December 2008
21 posts
Not about Chris Brown.
So the good news is I made the best latkes I’ve ever made tonight.
The neutral news is that now my hands smell like latkes.
Note to self:
If, perchance, you happen to find yourself dating Chris Brown at some point in the future, do not take a naked picture of yourself and give it to him.
Actually, that probably goes for anyone, not just Chris Brown.
Porn layoffs!
Maybe porn isn’t so recession proof, after all. (fleshbot.com)
This is how ruined I am by my job:
I saw a box of pretzels that said “Baked Naturals,” and I thought, “Wow, that sounds like a porn site featuring girls with big, real breasts who like to smoke pot.”
I don't *actually* have a penis.
Lux: i'd be charmed by you no matter who i am
Jen: do i "confuse the pants off you"
Jen: that is my design
Lux: hehehe
Lux: you confuse my penis into my hand.
Jen: HAHAHAHAAHAAa
I have to ask.
Why did so many (well, several) of you like the post where I said I dreamed I had a baby that I named Sasha Grey?
Does my workaholism amuse you?
Ha!
It annoys me to no end that I cannot find peppermint extract ANYWHERE.
On the plus side, today I sewed two scarves and bought some Ronnybrook Dairy Farm eggnog.
I dreamed I gave birth to a baby and I named her Sasha Grey.
Sure, I work for a porn blog, but you know what? My ad sales people sent me chocolate. From France.
Take that, legitimate media!
Please, for my sanity and your health, do not ever (ever) send me emails like this:
I read online that you are obsessed with sex. I am too. I am married and don’t want my wife to know i look at porn, can you send me some pictures of you naked to my email :) Thanks!!! P.S. you look fucking hot in your apron!
In other news, I’m speaking at Happy Ending this Friday. Info here.
Ladies and the demon rum.
So, uh, I just read that NY Mag article about ladies get wastoided, and I don’t really understand why people are so mad about it. Like, yes, it’s handwringy, but it’s NEW YORK FUCKING MAGAZINE.
Call me crazy, but I think that the point that women are drinking more is probably valid, as is the point that it’s not a healthy thing. But then, my binge drinking is occasional at...
I am starting to think that I might need one of these:
Because, um, yeah: I own that many sex toys (actually, way more).
But first, a bed.
Hello from the panopticon.
Is it just me, or is the idea that the internet should be like the real life, only (much, much, much) more so, mildly frightening in a sort of massive invasion of privacy, Big Brother-style fashion?
These are the problems that I grapple with.
Because I am moving into a room that’s big enough to not need a loft bed, I now need to buy a bedframe. And because I am officially an adultTM, this will clearly be the bed that I die in, so it’s a rather important decision. As a result, I’m having a minor anxiety attack.
At first I thought I wanted a really basic blond wood platform bed, like, perhaps, this one:
But then I...
Revelations.
1) Sonic is much cooler on TV than in real life. Especially since I don’t eat meat and get sick if I have too much dairy.
2) Leg warmers + heels = fashion amazing.
3) I am way too risk averse to ever enjoy gambling.
4) But I still liked going to AC for a weekend. Mostly because I like fancy hotels and weird shit.
5) Wawa: still awesome.
If anything, at least I amuse myself.
Has it come to this?
I need a roommate. Craigslist isn’t helping. And so it is, with a sigh and a shudder, that I turn to you, the social media.
Here is some information about the place:
I live in a small but pleasant three bedroom apartment in the East Village. It’s inhabited by me, the awesomely outrageous editrix of Fleshbot, and my similarly awesome grad student roommate. We are both girls in our...
yay!
My mom is getting me a sewing machine! I’m “sew” excited!