Ok. So galaxyMafia just finished watching the final episode of "The Bachelor" on ABC, and while she normally thinks this tacky show is an insult and an utter affront to women, romantic love (which galaxyMafia doubts even exists) and the arduous process of finding and getting to know a person in the hopes of building a healthy relationship that profits both parties, she nevetheless felt compelled to give the loser, Moana, a little advice. . .

After being told by Travis (who, upon closer inspection, ain't no Dr. McDreamy) that even though they shared an "amazing" and "special" connection, he could not pick her, Moana confessed to being "truthfull shocked" and left in her tacky white Prom limo wherein she proceded to completely fall the fudge apart as only she can (and has been for the past two months) do.

For those of you who were wise enough not to watch the show, here's a recap of Moana's histrionics. Trust me, the Bard couldn't have written pathos and tragedy as unrelenting and
hilarious as this:

"I'm emotionally devastated. . .I'm so shocked. At firstI thought it was joke. I've just never been so vulnerable before in my life and so dead-on and so wrong. . .to think that your affections for someone are reciprocated and to be smacked in the face with a solid rejection like I received tonight is so hurtful and I feel like such a fool. The good girl always wins. Guys like that don't marry girls like me. I feel right now like I never should have opened up because this pain I'm experiencing right now is so intense that I just want to crawl back into my shell and hide."

Moana, really, was all that hyper-traumatic melodrama necessary? I mean, I would like to feel your pain but I can't help thinking that you brought all this on yourself.

Your first mistake? Going on "The Bachelor" in the first place. I mean, what self-respecting woman would agree to place herself
in a field of 25 other rapid, seething lonely childless women.



On the first show, all of the girls were standing around like so many uptight heiffers, nervously chewing their cud, ready to unravel at the seams, all a-twitter and a-flutter over some would-be prized bull. I don't know jack sprat about you, Moana, but I know your mama taught you to have a little more pride and self-worth. Honestly, did you really want to be the number one bitch in a harem of hos?

Your second mistake? Not being able to round up them wayward emotions of yours! Moana, men don't like emotions! Men don't like tears! And men certainly don't like histrionics! Especially stick-up-their-ass guys like Dr. Dork. You are so passionate and hot-blooded. You're a raging, ranting sea of panting, pulsating bosom. You're a fiery opera that can only end in suicide and scandal. Most men don't know what the fudge to do with all that emotion. It makes them feel inadequate because they don't know what the hell to say to you or how the hell to make you stop crying and all they want to do is get the hell up outta this bee-otch before you spontaneously combust, or pop a blood vessel. You were right about one thing: you shouldn't have opened up. Men do not appreciate your honesty. And they don't give a witch's tit about your feelings. They just want you to shut up and screw 'em when they want to be screwed. And then they want you out of their apartment before they wake up the next morning because they really ain't in the mood to have breakfast with you.

Your third mistake? Thinking that a unrestrained, hyperbolic gal like yourself could ever settle down with Dr. McBoring. You were right. The good girl does always win. It doesn't matter if you can suck the guy off nine ways to Sunday, if his mama don't like you then, you ain't gotta go home but you gotta get the hell outta here.

Your fourth mistake? Describing yourself as "emotionally devastated". Moana, since when did you turn into a Katrina victim? You ain't devastated. You're just pissed off and embarrassed that that fool Travis clowned you on television. If you think about it, all you were was kicked to the curb by some fugger that you would have realized (in a month or two) you weren't really feeling after all.





It's like this: Sarah is a kindergarten teacher. Travis has the mental capacity and social acuity of a six-year-old. They're perfect for each other.

copyright 2005. . .galaxyMafia predicts we'll see Melodramatic Moana as the next Bachelorette!

Hey guys. . .once again, thanks for reading. You might notice that my posts don't seem as long. Well. . .I listened when you said you wanted me to keep up the tension. . .


