Okay…this has nothing to do with objectification, male or otherwise; I just think it’s funny as all get out!

Below is a quote from the HBO series Extras. Kate Winslet makes a guest appearance as the leading lady in a movie about WWII. Dressed as a nun she gives some really raunchy advice to Maggie, a movie extra, about how to approach dirty talk with her boyfriend who’s mad to give it a try:

"Why don't you start off with something light - 'I'd love it if you stuck your Willy Wonka between my Oompa Loompas'? - something fun, a bit jokey? Then you can get more hardcore, rattle off the old classics - 'I'm playing with my dirty pillows and I'm aching for your big purple-headed womb-ferret.'"

WOMB FERRET???? I am in hysterics! Gotta love the British … - GD

You know you’ve hit the fame jackpot when disenfranchised groups are squealing about you. First SpongeBob SquarePants and now Wentworth Miller! Planet Out is featuring Went (along with nine other guys) in an online poll titled - Primetime's prime hunk: Who’s the foxiest fox on FOX? This is the caption under his picture:

The exotic features; the rangy build; the sexy, close-cropped hair - Wentworth Miller just might be our ultimate prison fantasy. Who wouldn't want to share a cell with Wentworth, who plays Michael Scofield on "Prison Break"?

Damn. Now I have to fight women and gay guys for him? Double damn!

As of today our sexy young lad was winning the race with 45% of the vote but that didn’t surprise me when I saw who his competition is. Below is how I rate the nine other contenders:

Bradley Cooper Kitchen Confidential (gorgeous eyes but no top lip therefore unacceptable)

Kiefer Sutherland 24 (Gag! Cough! Sputter! YUK!)

Mathew St. Patrick Reunion (Cute but so very ordinary!)

Johnny Messner Killer Instinct (WHO?????)

Benjamin McKenzie The O.C. (Oh HELL YES!)

David Boreanez Bones (Never liked him, even on Buffy and Angel. Spike was my man!)

Adam Brody The O.C. (And did I mention…HELL YES?

Sean Faris Reunion (Cute but so not all that!)

Hugh Laurie House (Black Adder…Jeeves and Wooster…thrice I say HELL YES!)

According to the site this is the first poll if six, six polls for all six networks. At the end of the week they will tabulate all the votes and announce the winner who will then move on to the finals for, I guess, Hottest Guy On TV? Who knows! As far as I’m concerned Wentworth has already won but I won’t get all “Republican” and stuff the ballot box. I’m sure he can win it all…all by himself!

In other Wentworth Miller news… It seems Mr. Miller has charmed the bejeezus out of his co-star as well as the rest of America. In an interview on Zap2it.com Dominic Purcell says:

Purcell has also formed a strong bond with Miller. "We get on really well. He's a sweet guy, serious actor, intense, beautiful soul, old soul, old school. There's a real elegance to him, very mystical in a way, mysterious. How do you see me, grumpy and brooding?

Wow. I do believe Mr. Miller is poised to take over the world! Is this of his own design or is there a Svengali working in the shadows? Maybe he’s part of an underworld plot to control the minds of the American people? But to what end? I bet he uses some sort of hypnosis! It’s those eyes! Those damn green (and sometimes blue depending on his mood and what he’s wearing) eyes! Or is he just a pawn in some evil genius’s evil plot? I swear dear readers; Ms. GD will not rest until she uncovers the truth about his dastardly plan! If I have to give my body to him I will…That’s just how serious I am!

I swear I will have a freakin’ heart attack if I watch another tense and suspenseful as hell episode of Prison Break! Will our dashing hero rescue the comely young prison doctor in time? Will our intrepid convicts make it out of damn prison alive? Or will their plans be foiled by the psychopathic, white supremacist, serial kiddy rapist? I need to buy a defibrillator! - GD

Hello dear readers! Mr. GD is back and eager to share her hurricane Rita experiences with you. Did you miss me? No? Okay…

Mem’ries…like the corners of my mind…

After all the hurricane evacuation rigmarole I now understand why people never want to do it. When you watch it on the television of course there is always the obligatory, toothless, doublewide dwelling, hillbilly steadfast in their determination to stay put and you think, are these people insane? No they aren’t insane and those of us who would even consider not leaving are not all toothless, doublewide dwelling, hillbillies. I didn’t want to leave either and for a multitude of reasons but I think the most important one was that leaving my home was just too depressing a thought to contemplate.

It’s very easy to sit back and play armchair FEMA Director but only when you are faced with [un]certain annihilation can you comprehended the amount of emotion that creeps into a person’s mind at that time. Do I stay and tough it out? Do I flee and spend every waking moment worrying about my home?

Home. House. My home. My house. We use those words interchangeable but there is a difference. A house is a tangible item but a home is more abstract. I remember a joke by one of my favorite comedian’s, George Carlin. He was talking about the plight of the homeless and he said that the term homeless is actually a misnomer. What these people should be called is “houseless” or “permanent shelter impaired”; anything but homeless. After the events of the past weekend I tend to agree with him. I was concerned about the structure but not in and of itself. What troubled me about it not being there anymore were all of the memories both good and not so good, associated with that structure.

