Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

Rock Of Ages? Well, It ... ROCKS!

UPDATE:  As the reviews continue to come in, so very many are from the deathly dry critics who are choosing to rip the movie apart.  Look, not every movie has to be as deep as the ocean or tell a tale just as wide.  It is a fun romp, a ride through an era of music that was at once both amazing and absurd. And for the record?  Yes, I am 40 something, so the soundtrack is from my high school years, but I saw it with my 18 and 15 year old daughters and they loved every minute, too.

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Years ago I came home from a showing of the musical turned movie musical, Mamma Mia.  I said then that it was the kind of experience where you just have to let go and enjoy the ride.

I now add Rock Of Ages to that particular playlist.

It was a wheel of brie from start to finish, but it was the some of the best cheese I have ever had.

The soundtrack is pulled straight from the best years of my youth - the 80s - and handled ably by every member of this starstudded cast.  Songs are vamped, mashed up, and used to move the storyline forward, but they never stray from their original roots and the singers deliver them home.

Julianne Hough has solidly left the glitter ball of DWTS behind for good.  She is a star in her own right.  Only two complaints - one, for a singer who has the ability to open up and wail, she uses her baby voice a lot, and two, quite frankly, no one should be allowed to have thighs like hers.

Diego Boneta is a dreamboat.  He rocks, he rolls, he's sensitive.  He's the boy you wanted to be in the backseat with when Journey played on the radio in high school.

Alec Baldwin and Russell Brand, quite literally, steal the movie during their inevitable duet.  I'll leave it to you to go see...

Catherine Zeta Jones plays uptight-twat-with-a-past like none other. 

Paul Giamatti leaves the serious roles behind to slide into Rock of Ages as the oiliest of rock managers.  He and his "rat tail" are a sight to behold.

Mary J. Blige can belt an 80s anthem and rock more wigs in 15 minutes than you would think is humanly possible.

Malin Ackerman - who knew she could sing, let along SING? - has some of the "bravest" scenes in cinema.  Allowing Tom Cruise to sing into your ass crack?  Maybe not Oscar worthy, but certainly an Asscar nominee.

Which brings us to Tom.  Yes, he has his self inflicted reputation of nutjobbery when it comes to Scientology, but I give the man props - he can sing, and as Stacee Jaxx, as he did with Les Grossman in Tropic Thunder - HE. GOES. FOR. IT.  In fact, it is his portrayal of a deeply lonely, desperate for true validation Jaxx that grounds this helium filled balloon.  (Special props to him for donning assless chaps and a codpiece that must be seen to be believed.)

Do not go into this movie expecting War and Peace.  This is Fun and Frolic.  The music is a joyride, the storyline a simply fun romp, and the ending is smile inducing.

Seriously, we all had smiles, ear-to-ear.

So jump on your REO Speedwagon and take a Journey into the 80s.  If you just let go, if you Wanna Rock, if you Don't Stop Believin', and if you are Lookin' For Nothin' But A good Time, then for a little over 2 hours, it will be Just Like Living In Paradise.

Oh Russell, Oh, Alec...

(That's a compliment.)

It's Alexandra's Day!

More Than A Mouthful? Definitely TOO Much

I have eaten some things many people would find odd, exotic, well beyond the realm of their palate's comfort zone.

Eel.  Sounds gross, tastes DELICIOUS.

Uni.  Sounds gross.  IS gross.  Think licking the underside of a toilet seat.  You know - where the splatter effect takes place and begins to congeal...

Alligator, snake, emu, octopus...  have tried them all.  Some are texturally challenging and I did not go back for seconds.  Some were surprising, tasty, and worth a second or third bite

Squid.  As calamari - cooked with a solid dipping sauce?  I always loved that.  But in its rawer forms, as it is served in some establishments throughout the world?  Well, not so much.

Just ask a woman in Korea who got, literally, more than a mouthful when she bit into her delicacy.

The squid, only semi-boiled, decided to not leave this world without one last hurrah, as it were.  He injected her mouth with its squirming sperm sacks.  (Didn't even buy her nylons or flowers first.  Just blowjob, BAM!  Bastard.)

She felt a "pricking and foreign-body sensation" and ended up at the hospital where doctors found "twelve small, white spindle-shaped, bug-like organisms" in the mucous membranes of her tongue and cheek.

I'll pause while you, too, squirm.

She will be fine, but I think this answers the question for her future suitors from now on as to whether she spits or swallows...

