull". there were a couple of decent contestants, but for the most part, seattle was full of total freaks. needless to say, this episode was frickin' hilarious in a very cringey way. please enjoy this montage of some of the most...uh... special folks from last night's show butchering the shit out of an already questionable song.

“Has anyone in this family ever even seen a chicken?”

For those of you that have not already realized that Arrested Development is one of the funniest shows ever created, here’s a little something to convince you. This chicken dance clip from season three cracks me up every time. Sadly, season three was the last season of the show and I just finished watching it on DVD. Now what? Where is the justice, I ask you?

bitch is looney tunes

best effing video i've seen all year!

one of these things is not like the other

Its now Wednesday afternoon which means time to get to work, i.e. time to troll craiglist and look for a home I can't afford to buy, apartments I'm too lazy to move to but are cute and new items I need to buy for my already overstuffed living quarters. Since we have 1800 new pots and pans we are in DESPERATE NEED of a pot rack and I've been looking on craiglist the past couple of weeks for a "good deal." Today I came across this post and immediately barfed up my lunch. I wasn't expecting that a search for pot racks could be so hazardous to your health.

A bit of advice for the seller:

Women often do the shopping for their homes, so it may behoove you next time you try and sell an item on craigslist to leave out the picture of a random woman's beef curtain tucked up inside some nasty ass white biker shorts. I promise your sales won't suffer douchebag and you will help prevent innocent shoppers from losing their lunch. Thank you and get a life (or a girlfriend because clearly you're hard up.)

Bringing sexy back or falling on my face?

High-heeled boots are supposed to be sexy. That’s why I bought them. But wavering with every other step and practically twisting one’s ankle repeatedly is assuredly NOT sexy. And my boots aren’t even stiletto, like the ones in the picture. Maybe my friends are right, I’m a lumberer.

Any advice on how to walk sexy in boots? Laurin, are you learning anything about this in your stripper class?

man pants hall of fame

i have a few thoughts on uncomfortable things that some men wear from time to time. i pretty much think that some of them are the most awful inventions ever.

buckle shorts with lots of pockets, snaps and other acoutrements.

this might be a woman, but with buff and shaven man legs. pink crocs or whatever these duck shoes they sell at airports are called and athletic dong socks are the worst, but they don't have anything on these wicked retro daisy shorts.

these might be pants for jail birds, but i'm not sure. nevertheless, they shouldn't squeeze your nuts to death. see that muffin? it's the manquivalent of camel toe. go away.

these are the denim version of what my good pal doug calls bbq shoes. like the kind of shoes a 45 yr old dad who loves the first shorts i showed and wears them to van halen concerts where he smokes dope and says the word "tits" a lot even though he'd never do it at home because if he did, his wife sue would never cook him hot pockets.

however, there are one pair of jeans that any man can wear and can wear well:

levis 501s are a classic. however, i've heard that the buttons are bad for man parts, especially during dry sex. can anyone confirm or deny?

Keep the dream, and don't ever let go of it.

Ever since Audrey posted that pic of the ginormous bunny, I haven't been able to get enough of em' -- for observing and cooing at, not consuming. Anyway, in honor of the new season of American Idol, I bring you Bunny's quest to follow his/her (gender up for debate) dream of stardom. Extras include the trials and tribulations of the audition, complete with subsequent therapy sessions. "Should I punch a wall? But I only have paws!"

Courtesy of Salon's VideoDog:

teen beat: tahoozled

this past weekend i headed to the south lake tahoe keys for some tequilla and indoor gaming fun times. look what happened:

faces have been blocked out to protect dear friends. i call this dance, the "one humped camel."

this photo wasn't nearly as hilarious with entirely blocked out eyes, so i kept some visable.

this is a giraffe. she is dialated to 9 centimeters. you can almost see the head if you look closely.

this is a girl-a-mid, an old favorite. look at that bear with a rifle to our left. look at cristy's hearty hooray! look down all of our shirts, ok don't.

look at what caused all of this ruckas. it was called "golden chocolate."

she was hungry, ok?

taco time. deflated raft, one person in the middle. perfect.

i don't know who these two sluts are or what they're doing. what i do know is that the one standing up is definitely not married.