I’m a member of a very small minority. I’ve lived in the same state, in the same city, in the same house all of my life. That’s right, from my birth to this very day I have called the same structure home. And not only that, but the house has been in my family for almost 40 years. The Fair Housing Act of 1968 allowed my grandparents to buy a well made home in nice (read: crime free “white neighborhood” near excellent schools with trees and room for the kiddies to run around, yadda, yadda, yadda) area. When my grandparents where no longer able to manage a large house my parents took over the note and now that house belongs to me.

How could I leave all those family dinners? What about my brother breaking his arm falling from one of our trees and my frightened cousins tucking him in bed instead of telling a grownup that he was hurt? What about my sister almost having her first baby on our living room sofa? Or me on Christmas Eve after Midnight Mass opening my first grown-up record album, Michael Jackson’s Off The Wall? Screw the damn TV, my DVDs, cool retro bike, massive shoe collection, and spoiling food in the fridge! With time I can replace those things but I can’t replace the memories.

The great advantage of living in a large family is that early lesson
of life's essential unfairness. ~ Nancy Mitford

At any rate; my mother chose to flee…to my aunt’s house about 40 miles away…dragging me kicking and screaming. Now I love my family but I’d rather die in a hurricane then be locked up in a house all weekend long with them (No I really mean it!). God must have heard my wails of agony and despair because while I slept it was decided that I should be sent away from the bosom of my loving family to stay with my cousin’s friend Ms. X. Thank the Lord for X! I’ve never had so much fun in a hurricane! She had her godson staying with her so we played board games, watched movies, ate junk food and giggled all damn weekend. No one pestered me about what I was going to do with my life, whom I was dating, and when I was going to get my shit together. No one dredged up painful memories from the past or blamed me for past painful memories. In short there were no mothers, aunts, sisters, brothers, or cousins to peck at my head like chickens at an ear of corn!

I know I shouldn’t be so catty but I laughed LOUDLY when I found out that while X and I passed a pleasant weekend together my loving family spent the last day of their exile in complete darkness when the power went out. That’ll teach them to send me away! [Evil Laugh]

Don't laugh at a youth for his affectations; he is only trying on
one face after another to find a face of his own. ~ Logan Pearsall Smith, Age and Death, Afterthoughts, 1931

One funny note – X’s godson (we’ll call him “Spike” as he’s still a minor and doesn’t deserve the humiliation I’m about to dump on him) was a little too interested in yours truly. Now while I’m used to being ogled by grown men it was an entirely new experience to be ogled by a pubescent youngin’. I kept noticing his little sidelong glances but I just thought he was shy around new people. It wasn’t until he told me that he was thirteen that it all made sense. I swear he didn’t look a day over 9 years old! When he first told me I didn’t believe him so I asked X and she verified that he is in fact thirteen. He was so cute! By the time he’d warmed up to me it was almost time for me to leave. I remember I was using X’s computer to check my email and he stood right there next to me switching his attention (which was no easy feat mind you) from my cleavage to my personal email.

Little boys…gotta love’em right? Sometimes I wonder how they even make it to adulthood. They’re just like men but with half the self-control. Wait, is that even possible? That would be like a negative amount right?

Home again, home again, jiggety-jog…

Well we made it back in one piece. My house was thankfully left undamaged, except for one of my twin crepe myrtle trees. My neighbor’s tree was completely uprooted by the high winds and fell across the street and into my front yard, shaving off the top half of one of the trees. It also whacked a fair amount of my next-door neighbor’s shrubbery. While I hate that another one of my neighborhood’s beautiful old tress had to bite the dust I’m happy no one was injured and that there was no significant property damage.

Once the city gets the power running again I will move back home, away from my mother’s beak, er…I mean loving arms. Solitude is a beautiful thing…and so is being left to watch Prison Break in silence and to drool over Wentworth Miller (I die! I die!) and Dominic Purcell (Even sexier speaking in his natural Australian accent) in the privacy of my own home.

My own home. Sigh!

Next hurricane I will not leave my house unless Hill Harper, Michael Phelps, Sean Paul and Wentworth Miller come to personally escort me to higher ground! - GD

"I hate it. . .I sometimes wish my nose was broken once or twice more. People discount me ... I've always had a chip on my shoulder about that."
– Paul Walker on being called a “pretty boy”

Dear Paul, I agree.

It bothers me that you are so pretty, as well. For a long time, I have felt that you need to “ugly up” a bit but, unfortunately, I have no idea what on earth you could possibly do to become ugly. Short of some spell cast on you by some wicked witch or having acid thrown at you (which I would not want you to have to go through), I think you’re stuck with that pretty mug of yours. I understand you want your nose broken, and while I would be happy to do it, I really don’t think it would work. Some overzealous plastic surgeon would patch you right up and then you’d be right back where you started. Also, I don’t think you realize how it would hurt to have your nose broken. So, before you have something like that done to yourself, you should probably consider your tolerance for pain.

