Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Hot with A Chance of Sexy: James Purefoy


When I was in college, I had a government teacher that I just fell in love with the first day of class.  He was an older gentleman with longish salt and pepper hair and the black eyes of a Plains Indian.   He had an easy laugh and story upon fascinating story.  I could sit and listen to him for hours, and I did since I barely passed his class the first time and had to re-take it.  As I got more comfortable with him, when I didn’t feel like hanging out in the student lounge between classes, I would sit in the back of his lectures and do homework while he taught.  I would hang out with him in his office all the time.  I loved his energy and being around him.  Maybe if I had been more sophisticated and aware of myself, I would have seen like everyone else with eyes, that there was something sexual in my attraction to him and I would not have shaken like a virgin at a prison rodeo when he eventually made a move.  We could have had one of those flings that bitches always seem to fantasize about in erotic short stories and I would've had a great story to tell instead of this watered down Ann Landers Petting Guide excerpt.  Thankfully we got past that unfortunately uncomfortable incident and I still idolized him. In fact, to this day, I can’t think about college without thinking of him and what an influence he had on me.  Again, if I had been more aware of myself as a woman and a sexual being at that point, this G-rated paragraph would have definitely been NC-17 and NSFW.

I let y’all sip my tea about that professor because I have started watching The Following on FOX and every time I look at James Purefoy, who plays Joe Carroll- a college professor/author who is obsessed with Edgar Allen Poe and becomes a serial killer- I can fully understand how he gets people to do his evil bidding.  In a recent interview, Purefoy says that the character’s appeal isn’t a charisma or charm that brainwashes people, it’s that they already have a propensity for evil and he gives them “license, care, love, and no judgment” so they feel safe with him to do all the jacked up things that he wants them to do.  In Purefoy’s opinion, that’s what makes the character Joe Carroll “so terrifying” as a cult leader.   

I know it’s bad to start our imaginary relationship off with a disagreement, but I simply have to disagree.  I think we place ourselves on the level of the people we praise- we admire and welcome them into us, physically, emotionally, and psychically.  We aren’t going to admire some person who doesn’t make us feel special and unique and valuable and it takes a kind of charm be able to do that- to want to do that.  That charm is twisted, self- serving, and wrong in this case, but it’s charming so it draws people in.  Throw in even a bit of physical appeal, some animal attraction, and a dollop fear of that person’s soul - and bitches will do whatever that person wants.  I like to think that I am not a vicious murderess, nor the type of hooka who could be easily turned out to become one, but I squirm a bit when I think of my naivety and eagerness to please my college professor.  If he had turned out to be a Joe Carroll to some degree or another, what would I have done?   Would I have stolen eyeballs and lit peeps on fire if he had asked?  I like to think that I wouldn’t have, and I realize that these self-questioning questions may make me seem psycho, but it’s the bitches who don’t question themselves that we should worry about.

I am so glad to see James Sexy Ass Purefoy (that’s what I call him in my dream journal) in a (potentially) hit show again after such a long time.  Some of you may remember him as Marc Antony in HBO’s Rome, so hopefully you will remember the sex appeal that he exudes.  I don’t know what it is- he’s good looking, but certainly not the best looking man on television.  He fairly comes across as smug and condescending, the way English actors sometimes do with their Scrabble- triple- word- score- words  like “nadir”, “diametric”, or “vis a vis”, and their classic theatre training.  But beneath all that vocabulary and training and “polite in mixed company” behavior, there seems to lurk a predatory animal that snakes up through his humanity and harkens him back to a cave, a club, and hair pulling.  In every role which I have seen him perform there is something so fundamentally reptilian in how he moves his eyes and reveals a smidgen of the ever present smirk that lives behind them.  It scares me, but I am very excited by the fear.  He seems like a man who would show me pain- but only as a reminder of how pleasing and pleasant pleasure would be later. And he seems like a man who would look into your eyes as he made love to you in his own special way.  Oh, who am I kidding trying to make this a grown woman’s version of 50 Shades? He makes me feel funny and I want him to pin me to a cold, wet rock and dirty verb me until we’re hot and dry in the sun.

Sorry.  I realize that I have yammered on about me and revealed that I spend way too much time thinking about this man sexually, I guess y’all want to know a little something about James Brian Mark Purefoy- so here ya go:


-   This Gemini/Dragon (another fuckin' dragon?!  What is my deal with dragons?  Who am I, Daenerys Targaryen?) was born in Taunton, Somerset, England on June 3, 1964.  He's 48.

-         He worked at Yeovil District hospital as a porter before studying acting at the Central School of Speech and Drama.

-         Joined the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1988.

-        Screen tested for the role of James Bond in 1995 for GoldenEye, but lost the role to Pierce Brosnan.

-        When he falls in lurve with a lady, he gets booed up for realsies:  Had an 11-year relationship with actress Fay Ripley.  He was married to actress Holly Aird from 1996-2002 (they have a son together), and he has been in a relationship with art historian and TV producer Jessica Adams since 2004.  Damn, guess the animal he reminds me of is the grey wolf because they practically mate for life and he is one relationship having son of a mother.

