We’re all lick-ered up and ready for you…to come play with us too. We want you to expose a thing or two…or three. Hey, I hear threesomes are ai-chi-wa-wa, hot. Need more convincing? Just listen to the groovy words of Steven Patrick Morrissey below…and remember, shyness is nice, but shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life you want to:
…and clearly I’ve been interrupting this erotic-related blog by posting film reviews for potential Academy Award nominations…and now…(I’m such a rule breaker) I’m going to interrupt the Academy (sorry, Mr. DeMille) to post news that I’ve recently stimulated (oooh, la, la) the economy by purchasing an old, but new to me, house in my beloved neighborhood of Tremont. It’s been months that I’ve been living in my friend Natalie’s house and si, su casa es mi casa, pero…enough is enough. I’m ready to have my own space again: my couch, my books, my paintings, my wine glasses, my dishes…let’s face it, I miss my stuff, to include all those naughty toys I’ve packed away in a box (no pun intended) somewhere. Heavy sigh.
Mi Casa Es Su Casa – Tequila Para Todos!
As we get closer to the nail biting date when the Academy announces its official Oscar nominated films (first week in February) I’ve become somewhat of a mad woman running around trying to see as many films that I think will receive the Academy’s nod of approval.
This weekend, I rented the WWII, spaghetti Western-like film, Inglorious Basterds, directed by Tarantino. Knowing what I know about Tarantino’s reputation for writing and directing films with raw, graphic smatterings,
I really didn’t think I was going to enjoy the film as much as I did. Inglorious Basterds was very entertaining and very well done. Now, after saying that, if violence, corruption and vengeance aren’t your thang, trust me, I understand, however I’m also a Tarantino fan, so from a cinematic perspective, the film is simply brilliant. It’s got that funky, edgy, pulp fiction verve that appeals to my film snobiness (yes, I’m so insolent, I ought to be spanked) and Tarantino also manages to grab the attention of the mainstream viewer too. This film is Tarantino’s largest money maker yet. If you are faint hearted, take a pass on this one, because I’m warning you, the content is…well, it’s Tarantino-violent, but if you can keep an open mind and view the film for what it is: a group of bad asses that take down the Third Reich during occupied France during WWII; rent it and be sure and let me know your thoughts. Until then, I bid great film viewing to you.
…um…I beg to differ. Below is CNN footage of the beach town I grew up in, Pacific Beach, located in San Diego, California. I am as stupefied watching this video as I was when I veiwed Clairemont Mesa Blvd going up in flames due to the arson fires a few years ago.
Depending on what astrological chart you’re looking at either today, or tomorrow is the first day of the dually planetary ruled sun sign, Aquarius. And like Roxanne, the heroine, in my novel, Sex through the Zodiac, I was also involved with an Aquarian once…although he was a cusp Aquarius/Pisces blend (if there is such a thing as a blend of air and water) and we had a lot of X-rate fun together.
*ponders those lusty moments with that air/water combo*
As mentioned above, Aquarians are ruled by two planets: Uranus and Saturn. Uranus type Aquarians are more free-wheeling, visionaries and full of deep thoughts about humanity, whereas the second type of Aquarius, which like Capricorns are ruled by the restricting planet of Saturn tend to have Capricorn characteristics: practical, structured, and organized. Neither one Aquarian type is better than the other, however the simple fact that you can find such diametrically opposed characteristics in one sign is fascinating to me. It is in my humble opinion, the best type of Aquarian is one that equally shares both planets: the wildness of Uranus and the traditional properties found in Saturn.
So tell me, who out here in blog land is an Aquarius born sun sign? Are you an Aquarius, ruled by practical Saturn? Or are you the Aquarius, ruled by Uranus and found in the song, Age of Aquarius? “…when the moon is in the seventh house…and Jupiter aligns with Mars…”
To get the conversation rolling here, here’s a sexy excerpt from Roxanne’s public shower tryst with her lusty Aquarius, Quinn after a heated Yoga class:
“…It was Quinn. She was standing in the changing room. She was still wearing her Yoga clothes. She looked cold and she had a troubled look on her face.
“Roxanne.” (pause). “Roxanne. Please don’t be alarmed, it’s Quinn.”
“Quinn? What the hell are you trying to do? Scare me to death?” I was cognizant of where I was, so I whispered loudly, but emphatically.
“I can’t find my keys. I thought I may have left them here.” She answered and her voice was calm, but her body was shaking. She was cold.
“In here? In the shower? You think you lost your keys in the shower?” My voice was harsh. I was obviously rattled by the jolt from her surprise visit.
Then it dawned on me. The sexy Aquarian that I was ready to pounce on minutes ago in the Yoga class was standing just outside the shower door. The universe was too kind to me. Maybe I should ask her to get naked and join me.
“I came back to look for them and I can’t seem to find them anywhere.” She said clutching her arms around her body. She was shivering.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find your keys. Look at you, you’re shaking from being so cold.” I lowered my voice, trying to be calm. I could tell she was upset.