Paul, I fear that unless you get hit in the face with a bag of hot nickels (and who knows if that will do the trick), you will always and forever be pretty. Alas, I cannot feel your pain Paul. I do not, nor will I ever know, what it is like to be a 6”3, blue-eyed, blonde surfer dude. But, here is what I think you should do. Instead of being upset, as Beyonce would say, work your damn jelly. Paul, not only are you incredibly handsome (and I mean that in the worst way possible) but you are tall and that is no small feat. Women drop dead in the street for you Paul. They will quit their jobs at Wal-Mart for you. They will make you grits and cornbread and collard greens and rice and gravy. They rob will liquor stores for you. They will fight each other in the street with homemade shanks and broken beer bottles for you. Women will brush your hair and stroke your cheek and sing you lullabies and tuck you in tight under the covers. I say you should take advantage of this somehow. Inside of you, there is bound to be a creative, enterprising young man who can find some way to exploit a woman willing to let you lay your head on her ample bosom! So, take heart and be of good cheer!

I know you think people don’t take you seriously and you are right, we don’t. You are just too disconcertingly pretty. As Glamour Diva would say, it is rather difficult to look directly at you and I would not advise people to stare at you too long or they could began to suffer from spatial dementia.

That being said, stop trying to be taken seriously. Being taken seriously is overrated anyway. People take Tom Hanks seriously but does he have women lined up in the street offering to be sold into white slavery for just the barest trace of a chance to be with him? Can he walk into a room and know that any girl in the place would be willing to give Karl Rove and Dick Cheney a tongue bath just for the possibility of getting his phone number? You have so much to be thankful for Paul! And you have nothing to be upset about! Well, except your spotty movie career. . .but, that’s a whole ‘nother article!

Cheer up and fight for your right to be pretty!


copyright 2005. . .galaxyMafia

Today is a sad day.
I used to like Dean Cain. I used to think he was really handsome and fine. Unfortunately, I still do but, alas, I have now come to the conclusion that I must remove him from my list. Yes, from this day forth, Dean Cain is not someone that I would eat sushi off. Why, you ask. . .well, it seems that when Brooke “Nothing gets between me and my Calvins” Shields went to Princeton, she went out with Dean Cain and. . .well, let’s just say that Mr. Cain was the “nothing” Brooke was talking about.


For years, Brooke had been a dedicated virgin who didn’t go around screaming that she was a virgin. If people asked her about it, she would confirm her virginal status but, she didn’t expect any kudos and she certainly didn’t pull a Britney Spears (who may have not even been born!) and say that she was “saving herself for marriage” when she knew damn well that she wasn’t.

I do not throw stones at Brooke for being interesting in a bit of Dean Cain tubesteak BUT, what I have a problem with is the fact that Dean Cain told everybody that he got between Brooke and her Calvins! That rat bastard should have kept his mouth closed. I was reading a book last night called “The Book of Useless Information” and there was a section listing the ages when celebrities had lost their virginity. When it came to Brooke Shields, not only did it say the age at which she’d lost her virginity (18) but it also said, “with Dean Cain”.

I was fudging LIVID! Brooke’s virginity and who she traded it off to is nobody’s business but Brooke’s and the guy she traded it off to! Okay, so Brooke lost her virginity with him but, did that mean he had to take out a full page ad to announce it? Who in the hell does he think he is? That is so freaking Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon of him, so damn lowbrow and I know I’m being redundant but this is how upset I am about this! Telling everybody he had sex with Brooke Shields is so tacky and lame and Dean has lost so many points with me that I fear he could never make it up. Therefore, that punk bitch is off my list!

Advice to Dean Cain: That sophomoric, moronic, juvenile frat boy bullshit is so not necessary! If Brooke Shields hadn’t been famous, if she had been some arbitrary gorgeous, 6-foot girl walking around the Princeton campus and you had taken her virginity (and I despise the term “taken her virginity” but I will expound upon that at a later date, or maybe not at all), you would not be shouting it to the world! The sad truth is, Dean, that you are now an F-list actor and you need publicity. You see Teri Hatcher has “Desperate Housewives” and all you have is “Ripley’s Belive it or Not” and a few lame ass Lifetime movies. And to think, I was pondering writing a romantic comedy for you. Now I perish that thought!

Advice to Brooke: Tell everybody that Dean Cain is a “short, short man” and that you didn’t enjoy yourself, and as matter of fact, you hardly remember it!

galaxyMafia. . .is very upset that Mr. Cain had to go and upset the Sushi Order. . .now she must look for a replacement. . .and he may just be that guy from "Prison Break". . .no, not Wentworht Miller, the other guy. . .

More men in various states of undress!

Don’t chuck it out completely; change it to this one:

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of Halliburton,
and to the Dictatorship for which it stands:
one Nation under Greed, indistinguishable from dictatorships past,
With Liberty and Justice for Rich White Men.