"Are you still mad that I gave up long before you did?"
- humbly borrowed from "Are you still mad", written and performed by Alanis Morrissette



Wentworth was quiet, caught off guard.
“I’ll never let you break my heart again. . .” Wentworth said.
“You never should have let me break it the first time,” Gabby said. “I thought you knew better. I thought you were protecting yourself.”
“Like you were?” he accused her.
“Wentworth. . .” Gabby sighed his name, running a finger lightly down the side of his cheek. “Did I really hurt you that bad?”
Wentworth didn’t answer her, he couldn’t. He was trying not to think about what they had once meant to each other. . .what they would never mean to each other again. . .
Clearly, the memories came back to him, assailing him, attacking him. . .he remembered the day when he woke up and realized that Gabrielle was gone. . .it was a cold, lonely morning in January and he was by himself in the bed they’d shared the night before, the same bed they’d made wild, frenzied love in, clinging to each other. . .
I love you, she’d whispered against his lips.
Don’t ever leave me, he’d said, demanding a promise from her. . .
A promise that she hadn’t hesitated to break.
As he’d stared up at the ceiling in the cold, empty bed, he felt as though she’d ripped his heart from his chest and slammed it into the wall.
Shaking the melancholy away, Wentworth said, “The heart is resilient. It always fights back. . .it’s never completely destroyed.”
“Well,” she said. “The heart wants what it wants, right?”
Yeah. . .and his heart wanted her. Desperately.
But, he wasn’t about to tell her that. He’d deal with his heart and its foolish desires later. Tonight, he had to focus on those diamonds.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” he asked.
“OK, I’ll be honest with you,” He heard her say. “I did come here to find the diamonds.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t have them. . .I don’t know where they are.”
“Why were you looking for them?”
“I was hired to find them.”
“Hired by whom?”
“By the person who lost them.”
“And who would that be?”
“You know, I could ask you the same questions,” Gabby said. “Why are you here looking for diamonds. You don’t need to do this anymore. ‘Prison Break’ is a hit. It’s been nominated for a Golden Globe. . .”
“You think I give a fuck about the Golden Globes?”
“I don’t understand,” Gabby said. “Don’t you have everything you want?”
“No,” Wentworth said, his lips inches from hers. “Not everything. . .”


copyright 2005 galaxyMafia

Not only is Matroshka8 a devout member of The First Church of Wentworth Miller but she’s a beautiful and talented handbag designer to boot! Look at the beautiful bags she sent me. [I said look at the bags…not my expanding middle!] One day in the very near future she will no longer toil thanklessly for corporate shills but for herself. Move over Kate Spade, there’s a new, stunningly accessorized sheriff in town!

It’s that time of year again and while I’m not as steadfastly against it as galaxyMafia, I do liken Valentine’s Day to a chocolate éclair – scrumptious but full of empty calories. Why wait for one day a year to throw wilted, over priced roses and meaningless trinkets at our loved ones? I say V-Day should be used for the grand gesture-My own private Idaho…er, I mean island somewhere in the Pacific, a burlap sack full of loose diamonds (ten karats each) or a naked Wentworth Miller AND Dominic Purcell tied with a big, red, strategically placed bow! That’s what I’m talking about baby!

So if the Marketing Orcs have you feeling sad because you don’t have a significant other or even sadder because your current significant other doesn’t have the sense God gave a Billy goat (or Nanny goat as the case may be), stop wasting your time Wookin Pah Nub and try wookin pah:


Divine Love
Try these mantras to open yourself up the divine love of the Universe!

Aham Prema
Ah-hahm PREH-mah
I am Divine Love

Om Oarama Prema Rupaya Namaha
Om PAH-rah-mah PREH-mah Roo-PAH-yah Nah-mah-hah
Om and salutations to Supreme Divine Love that manifests in a form

Taken from Healing Mantras and Shakti Mantras by Thomas Ashley-Farrand
via Yoga Journal Magazine

The Re-Blackenization Of Glamour Diva and galaxyMafia

So Saturday was Ms. GD’s birthday and it was blessedly uneventful…for the most part. You’d think that a grown woman would be able to choose how she spent her birthday right? Wrong! Mama Diva had other plans. I was guilted into attending my old high school friend’s baby’s first birthday party. It was a stone gas as you can imagine…



