milf island

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

why are you handcuffed to the bookshelf i built my hus-band?

while making copies in the faculty lounge at school this past week, i overheard one teacher telling a colleague about an almost-altercation with a female student in class... she rehashed the story step by step, and when she got to the part where the student stood up and started coming at the teacher, this educator/storyteller imitated her reaction to the student: "oh we are not going to do this right now" [starts removing hoop earrings].


in that moment, i realized that even though i didn't know this teacher at all, i immediately trusted her as a human being. and it wasn't until i re-watched the 30 Rock episode "kidney now!", in which jenna almost fights with some bitch on a faux-tyra banks talk show and starts pulling off her hoops, that i noticed when someone removes their earrings at the prospect of a fight, i feel like we really understand each other. this is probably why i love 30 Rock so much- as soon as i came to this realization, i remembered that sherri shepherd's character also tore some gold off her ears when she found liz lemon handcuffed to tracy's bookshelf in "dealbreakers talk show no. 0001":


in conclusion, i still love 30 Rock, i trust tina fey with my life, and i never want to stop working in mexicantown.

something to believe in

in these turbulent times, when a daily bloggin' girl can get so busy she doesn't touch a computer for 2 1/2 days, the world needs something steady to hold onto. and during dangerous days like these, when five old timers can change the course of american politics by watching a hillary clinton movie, us folks gotta make sure somebody's got our backs... luckily, just when i needed them, the fugly mugs of the '96-'98 detroit red wings showed up - fists flailing - and improved my outlook on life tenfold.


it's probably safe to assume that the majority of my readers were NOT all losery little pre-teen dykes tomboys during the scotty bowman days, so imma catch you up...

claude lemieux, of the colorado avalanche, acts like a little bitch and takes a cheap shot on red wing kris draper during the western conference finals of the 1996 stanley cup (the hit is right around the 1:12 mark):


he totally fucks up draper's face, and we don't see our buddy kris again for almost a year... meanwhile, the avalanche take the western conference and go on to win the stanley cup:


the wings and avalanche meet up several times during the 1996-1997 season, but bitch-ass lemieux doesn't dress for any of the games until the fated fight night at the joe. the '97 wings-avalanche brawl is everything hockey, and my life, should be:


so tonight, re-watching these videos, i found myself back in that cloud-themed, baby blue bedroom in which i spent countless nights secretly watching red wings games on my black-and-white television... i love everything about the footage, from mccarty's turtle-making beating on down; but when mike vernon (over whose sudden placement as first string goalie above chris osgood caused me some sleepless nights) landed that left hook on patrick roy and then fell on top of that french canadian bitch, my 9-year-old self knew that my hockey team, and my life, were gonna be just fine.

freaky friday (and saturday and sunday)

in an effort to move away from the semi-queer, pop-culture-focused blog i seem to have created thus far, i'd like to tell a little story... on friday night, quite late in the evening, myself and my guest blogger friend, maggie, spent some of morning's wee small hours on my porch. and, almost as if for our exclusive entertainment, a drunk girl in weird boots was stumbling all over the sidewalk near my apartment. sadly, i looked away from her messiness for five seconds and missed this chick eating shit on the sidewalk just a few feet away... now don't misread this: in ann arbor, watching (or nearly seeing) a drunk bitch in boots fall over on a friday night by no means makes for a "freaky friday." maggie even informed me that drunky fell on purpose, and while i didn't witness this, i was neither unconvinced nor surprised by her seemingly intentional spill. however, watching her struggle to get back on her feet, i realized that while drunkass reserved the right to lay down on the icy ground for no apparent reason, her judgement in this situation was noticeably poor.


i articulated this dismay with two words: "bad decision." in that moment, i might as well have read my mystical cookie's fortune aloud... messy miss made it to her feet and uttered two words at the exact same second: "bad decision." there was no earthquake, nor did a chinese restauranteur look on, smiling suspiciously at our situation. saturday morning came and went without a life-changing event, and this monday afternoon i'm still in my own body... but i'll be damned if i hadn't been certain on that friday night that my freaky friday moment had finally arrived, and that i'd spend the next few weeks figuring out how to get back into my original human shell. does this mean i should lose faith in television/movie magic? what impact will this have on my ability to watch disney films starring lindsay lohan?

side note: i thought this post would somehow take my blog in a decidedly less pop culture, less gay direction... but with those two freaky friday photos, both of which are 1/2 lesbo (to varying degrees, of course), this post ain't any different than the others. thanks for putting up with it, readership.

bloggin with guest blogger, maggie golab!

"hey, remember baby jessica, that bitch from the well? what if she never got rescued? maybe it would have been for the best, cause now she's fug"

("i'm a terrible person")

you take your reward, lemon. you take your reward

i can't believe i'm going to say this, tina fey, but after re-watching your 30 Rock episode "black light attack!" tonight, i finally understand why people think you're hot... and it's freaking me the fuck out.


i used to see pictures of you all pose-y and think to myself what are you doing, girl? 'hot' is not your game, and it makes me sad that when you're rewarded for being funny you go all sad-funny-girl-posing-in-her-mirror-looking-kinda-fugly-but-hoping-she's-britney-spears in magazines. but then all of a sudden i realized that the perfectly awkward liz lemon is the self-deprecating creation of tina fey. i'm sure girlfriend has had her fair share of britney wannabe haircuts, and she remembers them all. plus, she's just self-loathing/strangely arrogant enough to decide that she should share these weaknesses with america before america spots these weaknesses in her... which makes her officially a dreamboat.


she's weird in a good way- like going to the gym drunk. maybe this change in my percpetion has something to do with her pushing 40...

