Posts Tagged ‘fun’

Katy Perrry appears topless on UK Esquire cover.

Here in the fantasy-driven offices of The Curmudgeon, we are rather fond of the old, 1550’s era pinups. Those American icons of home-grown beauty that made our boys shoot down some Nazi aircraft and come on home for their own apple pie, corn-fed gal. Sure, there were your lascivious gals meant for flash lights and hiding spaces, but I refer to the ones that adorned boys’ bedrooms, gas stations, and soldiers lockers everywhere. Who can forget Betty Grable showing her shapely bum (clothed) and inviting, joyful smile, even men such as me who weren’t around then, nor yet even a gleam in our Papa’s eye.

Of course this was before we discovered that foreign accents make us crazy, or an exotic, over-seas look speak not only of the mysteries of lands far away, but the mysteries of the Female. And there’s another reason, and I could tell you why that is, but this is not the time. No, this was when we were innocent and un-jaded, the very paragons of middle-class morality and sensibility.

Taking her cue from those more innocent and mildly provocative styles, Katy Perry, that Santa Barbara girl born into a show business family, has adopted the pin up look. Slightly more sexually tempting when you consider her hit song, “I Kissed a Girl,” and she liked it…and I did too, if only I had been there to see it. Especially consider her nearly nude cover photo in the upcoming European issue of Esquire. (And why the heck isn’t it Americas cover too? Because we have all the morally uptight, self-righteous jerks running around complaining about sex and selling war, the hypocritical sons of…um…their mamma’s who probably did it in the back of a model T!)  And shes looking pretty damn hot on this months cover of Rolling Stone too (see below.)  It’s all pure show business, of course, manipulation of boys and men, but she has her share of girl fans too…and a few enemies. Jealousy, no doubt.

Consider Beth Ditto (no, I hadn’t heard of her either till she dished my Katy), that human cow who said, “I hate Kate Perry!” And why did this horror, this sirenian example of a female hate Kate? For singing, “I Kissed a Girl,” who isn’t even a lesbian, which Ditto is, or a dyke actually, or a Bull Dyke to be more accurate. She has to be since no man will touch her. Now I don’t want to offend my lesbian friends, of which I have many, but they are lesbians for the right reasons and they’re not ugly people (I mean on the inside. That kind of ugly. Their looks are unimportant, unless they’re hot, at which time I fall for them in a big way, only to have my hetero heart broken into a million pieces.) I wrote a scathing piece at the time called, “Kate Perry dissed by Beth Ditto: Kate’s a Fake Lesbo!”

Betty Grable

But Kate has figured out an angle for her success, and there is no star who doesn’t manipulate us in some way (or their publicists, agents or somebody does.) So I don’t mind.

Farrah Fawcett

Katy is pretty, sure, but it’s really the gimmick that grabs us. The flashback to those innocent times…and the promise of naughty times to come. And of course those imminently singable songs on fantasies Raquel Welchthat we dream about.

Will she ever rise to the level of Betty Grable ?  Or Farah Fawcette whose feathered hair were entwined in many a boy’s imaginary fingers, or Raquel Welch whose….well, you don’t need to know what MY fantasies were about as I stared entranced at the poster of her from 10,000 Years B.C.  I really don’t know.  We’re not the same place.  There’s far more revealing and provocative stuff to see, but bless her heart, Katy harkens back to those times when things seemed easier, more basic, and a simple picture of a beautiful woman was enough to drive our fantasies and turn us into men… or women.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, I give you….Kate Perry!  Americas new Pin-Up Girl!

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typewriter Valeriana Solaris

Photo by Valeriana-Solaris/flickr

Here in the beehive offices of The Curmudgeon, it is pleasant to hear the tap-tap-tapping of  tiny little fingers on the keyboards.  Unfortunately, all the tap-tap-tapping is coming from my office.  I am participating in the National November Writing Month, wherein you write a novel of 50,000 words are more during the month of November.  That’s why I’ve handed this column over to the staff, which is why it isn’t getting done.  I’ll have to take away their company cars, and restrict use of the Bentley.

How, Crusty, you may ask yourself,  can you expect to write a novel in such a short amount of time?  Here’s the thing:  It doesn’t have to be good.  You’re not supposed to go back and fix things, or correct things, or spell check, but rather just keep writing.  Even if you don’t know what comes next, keep writing.  The point is to get a novel completed.  You can go back and fix things later, after you have a rough draft.

This has always been my problem. I must make a chapter perfect (or as close to perfect as I am able) before I continue.  Eventually, I don’t continue.  I become frustrated.  So I think, “This is the thing for me.”  And due to my nature—and the fact that I write pretty fast anyway—I do go back and fix a little, but not too much.  And it’s working.  As of last night, I was about 1000 words ahead of being on track to finishing on time…and it’s pretty good.

vintage typewiter letters Nir Tober

Photo by Nir Tober/flickr

I didn’t know what comes next, or who the characters were going to be, or what the plot was, or how it would end, but it all magically appeared, stepping into formation like a well-trained soldier.  Is it putting a grind on my schedule?  Yes, it is, but I’m loving it, and I’m going to have a novel when I’m finished.

So my point is, you can do it too.  Start tomorrow.  To write a 50,000 word novel, you have to average 1666 words per day, and it doesn’t matter if you’re starting late.  Set your own schedule and stick to it.  Do it in two months if you want.  Thats only 833 words per day.  And at this point, this post you’re reading is 385 words NOW.  Piece of cake.  That’s almost on pace to write a novel in 4 months.  Surely you can double it?

