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

In between napping, reading, attending barbecues, cat-wrangling and car-shopping (the turn signals on my New Beetle stopped working last week and it was the LAST FUCKING STRAW this car is almost new and it’s had a fuckton of stupid problems why oh why did I not get a Honda instead of that blasted yuppie whoremobile gaaaaaah so ANYWAY getting a Scion xA which is also yuppie-whorish but far more reliable so yayyyyy) ummmm, whoops, sentence got away from me. Urk. So, at any rate, watched The Boondock Saints for the first time last night and am in the midst of a massive obsession. First of all: the MacManus twins? HOTTTT. Jesus God. One of the deleted scenes on the DVD had the two of them strolling ‘round their apartment nekkid, and I just about fell of the couch. The Very Tall Husband had to put with me babbling about how hot their tattoos were and how I wanted to lick Murph’s neck and back. Yea, he is indeed a patient man, especially since he never gets crushes on fictional characters and therefore cannot remotely comprehend my little obsessions with people who don’t exist in real life (some of them animated, even).

Anyway. Second of all: those two are just CRYING for a good love story.

For the first time ever, I’m actually contemplating hunting out fanfic, but I’ve heard that most of the stories are twincest tales. *weeps, gouges eyes out* Guess I’ll have to make do with what I can come with on my own. I can’t be bothered to actually write down any of it (not necessarily due to any scruples--I can’t be bothered to write down most of the fiction I come up with), but in my head, the two boys are having fun, and woo hoo, so am I. Wait, hang on, just to clarify: I’m having fun coming up with the stories, I mean. I’m not actually in the stories. The thought of inserting myself in any way, shape or form into any fiction I come up with repulses me, and I’m not quite sure why.

Yup, the warm weather and the rigors of car-shopping have basically sapped all the energy from me, and all I can come with for a blog entry is OMG BOONDOCK SAINTS SQUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEE. Hopefully I’ll get my shit together and post something more interesting tomorrow.

p.s. Happy 4th of July! May all your limbs (and the limbs of your loved ones) remain intact through this exploderrific time of year.

Hey, kids, here's a fun game for everyone: Love scene mad libs! First up is a scorching-hot Regency love story I've entitled "A Dark and Stormy Tryst." Fill in the blanks, hit that button and have fun. Results will pop up in a new window; feel free to copy and paste your results in the comments.

Breed of horse:
Weather adjective:
Brand of firearm:
Verb, past tense:
Verb, past tense:
Somebody just stuck a stick up a bear's ass. What sound does the bear make? (Verb, past tense.)
Nickname for a female family pet:
Your cat has just pounced on a rat. What sound does the rat make? (Verb, past tense.)
Find the most annoying, fruity-ass interior decorator term for "blue":
Invertebrate sea creature:
Organ (non-naughty bit, please):
Disease:
Derogatory term for women (plural):
Adjective:
Body part, plural:
You sneak up to your significant other and tickle his balls with a feather duster. What kind of sound does he make? (Verb, past tense.)
Verb, past tense:
Vegetable, singular:
Processed meat product, singular:
Famous Latin phrase or quote (don't include the quotation marks, and if you need inspiration, check this website out):

Oh my. I’m not normally into Cafepress loot, but this T-shirt is well-nigh impossible to resist:

If you can’t read the text, it says: “just because I like to be spanked & called bitch, doesn’t mean I’m a bad feminist.”

Smooches to Katie for finding this and IM-ing me about it.

Good grief. I literally fell asleep within moments of coming home last night. One moment, I was laying in bed and engaging in a really silly and funny and profanity-filled debate with my husband about who does more around the house (he thinks my cooking shouldn’t count since I have so much fun doing it, I think his washing the sheets almost every week shouldn’t count because he’s the sweathog who makes weekly sheet-washing sessions necessary), and the next moment, bam, 6:30 a.m., my glasses are all askew on my face and my bladder is killing me. The saddest part is, that is the second night in a row I fell asleep before 7 and without eating dinner. So, yeah. I’m officially a Pathetic Sack of Shit. Many apologies to fiveandfour for the delay.

So without any further ado, behold, fiveandfour, your glorious new title! Go forth and and henceforward be known as:

All righty, folks! Another Friday, another personal ad contest, whoop-dee-doo! Guess the correct book title, author and heroine’s name, and find yourself the winnah of a beautiful and much-coveted Smart Bitch aristocratic title.

Love in the Age of Aquarius

SWF, antique shop owner, like, totally into spiritual enlightenment and chakras and stuff, looking for a guy to share some good times. I’m a redhead, tall (5’10") and curvy (120 lbs.). If you’re a pig, though, I’ll, like, totally mace you with some hairspray. So please don’t be a pig, or all uptight, or whatever. Oh yeah, I hope you’re into, like, belly rings, because I have one and it’s totally hot.