Don’t cry for Ms. GD when the Feds kill her by making it look like an accident. She will have died a martyr for the cause - ¡Vive La Revolución…Suckas! - GD

I found this while searching for info on Daper Damien(Essential Poems (To Fall In Love With) by Daisy Goodwin) and I just had to break it down. I remember this poem from high school and after rereading it I found that it still bugs the hell out of me! Even as a tender, innocent teenager I found Mr. Marvell’s tone…how can I say this…fuckin’ annoyin’!


To His Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.

[I know that back in the day people considered thirty middle-aged but really now! Mr. Marvell is straight putting the rush on this chick! Slow ya roll Andy!]

We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shoudst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.

[Alas, I know that hyperbole is part and parcel of poetry (and so is onomatopoeia) but all he’s really trying to do is get in her panties and she’s a stupid woman and deserves every misery that befalls her if she swallows this crap!]

My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.

[You see?!?!? It’s all about getting her nekkid!]

For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingéd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.

[This is just your basic “blue balls” speech. The pain! The pain! Quick, take off your panties and lie down!]

Thy beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long-preserved virginity,
And your quaint honor turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

[Marvell says: You know you’re the only woman for me baby. All those other girls, they were just practice for the real thing – You! Cue: I Only Have Eyes For You by The Flamingos What’s the point of dying a virgin when you can gap your legs for me? You know I’ll rock your world baby! Cue: Give It To Me Baby by Rick James]

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.

[Marvell says: You know you want it as much as I do baby!]

Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

[Marvell says: I cant make you any promises about the future, that is to say commitment, but what I do know is that my dick is hard now and I got to get back to the house before Mrs. Marvell gets suspicious about where I’ve been all day!]

Kiss my ass Andrew Marvell (and no, I don't mean that in a good way...) - GD

NAME: Damien Lewis

AGE: 34 (We have the exact same birthday, 2/11 or 11/2 if you’re not American, which means he’s an inflexible, brilliant, stubborn, beautiful, insane, charming, opinionated, sweetheart of a perverse, pervy Aquarian just like me! Can you stand it?!?!?!?!?!?)

HEIGHT: 6'/1.83M

WEIGHT: Dunno but he appears to fit my “skinny guy” profile

WHY SHOULD SUSHI BE EATEN OFF HIM? The red (or as they say in Great Britain, “ginger”) hair, those ice blue eyes, that soft upper crusty voice (not to be confused with the very annoying and stiff upper lippy aristocratic Prince Charles voice), and the ability to bring a much needed touch of humanity to one of literature’s most maligned villains- Soames Forsyte of John Galsworthy’s The Forsyte Saga

WHEN SHOULD YOU EAT SUSHI OFF HIM? When he isn’t distracted by something or someone more fabulous and intriguing than you, which might be a bit tricky because Lord knows Aquarians are easily distracted!

[Is that galaxyMafia over there in the “Amen Corner”, rolling around on the floor and speaking in tongues? No need for all the histrionics, I know I’m easily distracted!]

FROM WHAT PART OF HIS BODY SHOULD YOU EAT THE SUSHI? Like most men he appears loath to get nekkid on camera (Jeffrey Archer: The Truth not withstanding and that could have been a body double) therefore I have no idea if his body is all dimpled, pockmarked or woefully out of shape so I’ll continue to use my imagination

WHERE SHOULD YOU BE WHEN YOU EAT THE SUSHI OFF HIM? In a boarded up, old English country house far away from any distractions

HOW SHOULD YOU EAT SUSHI OFF HIM? Like he's the last scone at an English tea party and the only thing that stands between you and him is Robbie Coltrane

PROPENSITY FOR VIOLENCE: So low as to be nonexistent. He’s an Aquarian so you’d be lucky if he remembered ever having met you much less the time you spent together with your mouth all over his naked body

STALKER QUOTIENT: -1000000 (increases exponentially if he thinks you might be interested in a commitment. He’ll gnaw his own foot off and yours too to get out of that!)

[Shut up galaxyMafia…]

SHOULD/COULD/WOULD YOU QUIT YOUR JOB FOR HIM? Do you like getting your feelings hurt?

IS HE WORTH BEING PHOTOGRAPHED GIVING KARL ROVE A TONGUE BATH WHILE BEING ANALLY PROBED BY RICK SANTORUM? Heavens to Betsey I do declare – NO!

IF HE WANTED TO USE YOUR PLACE AS A SAFE HOUSE WHILE AVOIDING CAPTURE AND CERTAIN PROSECUTION BY THE FEDS FOR BITCH SLAPPING EVERYONE WHO HAD A HAND IN NOT GETTING NEW ORLEANS THE FINANCIAL AIDE IT NEEDED TO REBUILD ITS LEVEES SEEING AS HOW EVERYONE IN THE WHOLE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT KNOWS THAT LOUISIANA (as well as Mississippi and Alabama) IS BARELY ABLE TO FEED, HOUSE AND EDUCATE ITSELF (and has been in dire need of assistance for umpteen years now) MUCH LESS MAKE MAJOR STRUCTURAL REPAIRS AND IMPROVEMENTS TO ANYTHING IN ITS STATE? Are you joking? I’d help him bitch slap everyone involved as well as kick them all in the nut sack ‘cause you know most of those ignorant assholes where [white]men any damn way!

