Alas, I Knew This Day Would Come

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a great writer/director. He had great films, such as Rosemary's Baby (a personal fave, because devil-babies are hilarious), Chinatown, and more recently, The Pianist (Adrien Barooooooodaaaayyyy).

Oh Roman, you ruled the cinema.

But (allegedly) he drugged and seduced (that's a nice word for what appears to have gone down) at 13 year old in 1977.

Anyhow, Roman apparently finally got busted. In 2009. In Zurich, of all places.

This proves several things:
1. Money can buy you freedom; you can just avoid countries that will punish your crimes
2. The U.S. justice system is critically flawed--it took them THIRTY years to get this guy? HE'S A CELEBRITY. I can radar-track Paris Hilton, and you can't follow an old man around? COME ON.
3. In the 70s, anything went. Really. Especially in Jack Nicholson's den...
4. Poor guy is a Holocaust survivor... He's entitled to some weird behavior.

Bringing Down the Brother, Part 3

The third act was always the best in Shakespeare.

And things got steamy quickly with the Athlete.

It was as if someone had replaced all of my blood with liquid courage and sex-crazed-teenage-boy-libido.

Johnny Depp as Don Juan DeMarco, is that you? (Click for sexy!)

I was in high school all over again. Trying to be quiet so as not to wake the parents, trying not to hurt myself in the wild, mostly trying to take as many mental images of the Athlete as possible.

Ladies have a Spank Bank too.

The makeout quickly progressed from over-the-sweatshirt boob-grabs to full-on under-sweatsuit groping. (Handily, these suits are clearly made for easy removal).

Before I was really sure what was happening, I had been entirely shorn of my cloth coating, he of his ployester warmup suit.

And let me just interject: as attractive as he had been up to this point, a fire-lit glimpse of him is still burned into my mind (literally, figuratively).

I straddled him, thinking that I would largely be in change of this blessed event. But after a few thrusts, I came to know the Athlete's strength in a completely new way. He picked me up, and using a tree for stability, gave me some of the best sex I'd ever had. Maybe it was the fear of being caught, maybe it was fear of the bears and foxes... maybe it was all those s'mores...

"I'm so close", I whispered.

"Hold on", he said, as he laid down by the fire. It was romantic, because being fireside is like that, but also completely arousing, because a) I was about to come, and b) because pain and pleasure often go hand in hand.

Because the Athlete is a gentleman, he lay down and let me be on top; often, I regard this as the lazy man's way of getting a girl off... but it wasn't bothering me at all. As I came, he grabbed my collar area--enough to know he wasn't going to choke me, but also enough to know that he was maybe more of a bad boy than I thought.

Seriously. The MOVES on this man!

Hot.

When I was done, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me down, rolled me onto my back and lay on top of me, sweating and kissing.

This continued for some time, but culminated when we smelled burning.

BECAUSE IT WAS MY HAIR.

Needless to say, in the morning, I had some es'plainin' to do...

But in the end, our secret affair remained a secret--and I hope that on my next camping adventure it happens again!!

Good luck to all of you who venture into the wild. May your exploits be sexy too!

Bringing Down the Brother, Part 2

Where was I?

Oh, right... Fabio.

As I was starting to get at, the Athlete could have had everyone on MILF Island competing in death challenges for his attention. And yet, he is still the sweetest, most modest young man (hey... let me have it) I know.

And there he is, casually catching some rays on the dock.

Now, despite his physical prowess, the Athlete has always been out of bounds (did you get my sports wordplay?)--no one wants to break his heart; also, I think I would be unfriended by at least 10 people.

Also, while the Athlete has mustered a few flirts after a few Jagerbombs, he's never actively pursued anyone I know. So you can imagine my (pleasant) surprise when the Athlete made a move.

Let me set this up for you Steele style. It was late in the evening, bordering on early in the morning (the time when the cougars prowl? Perhaps). The whole group of us had been shotgunning beers by the fire, roasting marshmallows and drinking homemade wine straight from the bottle since dinner. Guitars had been taken out long ago; now my one friend Jack was trying to play "Single Ladies" despite not knowing how to play the guitar at all.

Ok, maybe not Steele style just yet.