The name “Purefoy” was originally derived from the Old French pure-foy, meaning one who was “staunch and true”, and it seems a very fitting name for him.  He seems to have lived and loved the way he needs to be himself, and you can’t get much truer than that.  Now for the opposite of that, let’s pretend I ended this with some smart four syllable word or a profound Shakespearean quote.  At least I’ll tell James that I did next time I imagine that we’re lying in bed talking.


Sunday, February 10, 2013

Who is Christian Grey?


Let me preface this by saying I love reading trashy books.  It started in high school with V.C. Andrews, continued through college with Jackie Collins and lives today in J.R. Ward- who has made a fortune writing the same story over and over because horny dorks like me will continue to read her books. One of my weekly treats is getting the National Enquirer.  I am not a literary snob and I am not trying to front like I am.

That being said, when everyone started going on about the 50 Shades of Grey, I decided to check it out.  After the first book and a half, I realized that I refused to lose any more irretrievable moments of my life reading this drivel, and put it down.  Kudos to the author for writing it and getting it published, big ups to bitches who read it and realized that they wanted more in their sex lives, but I personally thought it was 50 Shades of Lame and I think I got a little bit dumber reading it- at least my “inner goddess” did.  Inner goddess? Barf. When I threw that mess down, I swore off anything 50 Shades related from that day forward, and I have been true to my word.  Even when I heard that they were considering that dirty hot little Ian Somerhalder and cute ass Matt Boner Bomer for the part of Christian Grey, I didn’t get excited.  I wanted to, I just couldn’t.  



But now I hear that Jason Momoa’s handcuffs have been tossed into the dungeon and I can’t stop myself from getting excited.  Hell, any woman with hormones and a vagina can’t help but get excited. That man freakin’ sweats sex.

If Jason Momoa were chosen to play Christian Grey, I would hate it because I would have to recant my 50 Shades anger-fueled rants as I would be the first person in line, on the first day, at the first showing.  And I would probably be the first hooka to get arrested by making everyone incredibly uncomfortable, annoyed, and grossed out as the buzz of my pocket rocket droned on over the words of the movie. 

I am not getting too worried about all that, though, because I strongly doubt they would choose Momoa.  He is too much man and he radiates sex like the sun does light.  There would be no uptight, “you would never guess he’s such a beast in the boudoir” like the Christian Grey you got in the books because you take one look at him and you know you would be well-laid & happily bruised after a toss with Jason.  In fact, one of the reasons his name is even being breathily whispered for this role on the interwebs is because a reporter for TMZ asked him how he keeps his shit so tight and chiseled and he nonchalantly said, “I fuck a lot.”  Christian Grey would never have said that to reporters or in front of “Miss Steele”.  Miss Steele? Barf again.

I know he would be acting and playing a role, but there are some things that just can’t be tamped down, and his overpowering sexual presence is one.  You glance at this dude out of the corner of your eye, and you know instinctively that he has examined more pussies than a veterinarian. And I am okay with that.  Even though his bodacious sexual luminance will probably be one of the main reasons he won’t be playing Christian Grey, I don’t want to live in a world where Jason Momoa isn’t fucking a lot.  That would be wrong- like the fact there’s not a 24 hour Turkish Oil Wrestling channel, or that rugby players wear clothes on the field.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Please, Please Tell Me No!


I gotta fly to England and slap Simon John Charles Le Bon in the face so hard that hopefully this shit will fall off.  (I hated to have to middle name him in front of all y’all, but he had it coming.)  He’s still an attractive man and I don’t understand why he’s fighting it so hard with this dual dose of jacked up.  I’m gonna assume that Yasmin got tired of bitches trying to make their 17-year-old selves' dream come true 25 years later & hook up with him, so she broke all the mirrors in their house and told him this pussy repellent wrong on his face and Hitler Youth haircut is the look.  Opposite!  It’s 1000mg of “no” and he owes all of our eyes an apology.

"Dammit, Pam, I've seen that, and now I can't unsee it. There's not enough liquor or therapy in the world to help me forget that..." - Archer

Sunday, February 3, 2013

The Sleep of the Beloved


Paul Schneggenburger, a German born photographer living in Vienna, has a fascination with sleep that he has taken and made into, well, a work of art.  Schneggenburger started his project three years ago by asking friends to sleep for a photo.  Using the second room of his apartment, he covered the mattress with black sheets, used a string of Christmas lights and a self-constructed trigger outside of the room that started the 4 x 5 camera he chose for this project.

This amazing take on long exposure photography creates hauntingly beautiful, seemingly formless images that can be interpreted in so many ways.  The ethereal affects of his technique make something so simply, wonderfully, grossly human and mundane as sleeping and reveal it as a sacred soul communion between two lovers.

Schneggenburger says that the collection for this project is complete, but  he is still willing to photograph sleeping couples if they pay for the print.  The Sleep of the Beloved will be on display at the Anzenberger Gallery in Vienna starting February 5th.






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