Now guys, I don’t want to call myself a “hero” or anything. But despite having like the worse 24/7 morning sickness (which I rather nobly have barely mentioned), I’m doing my due diligence and making sure that you guys have plenty of non-work to keep you occupied for at least twenty minutes worth of procrastination.

You don’t have to kiss my ring or anything, just realize that I obviously love you. A lot.

1. Let’s start in Africa shall we? I have no place to wear them, yet I’m dying to own one of these super-expensive looking African-Inspired Japanese kimonos. Check out the entire collection here.

2. Let us make no mistake, I have no plans to see Ice Age 3. But I am impressed that they managed to squeeze yet another good teaser trailer out of their bad-luck, acorn-loving prehistoric squirrel. Check out the trailer here.

3. And if you haven’t been reading Gawker all week, they’ve been on fire: Apparently that Deep Impact NYC disaster scenario could really happen; like Ronald Regan, Obama might still be smoking; this is worst idea of the year; and this might just be the worst idea ever; practical tips for saving your money if you’re an out-and-abouter; can Obama pass an executive order for no more stupid obama stuff?; I will go see this movie and I will cry just like they want me to; best recession news ever if you hate on reality shows like I do; I don’t want my kid to dream of being a b-ball star, but I also don’t want her/im to dream of being a professional gamer; oh love, apparently gigolos are doing better than mistresses right now; and last but not least, meh!

4. Is it wrong (or legal) to want one of these?

[Source: Arbroath]

5. And after the jump, Judge Fudge another great Amy Robinson introduction. Excuse me, I have to go now, as I’m too busy being delicious.

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A Proof of Nerd ID by Kasey Bomber

Technically, I know that Spelling and Grammar are two different things.  Grammar is how you use those words you should know how to spell, but poor spelling and poor grammar can be equally off-putting when it comes to moments where a good first e-pression counts.  Times such as job cover letters, homework assignments for that online business class you signed up for so you can start that topless cupcake bakery/dog walking service, or those all-important online flirtations that start with LOL and end with a UHaul.

Whereas sentence structure can always be monkeyed with for the sake of personal expression, because sometimes you. just. need. to. emphasize. something. with. punctuation!  Spelling is a little bit of a different animal, though text messagers and 1337 geeks will tell you differently.  But, when they try to tell you differently, or they start ROTFLing or giving you “teh” business, you have my permission to kick them in the nuts for ruining the beauty and complexity of the written word with their junior high note-passing lexicon of squiggles, emoticons (*ew, shudder*), and abbreviations.  If you’ll allow me to sound like Jessica Tandy’s childhood friend for a moment:  When I was a girl, people could actually express emotions with carefully chosen, correctly spelled words arranged in sentences completely devoid of yellow faces with red wagging tongues.

Until they invent a font denoting sarcasm, some of you will continue to rely on the dreaded emoticon (I hate that fucking shirt you wore today.  It made you look fat!  LOL ) to get you out of trouble for saying something potentially inflammatory (or to make some asshole comment seem like a joke, see above), while I, and my fellow grammarian contrarians will continue to use our dictionarial prowess to tell you how we feel.

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A blogumn by Redheaded Stepchild

I recently read an interview with hot lesbian host Rachel Maddow in which she said that she sometimes forgets that she and her partner were gay.

I don’t.

Maybe it’s easier to forget when you commute between the West Village and western Mass., two areas notoriously friendly to Teh Gayz.  Or maybe Maddow was just talking about how easy it is to feel normal and to forget that other folks don’t quite see you the same way.  That, in fact, some folks may find you repellant or unnatural or simply feel unease when you’re around, due to something as incidental as your sexuality.

I can understand that.  Both BPD and I try to focus on the positive in our lives.  We have a happy, loving relationship that we’re both proud of, surrounded by friends we adore, and family members who are trying really hard to support us even when it’s ideologically difficult for them.  Why focus on the homophobes when we can focus on The Fabulous?  Why make ourselves miserable?

Why focus on anti-gay laws when the election two weeks ago gave us the gift of Obamas in the White House?  Obama’s election was like a national holiday in our house.  We were so high in our Obama haze that both of us kept crying for days after he was elected.  We were overwhelmed.  We were thrilled.  “Hey,” we whispered to each other, “maybe our biracial lovechild can be president some day, too!”

I didn’t want those anti-gay laws to trample on my joy, not when there was so much to be hopeful about.

Then my bubble burst.