WOULD YOU HELP HIM BLOW UP HALLIBURTON, ALL ITS SUBSIDIARY COMPANIES AND THE SWISS BANK WHERE DICK CHENEY KEEPS HIS BILLIONS (Only on a holiday when the buildings are empty of course)? Do you really have to ask?

Are redheads in Britain called "ginger" beacause of the Red Ginger plant? - GD

Isn't it cute?!?!?!?

Male Stupidity

Are men as stupid as they behave? Yes No Depends - Men are creatures of great individuality, just like women. I don't know Current Results

The white guy I want doesn’t drive a damn Cadillac (Escalade, Brougham, Fleetwood, whatever the hell).

The white guy I want doesn’t listen to rap music, especially: “screw”, 2 Live Crew or “gangsta” rap.

The white guy I want doesn’t know who the hell the following people are: Frankie Beverley. Teddy Pendergrass. Mike Jones.

The white guy I want hasn’t have heard of the following songs: “Candy Likker”, “Juicy Fruit”, or “Bustin’ Loose”.

The white guy I want doesn’t watch any of the following TV sitcoms currently in syndication: “Sanford and Son”, “Good Times”, or “That’s my mama”

The white guy I want doesn’t wear clothes from the following designers: Roca-Wear and Phat Farm. He doesn’t, for the love of all that is sacred and holy, even think about wearing any FUBU!

The white guy I want doesn’t know any hip hop or urban slang. He WILL NEVER say, “fo shizzle, my nizzle”.

The white guy I want doesn’t know how to dance.

The white guy I want doesn’t drink 40-ounces.

The white guy I want doesn’t have spinning rims on his tires.

The white guy I want doesn’t have a “pimp walk” in which his left leg lazily, almost reluctantly, follows his right leg as he walks.

The white guy I want doesn’t know that we can’t shag in the shower because my hair will get kinky/nappy/frizzy.

The white guy I want doesn’t know what “jumping the broom” means. He doesn’t know that “Ribbon in the sky” by Stevie Wonder is the all-time classic staple for EVERY African-American wedding. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on when, at the African-American wedding reception, all of the guests get up to do the damn “Harlem Shuffle”.

The white guy I want doesn’t know what a Gospel stage play is.

The white guy I want doesn’t require me to have a large ghetto booty that I can clap.

The white guy I want doesn’t like white girls. . .because if he does then he might as well be black!

galaxyMafia. . .finds that actually, men really hold no glamour for her anymore!

I need a major “Angst Letting” and since this is my damn blog I’m gonna do it here. My current bitchings are as follows (in no particular order):

What’s up with straight guy’s aversion to washing their stank asses and putting on clean damn clothes? That shit has ceased to be funny…like 40 years ago! Why must a guy be queer to have to give a damn about his personal hygiene? WASH YOUR NASTY ASSES STRAIGHT MEN!

Why are some of the most intolerant, bigoted, selfish, mean spirited people so religious? And why are some of the worst perpetrators of hate Christian? Call me crazy but I really don’t recall reading (Yes I have a King James Version of the Bible and a Good News version too) where Jesus did/said/incited hate. He was all about unity and love!

And while we’re on the subject of Jesus…where did Christians get the idea that Jesus was not Jewish? Why do we think the rules and customs of Judaism don’t apply to us? Where was the disconnect? Is it because the religion spread to so many different cultures that the customs of a small group of people didn’t seem to apply anymore? If you know please let me know ok?

Why are women so cruel to each other? Why do we go out of our way to break each other down to our base elements? There is no such thing as sisterhood. We are hateful, trifling, conniving wenches who want nothing more than to crush the spirit of the nearest female under our Manolo Blahnik heels! Fascism They Name Is Woman!

And speaking of fascist…political conservatives are some of the vilest human beings on the face of the planet. I mean really, what is the difference between Al Qaeda and anyone else who can’t rest until they make the whole world into their personal playground? If you removed the Islam factor and replaced it with…say…Seventh Day Adventist (and no I don’t have anything against SDAs!) would their ideas be easier to swallow?

Why are men such pussies nowadays? Listen up men: When we said we wanted you to change we didn’t mean change into women! All we wanted was your respect and an end to the superiority complex induced bullying. Take the tampons out of your asses and the maxi pads out of your ears and man up already! Stop pretending that gains made by women are losses to you. And as long as you make more money then us, don’t do your fair share of the house work, remain emotionally distant, and lie like dogs we will insist that you pay for everything! Those are the rules, FUCKIN’ DEAL WITH IT!

To the ladies…stop using your kids to get back at your ex. You’re fucking it up for the rest of us!

Let homosexuals get married already! Do you really think straight people have a monopoly of the 50% (and rising) divorce rate? Get over yourselves!

To the heterosexuals…once the conservatives/religious fanatics get rid of the gays, they’ll be coming after you too. You aren’t special. You aren’t safe. They won’t rest until you’re just as frustrated and repressed as they are. Don’t believe me? Take a closer look at the Defense of Marriage Act.

