OH MY GOODNESS! This man gets sexier every time I see him. Funny but I'm craving coffee now...with a whole lot of sweet cream!















Sigh! Will Prison Break ever return?!?!? Sigh! - GD

Hi-de-hi Dear Readers! It certainly has been a long time since I’ve written like this. I’ve been so severely lazy and aimless for the last few months that I just haven’t had the strength to write about the many and varied things swirling around in my mind. Okay so maybe the biggest thing swirling around in my mind has been the hotness of several Polynesian rugby players but really now Ms. GD has other thoughts too! I care about the world in general! No really I do!

Mantra For A New Beginning

Om Vinayakaya Namaha
Om Vee-nah-yah Kah-yah Nah-mah-hah

Vinayaka, the reincarnated energy of Ganesha (Hindu God of intellect and wisdom) is often called upon when a worshiper is starting a new endeavor. Be it the start of a new school semester, a new relationship or even a new year, Ganesha mantras are excellent for opening up the heart and mind to new possibilities thus in turn helping us find the courage and strength we need to be successful.

Mantra from Yoga Journal Magazine - February 2007, page 20.

Ms. GD’s Best Kept Secrets Revealed!

I have a secret, a great, big beautiful secret! In the grand scheme of things this secret might seem rather trivial and I might seem very immature for holding on to it so dearly but to me it’s one of the most awesomeist things to happen to me in my short, uneventful life!

Unfortunately I can’t tell you a damn thing about it. I know, I know! You’re screaming at your computer screen and flipping me the bird right now. How dare you, you fume, set us up like that? Well I would love to tell you, my Beloved Readers, but if I do I’ll totally blow my cover! You see, there is a chance that the um – person – involved in my secret reads this blog and if said “person” does then this person will know that I am me which will completely shatter the carefully constructed alter ego I’ve spent the last two years cultivating! I mean, the whole point of an alter ego is so I can, as Daddy Diva used to say, act a plume seed fart ass, without fear of retribution!

So because I have this incredible secret that I can’t share with you I’ve decided to divulge another juicy and equally embarrassing secret I’ve been hiding for the past several months. Once upon a time, when I’d completely lost my mind over Wentworth Miller (AKA The Pretty) I let galaxyMafia convince me that it would be a good idea to write him a letter. It took me a long while to come around to the idea, after all, fan mail is for pathetic losers and I’m really cool! No seriously! I AM!

So I wrote the stupid letter and here it is in its entirety:

February 4, 2006

Dear Mr. Miller,

I know it’s cliché to begin a letter with “I’ve never done this before…” but in this case it’s true. I’ve never written a celebrity and I feel straight ig’nant doing so. I even contemplated using an assumed name but then I thought that was just plain silly. If I’m going to intentionally embarrass myself by turning into the most dreaded of all creatures – Squealing Fan Girl – then I should at least have the courage of my convictions and use my real name. Right?

I’m writing to you because I am in desperate need of information – about you! Everyone who has had the pleasure of speaking with you always mentions how intelligent and thoughtful you are but somehow they never seem to ask you many intelligent or thoughtful questions.

I’ve noticed a pattern that goes something like this: The interviewer fawns a little and asks you about your current project. The interviewer fawns a little more, asks a few impertinent questions (Like how does it feel to be so gosh darned handsome and are you single…ugh!), and then fawns even more until you look embarrassed or bored. I’ve yet to discern which look is which but I must admit you have the best poker face ever!
So with your indulgence, this simple, unassuming, ingenuous Texas girl who has almost no journalistic credentials would like to ask you a few questions:

Music is very important in my life so for me, finding out what sort of music someone likes is one of the first steps in getting to know them (I’ve enclosed two discs of my favorites). What genres do you love and why? If you had to make a soundtrack for your life thus far what songs would be featured on it and why?

Much has been made of you studying English at university then pursuing acting. On the surface there might seem to be no correlation between acquiring an English degree then flipping that into an acting career but I disagree. To grow as a human being one most constantly seek new challenges. Was the idea of committing yourself to something almost completely out of your original field of study part of the charm? What career would you choose if the entertainment industry was not an option and why?

I heard a clip of you singing and you have a lovely voice! Have you ever considered musical theater? What character or characters from a classic Broadway show would you like to play and why?

Many multiethnic actors have been featured on the covers of black publications (Halle Berry, Terrence Howard, and Mariah Carey to name only three) and in other black oriented media but I’ve yet to see you on the cover of Ebony or listed as one of the “Hottest Bachelors” in Essence Magazine for example. Do you feel you’re being ignored by the African American community and if so, why?