But as married, coupled, or otherwise uninterested people tend to do after too many drinks, people started to filter into the cottage (or into the woods, if you're classy like my friends Carol and Bill, together 2 years). Soon enough the fire was barely heating the few remaining bodies, and one was significantly more athletic than the others.

We made a collective decision to call it a night, and immediately my friends Matt and Kyle made a run for it. forgetting that leaving a fire unattended is the cardinal sin of camping. Smokey the Bear would have eaten them if he had been around.

Normally, you'd think, "Hey, I'm sitting with the hottest guy I know, in this romantic setting. And we're both majorly buzzed (I'm in a frat now? Ok.). This can only end sexily".

But the Athlete never goes for that, so instead I took a bucket down to the river. The Athlete was being manly and was stomping out embers when I returned.

Seriously, one axe and some plaid was all he needed to complete several of my fantasies.

And then he said, "Hey, maybe we can just sit here for a bit before going in?"

SCHWING! But still, I am not seeing this as a play for getting in my sweats.

So we sit, and we chat for some time. The Athlete is confiding in me like a sister, but he's not telling me about the mean kids on the playground or his homework. He's telling me he wishes he spent more time meeting people in school instead of being a varsity athlete. And how he wishes he had gone out more with his frat brothers. And that he might be getting too old for that. But that he's not ready for marriage, at least not until he can open and close a wild-out chapter of his life.

Oh, Athlete.

Welcome to the Den of Sin.

I try to reassure him in a sisterly way; I'm still pretty sure that my friends are awake only a few steps away. I'm also pretty sure that the Athlete would be a wonderful conquest. No! Suppress!!

Me: "Tons of guys our age are still acting like teenagers, Athlete. You have nothing to worry about. Plus you're a fox! You should have no problem. Just be yourself, you're a great guy."

Quiet your loins, Garage Girl!

But they aren't listening. And I think he can hear them, because without any prompting, he grabbed the back of my neck (Mmmm yeah) and kissed me.

With tongue.

**Don't worry, it's not over yet.

Bringing Down the Brother, Part 1

I think it's a law of science that all my friends have hot brothers. (Perhaps I just have attractive friends? Maye not...)

Case 1: The Athlete

The Athlete is several years older than I am, but has the emotional intelligence of an infant. He's notoriously single (but not gay), a very cheap drunk despite being a larger man, and is especially suave unbeknownst to his friends and family.

I recently had the pleasure of camping with said athlete, along with several of our coupled friends (including his brother and sister-in-law) and a few other singles for a week. I had been to the Athlete's family cottage before--bachelorette parties, post-college parties, relax-by-the-lake weekends; on none of these occasions had the Athlete ever been present (off being athletic I suppose!). But on this occasion, fresh off a month-long canoe trip, the Athlete came along too.

Now, the Athlete has always impressed me with his physique. (He's also impressed most females and questioning males, but that's besides the point.) Despite his chiseledness (not a word?), he often keeps his sweet bod under wraps.

So you can only imagine how my taste buds quivered when I caught a glimpse of his exceptionally tanned, muscular frame lounging on the dock as I got to the cottage.

**Now, before I get all Harlequin on you, I should warn that the rest of this story is less than buttoned up. Now, bring on the Fabio--in Part 2!

Time to Give Up the Lohan, Return to the Gym, Hit on KIDS star?

Ok, so a few days ago I pre-wrote this post (come on, I have a real job too).

------

Against all better judgment, perpetually single Jason Segel did the unthinkable:

He partied with BOTH Lohan sisters the other night.

Sigh.

I guess I can't blame him. Linds is on her way back up, that other one is as hot as Linds used to be, but is still young, straight, and willing (probably), and Jason is getting a bit...


soft.

Now, it's obvious that I still would make out with him... but bring him home? I need a man with stamina, Jason, and I'm not sure you're physically capable right now.

100 crunches a night? Try. Because there is still love for you here...

----------

But now there's MORE!

He's got his mack on one more time, reportedly, with Chloe Sevigny.

Star of Kids, Big Love, and the Fug Girls blog.

No judgment Jason, because Chloe is often spotted on the town solo. She needs a man, much like I do. And she's in her mid-30s, which I hear is the time when the biological clock really gets a-tickin'.

WELL PLAYED, indeed!

I hope for procreations.

Untitled (aka Distant Lover)

A friend of mine is currently in a long-distance relationship. Why?