There is no such thing as race! There is no such thing as a “human subspecies”. We have many different cultures and but we are all one race – Human.

That felt great! Now back to your regularly scheduled program... - GD

...Sexy Men In Their Underwear!

And speaking of sexy – WHAT A FREAKIN’ BLAST FROM THE PAST IS YANNICK NOAH?!?!?!?!? Tennis star and infamous ladies man during the 1980’s, he’s now a musician in France. Still workin’ his jelly at 45 years old too! You go boy!

In the immortal words of Florida Evans of Good Times, "DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!!!"

I’ve changed my mind! I think Michael Phelps is now my baby daddy. I’m so sorry Wentworth but I’ve been lusting after MP for several years now…before it was legal to do so…and I just can’t give him up that easily. Maybe we could work out a deal? I’ll take you on Monday and Wednesday, Michael on Tuesday and Thursday and the rest of the week I can keep clear for anyone else that strikes my fancy (Wink, wink!) and oh yes…rest! I’ll need some rest after doing all the things I want to do to you and Mikey Mike... - GD

This is how I felt when I was an indentured servant at the nonprofit-organization-from-hell-that-shall-remain-nameless-for-fear-of-prosecution. - GD

I don’t find men with lots of big, beefy muscle attractive (for the most part) and looking back on the choices I’ve made (read: the guys I froth at the mouth for) I never have.

My first boyfriend, William, was 6 feet and 150 pounds. He had girlie arms and a pot belly and don’t even get me started on those chicken legs! We looked like Mutt and Jeff but I didn’t care. Many people would ask me why I liked him. He was tall and skinny, weird, bookish, wore thick glasses and loved Pink Floyd for God’s sake! At first I would answer that it was his mind I was attracted to. He was truly brilliant in a really cool mad scientist sort of way and we had the most amazing conversations. He was also very romantic, paid a lot of attention to me, and respected my mind – what more could a girl ask for right?

Apparently all he needed to be perfect was a really hot body. The funny thing is I thought his body was really hot! He had the softest skin and it always seemed cool to the touch. I loved to look at him when he slept, his long graceful limbs tucked under his body. He also took really good care of himself, always smelled great (I remember his smell as being a mixture of this really warm scented Crabtree & Evelyn soap and Tide laundry detergent), wore clean clothes and underwear without any prompting from me and his hygiene was impeccable.

I was younger then and didn’t speak my mind as freely as I do now (although my mother and galaxyMafia would probably not agree) so I always stuck to his being really smart and nice as the reason why I dug him so much. But thinking back I find that my fondest memories are of the two of us in his bed, naked, touching each other all over. And did I mention he was really well endowed? WOW! Who’d have thunk it?!?!?!? But I...ahem...digress…

So my attraction for slim slimies isn’t just a kick but a preference imbedded deep in my psyche. I don’t even notice larger men (The Rock, aka Dwayne Johnson notwithstanding) anymore. I mean I see them and I respect their right to exist and to be craved and admired by the general female public but they just don’t do a damn thing for me! So why am I writing this you ask? Just go out and grab a skinny dude and be happy you say? Well it ain't that easy!

You see, there is an unwritten law we have here in the United States that if you aren’t a skinny woman, you have absolutely no right to prefer a skinny man. In fact you don’t officially exist (except as the butt of jokes) therefore your preferences for any damn thing are null and void but particularly those preferences that have anything to do with body type/size. Still don’t get it? I’ll give you an example: One day, long ago, when I was an indentured servant for a local upscale (read: snooty yuppies with more money than sense) grocery store, I happened to notice a fire truck parked outside the store. I asked one of my female co-indentured servants if she could see the firemen and if any of them were sexy. She said no so we both moved in front of the doors and gawked at the firemen like teenaged boys at a cheerleading contest. She turned away first saying that none of them were African American therefore she wasn’t interested. I said I wasn’t prejudiced (a hot piece of ass is a hot piece of ass I always say) and continued to stare. After a while I turned away too saying that the men were a little too thick for me therefore I wasn’t interested. My co-indentured servant was quite taken aback by this comment and proceeded to look me up and down, completely baffled, as if to say, “How the hell can your fat ass say that?” What did I say? I said nothing, just laughed in her face and walked back to my register to smile stupidly at more yuppies and their spoiled yuppie brats.

You see, I’ve never had too much trouble getting a man. I think they sense that I don’t need them which is why they (initially) come running. It’s a very Southern, coquettish thing to sit demurely by while men run all over themselves to talk to you but this isn’t bragging, mind you, just fact. I’ve been blessed with fantastic genes (great skin, straight teeth, and big tits), a wonderful personality and more confidence than Ewan McGregor when he strips naked for a movie! The problem is all perception. My pool of men would be even larger if I were slim but because I’m not and because men are just as afraid to break the unwritten law as women (Her? No man that fat chick was my sister’s friend. NOT my date!) I’m forced to wade through this shallow ass eligible man pool! Sigh.