Of course, you’ll miss all the groovy prizes, (a certificate and your name on some honor-roll thing, wow), but the biggest prize is all your very own.  Your novel.  Here’s the link for NaNoWriMo, if you’d like to check it out:  <http://www.nanowrimo.org/>.  And this is how many words it takes to finish in four months…NOW.

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Photo by naama, flickr

Photo by naama, flickr

Here in the spiritual but not righteous offices of the Curmudgeon, we are shocked – shocked, I say- that such mind-bending attitudes on Christianity still exist.   The “attitude” that I speak of is the notion that dancing, rock music and hand-holding is against God’s wishes.   Say what?   Oh my God!   Not the hand-holding!   Beg God’s forgiveness, sinners!

This makes me want to spit up my Christ Corn Flakes (now with crucifix shaped marshmellows!)   Ok, I’m not that religious a guy, but these are the people who give Christianity a bad name.   But I’m getting ahead of myself.   The AP reported today that in Findlay, Ohio, a teenager was suspended from his school for attending another school’s prom.   The rats in question?  Heritage Christian School in Findlay.  Hey, they warned the 17 year old kid that he would be suspended if he went.   These backwoods Baptists forbid dancing, rock music and hand-holding.

Wasn’t there a movie in 1984 with Kevin Bacon about this very thing?   It was called Footloose or something, and it had this ridiculous, unbelievable plot about a kid who was forbidden to dance…oh…wait…you mean, that could really happen?   They should have called it Screwsloose, cause these thumper’s heads aren’t on securely.  Somebody needs to get out their Black and Decker and tighten those suckers down.  Their escalators don’t go all the way to the top level, and certainly not to the Pearly Gates.   Now in the schools defense there was definitely rock music, there was probably dancing, and god forbid there might have been hand-holding.   Gosh, maybe the kid even got lucky and they…I dare not say it…kissed.   Shhhh!   And that leads to the spread of cooties!

I like that kid.   He danced in the face of authority.   Even more impressively, he didn’t go to school the next day, instead he and his girlfriend headed for New York and the talk show circuit.   They’ll probably be sharing a hotel room, and with hormones all a raging, I can guess what happens next.   Fornication, my friends.   Life leads to fornication!   So thank you, Baptists.  In all your twisted wisdom you have pointed another young person down the road to perdition.

Come on in, kids.  The water’s fine.


(Photo Credit:  Dancing Tree by Naama on flickr; http://www.flickr.com/photos/nunoduarte/2801870408/)

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Blitzen disguises himself as Rudolf to try to get at the front of the line.

Blitzen disguises himself as Rudolf to try to get at the front of the line.

Merry Christmas my friends!  Here in the festive but tastefully decorated Curmudgeon offices, we take Christmas pretty seriously, especially yours truly, the Curmudgeon himself.  It is for this reason I draw and quarter…oh…uh, I mean draw and execute…no…not that either…produce…yes…produce my own Christmas cards each year and have done so since fish climbed out of the primordial ooze on their pathetic little flippers.

I offer you the card above for this holiday season with my heartfelt wishes for happiness in the New Year and Peace on Earth and other stuff like that.  I went a step further–a giant step, to be sure–this year when I wrote and produced a brand new Christmas song, which I offer here for your amusement and general astoundedness at my seemingly endless gobs of talent (but you didn’t hear that from me.)  My staff says so and the fact that I pay them bears no weight on this shared and genuine admiration of me, their benevolent and Solomonic boss.

Click the link below to listen to the song.   Bear in mind that this is copyrighted material and all rights are reserved and defended to the death.  That being said, feel free to link to it and share it, but don’t make any money from it.  Enjoy and Merry Christmas!


To hear the song and see the video, click the link below:

The Rudolph Song

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Remember, if you smoke after sex you’re doing it too fast.” – Woody Allen

Here in the extravagant offices of the Crusty Curmudgeon, where the walls are thin and the staff is loud, some employees were overheard discussing this titillating topic. I began to ponder why people smoke after sex. Apparently we have nothing better to do around here than ponder things and talk about sex..

For one thing, smoking after a physical activity (not that I would know from personal experience) is always better. You’re totally relaxed. All that heavy breathing kind of cleans out the lungs and the smoker wants to put smoke back in it. It feels good. After sex feels good too, so it’s normal to try to increase the pleasure with a cigarette. I suggest this is the primary reason people smoke after sex – besides doing it too fast that is.

This theory is supported by Richard Klein, author of Cigarettes Are Sublime and quoted on Time magazine’s website:

“Cigarettes, he says, present benefits, universally acknowledged by society. These benefits are connected with the release and consolation that cigarettes provide, with the the mechanism they offer for regulating anxiety and for mediating social interaction.”

Uh…yea. I think he means it feels good.

So there you have it. Another of life’s little mysteries cleared up. And tomorrow class, we’ll discuss the larger question: “Why Do People Have Sex.” And you might be asked to participate in a scientific study.

Jaques of the Curmudgeon staff responds:

jaques-french-man Bonjour! In France, we love our cigarettes with zee passion. Do za French smoke after zee rapports sexuels? We French smoke during zee rapports sexuels!

To all my female fans,  Jaques loves you as  zee moon loves zee lover!

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