Because she can't find any available men locally.

Is that not the worst thing you've ever heard?

It made me feel a bit desperate... which is maybe why I made some bad decisions on a recent trip to Toronto for the International Film Festival (more on that later; also, I saw some great movies).

But this friend, whom I was visiting... She is a local celebrity in Toronto, and as such whenever I visit we often get into some pretty swanky places and I get to meet other local celebs (FYI, Devon Soltendiek from MuchMusic does NOT look like a gay boy in person. He looks like someone I would like hot sauce off of).

She is both attractive and successful--but not too much of either to make you hate her, just enough that you are glad she's your friend so she doesn't steal your boyfriend.

And for some reason, she feels it necessary to go all the way to Montreal to get a booty call.


I tell you, is this not the saddest thing you've ever heard?

I'm going to go cut myself or something...

Sunday Movie: Shopgirl

Nothing gets you in the spirit of fall like a May-December romance, no?

So this Sunday I rented Shopgirl, which has been out for quite some time and stars Steve Martin as the wealthy December-character, Claire Danes as the love interest, and Jason Schwartzman as the third prong in the love triangle.

Basically, Schwartzman's character picks up Claire Danes, who works at Saks on Melrose in LA, but then she is stolen away by Martin. And then clearly Schwartzman wants her back, so goes on a life journey to make it happen.

Oh, also Claire Danes moonlights as an artist. Of course... because it's LA.

So, the goodies:
1. The awkwardness that is the first sexual encounter between Claire and Jason is amazing. Her panties saw "Please?" all over them which makes you think she's not as buttoned-up as she seems early in the film.
2. Claire Danes finally has an artful nude scene
3. Oh, and girl is from Vermont--when she goes home, her mom is the mom from 6 Feet Under!

The Bummers:
1. Steve Martin's narration is... a poor fit. Something about it is wrong. Maybe Alec Baldwin?
2. You either love or hate Claire Danes... and her characters never win me over to love.
3. Jason Schwartzman has to slick his hair back and wear a white suit to get the girl. Seriously, he looks like a cross between Miami Vice and Adam Levine from Maroon 5. I did not dig. Bring back the Jackson Browne hair!
4. If you work at Saks, show me Saks!

Clearly I didn't love the movie... who says that having to love someone your own age should trump loving an old, rich guy? And Steve Martin isn't that old. And he buys Claire Danes Armani.

Then again, Jason Schwartzman is undeniably cute. Losers in LA are never that cute I don't think.

Recommended if you are dating a loser and want him to shape up or ship out temporarily. Not for those who want to find and keep a sugar daddy.

Comeback Celebs (maybe), 2

Lilo.

We were sad when you stopped wearing pants and got emaciatedly thin (well, sort of.)

But you have successfully kept off the pants, and weight, and you maybe even were spotted outside of a bar getting out of a car with Jason Segel (more later... get tissues, because you might cry).

But now you're going to get creative again? For UNGARO??

I hope this pans out. Girl needs a job, and might actually do something interesting in this position (sorry hon, Just My Luck was a bad movie). Come back, girl. Because you could make smoking a hot accessory again.

Comeback Celebs

I love it when a celebrity comes back from the other side (rehab/not working for years).

May I reintroduce Kiki Dunst.


Remember her?

She was in Jumanji, with Robin Williams. And in the Virgin Suicides, with Josh Hartnett (more like Heartthrob, right?! Awkward...). Marc Jacobs loves her, and maybe we should too--again.

Kiki, let's keep you in vintage Chanel dresses, Marlboro Lights, and pining for Donnie Darko... but let's ease up on the drinking-excessively, coke-ravaged look you were sporting for some time. We loved you once, and we might do it again.

Good luck, child!

Stop the Hate, Rudd-Segel edition

Read about more world hate here:

Remember "I Love You, Man"?

Who am I kidding. Of course you do... Paul Rudd AND Jason Segel?

AND Andy Samberg?

Deeelish.

Well, Anwar Sadat, former president of Egypt/Nobel laureate, got mad shout out outs by looking like the dog. And his daughter is PISSED! According to the family's lawyer,

This has caused serious psychological and moral damages to the plaintiff, as President Sadat is a prominent figure in the Arab history in general and in Egyptian history in particular.

Oooh, burn.

Wait... I'm guessing that about 2% of people who saw that movie had any idea who Sadat was before seeing it. And that a bunch of people went home, Googled the man and now know more about Middle Eastern politics as a result--in this day and age, that's kind of a good thing considering there's a pseudo-war there.

And now, everyone knows that his daughter is a d-bag. Good work, loyal offspring!

Stop the Hate, Me on Celebs edition?

Oy vey.

I never thought the day would come when I uttered this particular type of hate.

In the September issue of Interview magazine, Natalie Portman, girl I LOVE (because of: Closer, Garden State, veganese, slept with Moby once?), was interviewed by Jake Gyllenhall, boy I really enjoy (because of: brother of Maggie, quite studly, Jarhead naked butt).

Normally, you're thinking, SWOON! They are friends, they don't ever get drunk and show me that they don't wear panties. They are respectable despite their celebrity.

They are in a new movie together:
Seriously, even as I write this, having read the interview, I still think they both might rule based purely on my thoughts from B.I. (before interview).

(Tobey... you're still harshing my buzz.)

But OMG was it the most pretentious interview EVER! Read it here.

If you think you might gag, let me just give you an excerpt:

GYLLENHAAL: Yeah. Looking at all these things that you’ve done and contributed to the world so far, I would have thought that the evil wizard Gargamel would’ve been something you could have very easily stepped over.

PORTMAN: Thank you for saying that, but I’m far from fearless. I’m afraid of everything. But maybe when you’re afraid of everything, it sort of seems like you’re scared of nothing.

GYLLENHAAL: Well, there’s no courage without fear, so you must have great courage because you’re afraid of everything.

PORTMAN: That sounds like something from a Batman movie: “There is no courage without fear . . . ”

GYLLENHAAL: [laughs] Yeah, but I do think that’s true.

"Oh Natalie, you are so rad." "Oh my gosh I so am! You are too though Jake."

Who cares that you like the Ying Yang Twins? So does my cousin, and he is 16, thinks he lives in the LA ghetto, and wears pants 10 sizes too big for him. And he lives in an upper-class 'hood in Calgary. Come now.

Then again, I guess I forgot she was a Harvard grad... and GQ has taught us so much about their douchery.

Tears. One for each of you... and one for me. I never thought I could hate Hollywood's leading nerd.

Sunday Movie: Inglourious Basterds

QUENTINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

He just might be God.

I've always been a fan... because he's super creepy, looks a bit like he might murder me in my sleep, and is infatuated with Uma...

But he hit me good and hard this time.

Plot: straight-up Nazi killing, led by Brad Pitt and the lovely, but unknown-now, Melanie Laurent. (Schwing! And don't worry, Mike Meyers gets a random cameo). He leads a rebel military unit, she owns a cinema hosting some sort of Reich movie premiere.

End: dead Nazis all over the place.

The Goodies:
1. Tarantino has the most amazing vision. The effects are out of control. Blood is everywhere--way more graphic than ever in real life, but totally amazing. The final two scenes will actually blow your mind. Literally. Figuratively. (Watch and you'll see what I mean... clever me!)
2. Diane Kruger as a bombshell German movie star-cum-spy, who dies in a Cinderella-like, albeit Tarantino-fied, way. (Seriously, the movie was so good that I can't give up the details)
3. Clearly, Brad has had no face work... thank goodness. He's still a dreamboat.
4. BJ Novak, from the office, and the guy who plays Neil in Freaks and Geeks as Basterds. I Die, Rachel-Zoe-style.

The Bummers:
1. WHO THE F**K leaves a theater in the middle of a movie these days? HONESTLY. I guess the world has to have a certain number of imbeciles, right?
2. Seeing the movie with non-Jews who are weird about your excitement over Nazi killing. Come now, let me have my fun.

Seriously, the movie was amazing. I had the GREATEST smoke after... like after sex, but with much more violence than normal. A must-see for everyone.

**If your significant other refuses to see this movie, you should probably think about a new partner. Just sayin'.

The trailer, for your (my) viewing pleasure.

Losing My Religion, Office edition

In case you were wondering, I do believe in love.

Difficult to find, rare to see, but when two people get together and sparks fly, you can't help but be mushy for them.

Even if half of the pair is perhaps the most delicious man on NBC.

JustJared.com reports that our man, John Krasinski, is going to be off the market (on TV and for reals) in mere months... we knew it would happen, because they are so friggin' attractive together, in a "we-love-each-other-but-aren't-gross" way.

I suppose congratulations are in order, but really I'm just sad. First, he gives up on the beard, then we lose him to the Dark Side (European ladies). What's next Jim?

As long as he is still gainfully employed by Dunder Mifflin, I think I'll survive.

Living the Dream

**Apologies for not posting a Sunday movie review--long weekends are not for movies, they are for working on your tan for the last time before snowfall.

But back to where I was going:

One of the good parts of being a soloist amongst a sea of duets is that I'm pretty sure I have way more sex.

One recently-married friend had me over a few weeks ago and over the course of the afternoon made two jokes:

"It's not like we have sex that often--once every 5 months! Just kidding"

and

"Since we got married we've been doing in at least twice a day--haha!"

Now, I'm a big fan of cleverness (Hermione? Yeah), but I have a hard time tolerating jokes about real sex (not to be confused with hilarious stories, boner jokes, etc.). The former comment is just offensive given that her husband is GORgeous, and the latter is insulting because its not true and now I have impure thoughts about said husband (HEY--clearly I would never act on it. Although I should mention that he has an equally-delectable brother).

Naturally, I was thus a bit put off by her weird sex jokes. She was pretty strict about not having sex until marriage, so I get that it's new-joke territory...

But I think I might need to institute an "appropriate-now-that-you're-doing-it" joke rule. It's uncomfortable from all angles.

I also think that a majority of these problems could have been avoided with some pre-marriage self-love. You know what I mean...

Stop the Hate, Healthcare and hot Prez edition

Now, this blog is about being single and fab (is it? Who knows) but sometimes I read things that upset me.

As if Whole Foods wasn't pretentious enough... their CEO made a terribly rash marketing (?) statement by hating on my boy, Barack, and his health care reform.

Read about it here, from Dame Arianna "Skillz" Huffington.

Peut etre John Mackey should be hiring a publicist and writing some cheques to hide behind now. Also, should be mixing himself a BIG drink... everyone knows a stiff cocktail makes even the worst scandals seem less scandalous.

But stay away from the phone! No one likes an Obama-hate drunk dial.

**Here's a photo of this mustached maverick (hat tip to Tina Fey for taking back the word):

The Freshmen

Yes, you're thinking, that IS a good song from the 90s.

Also, the most attractive age in a man's life. Remember that commercial where there's a 30-ish woman running on a beach with her arms open?

"A woman's sexual peak is at age 30"

And then the teenage-mutant-ninja-boy running towards her?

"But a male's sexual peak is at age 18"

And then they didn't run into each other??

Well, in my life they are running into me everywhere!

Some clarification: I haven't told you this, but I work for the admissions office of a small liberal arts school. Great job: pays well, slow summers, free gym membership and parking. But my all time favorite part of the job: September freshmen.

I know, I'm sounding like a bit of a cougar here, but everything good happens in this blessed month. Hot young things strut around campus in board shorts and tees, flaunting their summer tans ("painting houses", "landscaping", "lifeguarding"... ahhhh). They come to the gym, get all sweaty pumping iron. (Incidentally, I am in the best shape of my life by September 30). They come to my office confused about adding and dropping courses. I wear my Tina Fey sexy-librarian glasses and help them out.

Come October, these hot studs turn into one of three students:
1. The stoner: only comes to see me in order to drop a class that he hasn't attended since the second day of school. Tear, he is now a lost cause in 90% of cases. On the other hand, at least they are okay with your smoking.
2. The athlete: after just 4 short weeks of varsity football/soccer/rugby/swimming, this guy is already 15 lbs more man; sadly, he also has lost at least 15% of his mental capacity and must drop a science course/switch to geography/ask if he can do a co-op term working at the gym.
3. The socially inept nerd: these guys don't even come to see me. They just send poorly-spelled e-mails regarding the new club they have started/class they think should be offered/prof who failed them on a midterm. VETO.

But in September, they are at the karaoke bars, kissing with reckless abandon, playing frisbee all afternoon.

I'm off to catch me a minor! Enjoy the month, college enthusiasts!


**on a related note, check out the GQ special feature on douches (the kind of college guy, not the hygiene product)