So in rides GM to save what was left of the day by generously treating me to dinner and a movie! And oh my what a movie it was Dear Readers. The name of the movie is Something New
starring Sanaa Lathan and Simon Baker (of “The Guardian” fame). It’s about a subject that is near and dear to our hearts here at Sex and the Sushi-feeling guilty about dating white men then throwing our hands up in despair and giving in to the inevitability of it all because all the black men we think we might get along with are already dating white women. It’s a cute movie so catch it before it slides on in to video. So let’s jump right in and get the stereotypes and sweeping generalizations out of the way…shall we?

GM and I knew we were in for something new [heh] when we walked into the smallest multiplex theater we had even walked into! How small you ask? Well there are art house theaters larger than the one we where in and none of them have ever been so full of black people! That’s right I said it! The small theater was filled to the rafters with the decedents of Africans and a sprinkling of Latinos with just a hint of white folks! Mmmmm, delicious!

You will also be glad to know Dear Readers that segregation is alive and well and dwells in movie previews. We saw five, count’em, F.I.V.E movie previews that featured ALL black casts engaging in what I can only suppose is ALL black “stuff”. Unfortunately I can only remember four and they are:

Idlewild
ATL
Block Party
Madea’s Family Reunion

Now I’m not stupid. I understand marketing toward your viewership but this was ridiculous! Was Brokeback Mountain marketed only toward homosexuals? Was Chicago marketed only toward those who enjoy a good song and dance or are old enough to remember the time period? Was March of the Penguins marketed only toward those who like wildlife? I think not Dear Readers! While Madea’s Family Reunion may only appeal to a select few, Block Party, ATL and Idlewild, with their Hip Hop edge, will most assuredly appeal to many of the hip and happening young white kids in the suburbs. Give me a damn break Marketing Orcs!

Now on to the fascinating experience of sitting in a theater with 99.9% black people watching a 99.9% “black” movie…Wow! I swear I felt like Margaret Mead! To misquote David Byrne, “This is not MY beautiful black experience!”

This is a PG-13 movie right? So why were there little kids running in and out of the theater, hollin’ ass kids who only hollered during vital pieces of dialog and a newborn baby loudly cooing, gurgling and being nursed in the seat next to me? Oh and black folk really do talk all during the movie! And they crack jokes that Ms. GD and galaxyMafia don’t understand!

You see, by the black community’s standards GM and I are only about 45% black. We don’t head down south for big ass family reunions every summer (in part because we are already down south. Our families toughed out Slavery and Jim Crow and here we remain), we don’t belong to predominantly black churches, we didn’t attend historically black universities, we don’t belong to any black greek organizations (AKA, Zeta Phi Beta, Sigma Gamma Rho, etc.), and we don’t engage in a host of other “black” things which are far too numerous to list here. Most of the stuff we like is considered to be “white” stuff like foreign films, Indian food, Fiona Apple, Opera, using proper grammar and diction, European vacations and not talking back to the movie screen, just to name a few. But I’ll tell ya Dear Readers, blackness is contagious. We were only twenty minutes into the movie before we were talking and hollin’ and cracking jokes all up in there! When we left the movie we felt at least 85% black but I think I’m slipping. When I got home I watched my season two Queer As Folk DVDs and listened to my Suzanne Vega- A Retrospective CD. And I still don’t know how to do the Electric Slide or the Harlem Shuffle. Ssshhh! Don’t tell anyone or my black card will be revoked!

Not As Good As Stilton But Better Than Velveeta

Ah! What would Valentine’s Day be without celebrities waxing poetic about, what else, VALENTINE’S DAY!!!! So click here to enjoy the extra-creamy dairy goodness of television’s hottest celebrities and their best/worst Valentine’s Day remembrances. Oh yeh, here’s a particularly lactose intolerance inducing quote from my favorite celebrity, Wentworth Miller aka The Pretty!


"I once gave someone who was going cross-country a clock. I set the time to where I was, so that when I called we would look at the clock and always be together at the exact same time.''