Derpy Dancing?

No one puts Daddy in a corner.

Thank you to Jimmy Fallon...

The Loss Of One Furry Friend = 9 Lives Worth of Heartache

I have six pets.  1 dog, 5 cats.  Yes, I realize that in some minds that pushes me dangerously close to "Crazy Cat Lady."  So be it.

I love them.  All.  Even the one who pulls the covert pee action once a month.  Their personalities are all completely different, and a day wouldn't be a day without enjoying each one.

Animals enter our lives and make them better, richer, more meaningful.  Pets give without asking, love without strings, and comfort without condition.  But part of welcoming them into your heart is knowing that one day you will have to bid them farewell. 

It's a deal with the devil we gladly make.

I just received an email from Jackie.  Please take a moment and help with her request if you can.

And Tonks?  Enjoy that meadow on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

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Hey Linda,

I'd like to ask a favor of our group if I could.

We lost one of kitties very unexpectedly yesterday to the Rainbow Bridge. Randy and I are not handling it real well, but Randy is especially distraught. If you could ask some of our folks just to drop him a note of encouragement, I think it might help. His email is still wingedshadow01@gmail.com. He's also on facebook as Randy Anderson (Marietta, GA).

Thanks,

Jackie

The Midass Touch?

I have long used the line, "When I start wiping with hundred dollar bills..." when confronted with obscene displays of conspicious consumption.

Cars that cost as much as a small home.  Homes that cost as much as eight REALLY nice homes.  Items in the Neiman Marcus wish catalog each Christmas.  Hell, even items in the Hammacher Schlemmer catalog run upwards of $15k.

Are they necessary to life?  Of course not.  No one needs a motorized monocycle ($13k) which looks suspiciously like the device created by Mr. Garrison on South Park, save for the rump filler.  Do I need 4000 square feet of home?  No.  (But then, where would all this dust live?) 

Handbags.  Oy, DGMS.  Who needs a purse that costs as much as a mortgage?  Not to mention a closetful of them.  Purses stymie me.  I like a nice looking bag on my shoulder, but I am realistic about what I do with it.  I carry keys, my wallet, the checkbook, a pound of change in the bottom, lip gloss, Advil.  I don't carry some need to flaunt the word Coach, Prada, or Vuitton in the faces of passing strangers.  My Target bag works just as well as one from Hermes, and I promise you I am not wigging out about it touching the floor.

The list is endless, basically if even a few people will buy it, it's out there ready to be shipped.

Or in the case of this blog entry - shit.

If you have truly attained a 1% position in this world and are wiping your ass with hundred dollar bills, then this is the product for you.

Pretty, aren't they?  Shiny.  Glittering.  Like the Advil of Kanye West's dreams.

What they are, are Golden Poop Pills.

I'll let you digest that for a moment.

Ready for me to evacuate more knowledge?  Good.

Created as part of the INDULGENCE collection by Tobias Wong and Ken Courtney, Ken stated, “Like an addict, all I want is more. Like celebrity and celebrity culture, demand for luxury items is completely created.”  Their items were made with the man who has absolutely everything in mind.  

While temporarily unavailable, the pills are filled with 24k gold leaf and run $425. 

And they guarantee to turn your bowels into something only Rumplestiltskin could have dreamed up.  Seriously, forget the spinning wheel.  Old Rump could just eat the straw and lay down a loaf of prickly golden, well, still straw, but gold covered straw.

Does anyone else hear Veruca Salt crying, "I want the golden poos NOW, Daddy!"

And you just know Kanye would be all over this.

(Just a word of warning to his Golddiggers though...  As pretty as it may look when it comes out?  All that glitters is still NOT gold.)

Till Deception Do Us Part

A headline on HuffPo today asks, "Does Extramarital Sex Cause Divorce?"

I laughed out loud.

To me that question should be rhetorical.  The answer being, OF COURSE IT DOES.

Marriage is not some recreational thing we do.  It's not just some expected rite of passage when we hit a certain age.  And it certainly shouldn't be entered in to with one eye on the exit sign.

Shouldn't.

Obviously our stellar divorce rates being in the realm of what politicians strive for in political approval polls, well, seems to indicate that marriage is more and more just some thing we do till we don't want to do it anymore.

Two people meet, they luxuriate in that rush of endorphins and pheremones and rip-your-clothes-off sex.  It's hot, it's heavy, there's passion, no skid marks or indiscriminate farting, no bra hanging off the doorknob or tampon applicators left on the floor.