Friday Dating Tip (hypothetically speaking)

Let's say, hypothetically, that you keep your condoms in your underwear drawer because it's right next to your bed. And let's say that you also keep your hypothetical vibrator in the same drawer, for the afore mentioned reason. Luckily, if you're like this hypothetical Uniblog-gal, you're smart enough to think about this before your date with a potential bedmate. So before leaving for the hypothetical date, which is a third date, meaning it could likely lead to the bedroom and to the underwear drawer, you stop and make sure that the condoms are in the front part of the drawer, easily accessible, and the vibrator is in the back of the drawer, buried under your granny-panties. Because the last thing you want you new lover to grab, while in the heat of the moment, is your 10" swirly, pink Pearl Rabbit.

Now let's say, hypothetically, that as you're organizing your underwear drawer in the previously mentioned arrangement, you come upon the pamphlet (instruction booklet?) that came with your vibrator. It's still in your underwear drawer because you never read it (what's to read? They're not that hard to figure out). So you remove it from the drawer; no need for extra evidence of the vibrator hidden in there.

Flash forward through your hypothetical dinner, through a few hypothetical cocktails, through flirtations and making out the couch, through seductively leading him into your room and to the point where you're getting hypothetically horizontal in your bed (next to the underwear drawer) when you notice something lying there, next to your hypothetical heads.

And herein lies the hypothetical dating tip: if you don't want him to know about the vibrator, DON'T LEAVE THE FULL-COLOR, SIX-PAGE PAMPHLET ON TOP OF YOUR DRESSER!

How could you not want to eat something this cute?

What first goes through your head when you see a picture like this in the paper: cute and fluffy playmate or tender and sumptuous meal? I first thought the former until you get to the end of this article and see the recipe for Korean spicy rabbit and potato.

But I’m still having a hard time deciding which is more adorable, the 23-lbs bunny or the 63-year-old, smiley German man. The two together make an excellent pair. With some veggies on the side. Yummers.

To quote my roomie, Cate: “The bigger they breed the bunnies for slaughter the more likely they will be to stage an effective bunny revolt! Viva la bunny grande!”

Whatever, she’s a vegetarian.

(thanks for the link, Jolanka)

Sacfree: A new dimension of comfort and liberty for your balls.

are your testicles crying out for freedom? begging for a gentle breeze throughout the day? well, gentlemen... look no further. straight from germany, i'd like to introduce you to the answer to your stifled balls: SACFREE!!
this is one of the most barftastic wtfiest undergarments i've come across in a very long time. but hey, i don't have balls, and apparently am not fully understanding the benefits that sacfree is about to bring to the world. male readers, please enlighten us all. gary tj and trav, please let me know which style you prefer for your upcoming bday presents.

Afternoon pick me up

Usually the sight of babies serves as a reminder to take my birth control. But this video is the best thing that has happened ot me all day. Sign me up for babysitting.

confessions of a wannabe stripper

ladies and gentlemen, i have a new-found respect for strippers. last night i took my first (of what will become many) pole dancing classes. let me just say that it was one of the most fun and embarrassing moments of my entire life. in one fail swoop i turned into the whitest girl in america. i had no rhythm, no sensuality, no damn clue. even though i grew up dancing as a little girl and feel fairly confident that i can move on the dance floor as an adult, i couldn't get the moves and could barely lift myself up when attempting my first "on the pole" technique. it was a trainwreck. at one point i literally swung aroung the pole so fast that my legs got twisted around the pole and then around each other. hot huh? yeah the dollar bills were totally flying my way.

since this was my first class i didn't really know what to expect and more importantly what to bring. apparently there is a dress code that includes: short shorts or a "stripper" skirt, stripper heels (the higher the better) and anything else that makes you a hot piece of ass (aka no where close to my normal workout attire.) therefore, i had to roll my yoga pants up into really cute mock biker shorts that then squeezed and pinched my legs in such a way that i realized, oh, you can have cellulite on your quads. aweeeeeeeeeesome.

to make matters worse the teacher was this amazingly hot russian dancer who had a body to kill for. i literally couldn't take my eyes off her and wanted to impress her with my "sexy ways" but every time she came around my "pole station" i would fall flat on my face. i could barely even shimmy my hips is a sexy fashion. i lost it...completely.