From where I was standing, I figured I had two options: I could turn the shower water off; step out; towel off and then let Quinn step in after me and warm up her chilly bones. Or, I could open the shower door and invite her to step inside with me. I chose option two. I pushed the shower glass door open; Quinn smiled as she removed her sweat-soaked clothes and then stepped inside with me. The shower door sealed tightly shut behind us….”
Um and yes, I am a very wicked Scorpio that wants you to buy the book in order to read about Roxanne’s happy endingwith Quinn -
I stumbled upon the video above and thought it might be a great transition into today’s post. As I type these words the sound and movement of my fingers lightly tapping the keys hurts my head, my body…good God, even my tongue hurts…everything hurts today “shhhh…Neve, please…quieter,” are the words my head repeats to my body. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, the light filters through sliding glass windows behind me and casts a gray and weary mood on the day. I’m sipping from a very large bottle of water and praying for hydration. In the background classical music whispers while the dryer hums my bed sheets dry.
I’m trying to push my hangover aside, because I have much to do today before settling onto someone’s couch and watching the Golden Globes tonight. I’m not sure if everyone will be tuning into the Golden Globes, but for me the Globes are a slice of bliss; a step towards the Oscars and heaven.
Last night…I got loaded… off a bottle of tequila -
In an attempt to stick with my less is more theory this year, I’m going to give this my heart-felt earnest attempt to write a brief review of the film mentioned in today’s blog title. The film has been nominated for six Golden Globe awards this year, to include, best film:
I loved this film. I think it was well written, well performed, and the cinematic direction was simply superb. Speaking of cinema direction, this is Jason Reitman’s third film and similar to both Juno and Thank You For Smoking, Up In The Air also cleverly taps into specific cultural aspects of the contemporary zeitgeist. The film has just the right amount of ingredients to appeal to the mainstream population, but… hello? This is a Neve Black review, so obviously the film is also quirky as hell, which appeals to the not-so-mainstream and die-hard film snobbies of the world. Cinematic brilliance. I think George Clooneywas born to play the role of the protagonist. And in my opinion this was his best performance, thus far.
What more can I say about this not to be missed film? Don’t miss it. The movie will make you laugh, cry and more importantly it will make you think.
Don’t laugh, but there are certain times of the month that I’m nothing more than an emotional blob of weepy and sappy. It’s spelled h-o-r-m-o-n-e-s. And. I. Can’t. Help. It. I’m not good for much of anything during these times other than eating salty things dipped into vats of chocolate. And I find myself getting so weepy over the silliest of things. It appears that today is one of those days. I walked today trying desperately to kick these highly charged emotions to the curb, but instead both sappy and weepy won and I found myself singing the song from the movie, A Lot Like Love:
And if listening and watching the video above isn’t emotional enough for me today…I also found the original music video subbed in Spanish too:
Tissue, Chocolate and Pretzels, anyone?
For anyone that’s landed on this blog before, knows I try and walk to as many destinations as I can. However, there are times when I must fire up my Jeep Chickoree (and no I didn’t spell that incorrectly) and drive, which honestly doesn’t bode well with me, because my preference would be to hop on a metro and stay off the highways and bi-ways which are often filled with too many crazies.
Today was one of those must driving days for me. Where I needed to go, would have taken a really, really, really long time if I had walked, so into the car I went. One of the great things about driving is cranking the volume up, up, up on your stereo and singing along belting out like you’re going to be the next American Idol superstar. I actually remembered to grab the face plate to my stereo before hurrying out the front door after I set the alarm. I listen to satellite radio and today I was in a late 1980’s-1990’s mood: REM, Jane’s Addiction, Blind Melon and… Shirley Manson from Garbage:
Just look at her? She’s so fucking hot in that dirty, dirty way that we all like…sometimes all the time. She’s my new muse for a story I’m dreaming about lately. And yes, I would so do her.
It’s very possible that I’ve been dreaming about Belize lately, again because it’s so damn cold in Cleveland right now. This SoCal transplant was never supposed to live in Cleveland. Its been said that you can take the girl out of Caifornia, but you can’t get the sand out of her toes. Ever.
I was supposed to go to Belize about three years ago this May…the tickets were purchased; the flight was booked; I was packed: two pairs of flip-flops and three bathing suits. I was so good to go, but guess what? I didn’t get to go….
I’m not intentially denying you the reason why I didn’t get to go. I’m not holding out on you, really. Everyone knows that I’m not a prick tease. I simply don’t want to bore you with bygones details. I will get to Belize at some point in my near future. I know it.
How do I know this to be certain? I purchased a pair of ruby slippers for myself recently and I’ve been tapping three times for lots of things. Belize has been one my many tap, tap, taps.
Note: G. Love (especially accoustic) reminds me of Jack Johnson, which reminds me of guitars played in paradise. I hope you think so too: