76 posts categorized "Margie"

April 23, 2010

Manners, Mancini Style

Manners, Mancini Style

By Me, Margie aka Mistress Manners

Blog manners chart If you've been awake, like me, you've already figured out that people are dumbshits. Okay, most people.  Not you on TLC, of course.  I'm talking most people who wander around out there with their heads up their asses. Forget doing anything about these stunads.  Like SNL's James Carville says: "you don't engage these crazies." SNL is funny and Hader kills. Plus, my friend Bobbie Faye knows Carville and he is totally cajun loco, which is some crazy-ass crazy.

Blog el camino It's not like we can't do anything to help the rest of us deal with Joe the Dumber and his El Camino collecting pals.  Some people tell me the old antique cars like the Gremlin and the Pacer are the ugliest ever (WTF kinds of names are those for cars?  Was this before people could read words?) but I think the El Camino is the dog of them all.  It's supposed to be half car, half truck, and they are so old they don't even have satellite radio.  Half of anything is no good for anybody and I think you know what I mean.  No offense to our cousin Tino, who had one of his boys removed.  His wife Tina says he still delivers the goods and she would know. Plus they've got like 13 kids.

Yeah, okay, Manners.  Here is my simple advice on Manners:  Get. You. Some. 

Like, if you are in a nice restaurant with kids and Aunts around, don't go screaming dirty jokes or bad words. And take off your hat.  Everybody already knows your hair is for shit, and trucker hats are so far over that they should be worn only at Halloween.  Not even truckers wear them, and I know this because my cousin Vi is a, uh, hostess at a Truck Stop.  You know, one of those big ones with the showers.

Blog manners swift kick Or - if there are two lines of traffic that are supposed to, y'know, merge, then don't be an asshole and try to keep the other guy from merging.  I don't care if you're driving a Hummer - and don't think we all don't know about the whole over-compensating thing, hamster boy - you are going to get dinged by me in my new Lincoln and then my cousins who own the body shop are going to come and collect from you to fix it.  It has a custom paint job, plus special "M"s where those other dumb letters used to be, so it ain't cheap and they don't take insurance neither.  So, see, wouldn't it be easier just to take your turn instead of having to get a bunch of cash to pay my cousins, who will then totally know where you live? Good manners help everyone.

Next - listen up people who carry signs and have rallies or demonstrations.  Feel free to take a position. Although, seriously, have you seen some of these nads?  That much ugly anger tells me one thing: they wouldn't know a good position if it took 'em hard against a wall.  Or wherever.  I think most of these people would be much cooler and less likely to say rude shit if they were having sex.  Or at least a decent orgasm.  If you are over 21 and don't know how to fly solo, get a damn toy already.  Don't make your horniness a problem for the rest of us.  Totally selfish.  

Blog manners whip Anyway, so if you are going to take a political or social position on something, use words that have some fucking connection to your cause or whatever.  News flash: Hitler was evil on earth.  You don't go comparing anyone to Hitler.  And these death threats? Hello?  Want to get your pansy ass arrested?  I don't think so - unless you are a closet BDSM freakozoid who doesn't care if there is no safe word.  Prison is no place for most of these wipes. 

While I'm on the subject of vocal locals, here's another thing - stop treating people like scum just because they are different from you. That shiv cuts both ways, baby. Because guess what?  You are different from somebody else too, y'know.  And you might accidentally drive through the wrong neighborhood or whatnot especially if someone is chasing you and then blocking off the alley.  Capisce?

Last one for now:  don't go experimenting with something and then act all shocked because you get offended. Just in via freakin' Pony Express:  not all places or websites are for all people.  If you see a joint with flashing neon tits named "All Naked All the Time", don't book the place for your niece's First Communion.  Idiotas.  Or, don't do like our cousin Lucia and open up Chatroulette on the Church Rec Room PC "just to see if it's real." That girl is beyond dumb and I think some of those poor ladies there to set up the Fish Fry might be totally scarred for life. What does this have to do with manners?  Madonna Mia!  It means there are other people on the planet besides you.  Scemo. 

Uh oh.  Just got a text from Rocco that if I don't get there in five, my highlights mix is going to turn my hair green.  That is bad news for everyone involved.  I can't do everything around here - plus being late is totally rude.

Gimme some suggestions here for my new book-in-progress:  Mistress Margie's Manners. Uh, please.

April 02, 2010

Margie's Story Time: Passover

Margie's Story Time: Passover

By Me, Margie

Blog passover tableJust because I'm not Jewish doesn't mean I don't know from Passover.  For starters, Passover is the closest you can get to a big Italian family dinner without going to Mass and having The Aunts ask you personal questions about where your people are from. The wine, the storytelling, the eating, the wine, the talking, the singing, the wine - all very familiar. Jewish and Italian customs are both based on several constants: guilt, wine, and food that takes all day to make God forbid you should buy it in a jar or from a deli (now you have to spit to make sure that takes.)  They even make really good kosher wine that I would be proud to take to my Nonni's house.  Don't try bringing Mogen David or Manischewitz up in there.  A shanda is a shanda in every language - oy!

Second, all you really need to know about Jewish holidays is this - and it is a direct quote from the neighborhood Rabbi, so I'm not being disrespectful (just saying I don't like the locusts) "They tried to kill us. We survived.  Let's eat!"

Blog passover haggadahThe Haggadah - that's the playbook for Passover Seder - tells the story of how the Jews were finally liberated from Egypt. As you should probably already know, the Jews, like many people, were slaves.  Slavery is a bad and nasty business, precious.  Nobody owns anybody and it seems stupid to think they ever did, but then you hear about some rat bastards who are still buying and selling people and you think maybe this evolution thing is a premature finding, but whatever.  

Egypt had a ruling class called the Pharaohs.  In our story, Pharaoh will still be played by Yul Brynner because he is still the total shit and nobody can carry off the bald head like Y.Bry.  Playing the part of Moses will be Liam Neeson, with the Clash of the Titans Beard, but not the glowing robes.  He really is perfect for the role because, you know, he's not Jewish but the list is everything and so forth.  Moses was in tight with Pharaoh and the various Pharoettes, but he got the big call from God telling him to lead the Jews to the promised land.  I'll bet Moses wished he had let that one go to voicemail, because the job ended up lasting, like forever and he screwed up a couple of times, so he never even got to see the promised land.  Which sucks, because I think we all know what it is like to climb that mountain and not get over, usually because someone else is selfish. Which is a good life lesson, all the way around.

Blog passover pharoahMoses kept telling Pharaoh to free the Chosen People but Pharaoh was like: "Duh?!  Who do you think does all the work around here?  You think these pyramids build themselves? I can't trust these Egyptian kids to do a damn thing, the lazy bums.  But you - you are a hard worker just like the rest of Your People.  So, uh, no.  I will keep all you right where you are."  Moses told Pharaoh he was making a career-ending mistake there. There is even a song about it and the best version ever was sung by Cameron Frye: "Let My People Go." (note: Cameron was not kosher because everyone knows he had lunch with the Sausage King of Chicago just saying.) But Pharaoh was cruel and selfish and didn't take Moses seriously anyway because what kind of God would choose people who were enslaved.  Am I right?

God told Moses some bad, bad hell was going to be unleashed if Pharaoh didn't change his tune and Moses said: "Yeah. I keep telling him that.  He thinks it's a joke because nothing bad ever really happens."  This was like a triple dog dare and so naturally, God gave the Egyptians a taste of the big hammer.  Actually, they got quite a few rounds of warnings, starting with a snake trick that blew the royal magicians right off the stage at the Pyramid Lounge and Orgyotorium, which had the velvet ropes and only the cool 'gypts got in and everything.  

The first nine plagues were your basic variations on the classics: bugs, frogs. water turned to blood, dead animals, more bugs, boils, major thunderage and lightening, total darkness, dogs and cats living together: mass hysteria.

You would think that Pharaoh would have gotten a clue that this God was not messin'.  I'll tell you who knew it - the women.  They tried to tell Pharaoh to check it before he wrecked it, but no way, he didn't listen, even to that really hot chick who had a thing for Moses.  Why?  Because power makes people dumb as a box of rocks.

Finally, God told Moses to brace himself, because the last of the plagues was going to be huge.  HUGE.  God told Moses to spread the word to the Chosen People to kill a lamb and put the blood over their doors.   Some of the people were confused, but at that point, after the, y'know lice and the lightening, what the heck - they figured better safe than sorry.  Good call.

So God sent the Angel of Death, played in this version by the smoke monster from "Lost".  It swooped in, with its black suction of death, and killed all the first born sons of man and beast.  But lo and behold (that is story code for miracle comin') it passed over the houses marked with blood, saving the Jewish families from such an awful tragedy.  This may seem pretty harsh, but you gotta remember that this move was one of Pharaoh's own personal faves, and how Moses ended up in a basket and at Pharaoh's palace to begin with; Pharaoh and the other Egyptians had been warned; and most importantly, the OT God is a strict and vengeful God.  Just ask Lewis Black.

Blog passover liamPharaoh and all his pals were taken completely by surprise, and while they were still trying to figure out what in hell happened, Liam Neeson/Moses stood up and said, in that big booming voice: "Release the Jews!"  Which was better than the Kraken for Pharaoh because he would have ended up looking like swiss cheese after he took a ride on those Kraken teeth.  For real.

Pharaoh was like: "Yeah, whatever, take your smoke monster and get the hell out." Which the Jews did, and they went so fast they didn't even have time to let the bread rise and they got stuck with motzah which is like Italian flatbread but with no spices or even olive oil.  Not that they were complaining at that point.  (As always with humans, the complaining started after the shock wore off but that is a different story).

So the Jews hustled and got out of dodge.  They were approaching the Red Sea (which has nothing to do with communism by the way, which is back in case you didn't know) when they learned Pharaoh had changed his mind.  Uh oh.

Blog passover red seaNo worries - Moses raised his staff (easy - it's a long walking stick) and lo and behold, he parted the sea, allowing the Jews to cross safely.  Then, when they were all on the other side, Moses boomed out again: "Release the Water!"  and all the Egyptian soldiers drowned. I would have preferred the Kraken in this scene, but there was no CGI back then.

So we celebrate the Passover because not only were the Jewish families passed over by the smoke monster of death, but they also got to pass over the land of Egypt and out of slavery.  I just made that last part up but it makes total sense and I am telling Rabbi Jamie.  

The end.

Happy Passover, Happy Easter, Happy Chocolate Candy Day or whatever you're celebrating this week!

March 19, 2010

Margie's Sufferage Story

Margie's Sufferage Story

By Me, Margie, who hates missing out on a good battle so be forewarned

Blog Woman Suffrage booth  Okay, in case you are dumb or something, March is Women's History Month.  So I am going to tell you some things about Women and Sufferage, which is about how women used to do all the work but were totally ignored by the men who ran the government.  And, yes, smartypantzers, I know, but I like my spelling better and I am the one filling in for Sweeney so write your own damn story if you don't like mine and get a life.  It's called artistic license. Duh.

I'm sure you know the basics - the 19th Amendment, passed in 1920 (thanks for nothing, founding fathers) that finally gave women the right to vote.  If you don't know, then learn it like all members of the intelligentsia learn shit - School House Rock.  Seriously?  What did you people do before I got here?

Some of my family wasn't even here then, not that Italy was run by Political Amazons.  But some of my great-aunts were and they had stories which I know are totally true, because they wore black all the time and carried rosaries from The Vatican.  They can't tell lies because they will be strangled by their rosaries.

Back in the olden days, when the men were writing the Constitution, they were fighting about the nouns.  If they had just stuck to the word People, all this later crap would have been avoided, but no, they had to use the word men because that's what men do to remind eachother they have dicks.  Not that Franklin or Jefferson needed to remind anyone, since I bet half the kids running around looked like one or the other. But not John Adams, who didn't cheat and usually had a sour look on his face.  Just saying.

These men had big fights about slavery and so when the original Con was signed, it gave rights to white men and that's it.  Eventually, the people woke up and said WTF is that about and they started the Abolition Movement to outlaw slavery.  Guess who basically ran that show?  Women.  It's totally true, look it up.

Blog force fed Suffrage  Women were also bitching because they couldn't vote.  Neither could non-white men.  At the beginning, they all teamed up and then someone decided they had a better shot if they split up and tried to work on gender equality separate from racial equality.  I personally think this was dumb as hell, but then nobody asked me because I would have fixed it without any sisters going to jail and being force fed and force whatever else those redneck jailers were in the mood for - I know people.

There was a big divide in the Women's Sufferage movement and they even created two different organizations. I blame the white men, of course, because they were the only ones with something to lose and so of course they figured if they could pit the women against each other, the women would be so focused on the massive cat fight that they would be too dumb to remember about the voting thing and plus men love to see women fight because they think there is a chance they will see breasts.  Now that I think about it, that was probably the driving force behind the whole thing because if there is anything that can mesmerize a whole bunch of men, besides their own penises, it is the off chance of an appearance of tits.

Can you imagine there was a time when you couldn't vote unless you had the right genital parts in the right color? That's right: no balls = no vote. That is some batshit crazy stuff right there, but it's true.  Women finally got the right to vote in 1920.  Which is like forever ago, but not really when you consider the country started voting back in the 1770s.

Blog susan-b-anthony no failure  Still, the only woman given any real props - measured by who is on the money - was Susan B. Anthony, who got a dollar coin that was just a throwaway invented to appease women and create molds for the Franklin Mint. Nobody even uses them because they look too much like the size of a quarter and most people are too stone assed dumb to get it straight.  That's what we do these days - we accommodate the dumbasses instead of making them nut up and use a brain cell or two.  Which means no women on the money.  Or cut into the sides of big mountains, or made of stone and presiding over Washington D.C.  Why is this?  Because just because women have the right to vote doesn't mean they get voted ON - which means nominated and elected. Know what we call this?  A Fail. A big, fat, blow hole Whale Fail.

