Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Bitchery reader meardaba sent us the following link, stating “a friend of mine told me about this TV show called Wetten, Dass… (I Bet You That...) where contestants bet the show that they can do something ridiculous under certain criteria. She told me about this one contestant who bet that he could figure out the title of a song just by watching two men twitch their pectoral muscles to music.

And he does it.”

The Power of Mantitty, it speaks all languages.

Jane of Dear Author has skewered the latest attempt at marketing by Harlequin.

Hahahahaha. Also: OW. I haven’t read the report in its entirety yet, but the few bits I’ve skimmed through have had my brain cells weeping for mercy.

Today marks the second year Smart Bitches has been in operation. Crazy, but also crazy delicious!

In honor of this occasion, I’d like to invite you, the Bitchery, to reminisce on Awesome Bitchfights Past. They don’t have to have taken place on this blog; in fact, most of my favorites of the past several years took place on AAR. Like this kerfuffle about sex scenes (man, back then, I was excruciatingly polite to so many people I just wanted to rip into--but then I didn’t want to be banned from the boards). And then there was the Robin Lee Hatcher interview that became this Huge Thing about religion and ROMANCE = OMGCRACK. And then there was the RWA cover and website standards thing. And the defining romance dust-up, with attendant flapping and fussing about OH NOES WHERE ARE OUR STANDARDS? And the 2005 RWA Rita awards trainwreck. And then Jan Butler. Oh lordy, the Jan Butler.

A big round of squishy hugs to you, my lovelies. We couldn’t have snipped and sniped without you. And special props to Sarah, the Smartest Bitch, who is Made of Awesome, and the best writing/blogging partner a girl could wish for. We made it for the second year, baby. Woo!

I don’t have as much time to do my blog rounds nowadays as I’d like to, so I’m somewhat behind on Awesomeness in Romance Blogolandia nowadays. But I just have to say: if you haven’t read EvilAuntiePeril’s screamingly hilarious holiday message from assorted cover models (they love you! Their hair loves you! And so do their oiled abs!), please go read it now. You will not regret it.

Also, Bam notified me of an interesting new blog: The Dean’s Desk. The description of the JAK error made me LOL like I was on AOL.

In this month’s Wired Magazine is a very prescient feature on the top fashions to adorn Sci-Fi characters. Thankfully, it’s not just women, but alas, Linnea Sinclair’s heroines might still have these folks beat. The best of the top 10?

Queen Amidala’s royal gowns
STAR WARS: EPISODES I, II & III
Stitch together all the scenes in which Amidala wears vaguely Japanese haute couture and you get a new edit: Star Wars: Episode III.I Memoirs of a Padmé.

It is true - the costuming in the whole series was an exercise in how luminous they could make Natalie Portman appear.

Khan’s suede vest
START TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN
Mr. Roarke trades his white suit for a dingy suede wraparound number and brings Kirk’s worst nightmares to life. Nothing says wrath like man-cleavage. Well, that and a stellar mullet.

So true - Candy and I can personally attest to that! There is no wrath like man-titty with a mullet.

Feyd-Rautha’s winged Speedo
DUNE
When Sting’s character appears wearing nothing but a blue art deco-style Speedo barely big enough to cover his stinger, the Baron Harkonnen isn’t the only one mesmerized.

You know, the only other Speedo that stopped me hot and cold was the glimpse of Mulder in the infamous red Speedo scene. Man.

Zhora’s peekaboo raincoat
BLADE RUNNER
Every stripper knows that clear gets you noticed, so it’s no surprise Zhora’s see-through raincoat doesn’t help her flee Deckard. She gives a whole new meaning to the term fashion victim.

Barbarella’s white go-go boots
BARBARELLA
Before Jane taught us how to work out, she showed us how to work it in thigh-high boots. If only space were filled with randy go-gonauts, pointless sexual adventures, and erotic torture devices. Feel the burn.

You know, maybe Gillaine and Sinclair’s other cover-hoes are carrying on a fine Sci-Fi babealicious tradition, and we’re too narrow minded to see it? Nah.  I’ll bet you a whole crisp U.S. dollar bill that the next Sinclair cover features white go-go boots, a clear raincoat, or both.