i know this sounds like a nightmare, and, well...it was. but scarily enough it was fun and i'm determined to get better and be the best cardio stripper you have ever seen. to help me get past my own ego and purge all the embarrassing details of my experience i've decided to share my trails and tribulations with you, loyal unibloggers.

i hope you enjoy.

manscaping: unibloggal speaks out

we recently (like 5 minutes ago) received a request from an anonymous male reader for our collective input on the preferred condition of male nether regions. below you will find a list of quotes from a series of emails on the topic. i have spared my fellow bloggers by keeping them anonymous. seems like no one wants their name attached to a conversation about man private hairs.

uniblogger 1: personally speaking, a man who grooms is a man who's DOOMED. perhaps a little trimming of the shrubs, but a fully scultped lawn like andrew mccartney's character used make in the beginning of mannequin is completely scary to me. any man who puts that much effort into his biznass is just shy of a trannie in my book. same goes with facial hair - if it's too manicured (a la AJ from backstreet boys) then i'm out of the running. not into it. but then again, i like doughy men who have let themselves go slightly with an untamed beard. i like em hairy and somewhere on the evolution chart inbetween ape and man.

uniblogger 2: let's not beat around the bush here. we're talking about manscape architecture! i'm brainstorming....this is a hard one. generally speaking, i'm against manscaping. i like my men to be men. a crew cut makes me think of playing putt-putt or teeing off, which, by the way, is not hot. a bald eagle makes me think of haley joel, which, again, is not hot. that said, i do think men need to be introduced to scissors for the slight, occasional trimming. as an incentive, tell them it adds an inch.

uniblogger 3: i don't mind a trim, in fact i think i prefer it, sometime it can get a little to snake in the grass for my taste, but i do agree that deliberate sculpting of the pubis is just not OK.

uniblogger 4: the truth of the matter is that no one wants a mouth full of muff. male or female. let's keep it clean kids. trimming is great for everyone involved. however, overtrimming to prepubescent status can backfire. first off, that shit is spikey when growing out. also, if you've trimmed your southern region way down to make your wiener look bigger, you're an idiot. we measure with our hands, mouths, etc. NOT our eyeballs. usually.

uniblogger 5: A little trim is a definite benefit, I find bushwhacking not my cup of tea. However, a manicured mangina is unacceptable. I don't think I've ever really encountered one. I would be interested in getting feedback on this topic from the gay community. Do gay men's pubis manicurus strategies differ? I smell a trend piece.

uniblogger 6: i pretty much agree that it is not necessary to dismantle your manhood by removing all evidence of puberty. this goes for the entire body. shaved chests are as gross as fully nude nards. but i'm getting off the topic, when you find a stray dong hair that's as long as one you'd find in your hand after shampooing your hair, it's gross. hair is gross, but it's a necessary evil. however, long and unruly hairs are vomitown. it's worth the effort if you want girl mouth on your you know what.

uniblogger 7: The shorter the hair, the longer your junk looks. If you're little, trim it, it will do wonders. No shaving though, unless you live in Vegas and deal drugs.

non-gawker stalker

when i spot celebrities in new york, i successfully resist the urge to gawk. in fact, i purposefully do the opposite. sometimes, i dole out a quick "hmph" of recognition with my eyes, followed by a naima-inspired clip of the shoulder and turn away. however, most of the time, i do operation: avoid.

today, austin scarlet (pseudo celebrity, i know), of project runway fame, felt the burn of operation: avoid in h&m.



now, don't point out the hypocrisy; it's obvious! i'm obsessed with the fact that i spot celebrities, big and small, and i try to non-gawk-gawk-gawk with the aid of my peripheral vision and mirrors. oh, and then i blog about them.

Spamtastic

No one likes email spam, but I ask you to take a step back to appreciate the fact that the spammers of the world are getting more and more creative. With new security settings and email filters developing every day, spammers are forced to expand their subject lines beyond “Lowest Pre-approved Mortgage!!!” and “Tired of your sexual dysfunction?” to more unexpected phrases to get through to your inbox.