Which is why it should totally be the next Women's Movement, and I'm giving you a big clue right here.  Today's women (that would be me and my cousins) know how to get shit done.  And it involves movement, all right. Or the lack of and I don't just mean sex.  Okay I mean mostly sex, but we're no shy flowers just standing around looking good.  Today, we not only look fabulous, but we will kick your ass up and down main street without chipping any nail polish.  

So the ending of this story is being written right now and you'd best get on board and own that March may be the only month officially dedicated to women, but baby, if you want to be happy, every month is women's month.

The end.

February 12, 2010

Margie's Valentine's Day Story, 2010 Edition

Margie's Valentine's Day Story, or  How VD Got Started

By Me, Margie, who updated this story from 2008 because Sweeney has had no electricity for a week, even though Hank says she still has power. So even though I'm still on island time, I had to take care of it at the last minute.  As usual. Plus when I find out who put the old copier toner in the new laser printer drum, there is going to be more than black powder up in this mess. And if you stunads opened the drum with my new mani-pedi kit from Rocco, he is going to come in here with dull scissors. Just saying.

Well, we're hip deep in the VD madness, and I thought we could all take a little break and hear the story of how VD got started.  I'm talking about Valentine's Day, and not the communicable diseases.  Although, for some, love and the clap go, uh, hand in hand. (Yeah, that just happened.  Sometimes I even make myself laugh at how clever I am.  Just saying.) 

It all started, like so many things do, with food and sex.  And not just regular missionary sex.  Which reminds me - I wonder which order of missionaries should get credit for the man-on-top-of-woman position?  My money is on someone other than priests.  Oy.

Blog VD lupercalia  Anyway, there was a Roman pagan festival held in mid-February (before there even was a February, actually, that's how long ago it was) called Lupercalia, which means Festival of the Wolf.  Romans are big on the whole wolf thing.  During Lupercalia, they, no surprise, had an animal sacrifice.  Why?  Buy into whatever mumbo jumbo you want, but I will tell you the simple truth:  because you cannot have a decent fest of any kind without food.  And since there were no big refrigerator trucks back then, they had to pretty much kill, roast and eat all in the same day.

This festival had a bit of a twist - the sacrificed (cooked) animal was skinned, and then the skin was cut into strips.  Those strips were used to, among other things, whip the young unmarried women.  They said they did it because it made them fertile.  Uh-huh.  And people wear leather thigh boots and spike heels to ward off spiders, and corsets to prevent emphyzima - I could go on, but you get the drift, even if you don't have four feet of snow. 

Then came the church.  The church, in case you didn't already know, was way down on the whole pagan thing. Which you would never know these days because Catholic schools have pagan mascots (Vikings, anyone? Talk about your rapers and pillagers - I'll bet they taught the missionaries a thing or two about positions). But nobody (at least back then) was dumb enough to cancel a big party.  Because you cannot make friends and get people to put stuff in the collection basket if you cancel the parties.  Instead, they pulled the old bait and switch and just called the Festival of the Wolf something else, which ended up, eventually, being a feast day, which is the name they give for days of Saints who don't qualify for mandatory mass.  See how we learn by reading?

And of course, there were the wars.  The Romans were always fighting someone.  For example, even now, many Romans and Senators and Bankers (filthy money-changers, if you are a biblical person) are gearing up for battle in New York federal court, courtesy of the New York AG's task force.  GO CUOMO! But that is definitely a story for another time, and may I say I hope those big banker bonuses come with a big serving of genital herpes with a side of warts: Happy VD you viper dicks. 

Blog emperor-claudius-bust Sometime in the third century, the Roman Emperor Claudius, who must have had some serious compensation issues, just saying, was PO'd because when he kept his armies out on the road for too long, they got all mushy and lonesome for their wives.  He tried bringing in some, uh, professional consultants from a non-missionary contractor, but then they had a real run on  - wait for it - VD aka STIs.  Another fun fact: the V in venereal disease is named after the Roman Goddess of love, Venus, which is totally sexist, when it should have been given its real name: Penisereal Disease, or PD, and maybe that's how PIs got the moniker of Private Dicks. This is like one of those learn more than a 5th grader, blogs, huh?

Claudio was at his wit's end (which wasn't a long trip, I'll bet, especially after he got the syph) and he came up with this bonehead of an idea: no more marriages.  As if.  Too bad he hadn't seen, like, that Time Traveler movie. I mean that girl gave new meaning to that 'forsake all others' business which my cousin Rita says is totally bogus if the guy only shows up every ten years. Back to Claudius the total moron hoser because everyone knows you can't stop marriage, especially this time of year, when at least as many kisses begin with Kay as begin with beer.  Not to worry though, as you can plainly see, Claudo had so many diseases that eventually his nose fell off.  So he got at least part of what was coming to him.  And I'm telling you, if your nose falls off, I'll bet it's not the only thing.  Just saying.

The church in the third century was apparently worthless on the subject, because they went along with this crackpot plan and advised all the priests not to perform any more marriages.  Which had to do more with real estate than fidelity, but that's another blog.

But lo and behold, (Do we all remember what that means?  It means, listen up -  miracle comin') one priest decided to defy all the dimwit directions and he kept performing marriages in secret.  His name?  Oh yeah, Fr. Valentine.  

Padre Valentine got caught.  Who ratted him out?  Some jagoff who was probably too much of an asshole to get anyone to marry him, in secret or otherwise.  Seriously - all throughout history, any time some bad shit happens, you'll find a jagoff somewhere at the bottom of it.

Anyway, Fr. Valentine was thrown in jail and sentenced to death.  While he was in jail, he fell in love with the warden's daughter.  Tragedy all over this mess, huh?  On the day he was sentenced to death, he left her a note, declaring his abiding love, and he signed it "From Your Valentine."  The date of his execution?  Yup - February 14th.

It took the church another two hundred years to get around to naming the holiday St. Valentine's Day.  Not too quick on the uptake, those guys.  And seriously?  I think Ye Olde Hallmark Shoppe had something to do with it.

Like all good stories, this one has a moral.  Actually, this one has several.  In the spirit of Fr. Valentine, who was all about choices, I'll let you pick your favorite.  Or you can make up your own and share it with the rest of us.  See how nice that is?  I am very nice today because I have lots of chocolate in some very interesting shapes, along with some very sweet plans for later.  The candy is hidden and the plans are a secret.  I'm not that nice.

Morals from the VD Story:

A.  Love conquers all, including idiot commanders in chief and heads of church and/or state.

B.  War is dumb as hell, and if you try to make it more important than home and hearth, you are going to get a nasty disease and hopefully die miserable and alone. (I like this one the best.)

C.  When you hire whore sub-contractors during a war, people are going to get screwed, and not in a fun way either.

D.  If you spend enough time in jail, you can fall in love with anyone. (Rocco has Oz on DVD and it's totally true.)

Happy VD to everyone from Me, Margie.  The End.

October 08, 2009

Margie's Story Time: Celibacy

Margie's Story Time: Celibacy

By Me, Margie

It's been awhile.  But great news - one of the Bosses is taking a month off and guess who is going to fill in her slot?  Are you sitting down?  It's ME, Margie and my Cousins.  That's right - call this Mancini Month.  Every Thursday this month you'll hear from one of us - Rocco, Rita, and another cousin who is getting ready to leave the convent.  Don't ask - hopefully she'll tell.

Had a real hard time deciding on my blog subject.  I mean - it's getting harder and harder to tell who is writing the news - the actual real news people or The Onion. (One way to tell - the people who write for The Onion are smarter).  For a country that has so many hang-ups about how other people have sex, we sure do spend a lot of time treating it as 'news'.

I think it's time we had a nice chat about Celibacy, and here is a story to get us started.

In the beginning, there was light, and darkness and then water and land and then trees and animals and people. They were all Naked, and it was good.  All that nakedness meant that people and animals had sex whenever and wherever they wanted, because no one had invented a stick big enough to shove far enough up someone's ass that they copped an attitude about sex.  This is called propagation - or is it proposition - of species, and it was good. Okay, maybe it wasn't always good, but what the hell did they know about tantric sex and multiple orgasms? That's like saying: "Sure, they thought berries were good, but what about cheesecake?".  Which is dumb and if someone tries to ask an illogical question like that, you should totally assume they have something to hide, and it probably involves dessert.

They all had sex and offspring and at some point, they started to pair off.  They probably all chose mates in pretty much the same way - who gets the good food and - for humans, anyway - who completes the transaction, if you know what I mean.  Don't tell me males and females didn't have the locker room kinda talk back then.  You know they did, even though there were no lockers.  Or rooms.  I mean, I had Psych in college.  Those cave dreams and the whole thing about flying were around when Freud's ancestors really thought a banana was really a banana.

Humans evolved and invented all kinds of stuff, and choosing a mate got a helluva lot more complicated.  You couldn't just base it on the best schlongmeister, because that guy might have been dumb as dirt.  Or just dirty. Same with women.  Men figured out they shouldn't choose a mate just based on who had the best tits.  Wait. Never mind.

Then, of course, some knob had to start with the sexual taboos.  Far as I can tell, the people setting up the taboos were the same ones doing that shit in their secret basements.  Otherwise, people were still having sex.  Even priests.  I'm serious.  Until some Council of Greed made the rule, men of the cloth could get married. Even Popes had kids.

Sure, some people were paying for it, but that had been going on forever.  The currency may have switched from bugs to beads to bucks, but don't lie to yourself.  Supply and Demand, baby.  Look it up.

