In what is the dumbest bull I’ve read this weekend, women are now commandeering bedrooms, nooks, and even closets to create Mom Caves. It sounds like MILF porn, doesn’t it? Mom Caves II: Leave It to Cleavage. Mom Caves VI: Carnal Casserole. But alas, it’s nothing of the sort (not yet, at least).
Mom Caves allow women to escape their spouses and families so they can relax and enjoy personal pursuits such as knitting, scrapbooking, reading, and talking on the phone. Like the man cave, it is a space all their own. But instead of beer cans, recliners, and sports posters, there are incense burners, chaise lounges, and obnoxious decor vomited out of an IKEA catalog.
According to Elaine Griffin, New York City interior designer and author of “Design Rules: The Insider’s Guide to Becoming Your Own Decorator”, Mom Caves sprang up after women could no longer utilise the kitchen for alone time because it had become a social setting. No, seriously, she said that.
“It’s different from the quintessential ‘man cave,’ where men do manly, messy and sporty things, often involving a recliner. Mom Caves are fun, frankly feminine spaces, and they’re personalized.”
Here’s what you need for your Mom Cave: a place to sit, storage space, an area to do what you want to do, and room for occasional visitors. No extra rooms available? Turn a stair landing into a mini-sanctuary using narrow console tables, a luxurious rug, and a couple of armchairs.
I have a mom cave. It’s called my fucking house. Maybe my bloke and I are crazy but when either of us want to be left alone for whatever reason, we say so and the matter is settled. There are no rows or passive aggressive battles, and no one’s feelings are hurt. If his mates are over to play poker or watch the All Blacks, they aren’t relegated to a basement oasis of masculinity, and I don’t have to retreat to a sad, fuchsia and lime green coloured nook where I can knit the baby’s afghan in peace.
This gender-specific, man cave/mom cave bullshit does nothing but breed dysfunction. If he and I ever reach a point where we need designated rooms to get away from each other for hours at a time, he’ll need to take all of his sanctuary ideas and use them to decorate his new single man flat.
I’m starting to get the impression that Andy Pettitte doesn’t know how much I want him to come back this year.
You’d think he would’ve picked up on that when he caught me climbing into his bedroom window, or when he received all of those letters containing locks of my soft blond hair, or when I accidentally ran his wife off the road and left that “2011, DAMN IT!” sign on her face.
Some people are just so daft, but I forgive him. At least he’s staying in shape. I don’t like a sloppy man.
Anyway, the Yankees have agreed to a one year, $2M deal with CF Andruw Jones and his .931 OPS against left-handers. Remember him? He used to be a smashing piece of awesome for the Atlanta Braves. When I was 12 or 13 years old, he not only became the first visiting player since Johnny Bench to blast two home runs out of Yankee Stadium in the World Series but also the youngest player in World Series history to go yard. And now, he’s back!
I know he’s just a shell of the player he was back when he was blasting 50 homers a year and racking up Gold Gloves for his ridiculous skills in the outfield, but after 15 years, who wouldn’t be?
Oh, I know who — Andy Pettitte.
There are fresh doping allegations against Lance Armstrong, this time from Sports Illustrated. In “The Case Against Lance Armstrong“, Selena Roberts and David Epstein, the pair who burned Alex Rodriguez, allege that Armstrong not only used EPO and other drugs but was the doping ringleader on his teams. (Here’s the 60-second summary.) Is anyone surprised? Doping is standard operating procedure in cycling. All integrity gets you is a scenic trip at the back of the pack.
I don’t care whether Armstrong doped or not. I always thought he was operating on a level playing field, so the wins are no less impressive. Still, I’m curious to see how this situation shakes out with Armstrong’s adoring public. For all the articles, books, and accusations by former teammates with axes to grind, the fans have never left his side. In fact, his support grows stronger with every allegation and failed test rumour. Why?
The easy answer is that he’s a cancer survivor who has been attacked relentlessly without evidence and still wins. But I think the real reason is that he’s a cancer survivor who has been attacked relentlessly without evidence by the French.
They’ve been on his case like flies on shit since his first Tour victory in 1999. Armstrong showed up to their greatest event three years removed from a terminal cancer diagnosis and all but walked across the finish line. And then he did it again. And again. And with every win, their cries grew louder, but few outside of cycling seemed to notice until 2003 when France refused to back the US in Iraq. While french fries were becoming freedom fries, Lance Armstrong was morphing from trivia question to national cause.