So what’s a wisecracking, sexy, zaftig, southern girl to do? Well this one won’t be crying into her pillow or making herself vomit. Ms. GD will be getting her bike fixed so she can start going for rides around the neighborhood and she will continue to read voraciously, eat whatever the hell the wants (in moderation, especially sugar), watch Prison Break (much to galaxyMafia’s chagrin) and froth at the mouth over hot skinny guys. And if she finds one that isn’t an idiot, has a job, has his own place, a car and knows how to treat a woman of quality then she might just grab him and kiss him until he forgets his name…

Some of my favorite skinny guys:


Wentworth Miller (Actor) - I die! I die!


Steve Bays (2nd from left, Hot Hot Heat) - What is it about rockers and thinness that go so well together?


Marat Safin (Athlete) – I never understood what “love” had to do with tennis until I saw him!


Ty Pennington (TV Personality) – He’s handy, sexy and over 30!


Gale Harold (Actor) - If you've seen Queer As Folk then you already know...


Justin Theroux (Actor) – Intelligent, funny and sexy…I hit the trifecta!


Adrien Brody (Actor) – Yummy yum yum! And did I mention YUM?!?!?!?


Lemar Obika (Singer) – So sweet, so young, so talented! I should feel guilty but I don’t…


Wentworth Miller is my "baby daddy" LOL! – GD

Against my better judgment (and keep in mind that I have no better judgment), at the request of Glamour Diva (the self-confessed Wentworth Miller fiend), I taped the two hour encore presentation of “Prison Break”.

Can’t say I hated it, can’t say I loved it. I’m hovering somewhere in between ambivalence and apathy, between popcorn and cotton candy. Anyway, I’m waiting for “Invasion” with Eddie Cibrian (and them dimples that just drive you right off a damn cliff. Lord have mercy!) so until ABC airs it, I figure “Prison Break” might be suitable background noise.

So, just what the fudge did I think?

OK. It’s an improbable, clichéd story, full of gaping plot holes that you could trip and fall into and never make your way out of. FOX wants me to believe that pretty-boy Wentworth Miller has not only the cajones but the unmitigated gall to get himself arrested for a crime so he can pirouette his sweet candy ass smack in the middle of a hard core prison facility full of Zulu warriors to help his brother break out?
Fo shizzle? No wizzle!

OK, I am down with the help thy brother. I know we are our brothers’ keepers. But, I don’t have a brother. I have a sister, and even if she did lose her blanking mind and get herself sent to some hardcore prison for women, I am quite sure I would not sit in my spacious office and dream up a scheme to bust her out. I don’t believe or trust Michael’s motives for wanting to save Lincoln so much that he would go to such extremes. Most folks who have people on Death Row usually just try to work with the irrevocably broken, highly corrupt and prejudicial legal system. But, maybe “Prison Break” can serve a greater purpose. Perhaps, people with loved ones on Death Row could plot to break their loved ones out of prison! I am hoping this idea spreads and catches fire!

Maybe I don’t believe Miller as an avenging brother because I’m not a structural engineer, who knows?

And speaking of structural engineering? How coincidentally cool it is that Lincoln has a baby brother who’s a structural engineer? And how even more awesome that Michael happened to design the very prison that Lincoln is housed in as he waits on Death Row? I mean, horror of horrors, suppose that Michael had helped to design some other prison? What oh what would Lincoln have done?

Yes. . .I do understand that I have to suspend my disbelief but suspension only goes so far before it snaps, flies back, and hits you in the face, putting your damn eye out!

Let me continue: OK, I will concede that Miller is a good actor but that elitist tone and those highbrow mannerisms bother me. I personally don’t think his character has the wherewithal to carry out this inane plot. Miller tries to play Michael as so driven and focused and clever. He’s an everyman. He can talk to the Neo-Nazis. He can be down with the brothers.

So, what the fudge did I like?

Well. . .I liked that nice slab of beef Dominic Purcell.

As galxayMafia used to say, “I’ll buy that for a dollar!”

All the TV folks and chat rooms and message boards are having fainting spells over “breakout star” Wentworth Miller but that pansy zebra (he is half-African American, ya know. . .oh, you didn’t know?) is a bit too lean for me. I’m down with Jack Sprat’s wife. I need a nice Brahman bull and Mr. Purcell will do quite nicely, thank you! In addition to being nice and bulky, he comes off like a real guy. See, I could see him trying to break Miller’s wuss ass out of prison. He carries off his scenes quite nicely, considering that hokey dialogue. He takes the character serious enough with out trying to make him into a recovering bad guy with a heart of gold. He plays his character a decent mixture of sensitivity and apathy and with a healthy mistrust for the Negros! That’s always a plus, eh?

Finally, things about “Prison Break” that make me wanna holla!

Everybody in the prison is ranting and raving and having a hissing fit over how very pretty Michael is! Makes you wonder if Wentworth Miller had a clause written in his contract demanding that in each scene, he be referred to as “pretty”. But, what I wonder is, if he’s so pretty to all the good little boys in cellblock A, why haven’t they given it to him up the ass? Maybe that will be a “Very special episode of Prison Break”.