And then, the really dreadful stuff started.  Celibacy and virginity became hot topics.  Which is totally counter to every natural drive in humans and animals.  Because - duh - if you don't fuck, you don't conceive, and if you don't conceive, there are no additions to your species, genus, family, order, class, phylum or kingdom.  Then the whole system goes down the shitter.  Simple science people, and it even says it in the bible right there in Genesis - go forth and multiply - so don't start with the religious arguments.  

Next thing you know, people are fighting their own natures and actually NOT having sex.  Look, I don't think anybody needs to be banging whatever moves - or doesn't move, if you're a real creeper.  I get that some people are uncomfortable talking about sex, or maybe even having it.  (That second group needs to come to a Mancini Family Reunion, just saying, it's like a rehab.)  So here's an idea - don't talk about it!  Whoa!  Or even - ready for this revelation?  Don't have it if you don't want to.  Double Whoa.

But don't - and I mean this - DO NOT - project your sexual hangups or whatever on the rest of the population. It's all bullshit anyway - these people who try to tell you that sex is bad are really trying to control you.  Duh. You know that saying: "She who rocks the cradle rules the world?"  True, but also true is "She who rocks his world rules the cradle and every other damn thing in the house."

And let's not forget the other thing about 'Celibacy'.  All due respect to people who take those vows and actually live them.  But come on, people who claim to be celibate but are in fact doing everything but putting male tab into female slot aren't fooling anyone.  And where does flying solo fit into this weirdness?  Puzzling, isn't it?  That's because it MAKES NO DAMN SENSE.

To sum up:  sex is good as long as it's consensual; sex is necessary to create life (and if you don't want that part, there are 517 forms of birth control); sex is nobody else's business - having it or not having it. You wanna choose to keep your pants zipped for whatever reason?  Yoohoo for you.  But keep your mouth zipped about it too.

The End.

July 13, 2009

Yeah, it's Monday

Yeah, it's Monday

By Me, Margie, filling in, as usual because who else does any work around here?  No one.

Does anyone out there actually like Mondays?  I mean, there is a restaurant chain named for how much people adore Fridays, and tons of songs about Saturday night.  Sunday used to be a quiet day, where the biggest job after church was to start the gravy that would last for a couple of days, but now all the stores are open.  Wednesday is hump day, which means, y'know different things to different people.  Me, I like to -- well, I know you OCHFTS, so I think ya know.

I think it's time we gave Monday a re-do.  It's not Monday's fault it comes right after the weekend.  I blame whatever Julian worked up the calendar.  Oops, that was Julius Caesar, wasn't it?  I know this because I watched Rome on HBO.  Julius was pretty much of a shit, so that explains it.  No credit to Pope Greg either, because he had a chance to make all kinda changes and just left Monday out there hanging.

Monday is named for the Moon, which is a very cool thing, right?  And everybody kept the name Monday even when some other days were changed.  Maybe we should just start calling it Moonday.  That would be a start.  Then people could, like, design cool shirts.  As long as nobody started flashing the moon in traffic.  Then it would just be even worse than it is now.

Maybe every Monday should start with something really fun.  Like fireworks or blow jobs.  Hey, feel free to pick your own fun stuff.  I can't do everything here.

I'm just here keeping you company before the real blog pops up.  Kinda like blog foreplay.  Yet another specialty I can add to my resume, right?

So give a girl some help here - how would take the crappola vibe outta Mondays?

Wait a minute - look at what those Brits are up to!  http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/education/article6689953.ece

They have this new leaflet and the slogan is "An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away" - I think I blogged about that a while ago - nice to see someone was paying attention.  

Do we have our solution for Monday?  It can be O-day.  The slang writes itself - Comeday, Moanday, I mean, this is gold!

July 03, 2009

Big F, Little f, What begins with F?

Big F, Little f, What begins with F?

By Me, Margie and Rocco too

Blog capitol-fireworks02 Truth time.  Rocco and I wanted to write a blog about how, 40 years after Stonewall, they are still firing soldiers for being gay.  As if.  We've got some breaking news on that:  ya think nobody in the armed forces is gay?  How about the Beauty Salon business?  Or the fashion business?  Doctors? Lawyers?  Teachers? Checkity-check-check.  Wake up, dipshits.  As if we don't have real fucking problems in this country. But no, we decided that we'd prob'ly just be preaching to the converted, so here is the bottom line:  This Don't Ask Don't Tell bullshit needs to stop. Now.  We don't care if Obama does some Exec Order or the Joint Chiefs (not those kinds of joints - they have random tests for that) just get together and say "Who Cares?!"

And since we know most of you already know that, we're going to give you some info you can really use. We all know what the Big F stands for, specially those of you who OCHFTS.

What people forget is that the little f - foreplay - is just as important.  That's right.  If you are under the age of 20 and still have raging hormones, you can skip this because all you really need is to breathe, right?  If you're awake, you're probably ready to roll.