Mooooo! [Sorry but cheese doesnt make a sound]

If someone did give Ms. GD a sack full of diamonds she’d keep a handful for herself (A Sista gotta pay off those student loans and get her house remolded before it falls in on her head ya know) and give the rest to the people in South Africa who actually dig up the diamonds so they can finally give that dastardly, modern day slaver DeBeers the finger and leave the filth and squalor of their shanty towns so they can live a life full of grace and independence! On second thought, DeBeers would probably just import a passel of Mexicans to work the mines. I’m sure that in the eyes of the good overseers at DeBeers their lives are almost as cheap. Right? Happy Un-Valentines Day! – GD

Happy Valentine's Day!!!!!!!!!!!

GalaxyMafia has all the reason in the world to loathe and despise Valentine's Day which, as Lucy Van Pelt once theorized, is nothing more than a marketing gimmick dreamed up by Hallmark and American Greetings and the poor farmers who chose to grow roses instead of coca leaves in South America (RIP Pablo Escobar. . .no matter what atrocities you committed, in the end, you didn't deserve to be treated like a beached whale).

Now, galaxyMafia could tell you why she doesn't like Valentine's day (the sappy, mushy couples clingling on to each other for dear life who clog up all the restaurants and prevent you from having that chicken fried chicken you were craving. . .the lame, insincere pink and red cards spewing tripe about soulmates and loving each other forever. . .galaxyMafia could go on and often does but she will stick in a cork in it for now) but that would be obvious so, on this Valentine's Day, she'll give you two very spectacular reasons to embrace Cupid.






Reasons why Dominic Purcell would make an excellent Valentine this Valentine's
Day. . .

1. He's got a hit TV show. . .which means he can afford to go to Harry Winston instead of Kay Jewelers for that multi-carat diamond tennis bracelet.

2. He's got a giant watermelon head!! I mean, just look at the size of that thing. Ladies, if ya know like I know. . .you should step to this. A large head is good for more things than just photographing very well!

3. He's married. . .now, that one may surprise you but, think of it this way: You ain't gotta worry about the fool falling in love and wanting to hem you up in matrimony. With four crumb-snatchers, he really can't afford to leave his wife.



Reasons why Eddie Cibrian would make an excellent Valentine this Valentine's Day. . .

1. Dimples, dimples and more damn dimples! No matter what you're going through, a dimpled smile can always make it better!!

2. He's got a hit TV show. . .which means he can take you to that island in the Indian Ocean instead of to Jamaica where it's teeming with fat, pale Europeans and where you're more likely to get jacked by some disgruntled, disenfranchised Rasta.

3. He's Cuban. . .which means the fugga's got a little Castro in him. Ladies, in some places (i.e. the bedroom), dictator is not a dirty word!!


Have a great Valentine's Day ladies, and don't let Cupid scam you into thinking you need a man to make you happy. The truth is, to be happy, you need massive amounts of disposable income and the ability to liquify your assets quickly!

Copyright 2005. . .galaxyMafia. . .ain't gonna ever fall in love with a fugga but, she is not opposed to spawning with him!

Well. . .galaxyMafia knows it's been a long time, and she's irrevocably sorry. She just got busy with other projects.

I will be finishing this story up soon, and I thank you guys for reading and for thinking it was a pretty decent distraction.

In the last installment, Wentworth and Gabby were battling it out in the kitchen. . .and that is where we still find them. . .


. . .so here we are both are battling similar demons (not coincidentally)
- taken from "The Couch", written and performed by Alanis Morrisette

Gabrielle breathed deeply, trying to get away from him. . .
But, she was so damn tired. . .
She had to get away from him but, he had her pinned again. . .straddling her. . .he was too heavy. . .
Lightning lit the room. . .
He was staring down at her. . .
In the darkness, she felt him on top of her, his chest pressing against hers. . .he relaxed his grip on her wrists. . .the tips of his fingers trailing over her palms. . .he laced his fingers with hers. . .
She gasped. . .
What the hell was he doing. . .
What the hell was she doing? Why was she just laying there. . .why wasn’t she getting the hell away from him. . .?
“I don’t want to fight any more. . .”
His voice was deep, hypnotic. . .his lips inches away from hers. . .
she kissed him. . .unzipping his pants, slipping her hand –