In your senior thesis you wrote about gender identity in a white male, patriarchal society. Why did you choose to explore the works cited in your thesis as opposed to say “Madame Bovary”, “The Awakening” or even “The Bluest Eye”?

Are you aware that there is an online church dedicated to the fabulousness that is you? It’s called The First Church Of Wentworth Miller (www.fcowm.com) and it is very interesting to say the least. So much lust concentrated in one place is exceptional! What do you think of this sort of unfettered devotion?

Have you considered dating Gabrielle Union? She’s single now. [Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.]

And finally, one fan girl question – Is Dominic Purcell as magnificent in person as he appears to be on television! [Insert fan girl squeal here]

I understand if your schedule is too demanding to write back right away so if calling me is easier my number is 713-555-5555. Have a wonderful day and enjoy your time off!

Cordially,
Me

So did Mr. Miller reply? HELL TO THE NO! But I did receive a lovely autographed picture, which until now has been safely crumpled up in the trunk of my car under my dirty sneakers, laundry detergent and empty Diet Dr. Pepper bottles!



Don’t you want me baby? Don’t you want me…Oooooooooohhhhhh!

So last Sunday was Mama Diva’s birthday and I decided to make her a special birthday dinner. I sojourned to my local Whole Foods to pick up the ingredients and got a little more than I bargained for.

I’d done most of my shopping when I passed by the flower shop. While I was trying to decide if I’d buy Mama Diva a bouquet, the young lady behind the counter asked me if I needed some assistance. At first I said, not even looking up, that I was just looking. But then a particularly pretty bunch caught my eye and I decided to get them. When I looked up I say the prettiest young woman I’d seen in a long…LONG…time! As I recall this story I wonder if my eyes popped out of my head when I say her because, I kid you not Dear Readers, she was just that pretty! How pretty you ask? Well allowing for individual taste I’d say she was a solid 9 out of 10! She was a bit taller than me, about 5 feet, 6 inches, slim but not skinny, dark brown skin, huge brown eyes, and lots of natural hair. I can’t remember if her hair was twisted, dreaded or just curly [I couldn’t stop staring at her face!] but it was black and really strong and healthy looking and I like that! Oh and she had beautiful white teeth too!

Anyway, she asked me what flowers I wanted and I pointed to a few eclectic looking bunches, asking about the prices. She told me the prices then out of the blue said, You smell good. Is that you or your hair?. So I just smiled and said that it was probably my hair because I’d just washed it. So we’re just sort of standing there smiling at each other (I thought we looked more than a little like idiots) so I indicate that I’d made up my mind about a particular bunch. Then, and this is the kicker Dear readers, she leans in and literally sniffs me! In the most obvious way imaginable! Like we were Pumas! And then she made that “mmmmmmmm” sound and sort of narrowed her eyes a little bit! And did I mention she was leaned in close as well as standing on her toes?!?

Needless to say I was taken aback! Oh what to do, what to damn do! Well I did the only thing I could do in this situation; I ignored it. Or at least pretended to ignore it because really, how could I ignore such an obvious mating ritual? So we settled on two interesting mixes of flowers and she asked me to give her ten minutes while she put the two together. After that I walked around the store trying to comprehend what had just happened. Was she coming on to me? Was she just being friendly? Had my self-imposed relationship exile made me insane and led me to hallucinate the whole scene? And why did I have such an unwelcome, fluttery feeling in my belly?

After about five minutes I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to get home and cook and put this exciting but somewhat nightmarish incident to bed! When I got back to the flower shop she was just finishing my bouquet so I silently thanked God for that. She very sweetly informed me that she’d added four roses and I tried not to take it personally because I had, after all, told her that the flowers were for my mother and not me. While she was wrapping the bouquet I noticed her nametag. You will never guess her name so I’ll just tell you – Sunshine! Damn. She couldn’t have had a more perfect name. And as you can imagine, I thanked her kindly and ran like the freakin’ wind!

So did I totally miss the boat? Was she really even hitting on me? I can never tell when women are hitting on me. It’s so much easier with men because they drool and pant and use bad double entendres and grab you with their filthy, greasy paws! Women are much more subtle and sinister. Ah well, it’s not like I’m going to go back and see her on the pretext of buying more flowers! No Ms. GD has made a vow of no more dating – dating of any kind – and I will stand by that vow. Besides, women are crazy! If something did jump off I’d only find myself clavicle deep in Lesbian Drama and I been there, done that, bought the T-Shirt! But still I can’t help but wonder…

California Randomness On Such A Winter’s Day

Well my Christmas trip to Cali is dunzo but the magical memories live on! Families and Holidays are not two great tastes that taste great together but we continue to put them together because…we like being tortured? Actually I’m exaggerating a bit because I always enjoy myself when I visit Brother Diva and Sister-in-law Diva. But Sister-in-law Diva’s family mixed with Mama Diva is another story all together…