iz a real blogger now

paula sed "let ther b embedded videos and hyperlinks that open in new windows!"


and she retroactively embedded videos and fixed hyperlinks fer all the posts thus far... and it wuz gud.

those shoes are definitely bi-curious

just when i thought i could distract myself from the boob tube long enough to write a non-tv post, my long-awaited roku player for netflix showed up and was all "hey, you can watch a shitload of movies and tv series on your television INSTANTLY!"... and because thursday nights leave me with an itch only 30 Rock can scratch, and the roku box was ready to go an hour before tina fey was, i decided i'd watch my fave 30 Rock episode: "blind date."

and what a great fucking idea that was. "why?" you ask. gretchen thomas, the brilliant plastics engineer slash lesbian.


she's foxy, funny, and kinda awkward. as if i needed another reason to watch 30 Rock reruns...


i realize that with this post, my blog now takes a decidedly gay bent, but with stephanie march alive and at large, how could it not? that woman's runnin around new york city breakin all kinds of hearts. and since she was noticeably absent from my favorite cop drama last night, and liz lemon insists she and gretchen are "just friends like oprah and gayle," it's totally cool for me to blog-hit-on s. march. now she's just gotta drop that steadman flay.

"i want you to jump my shark"

while my secret loofah usage may seem a rather embarrassing action to make public, it pales in comparison to the shame i should feel about my writing of my love for law and order: svu. yet here i am, embarking upon my first (and certainly not last) svu post on "new year new me"- per an agreement with my buddy liz, i will not devote more than one blog per week to the hotties civil servants of the 1-6... and it pains me that on this maiden voyage we must travel through shark-infested waters.

when i found out that butterface and unconvincing biatch and were getting out of nyc and bobby flay's way-too-hot wife was heading back to special victims, i knew the big guy in the sky was looking out for me... and even though wednesday nights at 9pm conflicts with my new fave, abc's "modern family," i decided to make the necessary sacrifices. but when tonight's crazyfest of an episode showed me olivia benson gettin kinky with a little british dude, and somehow managed to make it just as appalling as the rest of nbc's 9-10pm timeslot, i had the sudden feeling that that big guy i thought was looking out for me was playing a terrible joke on one of his lost sheep. olivia's "i want you to lick my boot" might as well have occurred on water skis.


let's get serious: boot lickin and guest stars aren't going to save this show, particularly when the "star" is some guy from lost who no one fucking knows... something has to change now, before it's too late. and if tonight's notable quotables are any measure for how many svu episodes are left in the law and order franchise, i'm considering praying to another big guy i know for a chance at a twelfth season. some personal faves:

"mr. milk toast is not so vanilla" (are "milk" and "toast" insults? olivia said it with disdain, but i'm not following)
"look lady, i just iced two cops for you" (spoken by the undercover cop killah himself, ice t)
"i know, i wish they [the handcuffs] were diamond encrusted, but the bedazzler went AWOL" (bedazzler's are for fake gemstones. nobody bedazzles with diamonds, elliot. besides, you can't bedazzle metal.)
and 2nd only to boot licking, "screw the pooch and i'll let the crap roll downhill" (?)

if anyone at nbc is out there reading this, cut the boat engine and free the sharks, cause imma solve all your ratings problems for you right here- us viewers can suspend our disbelief for an hour of highly implausible cop drama when you give us some of this:


okay? aay!

elliott stabler is a loose cannon...

... and his nonsensical rage is as ridiculous as kaplan pretending uncle phil is a professor:


i love a sexless, deep-voiced, sweatered, online professor as much as the next gal, but i'm conflicted about the message kaplan is sending me with their minute-long commercial: do they think i'm stupid enough to believe phillip banks is really a professor? are they flattering me by using a known actor to portray a professor, suggesting i'm a discerning enough reader to see through any unknown actor/fake professor they could throw at me (commercials are for actors, not professors.... and i'd scoff at anyone less accomplished than james avery)? my best guess: kaplan's online university is hoping to reach those folks who watch three hours of daytime "fresh prince" reruns, and they're merely using the big guy as bait.

when i perused the internets for some explanation as to why kaplan would choose the banks family patriarch as their faux professor, and looked over the commercial's youtube comments, i found the fourteen commenters were equally conflicted. While one unPHILmiliar viewer's interest was sparked by the commercial's professor ("This Commercial is soooooo true its time for a change. That goes for all schools in america we deserve better. Its Our Time"), others were preoccupied with the fresh prince flashback ("he is a really good actor. really legit.")... and, of course, MistaFukU takes a third stance altogether: ""invest" in a kraplan diploma, and YOU just bought a VERY expensive piece of toilet paper!!! the place is a ***racist ass shit hole!!!***"

i wonder what aunt viv thinks about all of this...


to be fair, though, she thought we wouldn't notice her own obvious deception. i bet she's on kaplan's side (whatever side that is).

does that make me a perv?

i'm starting a blog so when i find myself in social situations i might manage to keep my fucking mouth shut every now and then. does that make me self-loathing? it probably makes me arrogant.

my "ideas" come and go and those that still work in the morning might get stuck here. would you use another person's loofah without asking? i've done it. i'm not proud, but it's happened a couple times... at what point do individual instances become a pattern, though? a serial habitual sometime surreptitious latherist. it makes total sense to use someone's loofah without asking, cause why ask? what response would one want from that question? and if i'm showering at a place with more than one resident, would it be weirder for the person whose loofah i asked to use or those others whose loofahs didn't make the cut? i pick loofahs based on both the owners' cleanliness and general smell (yes to oatmeals and shea butters, no to bright floral tones and hippies), and i wash in secret. does that make me a perv? cause i know there are people out there who won't wash with the loofah, but wipe their ass with it.