Even still, many emails get thrown straight into the spam folder, which is why I suggest that you take the time to look through it every month or so. You’ll be amazed by the bizarre phrases that spam companies create – are they randomly computer generated? Written by monkeys? Or do they hire recently graduated English majors to sit and concoct the most inappropriate word combinations ever?

Here are just a few of my favorite subject lines that I found in my spam folder this week. Some of them sort of make sense when you think about them long enough.

Bunk bed attract

Aircraft soft

Ingenious statesmanship

Maritime swivel

Groundlessly meager

Flustered placenta

Expectantly housewarming

Hatchet concisely

Sheepishly attack

Woodpecker overhead projector

Libelous mediocrity

I pose a challenge to you, readers: a prize for the first person who can combine these phrases in somewhat logical short story. I will be accepting submissions all week.

teen beat tuesday: go team go

Over the holidays I found myself having one of the worst weeks of my life and to add insult to injury I got sick on New Years. Thanks Jesus! Actually, I really do mean thank you. I've discovered that our sweet lord does work in mysterious ways because if it wasn't for getting sick I wouldn't have stumbled upon the 10-episode bravo marathon of "Friday Night Lights" and I wouldn't have discovered my new (albeit out of character) TV crushes.

First up: dreamy, bad boy running back "Tim Riggins"



This crush makes sense to me, sort of. He's young, fit, rebellious, drinks too much, always has messy (often wet) hair in his face and makes out with his best friends girlfriend. Of course I would have a boner for this guy. I have been and will forever be attracted to bad boys. I mean give me a break...



Number two: hot football dad aka "Coach Taylor"



My second crush scares me for many reasons. One, I'm now officially attracted to 40-year olds which is a very weird, "come to terms with your age" phenomenon. But more scary than the age factor is the fact that Coach Taylor looks like a slightly cuter version of every suburban dad in America. He wears kaki short with white socks and sneakers; he wears wrap around sunglasses around his neck while driving; he has "man to man" conversations; he's totally wrong for me. Any yet...girl boner.

I'm through trying to figure out why my loins ache for both of these characters and instead I'm thanking fate for bringing these two dear dear crushes into my life on Wednesday nights. God bless America, football and the Dillon Texas "Panthers." Go team.

Little fat man with a pug nose face...

In honor of David Bowie's b-day I'd like to treat ya'll to this clip of him on Extras. Poor pug nosed Ricky Gervais.

yay or nay?

Michel Gondry To Direct Blondie Biopic Starring Kirsten Dunst?

"There were rumours a while back that Kirsten Dunst had been cast to play musician Debbie Harry in a biopic about her life. Now said rumour just got a little juicier, as Dunst recently revealed in an interview that her next project would be a movie with director Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Dave Chappelle’s Block Party) about a certain “well-known singer”. "

mandy whore?

during the pop princess wars, mandy moore seemingly emerged as the naive, wholesome, innocent one. well, for no real reason, i’m here to periodically prove otherwise to the unibloggal readership!

let us begin with the ridiculously suggestive and age inappropriate lyrics to the song "saturate me," which our little lolita mandy recorded at the age of 17. (my favorite bits are italicized.)

The desert I wander lacks in its mirage
There's no mistaking in the barrage
Of sand and wind that tears my skin (tears my skin)
Leaving what's without exposing what's within
Forsaken, left here
In my barren desolate...
My soul is evaporating
Won't you saturate me, won't you saturate me
Rain down on me with life
My soul is evaporating
Won't you saturate me, won't you saturate me
Storm around me, bring the tide
My days stretch long into the heat
As the sun brightens my defeat
My lips are chapped, they're parched and dry (parched and dry)
My thirst it builds, with every day gone by....
Forsaken, left here
In my barren desolate...
My soul is evaporating
Won't you saturate me, won't you saturate me
Rain down on me with life
My soul is evaporating
Won't you saturate me, won't you saturate me
Storm around me, bring the tide
The dunes that shift, drift and lift in the wind
Cover up my Hope, as I start to give in
To the cracks and creases and the dips in my will
As I am pushed toward the brink, I drink down and swill

friday dating tips: getting freaky with your phone

not literally guys, come on.

