Another Friend in Another Contest

My friend Tom is in a design contest for a condom company called One.

He's currently in first place, and unbiasedly, I think that's where he should stay.
Tonight is the last night. If you have a second to click your mouse twice, I'd appreciate it.



xoxo

Look ... a FROG!

So sue me. I hate the outdoors. I don't like sweating. I don't like dirt. I don't like fucking bugs. I am terrified of frogs -- which are all over outdoors.

I am in Woodstock, NY where, although the actual concert was held an hour south in Bethel, hippies are banking loads of money through marketing the three days of peace and music. And for some reason it surprised me. I just didn't think 1, that people cared that much anymore and 2, that hippies would maintain their lifestyle in the sense of not bathing, but switch over to capitalism based on a concert that was held an hour away from here thirty years ago.

Although I have always fantasized about being 18 in 1968 and being a hippie at the festival, I have learned that I didn't know what I was talking about. Because if the true hippies smelled anything like the hippies I have encountered here in Woodstock (patchouli and feet), there is no way I could have ever been a hippie. Even on massive amounts of hallucinogens.

Plus, hippies love nature. They like to get right up in it. Right up to their un-deodorantized armpits. I love nature from afar.

We're here in Woodstock to celebrate Erica's mom's 60th birthday with the family. We're all staying in this huge cabin and have been eating and playing games and telling stories and having a great time. Outside every single window in this place is woods. It's beautiful. We have frequent deer sightings. I love that. We've been to town for dinner and to shop in the village green. Fun and cute and great.

And then came the hike.

Oh, we're all going on a hike and it's gonna be nice. Grandma is coming.

Cool. I can totally handle a grandma-paced hike. Not too fast, not too steep, not too creepy crawly. Awesome.

Then we get there. And we start going up. Grandma ends up not being with us so we keep going up. Up. At a 45 degree angle. In heat. And I'm starting to sweat. And then the bugs start biting. And I'm panting. Did I mention I get face sweat. Lots of face sweat. This is foul and incredibly unpleasant (not to mention unattractive, which I am not into). But I'm trudging along. I am hating every step, but I'm in there. Erica tries to cheer me up. "At least it's pretty."

We are on a hill surrounded by pine trees and moss and ivy. It was like being at home in the woods. I played in the woods as a kid. When I could tolerate humidity. And dirt. To me, I see woods and I see places for snakes. And frogs. (Terrified of them, people. Irrationally and irreparably terrified.) Yes, there are pretty elements, but as a whole, unpretty. Then she gives me an out.

Yeah. I don't want to do this either. We can go if you want.

Bingo. "Oh thank god. Yes let's go."

Hey everyone. Susan doesn't want to hike so we're going to go back.

Susan doesn't want to hike? What an asshole. To add to this, after we finally tear away from the barrage of, "Oh come on's," accompanied by a list of things meant to entice me to want to continue the torture. "Look how pretty! It'll be fun! Look ... a FROG!"

"That does it! Fuck this. I am getting off this hill."

I'm half stumbling, half stomping defiantly back toward the car. Furious. It's hot. It's humid. I have bug bites and sweat pouring off my face. I'm surrounded by a plague of amphibians and Erica completely threw me under her family's guilt bus. Plus, I'm partially blinded because I'm sobbing hysterically. Then Erica, referring to her previous statement, Yeah. I don't want to do this either. We can go if you want, says, "Well, what I meant to say was that hiking wasn't my first choice but I was doing it because I never get time to spend with my family."

Hot.

Found on Craigslist

VH1 and BRET MICHAELS will hit the road literally…to find true love on the
ROCK OF LOVE BUS with BRET MICHAELS.

VH1 is loading up a tour bus filled with beautiful babes and taking them on tour across the country. The Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels takes contestants out of the mansion and on the road in true rock star style. This season will feature all-new ladies vying for Bret’s affection while traveling across America following Bret on a month-long tour. The contestants will face new challenges to see if they can handle the rock star life on the road. If you are a sexy single lady looking for love who can party like a rock star, then this is the show for you.

To audition in New York City or Hoboken please email us the following info asap. Send us your

Name
Age
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Myspace Link
A Short Bio

And Attach a Photo

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All applicants must be 21+
Characters Wanted

Yo. Um. My bad.

I am so sorry I haven't written in so long. I have been knee deep in research on my newest obsession.I know I'm behind the times. We're already two or three episodes into season two, so that's why I've been doing research.