Suddenly, when Armstrong’s name came up in conversation, it wasn’t about him tying the number of consecutive Tour wins or his fight with cancer, it was about him beating the French. No one could wait for him to ride up the Champs-Elysees in triumph, sticking it to those effete cowards who needed the US to save it from the Nazis and then betrayed it in Iraq. They made Armstrong the target of a witch hunt for repeatedly winning the biggest race of their biggest passion in a canter. Fuck that country. Who needs France?
That sort of fervor helped Armstrong become an industry unto himself. His consecutive victories and cancer crusade factored in, of course, but when the French took on Armstrong, a nation responded and it has supported its champion unconditionally ever since.
So what happens now that Armstrong is accused by an American magazine instead of a French rag like L’Equipe or Le Monde? Nothing? Anything? There’s still no hard evidence. It’s the same speculation with some extra goodies (and knowing SI, super pictures) thrown in, but now that the xenophobia has been removed, I have a feeling many of his fans are going to explode into a cloud of smug disgust and then cry betrayed tears. Those idealistic fools should have seen it coming.
In the 20-some years that I’ve been an aware fan of The Arsenal (aware meaning I wasn’t in nappies and drooling on myself), we have never been as mentally weak as we are today. Don’t get me wrong – we can fire up with the best of them, but the thing that separates from the likes of Chelsea and Manchester United is that we only do it when we need a crucial result or suffer a slight in the press. They do it as a matter of course.
This is most recently evidenced in the weeks since our cracking victory over Chelsea on Boxing Day. To stay in the title race, the Gunners had to play 90 minutes of aggressive, disciplined football, and that is exactly what we did. But in typical Arsenal fashion, we went directly into the shitter almost immediately after the whistles blew.
A lovely win over Birmingham excepted, it was one inexcusable draw after another until we lost to Ipswich Town (currently 20th in the Championship) in the first leg of the Carling Cup semi final. Our lacklustre, disinterested performance brought on a swath of criticism in the press, and Arsenal responded once again — this time with a 3-0 dismantling of West Ham United.
If the pattern is at all reliable, we’re due for a letdown against Wigan this Saturday and the vicious cycle will continue until season’s end. Of course, we wouldn’t be in this mess if Wenger didn’t sell away all veteran experience and leadership for youngsters who haven’t the bottle to do more than play beautiful football and model cute shirts on the website.
One way he could fix it is to find players in the Tony Adams or Patrick Vieira mould. But since we all know that won’t happen, I suggest he offer a contract to linebacker Bart Scott of the New York Jets. No, Bart Scott doesn’t know anything about footy, but what he lacks in knowledge he makes up for in white hot, “do it or I’ll fucking kill you” intensity and that’s exactly what Arsenal needs.
Can you imagine Cesc Fabregas responding like this? Can you imagine him even thinking these things? Neither can I. He’s too busy using his captaincy to act like a whinging bitch in the press, and that’s why we’re on year six without any fucking trophies.
Do you remember when Joba Chamberlain was Mariano Rivera’s heir apparent? It’s been nearly four years and a swarm of midges since that sort of talk, so if you can’t – don’t waste your time trying. The real successor (or so they say) just arrived — all 3 years, $35 million of him.
I got queasy when I heard the New York Yankees planned to sign Tampa Bay closer Rafael Soriano for $35M over three years and a first round pick that Cashman swore we’d never give up. All of that for a setup man? Wasn’t this supposed to be the new sensible shoes Yankees – the ones who build their farm system and attempt self-control on the free agency market? I suppose it depends on whether you’re a glass half full type or not.
Rafael Soriano is tested and proven in the AL East, he’s a Rivera injury away from being one hell of a bargain, and with him, our bullpen should be one of the best in the league (Joe Girardi’s mismanagement notwithstanding). Last season, he had 45 saves with a sterling 1.78 ERA and 0.80 WHIP. Nice, right? Check out his combined line with Mo:
122.1 IP, 78-86 saves-opportunities, 75 hits, 24 ER, 25 BB, 102 K, 0.82 WHIP, 1.77 ERA, 0.82 WHIP, 5.52 H/9, 1.84 BB/9, 7.50 K/9, 4.08 K:BB, and an opponents BA around .170.
Soriano is a good reliever, but he’s not Mo reincarnated/$11.M+ per/first round pick good. And at 31 years old, he never will be.
1. Soriano had major elbow surgeries in 2004 and 2008 (Tommy John and ulnar nerve), which makes him a rickety insurance policy who will only deteriorate with age
2. He’s doing what David Robertson and Pedro Feliciano can do nearly as well at an obscene markup for one, maybe two, innings of work
3. Flyball rate: 50%. Groundball: 31%. xFIP vs lefties: 4.42 (career: 4.13). How’s that sounding for Yankee Stadium? Fear not – I just cringed so you don’t have to.
The glass half empty stuff and the cost notwithstanding, I like this. Any time the Yankees enter the 8th inning with a lead, I will fully expect the other team to surrender immediately, pack up their bags, and get back on the bus. When they don’t, I’ll be offended that they have the audacity to think they can compete.
But what about those days when C.C. Sabathia and Phil Hughes aren’t pitching? Two games a week (or three if Bad A.J. is on the mound), we may see Soriano trotting out in the 7th or 8th to protect a 6-3 Yankee deficit. Potentially being the best bridge to the closer since Mariano had the role in 1996 won’t count for much then.
And that, boys and girls, is where Andy Pettitte comes in! Can I get a huzzah?
We’re supposed to believe that Andy Pettitte is in month three of his annual Brett Favre routine. The notion offends me. The only thing he’s doing is waiting to see if the Yankees are committed to beating the Boston Red Sox’s soul-crushing lineup and contending for a title. If he isn’t, why hasn’t he called it a day?
Andy’s a bulldog who can still compete at an elite level, but he won’t give up time with his family to endure a season of futility. By signing Soriano, Pedro Feliciano, and David Robertson, and leaving plenty of cash to spare for other acquisitions (please, not Andruw Jones), Brian Cashman proved that though he’s still not above signing players for way too much money, New York is ready to put up a title fight.
Any time now, Mr. Pettitte. Any time. Please? For a half season? Christ. I’m so delusional.
You know that law in certain countries where boys are either conscripted or required to register for selective service on their 18th birthday? Well, when that happens, the government should issue updated copies of this 1940s-era consensual sex safety certificate, condoms, and a ballpoint pen, with the requirement that the items be on their persons at all time. Don’t play by the rules? Fine. It’s straight to the front lines for you.
If you’re wondering what the Mann Act is, it’s the USA’s White-Slave Traffic Act of 1910. Named after Congressman James Robert Mann, it prohibited white slavery and the interstate transport of females for “immoral purposes”. Its primary stated intent was to address prostitution, immorality, and human trafficking. The ambiguous immorality language required Congress to amend the law to apply only to transport for the purpose of prostitution or illegal sexual acts. Given how repressed American sex laws are for consenting adults, “illegal sexual acts” meant anything that wasn’t missionary position between husband and wife.
Obviously, this law was a tricky bag of poo. We know this because people who were made of awesome such as Chuck Berry, Charlie Chaplin, and Jack Johnson (the boxer, not that twat singer) were convicted of it. Charles Manson went down for it as well, but he isn’t made of awesome, so let’s ignore that piece of unsexy trivia.
The History Channel scuttled the upcoming airing of its 8-part miniseries “The Kennedys” and not because no one could bear to watch Katie Holmes act.
In a statement to the Hollywood Reporter, A&E Television Networks (owner of History) said, “Upon completion of the production of The Kennedys, History has decided not to air the 8-part miniseries on the network. While the film is produced and acted with the highest quality, after viewing the final product in its totality, we have concluded this dramatic interpretation is not a fit for the History brand.”
Not a fit for the History brand? Then tell me, AETN, what is? Here are the programmes on History’s schedule for 11 January:
+ MonsterQuest: Mysterious Ape Island; Gigantic Killer Fish; Abominable Snowman; Chupacabra; China’s Wildman
+ Ancient Aliens: Alien Devastations
+ Top Gear: Car vs. Plane
+ Ax Men: Battle for Survival
+ Modern Marvels: Axes
+ Pawn Stars: Ready, Set, Pawn; Chumlee’s Dummies; Peeping Pawn; Getting A Head
+ American Pickers: Mike’s Breakdown; Gold Mine
+ The Battle of Charleston
One programme about legitimate history in 15, and if you want to see it, you have to tune in at 7:00a. The rest of the day is monsters, aliens, faux reality, and Top Gear US – an abortion that sucks so hard, it nearly pulled me into my television. It is, without a doubt, the worst American version of a British show ever to air. The only shock here is that there was no room for Hitler, the DaVinci and/or Bible Code, Nostradamus, doomsday scenarios, or shite to do with R. Lee Ermey. But fear not – you can catch repeated airings of those on Wednesday and Thursday. You may even catch Prophets of Doom, which features a “this show contains propaganda” warning.
What happened to this channel? Around 2008, History morphed from reliably informative entertainment to sensationalistic hysteria and lowbrow reality that masquerades as an educational spotlight into Americana. It’s no wonder “The Kennedys” didn’t make the cut. Void of aliens, Biblical prophecies, and swamp people, how could it possibly compete?