(stephanie went to lunch, remind me to never try and do that without her.)

there are several things that often happen and many frequent errors/things to avoid when trying to negotiate a booty call via text message. i have tried to illustrate some of these items below.

several things to consider
- often times if you've never hooked up, but have always participated in a mild flirtation, late night and often drunk text messaging is usually the way to break the ice and possibly land yourself in the throws of a late night horizontal dance party.
-there are usually a few assumptions that can be made based on a received text message. for example, if someone asks you at 2am, "where are you?" or "what are you doing?" that means, "wanna do it?" also, if you respond, "sleeping" or "eating pizza" that will imply that you do not want to do it. on the contrary, if you say "i'm druuuuunk. what are you doing?" you DO wanna do it.
- if you do end up hooking up repeatedly while intoxicated and spurred on by the lovely text message, it's not likely that anything other than drunken mouth mashing will ever happen between the two of you. it will always be awkward if you ever actually speak on the phone or if, for example, you're ever seated next to him/her on a 3 hour airline flight.
- late night text messages don't always have to lead to frenching. you could say, "i'll give you $30 to come cuddle with me right now." there's no way to misunderstand that message. and who doesn't like to cuddle?

frequent errors and things to avoid
- don't ever actually talk dirty. the F word is strictly forbidden. however, i was advised by a male friend that it is ok to send photos that are slightly scandalous.
- don't initiate a text message romance with someone who has never given you the time of day in real life. it's really mashy to deny someone via text message. use your sex-dar. ok?
- don't take it to the next level via text. for example, if your partner has been holding out on the mouth sex, and you're really into that, please don't do the text message version of the hand placed firmly on the back of the head while pulling it somewhat forcefully towards your privates.
- it's probably best to either leave pre-dawn or sneak out in the morning while the other person is still asleep. no one wants to discuss brunch over text message, ya know?

For god sake, let me pee in peace.

Now I've been known to share a bathroom stall with certain girlfriends due to circumstances beyond my control: over crowding, over consumption or, say, fear of being raped in a certain Tenderloin bar's bathroom. And during said situations, casual chatter is wholly acceptable. Where else are you going to confer about the merits of a potential toothless mate?

But I'm going to draw a line in the sand. If we're in an environment that has fluorescent overhead lights, elevators and/or requires a key card for entry, I do not want to talk in the bathroom. Granted we might be in separate stalls, but when I'm attempting to wiggle down my jeans without breaking a sweat, the last thing I want to do is discuss the unseasonably warm winter with a co-worker.

Needless to say, it blows my mind that men saddle up to the trough for a good gabfest. Do men look around their respected offices and think, "boy, I might only be the intern, but I've seen every man's penis on the floor!" Something tells me no. But I would.

the o.c. - gone but not forgotten

it is a sad day in tv land. the o.c. is dead. actually, it is on life support with a definite day of deceasedness: february 22, 2007. as a bonafide o.c. expatriate, i feel like my brothers and sisters have been senselessly axed. in their honor, i am going to share with you a few of my favorite moments, as well as one solitary hope for the series fin...i can't say the word without tearing up.

favorite moments:
* a manly, buff and very lopsided fight between ryan atwood and ilovemybiggaydad luke and pals ending in the prolamation, "welcome to the OC, bitch."
* the arrival and rapid downfall of dear oliver, whose character i believe to be modeled after brandon davis. my favorite is when he takes the gang to see "ROOOOOONNEEEEYYY" and then gets busted in a coke sting.
* a season one favorite features dear marissa coop found possibly dead (but only pill popped) on a dusty road at knott's berry farm, i mean in tijuana. we won't even talk about theresa. barf.
* season two highlights are topped by marissa's quick stint with the other team. she bones (or actually, probably not) alex, the very alternative highschool drop out with purple streaks who is somehow the manager and bartender at the peach pit after dark, i mean the bait shop. oh, and she's a girl.
* kiki cohen's announcement that she "may love her chardonnay but at least she won't die alone" is probably the single best quote of the show. i love skeletal drunk kiki cohen.

there are so many more favorite moments, especially from this new season which is proving to REALLY be the best since season one. while mischa barton is off getting scabies from her boyfriend cisco adler, the new girls of the oc are looking FOOOOIIINNNEEE. which brings me to my big wish as the show winds down.

picture this: taylor townsend (ryan's new girlfriend) and mini cooper (kaitlin, marissa's baby sister) in a wicked tryst with ryan slopey shoulder but somehow now totally hot atwood. an oc first, a tres way with the three hotest dishwater blondes on tv.