But for those of you who need more than 30 seconds to prime the engine, let's get back to basics.  Rocco said we should use jokes as examples.  We're not putting in the ethnic parts because we don't want to offend any body and besides, everyone can be guilty of these.

1.  "Brace Yourself, Brigit" is not foreplay.  Some people - men and women - need time to get in the mood.  Rocco says it's like checking the humidity on the weather channel.  I think you know what I mean.  If one of you is a walking Sahara, the other has a 0% chance of y'know, thunder and lightening.

2.  "Yea, I love ya.  Now roll over" is not foreplay.  Some people like to talk.  Some people don't.  But if you are trying to seduce someone, at least pretend to care.  Unless, of course, you're paying, then you can call the, y'know, shots.

3. "Hey, y'awake?  The game's over" is not foreplay.  Do not expect your partner to sit through some sporting event, or musical or documentary about bugs and guns and then somehow be panting for you when it's over.  Newsflash, bubba - rolling credits are not an aphrodisiac.

4.  Begging is not foreplay.  It's bad form.  Unless, of course, you don't care if your partner fakes just to get you to shut up.  Then, shame on both of you and we can't help.

And finally -- 

5.  The sound of a zipper is not foreplay.  Want to set a mood?  Try music, or candles or a nice glass of wine.  Standing up, adjusting the underhangings and then doing the slow zip doesn't do anyone any good, unless you have a perv neighbor with a long camera lens.  Same thing for you women.  Wait.  The other cousins and some various crew members of the USS Rita say it's completely different for hetero men.  In fact, they consider seeing a woman's lacy bra to be sufficient foreplay to fuck like rabbits.

So there you have it.  Wishing all of you a Happy 4th of July and best of luck in setting off your own personal fireworks!  

May 13, 2009

Tagline Contest, Part Deux: The Finals

Tagline Contest, Part Deux: The Finals

By Me, Margie, Chief Justice

Guess what?  We got so many good entries for the new TLC Tagline Contest that we're having a Semi-Final!

Yeah, I know it's Wednesday, but Elaine is busy WRITING (duh) just like Nancy was busy WRITING last week, so guess who has to pick up the slack?  That's right, Me, Margie.  Because when you work for artiste types, you just don't know when the muse is going to grab them or put them in a full nelson or whatevertheshit it is that muses do.  By the growling and gnashing of teeth coming out of the offices, I'm guessing it's nothing real fun.  On the other hand...  Never mind.

So here is the word:  The panel of judges (that would be Steve, Me, and Steve) will judge the entries. I will be the tiebreaker, or final judge.  (I prefer the term Madame Chief Justice.)  We will take all comments and new entries into consideration, even though FBI Steve says it should be too late for that.  Me and UPS Steve told him to lighten up it's not a gawddam murder investigation.  

Lipstick blog 1 And because I am nice and you guys are so cool, here is some top secret insider information:  I like the lipstick smack and TLC is keeping it.  Do I care what the authors think?  Not so much.  Okay, I DO care, in a way.  In fact, I, uh, came up with the following on Saturday night:

"TLC:  When our lips start moving, you don't know where they'll end up."

See what I did there?  It can mean so many things, right?  And if you think I'm too modest to pick my own tagline, well, you must be new here.  Plus, Steve thought it was the best thing ever.  I am going to be fair though, because some of these other ones totally kick ass.

And another thing.  Hot Flashes mean one thing to some people and other things to other people.  For example, to me, a Hot Flash means something I do at Mardi Gras.  But to most people it means some fucked up consequence of being a woman.  Which sucks by the way.  You men don't have to do any of the hard stuff.  I mean after you come up with the hard stuff, that is, which is totally fun and really isn't fair so watch it bub, just saying.  Any how, we're not going to use that term because it freaks out fabulous young people (that would be me) and lots of men, who think the whole blog is going to be about tampons or something.

One other thing - we're looking for something that says we're funny, edgy, smart and (at least for some of us) sexy.  

Enough chatter.  Here are the semi-finalists.  Voice your vote or come up with a new one.  Now.  I mean, I can't do this all week.

The Lipstick Chronicles: Kissing off diplomacy

The Lipstick Chronicles: From the Mouths of Babes

Hot Topics. Hot Lips. Hot Damn. Write Here.

Hot Authors. Hot Topics.  Hot Damn.

Smart Women. Funny People.  But IOCHFTS.

Give us your lip... or else

From our Lips to your..whatever

The Lipstick Chronicles: Writers of Wrongs

We think; how about you?

Real Smack Talk

This ain't just Lip Service

The Lipstick Chronicles:  Saving the World Daily with Friendship, Humor, Advice and Love

Just keep reading and no one gets hurt

We talk, we laugh, we kick some ass.

Smart Women Write Life.  

Read My Lipstick (with a drawing of a backside with the lipstick print)

These lips are made for talkin'

We give good lip.