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A blogumn by Ryan Dixon

FIERCELY ANTICIPATING

Dry Storeroom #1: The Secret Life of the Natural History Museum by Richard Fortey
Was there ever a place more magical than a museum? In the middle of my birthday party evolutionary chart, where fast food restaurant playgrounds begat roller skating rinks, swimming pools, movie theaters and, eventually, bars, stands my 11th birthday party at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh. I don’t know if I ever again felt such genuine glee, awe and wonderment as when, accompanied by my likewise amazed friends, I stepped off the echoing marble floors of the museum hall and descended into the basement to come face to face with a group of paleontologists busily uncovering the fossil remains of a Dryosaurus. With that in mind, it is no understatement to say that the release of Dry Storeroom #1 has given me a geekgasm. In the book, Richard Fortey provides us with a backstage tour of the Grand Dame of them all: The Natural History Museum of London. Fortey takes us behind-the-scenes and, in the best you-couldn’t-make-this-up tradition, introduces us to a host of exciting, ingenious and unbelievably eccentric characters who seem better suited to populate a Monty Python sketch then to exist in real life. This is geek reading of the highest order.

In Bookstores Now

KINDA WANNA READ

The 10 Big Lies About America by Michael Medved
I sometimes feel bad for The Right. Al Franken runs for the Senate in Minnesota (result: To Be Continued…) and the only celebrities Norm Coleman can round up to star in an ad warning of the perils of electing a celebrity — Arnold, Ronald and Fred please collect $200 and pass Go — are John Ratzenberger, Victoria Jackson, Stephen Baldwin, Robert Davi and the corpse of Pat Boone. In terms of cultural critics The Left has Frank Rich while The Right has…Michael Medved? This former liberal, who campaigned for Bobby Kennedy and was in attendance the night he was assassinated, spent much of the 1980’s and 90’s co-hosting, with Jeffery Lyons, PBS’s movie review show Coming Attractions. (Medved was also the first critic to name Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space the worst film of all time.)  However, Medved became increasingly disgusted with the slate of films Hollywood was exfoliating to the rest of the country and wrote Hollywood vs. America, a polemic against all that smutty jazz, signaling out such paragons of depravity as Total Recall and The Prince of Tides. Now the host of a very popular conservative radio show that proclaims him as “proof that there still is patriotism in Hollywood,” (Even though he lives in Seattle) Medved has written his magnum opus: The 10 Big Lies About America. With extreme subtlety the inside flap informs us that “Each of the ten lies—widely believed among elites and taught as truth in universities and public schools—is a grotesque, propagandistic distortion of the historical record.” While most books of this ilk can be dismissed out of hand, there is no denying that Medved has a robust intelligence and wit. And, unlike the majority of his cohorts, he is also willing to engage those who vehemently disagree with him. For example, his debate with Christopher Hitchens regarding God is Not Great is two hours of the most gripping radio you’ll ever hear.

In the likely case that, in between servings of turkey next Thursday, many of you will be confronted with Medved’s talking points by your parents or in-law’s, here’s a sampling, taken from the book, of the “myths” that are “debunked”* after the jump:

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Wow, I’m kind of owning you this week. And really you should be upset at yourselves for not knowing that yesterday’s lyric was from “You Got Me” by The Roots. Shame on your guys.

But maybe you can end the week right.

What awesomely drug-addled singer slow-burned into a full belt on the following:

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall

Guesses go in the comments as always, and we’ll meet up Monday about the answer. Til then here’s one of the coolest videos of the ’90s after the jump. Still having trouble believing that you didn’t know this one…

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Thanks so much to everybody who weighed in on morning sickness cures yesterday. The main suggestion was ginger and time (which seemed like a call for patience if you read between the lines). Well, as we all know, I’m not great with the p-stuff, but CH did bring home an assortment of ginger items last night.

So far the ginger-cookies with the lemon filling washed down with a Jamaican ginger beer seems to be the best solve. The only thing is that the effect wears off 20-30 minutes after the ginger items are consumed, which I suppose is why a few of you suggested eating 24/7.

But, here’s the thing, I’m officially over eating. If it doesn’t have tummy-soothing ginger or a ton of vinegar in it (pickles, salt and vinegar chips, sauerkraut) I no longer want it. It’s like my tastebuds are dead to anything else, which is sad, because we made 2 more of the Roya dishes, which I don’t feel like eating. Also, there’s a little eating holiday coming up called Thanksgiving. And CH’s sister and mom (who we’re visiting) are phenomenal cooks. Serious wanh!

As someone who has only once in her life been sick for over 72 hours, I don’t see myself remaining a good and sane (enough not to get arrested) person if this persists through next week (as it supposedly will according to babycenter.com). And though I’ve always considered by inability to accept things the way that they are an asset, right now I wish whatever mother gene allows most women to get through this without (nearly as much) complaint would kick in already.

I can’t do anything. I can’t work on my novel, I can’t get my one personal daily blog turned around in less than an hour and a half. And my scalp is really itchy and dry, because I lost my daily conditioner in London and I don’t have the energy to go to Sally Beauty (the only store with black hair products in my area of Los Angeles) and pick up some more. Also, it feels like I’ve been thisclose to crying since Wednesday, because I’m overwhelmed and scared that I’m going to be a bad mother — though according to babycenter.com, becoming terrified that you’re going to be a bad mother is yet another symptom of weeks 9-12.