EDIT the show should end with a massive earthquake during which, southern california breaks off and floats into the ocean. nothing is more OC than the big one. OR there is a massive gang shoot out between the kids of harbor high and the dick bags of laguna beach: the real oc.

let's start a petition. who's with me?! please vote now on your favorite surprise ending.

Hydrated

One of my new year’s resolutions was to drink more water. I drink a lot of water already, but I recently read that you’re supposed to consume at least two liters a day. Two liters. Do you realize how much water that is?

I suppose if you space it out throughout the day, it doesn’t seem like so much. But I forget to drink, and then at 5pm, down two liters within the last hour of work. This means that I spend the last hour in my office running to the bathroom every five minutes.

This wouldn’t be that much of a problem except that the bathroom is on the other side of my giant office. So, in order, to get there, I have to scurry past the offices of 20 other people, at least five of which are attractive men that I have mini work crushes on. (You know the kind of crush I’m talking about: entirely impractical and if you just saw him on the street you wouldn’t even look twice. But because you work with him, you know that he’s a very important, successful big shot creative director. And you know you’d never have a chance – a. because you work with him, b. because he’d never date a lowly copywriter, and c. because he’s married. And THAT’S what makes him so unattainably attractive.)

Actually, it didn’t even occur to me that my coworkers would notice me passing by, the unobtrusive and shy freelancer that I am, until I ran into one of my afore mentioned crushes at a bar the other night. One that I had never spoken to, so I didn’t think he even knew who he was until he turned to me and said:

“You work at _____ right? I recognize you. You walk past my office all the time.”

“Yeah, um, you’re on the way to the bathroom.”

“You go to the bathroom a lot.”

Then he turned to continue talking to his friends. I think it's love. Soon I’ll be carrying our advertising love child, and then I’ll REALLY have to pee all the time.

new year's resolution #279: be less of a fucking retard

unibloggal pal lindsay is an employee over at google so while she's at work not only is her normal gmail chat available, her google/internal account is visible as well. i'm usually careful about chatting at her gmail account only however, i biffed it hard yesterday.

me: thanks for trying to feed drunken phil on nye
that was hilarious to listen to
he was really fuckin hungry and i was too drunk to help him out
lindsayg: um, you were just viewed in my meeting
me: oh god
lindsayg: yep
me: SORRRRRRRRRRY
lindsayg: that's why you should only contac me through my gmail
me: ok
got it
lindsayg: you were on the projector
me: holy crap
lindsayg: "who's stephanie?"
me: sweet
lindsayg: i'm so professional
me: i'm sersly so sorry
but it is one of the funniest things i've heard in a long time
Lindsay: i couldn't click it down either because i was trying to find an email with a portfolio so it just sat up there while i searched my email
me: dropping eff words all over the place
me: it coulda been SO MUCH WORSE. i could've said "boner" or something
Lindsay: i'm still laughing in my head. seriously. if they didn't think i was crazy before, they have it confirmed now
me: you're welcome!!!
Lindsay: i'll let you know when you can help me out again
SOOOO EMBARASSING
it was sooo BIG and ENLARGED on the screen
at least i am helpful
me: next time i'm charging.
no laughs for free in '07.
Lindsay: i'll give you a penny next time i see you

Wanted: Whore with Journalism Experience

One thing about being a graduate student is that you're constantly looking for ways to generate a little cash. And as a journalism student, the best scenario is if those endeavors translate into getting a new clip as well. While perusing various money making/clip generating outlets, I came across this lil' doozy out of Vancouver.

• Wanted: Sex trade worker with some writing skill to cover murder trial.
• Ideal candidate will bring a unique voice.
  

Okay, so does that disqualify a writer with some sex trade skill? I might be a little rusty, but my writing is better than all those sluts. I swear!

• The ideal candidate would be someone who knew some of the women named in the 26-count murder indictment against Pickton. (Shit).

If only I were a Canadian whore.