“Just tell me who hired you. . .”
Wentworth’s mouth was next to her ear. . .she smelled good. . .she smelled. . .
Right. . .he couldn’t explain it. . .the scent of her was exciting and tragic, spicy. . .
It made him think of blood for some reason.
he bent his head, kissing her neck, her collar bone



Gabrielle closed her eyes. . .
as he kissed her
. . .moving her body suggestively beneath the man who only moments before had slammed his fist into her face. . .
she arched against him
. . .the man who before that had tried to kill her. . .
Now was the time to bring her knee up hard against his balls. Instead, she was. . .
What was she doing? Moving under him, rubbing against him like some dumb bitch in heat. . .
He’d lied to her, left her for dead. . .
For some reason, it didn’t seem to matter.



Wentworth hesitated.
Beneath him, she was more aggressive. . .he could hear her breathing, whispery pants, could feel her breasts rising, falling quickly. . .
Did she realize what she was doing? Was this her plan of escape? Getting him so aroused that he couldn’t think straight before she sucker punched him. . .
He was confused, suspended.
What the hell was going on? Was he, or was he not trying to find out about the goddamn diamonds? Wasn’t that why he was here, in this dark, humid, stuffy house.
She moved again, and for an instant, he couldn’t remember why he was there, he didn’t care why he was there. . .
He wanted Gabby, wanted to be inside of her –
Stop it, he told himself. Just calm the fuck down. . .take some deep breaths. . .
It was the heat getting to him, the heat and the darkness. . .the combination was making him crazy, giving him ridiculous, haphazard, illogical thoughts.
He knew he couldn’t make love to Gabby, even though he wanted to. . .
A minute ago, they’d been fighting. . .she’d kicked him in the fucking head!
She’d kicked him in the gut, she’d slapped him, scratched, spit in his face. . .
Then why did he feel as if none of that mattered?


“Let me up. . .” Gabrielle demanded.
“Tell me who hired you. . .”
“Tell me who hired you to stop me?” She asked.
“What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
“I had a key,” Gabrielle told him
“Who gave it to you?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What were you looking for?”
“What makes you think I was looking for something.”
“Don’t fuck around with me. . .did you come here for the diamonds?” Wentworth asked her.
“Did you?” She said, turning the question on him.



Gabrielle relaxed under the length of him.
He was warm. . .almost comforting.
“Do you have the fucking diamonds, or not?” He asked her.
“What if I do?” She gave him a smile he couldn’t see.
“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to give them to me.”
“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to try to take them from me. . .and I don’t think you can manage that.”
“You think I won’t kill you.”
“I don’t think you know how.”
She felt his hands slide around her neck. . .huge and rough.
“I could break your neck. . .” His voice was a caress across her lips.
“Just like I broke your heart. . .”

copyright 2005. . .galaxyMafia. . .promises not to drag this damn story out!!

So there I was, sitting in the bookstore, minding my own damn business and thumbing through Great Britain’s OK! Magazine to see what our tea sipping cousins across the Atlantic are up to when…Holy Smokes and Gee Whiz!...I turned the page and saw my baby daddy staring back at me in all his 9 ½ x 13 glory!

And it happened again Dear Readers; I made “the sound”. You know the one – the half sigh, half orgasmic murmur you make when you see someone so fantasmagorically hot that mere words just won’t do? Yes people turned and stared but I didn’t care! I just sat there staring into his strangely blue-tinted eyes and muttering incomprehensibly to myself. Thank the heavens my cable knit sweater soaked up all the droll because if it hadn’t there would be one very warped, wooden table at Bookstop right now!

