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Here at Smart Bitch HQ, there’s a driving rhetoric behind our blog. Yes, we have A Nefarious Agenda. I kinda thought it was obvious, but really, I can spell it out:
1. We love romance. You can’t put us down for loving it. You can’t even call us bitches ‘cause, lookee there, we already did.
2. We want good romance to read. And we want to spread the word about the good romance because the good romance makes us panty in our happy parts.
So! In an effort to further Our Nefarious Agenda, readers like Lori offer up brilliance that, as Lori so rightly says, could make for some awesome, wacky, romantic comedy.
Seems there’s some artist in Finland who likes to bike around inside a giant vulva.
What we have here is a Google-translated article from Finland, but really, that picture is worth a thousand translated words.
Except for maybe these six words: “Cunt brings the art of anything.”
I think that phrase might hold the secrets of the universe. Or at least the secret as to why the Pens didn’t win the Stanley Cup.
But on the whole (ha!) this is romantic comedy gold. Biking vulvas that bring the art? One can only assume they also bring the noise and the funk. So you know what this means?
Smart Bitch Contest!
Write us up some advertisement copy for a radio ad promoting your new romantic comedy, a comedy which, obviously, features bikes, vulvas, possibly art, and certainly cuntular hilarity. Celebrity endorsements? Hyperbolic statements? Bring it on! Bring us the finest meats and cheeses, plus a 200 word promotional radio advertisement for your book, and send it to by midnight tomorrow night, 10 June, Eastern time. I’ll be putting up the advertisements for your judging, and we’ll pick us a winner.
Prizes? Man, it would be cool if I could give away a bike, but alas, that isn’t in my inner tube. How about a $25 gift certificate to Powell’s or Amazon, your choice, and the CD audio book of Christina Dodd’s Some Enchanted Evening.
Pedal on, Bitches, Pedal on.















by SB Sarah • Wednesday, June 11, 2008 at 10:43 AM
Behold, the entries for the Biking Vulva Romantic Comedy Contest. Which one best advertises a romantic comedy that has the perfect storm of comedic ingredients, from a giant pink vag on bikes, to the cunt bringing the art of everything.
Entries are below the fold. Vote early, vote once (that’s how the software is setup, folks. Sorry). You’ve got 24 sleek, slippery hours.
Entry #1 Frankie O’Malley
Frankie O’Malley’s giant vulva sculptures were to make her the next Georgia O’Keefe. She couldn’t believe it when CLOCK magazine decided to cover her newest exhibit. But when BMX champion Maddox Raine saw the graceful curves of Frankie’s biggest vulva outside the art museum, he simply thought it was a wicked awesome ramp. Suddenly CLOCK magazine has a more interesting article than just an upcoming artist. Frankie hated him for mocking her art and stealing her publicity, but her friends knew the truth. When Maddox rode his bike into the vulva he also rode into the artist’s heart. Now her two best friends, estranged cousins, and precocious daughter must convince the artist and the biker of their love. They set-up an online profile at Bikers Anonymous for ‘Pudenda-tascular Artist’ and chat up Maddox to convince him that Frankie feigned her hate. But what happens when Maddox’s scheming fiancée, an Olympic swimmer, discovers their scheme? Will her amorous flood coldly leave Frankie without satisfaction? See THE VULVA WAY, in theaters this summer, to discover the climax of Frankie and Maddox’s love. It’s a completely original film of bikes, vulvas, art, and meddlesome others sure to be the hit of the summer.
Entry #2 The Heart Shaped Box by Cella deVenus
Vanessa couldn’t believe the stipulation her uncle had left in his will! In order to collect her inheritance she would have to bike across Italy carrying a priceless art piece on her person—The Heart Shaped Box. Little does she know that the fellow cyclist she joins up with along the way is Manen Gorged, a man more interested in getting his fingers on the secret treasure in her folds than the Italian countryside. But he’ll reassess his feelings when, after an accident, he must plunge himself into the hidden cleft known as Aphrodite’s Flower to save Vanessa.
Cella deVenus spreads herself wide over every page in her first novel. Her descriptions of weeping grottos, dewy mounds, moist caves, and worshipping at sacred altars, coupled with glistening, firm gripping prose will have you aching for more. Ride this warm velvety road romance today!
“Tight, slick passages!” says Smart Bitches.
Entry #3 The Money Shot
Mimosa Pale, princess of Unholaan, is royally pissed. Named for a sissy drink and forbidden from the sun and anything fun, she slips her palace guards, dresses down and poses as a photographer’s assistant. Not just any photographer, but Jedi-journalist Jatti Hapy, the pedaling prince of the paparazzi, the man who’s made her every move a misery.
An artist with vast vision, Jatti does not agree to stay in Unholaan forever, just long enough to score a snap of the mysterious Miss Mimosa’s pristine pink perfection. Once People pays him, he’ll plunk down the cash for a camper and canvas the countryside in search of hard copy and put his Payless-shod feet out to pasture. But when a crazy mixed-up kid who doesn’t know a camera from a clusterbomb catastrophically confuses his chemicals, he cottons on his cutie is not who she claimed. And could it be? The pouting princess has been under his proboscis the whole time!
The Money Shot, a rollicking intergalactic romantic comedy inspired by Roman Holiday--- only with bikes and spaceships instead of scooters ---will tickle you from your tonsils to your toenails. Buy it at bookstores from Beirut to Bangor!
Entry #4 Cross Cuntry
Cherry Stone doesn’t think art and Mormonism are exclusive. She’s promoting premarital virginity by riding her VulvaCycle in an all-female, coast-to-coast bike race.
Actor Rod Hardy needs some attention. Wearing a wig, he’s riding as Lola Lamb on his bike, the Trojan Horse. Cherry never saw a horse with no head and such prominent ribs, but it is aerodynamic.
When “Lola” and Cherry collide, “Lola” offers to help repair Cherry’s damaged petals. Lesbians are an abomination to Mormons, but Cherry feels something for her butch competitor that she never felt for her Mormon fiancé. Maybe it’s just appreciation for “Lola’s” facility with tools.
Rod’s lust is crimped by having to tuck in his bike shorts, but he manages to convince Cherry that girly action won’t violate her vow. If “Lola” helps Cherry win the race, Cherry will let “Lola” taste her juices. Then Rod’s agent calls. Provided Rod wins the race and unmasks, he’ll get the TV condom campaign he wants.
While Cherry lubes her chain, Rod falls in love. If she wins the race, can he win her heart? Will he have to get a sex change and embrace polygamy? Find out, in Cross Cuntry.
Entry #5 Loose Lips
Coming soon: “Loose Lips” Starring Vajayjay Loving and Peter Cuntsmore.
Loosinda Massengill, the critically acclaimed sculptor of the 10 foot tall vagina called “The Love Cave”, is commissioned to create a new master piece for the city’s new museum with Dicky Sackson, a new up in coming artist who’s art centers around bicycle seats and limp chains. Dicky insists that they combine their distinctive styles to create a new symbolic statue that represents love, cycling, and brazillian waxed cooches. He wants to put Loosinda’s Love Cave lips against his banana seat.
But Loosinda has taken a vow to never allow a banana to slip against her lips. As they toil in the workroom day in and day out, slowly Loosinda allows Dicky to touch her vadge and mold it, work it and even…set it on his racing seat! Dicky wins Loosinda over with his knowledge of bicycles, sense of humor and vulva themed limericks. It’s a special moment when Dicky opens up and shows Loosinda his purple helmet. The training wheels come off and Loosinda rides Dicky like a Schwinn! But will their love survive? Will their sculpture “Ride and Grind” impress the museum committee? Watch and see!











by SB Sarah • Monday, June 23, 2008 at 04:46 AM
As I learned recently, you, or I, can say “bitch” on the radio and the FCC won’t come after you. But there are, as many fans of comedy know, seven words you can’t say. We Bitches are big fans of words you can’t say. From the mellifluous syllables of “cuntmonkey” to new and enjoyable derivatives of “shit” and “fuck,” we Bitches, we like the dirty language. I mean, come on. Our site title in and of itself is all about undermining the dominant assumptions about individual members of our lexicon. We love words, and we really, really love bad words.
So I’m sad this morning to learn that George Carlin, who was once arrested for disturbing the peace because of his routine about the “Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television,” died Sunday of heart failure at age 71. Carlin’s case following the arrest in 1972 was ultimately heard before the Supreme Court, which ruled 5-4 that “the sketch was ‘indecent but not obscene,’” which created a solid foundation for the FCC to “determine what constituted indecency on the airwaves.” The FCC’s cause against indecency continues today - just ask Eric Idle. Of the case Carlin said,
So my name is a footnote in American legal history, which I’m perversely kind of proud of,” Carlin said. “In the context of that era, it was daring.”
“It just sounds like a very self-serving kind of word. I don’t want to go around describing myself as a ‘groundbreaker’ or a ‘difference-maker’ because I’m not and I wasn’t,” he said. “But I contributed to people who were saying things that weren’t supposed to be said.”
Aside from vocabulary and decency issues, I loved Carlin’s comedy routines, particularly the one where he talks about having too much stuff. I think about that and giggle every time I try to pack up the family and it takes an act of congress to move us around, what with all the crap we carry around.
So long, sir. Thanks for cracking me up.






by SB Sarah • Saturday, June 28, 2008 at 09:23 AM
Expression Engine, which is the CMS that runs this here blog, has some nifty features, among them the ability to make entries expire and thus disappear from view. This is great if I’m running a contest. This is not great if I expect to remember anything, because if it’s not floating in front of my eyes, I do not remember it. So, much flogging of Sarah commences now.
And also, awarding of prizes! The winner of the Biking Vulva Contest is:
Star Opal for “The Heart Shaped Box” by Cella DeVenus. Tight passages indeed. I have to remember to use that one.
You win a $25 gift certificate to Powell’s or Amazon, your choice, and the CD audio book of Christina Dodd’s Some Enchanted Evening.
Congratulations, and my apologies for being a completely absent minded, forgetful fruitcake of a person this month.





by SB Sarah • Saturday, July 19, 2008 at 02:35 AM
The Art of Romance will be a book – thank heavens! My coffee table has a burp rag, some clickers, a graham cracker, and a copy of Bar Mitzvah Disco, but does it have a paperback collection of the visual history of Mills & Boon romance covers? No! It is lacking! Oh, the sorrow! The woe!
You can order your own copy of the book, which is due out October 2008. It traces the development of the genre and provides a visual history of one of our favorite elements, the cover art. Thanks to BB for the link.
And if cover art wasn’t enough joy for your eyeballs, here is an EXTREMELY NSFW OMGHOLYCRAP link (that I saved for Saturday for that very reason) provided with thoughtful care by Sarah (not me, another Sarah). Two words that express limitless pleasure: Naked rugby. Members of New Zealand’s national team, All Blacks, participated in a nude rugby match for charity. Yeah, yeah charity. I wanna know what the Haka looked like performed by full monty rugby players.
And if nude bottoms are not on your work agenda today, try this, courtesy of Debunot: “What did you do today?” “Oh, I rescued a family of baby ducks who were jumping off an awning.” So cute my teeth hurt. *le sigh*
Speaking of teeth hurting, if this cake were mine I’d never eat it. No matter how much I wanted cake. (Thanks to Miri for the link).
Too much sweet and Selleck? Then I’ll smack you silly with a slightly late link to the Purple Prose winner for worst sex scene, from Rebecca Miller’s The Private Lives of Pippa Lee:
a pleasure ballooned from her sex, swelled to fill her body until it burst, the sensation running down her legs, and she cried out, her head falling lifeless on the mattress, her body lank as the neck of a dead swan.
That’s just comedy freaking gold right there. Wow. Dead swans and sex balloons. It’s like Lisa Frank mixed with hardcore porn.





by SB Sarah • Friday, October 24, 2008 at 01:41 PM
Thanks to Joanne, the allure of the pirate, it falters in the face of these costumes. It’s one week until Halloween, and time for a little game I like to call, ¿Quién es más faygele?
This Guy.
That Guy.
That Other Guy.
Dude.
Yarr! Take your pick!
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