Splish splash I was running around naked

It's the question on every boy's mind. What do the girls do when the boys aren't around? Do they get bikini waxes together? Do they sit around and discuss the penis size of every man they've ever seen naked? Do they take off their clothes and bathe in big communal baths full of naked ladies? Well, boys, we're here to answer your questions. Yes, yes and yes.

The communal bathing is not as often an occurrence, but it happened last week in San Francisco to two of our Uniblog-gals. Upon entering the room, we were surprised to see so many naked women in one place. In fact, the capacity of Kabuki Japanese Baths is 52. Minus Steph and Audrey, that's 50 additional naked ladies. In one room. FIFTY. NAKED. LADIES. They were of all shapes and sizes, of varying ages, ethnicities and most noticeably, varying pubic coverage. We considered printing out the Naughty Nads post and tacking it up to the locker room wall. It was honestly a little out of control.

It was strange at first, but we quickly got used to sagging breasts relaxing in armchairs, labia lounging in the sauna, nipples standing at attention by the cold pool. Yeah, okay, so it was kinda weird.

But it was relaxing. We enjoyed our quiet mellow nudey time. Until a stray boob belonging to one of the Uniblog-gals (and we're not saying whom) got so excited, it accidentally knocked over a cup of water by the hot tub. "See!" cried Audrey, er, uh, I mean, the owner of the naughty breast. "I told you they have a mind of their own. I can't take them anywhere!"

At that point we burst into giggles at the fact the breast had actually knocked over the water. On its own. By accident. Until the employees sounded the gong to remind bathers to be quiet and breasts to be obedient. Those of us so in tune with the true meaning of gongs knew that it realy meant grow up and shut up. Please.

The baths are meant to be shallow, the bathers are not. Clearly, we're too immature for the communal baths.

Sparklehorse Show: Feb 10th

hey folks. i just saw that there's a sparklehorse show coming up at the fillmore next month. tix go on sale this sunday.

Funny, I don't remember doing that.

You’re probably all wondering where the hell that post early, early Monday morning came from. Well, this should explain a lot.



Thanks to Jason for being #1 guest and for creating this amazing review of the NYE party at Stephanie’s house. Now it will be remembered forever. Except for that first time, when everyone blacked out. But NOW we know what happened. Cameras are handy for that.

ty ty baby productions

i'm not sure if everyone knows this, but basically, tyra banks is off her mother effing rocker. however, i am obsessed with america's next top model. while catching a week long ANTM marathon on vh1, i was overjoyed when i saw one of my favorite episodes from cycle 2. the second round of the show featured BY FAR the hottest girls of any other season, including sarah, mercedes, yoanna, shandi, camille and april. please excuse the chinese subtitles, but this is the best.


and the final product, tyra's video for shake yr body. i mean, holy shit.

teen beat: babe alert

over the weekend, i found myself prepping for NYE by spending the entirety of saturday on a friend's couch. literally, 12 hours. i was momentarily fused to the ultrasuede fabric. while enjoying the thrill of on demand, i watched four episodes of entourage. damn, that show is great and so full of babes. my favorite babe is rhys coiro who plays billy walsh, the director of queens boulevard. i totally wish that queens boulevard was a real movie, but of course it is not. this will have to suffice. i was able to undearth some information on the internets about how this character is reportedly (i am a reporter) based on vincent gallo. i also just found out that he's on uglybetty, a show i've yet to force myself to sit through. now i might have to go for it.


WHAT A BABE.

sluts in 2007

duh.
I made out with a dude weith dread locks. it's massively wicked times.

number one her friend just got hit with the face.

a girl also did it with two in new your k. erin i sa reporter,. i don't know. bailey did it wiht a speak and spell. tweeked out and it';s going to lose it and circut band and all that finished. mysterious girl ....um carmen electra. there are very many upset new years.

willotoons is hero times.

2997n rules.
like new years last year we lost this condom at a strangers on their couch said mysterious reader and then we left and wondered where the condom was and it was a terrible situation. typing what she said about stephanie having cuting edge style. the best pair of female underwear colin saw this year were mens red american apparell underwear that only girls. you boys know what i mean. wear.

wow. ƒ

it might be a while.

slut club 2006 well one recently kissed a boy named kenneth and she got shit and added it to the club. you should tell how someone boned some shit out. what are you even typing.

i need to blog