The truth is, the miniseries never had a chance. By calling attention to the Kennedy’s corruption, missteps, and foibles, it offended the sensibilities of women who continue to push their family’s myth even though the only people still buying into that bullshit are too busy getting the senior citizen deal at Long John Silver’s to care.
All the same, AETN should have teamed up with Tom Cruise and Scientology’s Galactic Dictator Lord Xenu to fight this censorship. Considering what they did to Oprah, there’s no way Maria Shriver and Caroline Kennedy would dare protest.
Another sign of the times, friends. It looks like Chile was just hit by another earthquake (5.9), too. If I wasn’t a Torah-reading, Hebrew-speaking malcontent, I’d get one those registration plate frames that says, “Warning: In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned.” Blast my luck.
In related news, Chris Berman last night stated his belief that Packers head coach Mike McCarthy is “one of the underrated coaches in pro football.”
Thanks for your wisdom and insight, Chris, but no. McCarthy’s rating is exactly where it should be. Just because he barely managed to outcoach Andy Reid, one of the worst wartime consiglieres in NFL history, doesn’t mean he’s worthy of much praise. Nearly any coach can pull that off. Well, any coach except stupendously inept Colts “head coach” Jim Caldwell, who was as lost and overwhelmed in the AFC Wild Card game as Grady Little was in the 2003 ALCS. For the rest of the lot, the challenge of clowning Reid in the playoffs offers the same level of difficulty as outmaneuvering a cripple.
Sarah Palin should be on her knees praying that 1) Rep. Gabrielle Giffords (D) of Arizona doesn’t die, and 2) the lunatic who shot her in the head at point blank range, as well as a federal judge, a nine year old, and up to ten others, isn’t a knuckle-dragging right wing extremist, but a Travis Bickle type with a gun and the courage of his convictions.
Since no one has any hard facts about this tragedy, it’s just as likely that the shooter is the former as he is the latter. But it doesn’t matter. Evidence be damned, it’s clear that most will treat this as a Tea Party Jihad, and the violent rhetoric, vitriol, and imagery spewed by Palin, her followers, and right wing celebrity mouthpieces got a child killed and possibly more.
And you know what, maybe they’re right. Maybe that’s exactly what happened. Deranged individuals take rhetoric to heart. But right now no one knows what this nutjob was on about, and pulling out your Jump to Conclusions mat to spout off about Sarah Palin having blood on her hands is spectacularly obtuse.
All hell is about to break loose in American politics, and the disgusting part is the victims of the attack will get lost in the shuffle.
The man and I love a good sex toy in the bedroom because their use is only limited by comfort level and imagination. However, vibrators are the lone toys in the drawer that eventually wear out their welcome (no pun intended). With a defined number of pre-programmed patterns, you start knowing what to expect from them and where’s the fun in that?
Enter OhMiBod, a nifty pleasure product company out of New Hampshire, USA that produces vibrators designed to pulsate to the beat and rhythm of music. You can hook them up to your iPod, iPad, laptop, stereo, or anything else that plays tunes and quite literally feel music. I blogged about their first product a few years back when I couldn’t believe such a thing existed. Eventually, I got one of my own. It’s like an audiophile’s nirvana (Massive Attack’s Inertia Creeps: I honour you in so many other ways now).
Well, four years have passed and these sex hounds have undergone a serious evolution. Their most recent innovation is Body Heat – the first app for iPhone (and any other mobile device) that remotely controls vibrators.
“Body Heat is responsive to touch and movement, leaving control quite literally at the customer’s fingertips,” said Suki Dunham, founder of OhMiBod. “Gone are the days of cycling through speed, intensity, and pattern variations. With Body Heat, users can change their experiences on the fly and in real time.”
Infinite patterns, limitless intensities, and totally customisable. Suki’s speaking my language.
Now, perhaps you’re thinking, “Who needs to get off so much that they need an iPhone app?” To that I say — drop the self-righteous charade and get your mind right. Everyone wants to visit pleasure town, and whether they admit it or not, most people like getting there (with or without a partner) in new, exciting, and hopefully legal ways. Not liking orgasms is akin to hating puppies and unicorns, and throwing shade at those who are enthusiastic about them simply makes you evil, not to mention bad in bed.
Since only Androids and Blackberrys live at my house, we’ll have to make do with the technology we already have, but I still offer a huzzah to Apple for allowing a legit Ticket to Orgasms app in their store. They’re not as rigid and evil as I thought! Then again, if you’re a more religiously conservative thinker, apps like these may join all of the random bird, bee, and fish deaths in being yet more signs of the Rapture and Second Coming of Christ.
Good thing I’m a Jew! w00t!