What the hell was up with that twitching, wild-eyed black girl soothsayer? Why the hell didn’t she comb her hair? She might as well have been screaming “Beware the Ides of March!” I mean, if she was so scared of the “unseen forces” that “are all around” watching and who killed her boyfriend, then why the hell would she talk to the little Baylor grad? And if the “unseen forces” are really that clever and powerful, wouldn’t they have foreseen her as an expendable and killed her?

And why do they always have to make the rich girl (the governor’s daughter who’s a doctor at the prison) have issues with her daddy and/or the fact that she has money so she decides to slum instead of taking some glamorous position with an upscale physician’s clinic in Manhattan? That’s why I like Paris Hilton. She’s a rich girl who’s not afraid to be a damn rich girl!

And what’s up with the subplot with Michael’s Latino cellmate and his girlfriend? Is that going to figure into the plot in any reasonable way (and if it could) or are the producers just trying to keep LULAC off their backs?

Last but not least, why does Wentworth Miller always make those constipated faces? Does he have irritable bowel syndrome, or something? Maybe that’s why his nickname is “Stinky”

copyright 2005
galaxyMafia. . .might watch the next damn episode of "Prison Break"

As most of you have seen and heard on countless television news programs and one-hour specials, Hurricane Katrina was no damn joke. That bitch was as serious as. . .well, as a Category 6 hurricane. She was shooting first and not even bothering to ask questions. She was taking no prisoners.

Hurricane Katrina was Mother Nature saying: "Don't fudge with me!"

New Orleans is now 80% underwater, buildings and houses are completely leveled, dead bodies litter the roads like an afterthought, and infectious diesease is on the horizon as such seemingly hertofore innocous things like household cleaners threaten to pollute the soil and water. That bottle of Windex you never cleaned your glass with could end up poisoning you.

Before her reign of terror against the Big Easy ended, Katrina left behind carnage and damage reported to be in the billions; she became the blame for unrepentant looting, inspiring a new brand of idiotic lunacy as backwoods dumbasses stole Plasma TVs! Newsflash - there's no electricity. . .how the hell are you gonna watch it?

But, something else happened as those 160 mile per hour winds had their way with the city of New Orleans. . .something more sinister, something even more devastating. . .

As Katrina kicked ass and took names, the menfolk in Louisiana forgot something very crucial.

THEY FORGOT HOW TO BE MEN!!!!

Case in point: A heart-wrenching, gut-twisting tale provided by a local news station in Houston reported about a man whose house was cut in half by Katrina. He lost everything - including his wife. As he cried into the camera (and we cried with him), he spoke of how he was holding on to his wife's hands during the powerful storm. Then, it seemed as though he could no longer hold on. Valiantly, his wife, he said, told him to let go, to take care of the children and grandchildren.

Now, less you think me a heartless seahag (and you may be right), I must tell you I do feel for this man. Upon hearing his story, I wanted to do things for him - buy him a house, get him some good dental work, you know, essentials. But, still. . .something bothered me.

Why had he let go of his wife's hand? During a hurricane? Why didn't he do whatever he had to get his wife out of the city before the storm hit? In other words, why didn't he be a damn man?

Men are supposed to be the strong ones, right? The level-headed, unemotional decision-makers? They are supposed to come in, access the situation, find a solution, and order some submissive underling (i.e., the wife) to carry it out. They are brave and courageous, right?
That was what we were led to believe, eh?

And yet, I keep hearing stories of men who "couldn't hold on" to their wives. Or, men who allowed their wives to stay behind!

Another news segment featured a man who did just that. As he held his sleeping child, he spoke, tearfully, about his wife. He had no idea where she was. He said that his wife told him she wanted to stay.

And he let her? What husband lets his wife stay behind to ride out a category 6 hurricane?

You know, historically, men have bullied women, have told them what to do, when to do it and how it should be done. Men grab us and shake us when we're emotional, slap us when we're hysterical. They make a practice of "man-handling" us.

Now, I don't condone what men do. I can't stand social roles and if a man tries to tell me what to do that's when I pull out my trusty Louisville Slugger.

But, for Katrina, I would have made exceptions. During a category 6 hurricane, a man needs to invoke his "man-handling" rights and be a man. Grab the wife, tell her "we're" leaving and don't let her argue.

It seems as though when we want men to be men, they always let us down. Men want to be men when we don't need them to be men. We don't need men to rape and loot and plunder and shoot at the National Guard. Just take care of your families! Make sure your families are safe and for the sake of all that is holy and pure, DON'T LET GO OF YOUR WIVES DURING A STORM!!

So what happened to all the men during Katrina?

Most of them are probably at the Astrodome now. . .maybe looking for wives they just couldn't seem to hold on to.

Copyright 2005
galaxyMafia. . .is planning on volunteering as much as she can during this crisis. Despite the fact that she does thinks folks from Louisiana are crazy, her heart does go out to them!!!