Kids are great. The adults they become, in my opinion, are even better. But much like simple math, putting my dirty clothes in the laundry hamper (as opposed to dropping them on the floor), and planning my wedding, I’m finding this much harder than I thought I would.

That all vented, I’m going to go have some ginger cookies and ginger beer for breakfast now.

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A Proof of Nerd ID by Charles Cron

ECONOMIC CRISIS OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS EDITION

In Aramaic (the language Jesus spoke), the word for “debt” is the same as the word for “sin.”

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Photo Credit:  Sylvia Beth Yakub

Today’s Current Mood Photo: Robin Rosenzweig

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A blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig

Last year for my birthday, I threw a 70’s fondue party featuring an entire soundtrack of mellow gold songs from the era. When prepping the playlist, a pattern formed –- though 70’s songs are often about sex, they are not at all sexy. Here are some examples of 70’s sex songs with questionable merit as panty droppers, both now and back in the day:

Starland Vocal Band - Afternoon Delight:

When I was little, my family had a player piano, and one such gem we had on piano roll was the Starland Vocal Band classic “Afternoon Delight.” I think it’s fair to say that by the age of 8, I had this song about daytime nookie mostly memorized – and had no clue what it was I was singing about while the piano keys plunked away on their own.

The dichotomy between sound and lyric is perhaps what makes this song such fun. Imagine what a different song we’d have if these rather blatant lyrics were sung by a sultry soul crooner:

Thinkin’ of you’s workin’ up my appetite/looking forward to a little afternoon delight.
Rubbin’ sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite/
and the thought of rubbin’ you is getting so exciting.

But instead of a hot R&B slow jam, we have a pleasant, sweet and – let’s face it – totally unsexy arrangement that sounds like it was composed by someone’s grandparents between the early bird special and a game of bridge.

That said, wholesome as they may seem, I’d bet that Starland Vocal Band’s dual husband/wife team were privy to more than their share of key parties in their day. Just sayin’.

More examples of The 70’s Seduction after the jump:

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A blogumn by Gudrun Cram-Drach

I am one of those people who, when it is possible, prefers to retain communication with an ex after we have broken up. I do it for a number of reasons, primarily because if I liked them well enough to spend the majority of my free time with them, thinking about them, or doodling our last names hyphenated together, then cutting off all communication seems to devalue the good part of our relationship. It wasn’t a total waste of time. Whatever hitch it was that unraveled us as a couple is secondary to what brought us together. But don’t get me wrong, I do have exes I am perfectly happy never seeing or hearing from again. I’m not that nuts.

Oftentimes, a good romance is also a friendship, and as long as it’s consensual, why not continue that part of it? It can take time to get to a friendly point, and openness about what makes you comfortable (you may have to start with an I-don’t-want-to-know-who-you’re-dating-now rule) but it can be very nice.

I truly value the friendship of “my good ex,” the fellow I was with for over four years in LA, who I didn’t stay with forever, even though it seemed we were headed that way. Obviously we were good together, and obviously something wasn’t right. But in LA he knows me better than anyone, and it’s nice to be able to talk to him about anything and everything from light gossip (“so-and-so are getting married”), to dating questions (“I fooled around with a girl at a party, and I’d like to see her again but I don’t want to sound like a letch”), to whether I’ve cleaned the grad-school figure drawings out of the trunk of my car (I haven’t).

Another ex-turned-friend was the best one (my former “big ex”) in New York. We’ve dropped off a bit on account of geography and his own moving on (see Married Exes) but we were close after the breakup and we even got to a point of discussing our dynamic and why things went wrong. It was vindicating to hear him confess he had a hand in the madness kicked up by our tumultuous arguments. At the time everything had been “my fault.” Maybe that should make me angrier, but we dated during a dark period in my life when I was willing to take the blame. I didn’t love the idea, but I bought it. If we hadn’t maintained contact, he wouldn’t have said this and I would always (or at least until I spent enough time on the couch to figure it out) have thought it was me.
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A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg

Halloween pressure.

Halloween is the time of year when everyone dons his or her scariest, sexiest and funniest.

As a comic, the expectation to bring the funny or pun-y, as is often the case, is pretty high.  I received over half a dozen emails asking what I was going to be… some even saying they were excited to hear because “I’m always so creative…”

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF PRESSURE THAT IS ?!?!?!

Some years have been better than others…

My old corseted princess-style prom dress came in handy a few times…

Wore a comedy/tragedy sign on a crown, smeared my eye make-up and pinned a slew of Broadway Playbill covers to the dress… I was a drama queen.

More Costumes after the jump:

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