No. Seriously. I've been reading up on the Coreys -- especially Haim because he's the most tragic and you know how I love tragic -- for days. I've watched past episodes on You Tube. It started this past weekend while I was on house arrest for that little incident I had in Kentucky a couple of months back. I decided to use my time at home to catch up on some marathon television watching.

As is usually the case with vacations and returning home, as soon as I got back from Nevis I was slammed with work.

Kev: Hey! Did you have a good trip?

Me: Yeah. It was awesome.

Kev: Great! So, here's a request for proposal you're going to have to do over the internet with big name company on Tuesday and then we have an event with other big name company on Friday. They want custom linens and couch covers made from black cashmere. They load in at 4AM Thursday. Welcome home.

Because I'm good, I got it all done. But it totally put a cramp in my Welcome Back to America TV time I had planned. Going on vacation is fantastic, but almost as fantastic is coming home from vacation to have a week's worth of DVR material saved up to watch all at one time. So, when I was on my Jefferson County, Kentucky imposed "time out", I caught up on all I had missed in the two weeks I had been away from my beloved DVR, and still had time to explore new shows. That's how I found the Coreys.

I knew about the show, of course. But I never made the effort to find out when it was on and set the DVR to record it. And, since the DVR came into my life, this is pretty much the only way for me to see shows. I have no tolerance for commercials, and on the off chance I do happen to hit [GUIDE] instead of [LIST] and I see something interesting, I watch until the first commercial then I hit record and come back for the rest later.

Side note: You know, I've been working on my tendency to be a control freak and I've been feeling like I've gotten so much better. But, I think I just realized that maybe I haven't gotten better. I think I've just transferred my control to my DVR. It has turned me into the world's most efficient television watcher. My remote control reflexes are catlike in their speed and precision. Erica's pretty good too, but I'm definitely the best. Our rule is, "Fuck up once, try again. Fuck up twice, hand it over." She's handed it over way more than I have.

Anyway. Back to the Coreys. I saw that a couple of episodes were on so I hit record and later in the day I came back to watch. Have you seen this show people? It is phenomenal! And by phenomenal I mean pathetic.

It is heartbreaking and tragic and ... I mean. Did you know about this?That's right. He's back and he had this published in Variety to let everyone know.

I swear I am not making this up.

And, yes, that is a heart over the I in Haim, just like the pull-out poster I had from Teen Beat so I know it's really him.

Dear readers, if you didn't already know, you are going to love this. Corey Haim and Corey Feldman are in couple's therapy to try to save their twenty-year friendship. And they're televising it for me and probably twenty or thirty other people who have too much time on their hands and too little discrimination about what they'll watch on television.

So, around the fourth session of therapy Haim decides that there are people who he needs to "You know, like, 'Yo. Um. My bad.' You know what I'm saying? Like, 'I'm sorry, or make amends" to. After therapy he goes home to do some soul-searching. With his assistant. He dictates while Nelle writes his list that includes all of his ex's and most of the 80's Hollywood teen set.

When the list starts hitting triple digits, Corey in a time-saving effort, decides that the best way is to just tell everyone that he's sorry all at the same time. And since, apparently, everyone he wants to make amends to has an agent (Winona Ryder, Alyssa Milano, Todd Bridges), he goes with an ad in Variety. (Every time I type that, it makes me throw up a little bit, the humiliation I feel for him is so strong.) "It's on every agent's desk at 7 or 8 in the morning."

His dildo of an assistant who I am sure is a very sweet girl, and probably has his best interest (or her paycheck) in mind, just goes along with him.

Yeah Corey! That's a fantastic idea! Totally. You should totally do this. People will be so touched that you thought so much of them as to apologize in such a sweet way.

So sweet, in fact, that the unpleasantness of the "Yo. Um. My bad." part of the apology doesn't actually appear anywhere in the text. And the photo shoot was so important that he didn't even take the time to light a fresh cigarette off of the burning butt clinched in his "ready to work" fingers. People, that (and the, "This is not a stunt part.") proves just how much this is not a publicity stunt to get work. If you don't believe him, just write. corey@coreyhaim.tv. Feel free to attach any scripts you may have lying around.

It's killing me. I feel so bad for this guy. He's an addict and is not thinking straight and apparently he has no one around him to stop him from making an ass of himself in the most public way possible. Did you know he tried to sell his teeth and hair on ebay? Yep. Sure did. Were they his baby teeth? Nope. Adult sized molar is what I saw. Know why? Heroin. Oh my god. Can you stand it? I just hope that someone out there in A&E land is planning an, "Intervention," meets, "The Two Coreys" show very, very soon.jail,

Shopping in Your Pajamas. Or not.