We are the most perfect versions of ourselves when courting.

Knowing full well that the "most perfect version" is a lie.  And that's OK, for a while.

The longer the relationship lasts, the more the two people involved feel comfortable in letting down their guard, showing that Prince Charming's crown is a little rusty and that Cinderella's shoes hide a corn or three.  It's when we begin to be "real" that the most emotional growth takes place.  It's easy to wallow in the heat stage.  We all love to tingle, we all love excitement, feeling desired 24/7.  What's hard is realizing that period does have an expiration date, pushing through it, and discovering the deeper connections that keep you together.

Personally, I think one of them is a committment to fidelity.

If you know deep down that you get bored easily, indulge your own desires a bit too freely, or have zero intention of adhering to monogamy?  Then you'd better be heading down the aisle with a completely likeminded soul, or you need to stay single.

Either one is fine.  If you both agree to an open marriage, go for it.  If you decide to be a lifelong bachelor or bachelorette, great.

But if you enter into a marriage, make the big promises, and start a life with someone you'd better be prepared to go all in.  Both of you.

Fast forward 10 years in.  You've seen each other at your worst.  You have gotten lazy - physically and emotionally.  You don't make an effort to stay in shape, attractive, you don't talk, ask questions, keep up with the emotional temperature of your partner.

And you decide to stray.  Someone else is paying attention to you.  Making you feel pretty.  Maybe he has visible abs, she has an ass smaller than the width of her shoulders.  You embark on a cruise of subterfuge - suddenly paying attention to how you dress, eat, appear to the world - to that person.  (Things that should NEVER stop mattering in your marriage.)  You begin protecting your cell phone like the government agent with the nuclear codes, practically handcuffing it to your body.  You open yourself up emotionally to another person, after all, you rationalize, your husband/wife doesn't give a shit about you, right?  And you consummate your indiscretion.  Repeatedly.  (You're not getting it from him/her, right?)

Basically you ignore the problems you have had a hand in creating in your marriage and take the selfish route.  The immature route.  The indulgent brat route.  You want it, so you take it.  It makes you feel good, so to hell with anyone else.  That includes your unknowing spouse, your kids, your friends, your relatives who all think you're a swell guy/gal.

You're not.  You're a cheating, self indulgent pig.

Then one day, your "unsuspecting" spouse suspects.  As James/Jane Bond as you think you are, you're not.  Cell records are easy to view.  Credit card statements can be looked at daily online.  And if you think your sudden interest in the gym/Pilates, when the heaviest thing you have lifted for the past five years is a Big Gulp or bucket of chicken, has gone unnoticed?  Well, we have already established that you're stupid.

How shocked you are when your spouse calls you on your cheating and you find yourself in the midst of a divorce.

Shocked.  Shocked, I tell you.

You didn't mean it.  You never meant to hurt her/him.  It will never happen again.  You love him/her with all your heart.  Let's work it out.

Sorry, but the time to work it out was before you took your heart/dick/vagina out for a spin.

The time to care a whole awful lot was before you clearcut the forest of your marriage.

Look, it's one thing if you enter into a marriage commited to one another, and then years in you BOTH decide you need to spice it up.  You give him permission to sample what's new in the world of poon, and he has no problem with you indulging in something extracurdickular.  Great.  If you can handle that honestly, it makes you both happier, do it.

But that's not the case in the majority of cheating.

Cheating is the ultimate violation in a marriage.  I don't care if things are not hot and heavy anymore, if you are feeling unsatisfied, if your wittle feewings are being neglected.  None of it justifies a have-my-cake-and-eat-it-too attitude.

If your marriage is that bad that you are considering cheating, then either commit to TALKING TO YOUR SPOUSE TO MAKE THINGS BETTER, or end your marriage honestly.  The world is full of sexual partners.  Waiting till you have honestly exited your marriage won't risk the well drying up.

Personally, the only discussion there would be after finding out I had been cheated on would  pertain to lawyers.  It is a dealbreaker, plain and simple.  There is no gray area, no 50 Shades of Gray area - this would be black and white.  You cheated.  You made your choice.  Now, I make mine.  GTFO.

You get one shot with my heart.  One opportunity to be trusted with it.  One chance to always consider how your actions will affect it.  One chance to be strong, not weak.  A man, not a coward.

Does extramarital sex cause divorce?

As far as I'm concerned, if you are cheated on and have an ounce of self esteem, it should.

It's Michele's Day!