James Bond?  We'd fuck him.*

*Yeah, that last one was mine too and obviously a joke even though it's totally true.  

Let's hear from you, TLC Community.  And remember - there are free books on the line here for the winner!

By the way, if one of the Tarts wins, we'll be putting everyone who made the list into a hat and giving the books away to that person.  Or something like that.

P.S.  I just found a post-it note on the (empty, of course) coffee pot that says:  remember to wish Josh Happy Birthday.  Naturally, the person who wrote it forgot, so let's do it: Happy Birthday, Josh!  

May 07, 2009

You Can't Make This Shit Up: Candies and Bristol Palin

You Can't Make This Shit Up: Candies and Bristol Palin

A New TLC Series by Me, Margie

Blog candies 1980 Okay, really?  You are not going to believe this latest crap.  Candies, the makers of the original FMPs, has teamed up with Briston Palin to promote - brace yourself:  ABSTINENCE.

I thought it was a joke.  First off, if ever there was a shoe that said: "Not only is sex great, but I'm looking to get me some" it is the Candies slide.  Do you have any idea how many thousands of pairs of those things were sold on that concept alone?  It's not like the damn things are comfortable.  I suppose this means they're going switch from come get me baby slides to old creepy don't touch me oxfords. No toe cleavage.  No breathing room.  No heel to elongate the female gams.  I'm thinking they are going to look something like these, which have the added message of 'back off, bub -  I could bite and not in a fun way either':Blog ugly furry Shoes96

And then, of course, we have Ms. Palin.  You remember her, right?  Got knocked up in high school and trapped into admitting it on a national stage when her mom decided to run for President.  I mean Vice President.  She and her beloved, a guy named Levi who is one of those 'shoot from the hip but tell the truth' kinda guys (you get that a lot with people who hunt) went along with the pretty picture for the press and said they were getting married, then (having spent too much time with the Palin family, I'll bet) went on Tyra after the break up and admitted, among other things, that they really hadn't had safe sex every time.  Ya think?  Now this guy is right out there with the C word (easy - C is for condom in this case) and admits that not only was it their only stab at birth control, but that they weren't exactly rigid about using them either.  

Bristol  Palin doesn't like to talk about birth control.  She is now promoting abstinence as the only safe way to prevent pregnancy.  There is just nothing worse than a reformed sinner, is there?  She got hers - pretty often it sounds like - and from a solid hockey player with a great ass - but now she doesn't want anyone else to get any.  Nice.  Kind of like rich people and tax cuts.  Oops.

As my Aunts would say: una vera cazzata - what a load of crap.  

And while I'm on the subject - WTF is with these abstinence only nuts?  Get a clue, people.  You cannot get kids to stop having sex with some kind of lamo 'just say no' bullshit.  They're called hormones - been around since the beginning of time and can't be stopped.  You might as well try to get my cousin Rita to skip the candy aisle when she stops in for the Midol.  It's called reality, folks - look into it. 

Here's a fun fact - according to surveys, the kids in the "No Fly Zone" or whateverthehell they call those chastity clubs are having more sex than the kids who actually want to have sex. They may not think you need to call it 'sex' but I've covered this ground before.  I don't care if you come in the back door, the front door, the bathroom window or down the freaking chimney - if you are in the house you are in the house.  My cousins and I refer to it as 'breaching the perimeter".  Actually, Rocco thought that one up.

What's next  - an Attorney General who calls himself a bulldozer when it comes to nailing criminals getting caught using his own credit cards to pay for - y'know - nailing women who are paid big bucks to say no to condoms and yes to dress socks?  I mean, seriously?  You can't make this shit up and there will be generations of Spitzer jokes to prove it.  "Spitzer?!  I just met her!"

Maybe they can hire Elliott Spitzer to be counsel to the Candies "We're taking the F out of FMPs" abstinence program.

Bitch, puh-leeze.  

I just know TLC can come up with more stuff that just makes you shake your head and say WTF?

P.S.  It's nice to share.  TLC is now on Twitter as LipstickBlog.  I just twatted about today's blog.  If you are tweeting, you can share it with your twits too.

April 22, 2009

And the Winner Is

And the Winner Is...

Karen from Ohio.

Blog Killer Cuts The Tarts asked Me, Margie, to judge the break down contest.  Although the competition was stiff - Jerry and the Pancakes - whoa - the winner has gotta be Karen from Ohio.

Because it's not every damn day that a car break-down leads directly to a marriage break-up.  Just sayin'.

Karen wins a copy of Elaine's new book, Killer Cuts.  Way to go, Karen - you can contact Elaine directly to send her your address.  Because I'm telling you, ya just don't want to post it up here for everyone to see.  There are freakazoids out there.

Congrats and thanks to everyone for all the great stories!