Hi everybody!

I've missed you guys. We just got back from Nevis last night and I can not wait to tell you all about it. It was amazing. Monkeys. This Rasta guy named Nambo. Partying with an 81 year old Trinidadian woman until three in the morning. A crazy golf cart bandit named Jim. Ridiculous. However. I have to wait until Erica loads all of the photos for me to do a proper entry on the vacation, so until then, let me tell you about a new show I discovered.Now, I have always loved an infomercial. I have actually purchased items from infomercials. I think I may be part of the infomercial target audience.

I can almost recite the entire Ronco "Set it and forget it" Showtime Rotisserie informercial. And every time I watch it I love it. (I have watched it a lot.) I love Ron Popeil. And, who doesn't? He's so enthusiastic. And the audience! They are so amazed by the insane bargain they'd be receiving if they bought the Showtime Rotisserie within the next thirty minutes. What with the elastic roasting ties, shish kebob skewers and the ever popular (and necessary) heavy-duty, napalm-proof roasting gloves, they should be paying double. No! Triple! Those gloves are made of a substance that, upon inspection from bed at four in the morning, seems to be plastic or rubber -- both meltable materials -- but if Ron's sending them to me with his Showtime Rotisserie, certainly they're made of some NASA approved stuff that is so hi-tech, he's insane for even letting the public know about them.

I actually never bought any of Mr. Popeil's items. Unless he had something to do with the Chia Pet Mr. T, but I think that's a different company.I did buy the Darrin's Dance Grooves when my old roommate and dear, dear friend HeatherJeanne and I were in the height of our Brittany obsession. When we weren't practicing our moves from West Side Story (we choreographed this ourselves), we were learning the steps to the "Crazy" and "Bye Bye Bye" videos.

Anyway. Back to Shop Erotic. Last night when Erica and I got home from Nevis and the most spectacular vacation ever, I was flipping channels when I spotted information on a show that was showing at 3:00 and then again at 3:30AM on Oxygen. The name was there and the info on it was:

The best Home Shopping for all your romance needs - hand picked products, satisfaction guaranteed, discrete billing and shipping.

Seriously? Record please. Entire series.

I hit the, "Yes, I'm sure," button and checked in again this afternoon between watching the most recent episode of Weeds and the Snapped! marathon. Turns out, this informercial is presented, not in Ron Popeil fashion, but as if it were the Home Shopping Network or QVC. The same basic screen design -- pricing and information in an opaque box on the left of the screen, a box to the right that either features the woman selling the items (dildos) or the items themselves (dildos). Then there's a banner at the bottom of the screen with the phone numbers and the logos for the credit cards they accept. (Visa, MC, AMEX & Discover! Nobody accepts Discover.)

The show started with Miyoko, a lovely Asian woman who is dressed in a frumpy grey sweater and wearing glasses, though in that "When i pull this frumpy sweater and glasses off, I am going to tap that ass" kind of way. She starts the show off bt assuring us, the viewers, that we were very safe calling these numbers. In fact, there is a special phone line dedicated to women only so that they won't be skeeved out by calling some guy in the middle of the night and handing over their credit card information to buy a special Jack Rabbit vibrating/rotating dildo or even just your run of the mill dong with suction cup.

Then they go to a two-shot of Miyoko and a very innocent looking blonde woman (she calls the dildos "massagers") who agrees that for some people ("Not us, Miyoko.") it would be awkward ordering sex toys over the phone at 4 AM while your kids are asleep between their Spongebob SquarePants sheets in the next room. But for us, the viewers, (she says) we can feel comfortable and at ease because they have segregated the phone lines in order to make us feel okay about all of this. We can rest assured knowing that we will be speaking exclusively to a woman when we request our sex harness and ball gag.

Plus! There are gifts! With every purchase of the 6 1/2"" rubber vibrating dong you get a bottle of fancy lube. "Perfect for playing with toys, or by yourself." I wondered if this were a Freudian slip on her part and she was supposed to say boys instead of toys. Perhaps Miyoko is a lesbian. She does get into the politics of sex toys -- in a lot of places you can't even buy a waterproof/battery-operated dildo that is ergonomically designed to fit perfectly in the palm of your hand.

Miyoko: You know. Sometimes, we do get a little tired wrist or you know, the forearm does get a little tired.
Innocent Blonde: Or you have to reach ...