Anyway, back to the ad in the magazine…It’s good to see the producers are using the same tactics they used here in the US-saturate the media with photographs of Mr. Miller to get people to watch the show. It appears to be working. I’ve read several reviews and Brit and Aussie audiences seem to be as taken by The Pretty and Prison Break as we Americans are. They’re even comparing it to current ratings powerhouses 24, Lost and Desperate White Women…er, I mean Desperate Housewives as one of the best television shows to come out of the US in years! Go Paul Scheuring! It’s ya birthday!

Sigh and double sigh. March 20th can’t come fast enough… – GD

galaxyMafia proclaims the following:

Ladies, what you always suspected but never wanted to admit out loud for fear of having it actually manifest, overtake you, chew you up and spit you out, is painfully and irrecovably true - all the good-looking, sensitive, kind men who know how to decorate the damn hell out of a room are, indeed, gay.

Nate Berkus, with those gorgeous blue eyes, perfect teeth and that stunning smile, would be galaxyMafia's dream man if only he wasn't looking for a dream man himself.

I suppose it's like the old standard American love song goes. . .

I love you oh so madly
I need your love so badly
But I don't stand a ghost of a chance with you


I thought at last I had found you
but other arms surround you
and I don't stand a ghost of a chance with you















copyright 2005 - galaxyMafia used to think her soul mate was dead. Now, she knows he's just gay.

Damn.

Only a month into the new year and I’m already feeling the urge to zip some lips! Why, Dear Readers, should I have thought things would be any different? I don’t know either…

This week’s list of people whose lips I’d like to permanently zip are:

Hamas - Shut your yap! You won the election now sit down, close your mouths and open your ears! If Jordan and Egypt are telling you to chill the fuck out then maybe you should listen sweethearts? No one said you had to like "The West". I know Bush is an idiot and Blair is his toady but most of the people in the west don’t agree with any of the shit going down in the Middle East and we really do feel for you. No one said you had to like Israel. All they want is for you to recognize their existence and not kill them! And speaking of killing…you simply must guarantee the world that the terroristic style killing will stop. Don’t think that because the people legitimately elected you that you can’t be ousted. If you asked Saddam Hussein I’m sure he would tell you to - Shut Up!

Brokeback Mountain Lovers – Oh but you do go on! I haven’t seen it and I probably won’t see it for at least a couple of years. Why? I don’t like “cowboy” movies no matter how gay they are but more importantly I just can’t stand the hype! We all know that damn movie is going to win the Oscar so can’t we just stop with all the faux speculation? And yes I know that this is the first big budget, Hollywood movie to deal honestly and openly with the subject of gay love not just gay sex…snore…snore…drool…oh shit did I fall asleep? Seriously people, I am so looking forward to the day when “gayness” fails to whip people in to a frenzy. Until that day I would appreciate it if everyone would just – Shut Up!

And January’s special Shut Up And A Smack Across The Face With A Mackerel Award goes to…

Oprah Winfrey – Hush it up girl! I’ve managed to remain ambivalent about Oprah low these last twenty odd years but then she fucked up and decided to keelhaul author James Frey for lying in his “memoir” A Million Little Pieces. She took that shit personally didn’t she? Oprah baby if you’re reading this calm the fuck down! It’s not like he wrote the damn book just for you! He lied to the whole world…like junkies do! Maybe now you’ll stop stamping your seal of approval on all those books, cars, Egyptian cotton sheets, jeans, potato chips and what not? From one passionate Aquarian to another just let it go. The more you grumble the more you look like BooBoo The Fool…not Mr. Frey. Sweetie, you are one of the richest, most admired and recognizable women on the planet, which means there are millions of people just waiting to take you down several billion pegs. I’ve already heard people talking about how your credibility is "ruined”. We both know this is nothing but schadenfreude but that doesn’t mean me have to help them along now does it? Shut Up!

Shut Up! Shut Up! Shut Up!

Want something to really get hyped about? Watch African American Lives on PBS tonight! Don ’t roll your eyes at me! You might learn something and besides, it’s “African American History Month" which means every liberal to moderate American is contractually liable to view any and all specials on the accomplishments of Peoples of African Decent in the United States. And as always, after you watch it tell me what you think! – GD