Over The Hills and Through the Tunnel To The City of Angels We Go

As I’ve written before my brother lives in Northern Cali and has done so almost half (if not more) of his life. Unfortunately, the rigors of work and raising a family haven’t given him much of a chance to explore Los Angeles. As luck would have it he was off from work until the first of the year so he was able to ride with me, Mama Diva and Niece and Nephew Diva, to LA for an adventure. We had originally wanted to find an activity that all of us could enjoy but the kids are teenagers so the only thing they could think to do was walk around Universal Studios. Mama Diva likes to get her party on but walking around all day ain’t gonna cut it with her arthritis so we decided to just make the drive to LA and try to decide on something when we got there.

We took the scenic route, The Pacific Coast Highway, and of course I was driving. Let me just say that I do not like driving PCH. I don’t like driving in LA period but PCH has way too many S-Curves, like one right after the other, with steep hills one right after the other and mountains looming on either side of you and Houston is as flat as a pancake and I am just not used to that shizz! But yet and still I am constantly made to drive and suffer through the craziness that is the Cali driver! It must be the year-round warm weather because it is constantly vehicle mating season in that town! All the tailgating always astounds me! And if you want to get over you have to barge in, thus completely stopping traffic, to signal to the driver in the next lane that you intend to get over! I could go on and on Dear Readers but I think you get the picture. Anyway, we decided to go to Bergamot Station but we got lost because I wasn’t familiar with the way we drove in (I usually take the 101) but we eventually found it and we walked around there a bit. The kids were bored out of their minds, especially Niece Diva. I swear the look on her face was pure Abu Ghraib!

We wanted to go to one of our favorite restaurants, Campanile , but we weren’t dressed appropriately so we decided on Pink’s because it was a place neither of us had ever been. If you’re ever in LA you must stop at Pink’s because it is truly fabulous! Sure you’ll gain 10 pounds by just being in the place but it will be the best 10 pounds you ever gained! And when you’re having that heart attack because of your clogged arteries you’ll lovingly lick the chili from your lips as you slip peacefully into the great beyond with the taste of that chili cheese dog still lingering on your tongue! While driving there I noticed the LA County Museum was having a René Magritte exhibit. Oh happy day! Magritte is one of my favorite surrealist painters and I made a mental note to head back to the LACMA (Brother Diva in tow) to see the exhibit. After stuffing our faces we headed back home, overfed and happy…well at least the adults were happy. The youngins were just so happy to be liberated from Bergen-Belsen that they fairly leapt from the car when I pulled into the driveway!

The next day it was decided that Mama Diva would spend the day with Sister-in-law Diva, which would give Bro and I some time to bond. The plan was to head back to LA, check out the LACMA and make it to Campanile for dinner. I was really excited about this because he’d never been to the LACMA and he’d never seen a Magritte up close. It was such a treat to see this museum, which I’d been to many times before, through his eyes! He got to be very adult and talk about art and how that art made him feel. And he’d never seen a Picasso in person so I was there to share that experience with him too, which made me very happy! At dinner it was more of the same, talking about wines and cheeses and all that fancy shmancy shizz long married people with kids rarely get a chance to do. I got to hear all about his job, family and his opinions on life in general; the good and the bad, and he got a chance to vent. Fun times ya’ll!

The Children’s Christmas Program of Doom, The Cake That Would Not Be Baked and Other Tales Of Horror

Our objective was to bake one German Chocolate cake (Bro’s favorite, from scratch) for Brother Diva’s birthday. We thought we had it all figured out but we were far too smug in our cake baking abilities. Also, we underestimated the power of Sister-in-law Diva’s mother. The diabolical one who shall henceforth be called Madame X!

The plan was this: Wake up Sunday morning and leave the house by 8:30am so as to make it to the children’s Christmas program by 9am. Mama Diva would stay for the rest of the church service while I left to start baking. By the time she got back the cake would be cooled so she could make the coconut and pecan icing, ice the cake, and serve it to my brother and the rest of the family while we sang happy birthday. Sounds simple right? Well this is what actually happened:

Mama Diva and I offered to take Madame X to church Sunday morning (She’s elderly and doesn’t drive) so Sister-in-law Diva could concentrate on getting the kids and herself to church as the kids were “on program” as the old folks say. At 8:30am Mama Diva and I were ready but Madame X was still in her housecoat, cooking dinner! At about 8:45am she informed us that she wasn’t going to the Christmas program…at 8:45am! Now the church isn’t very far away but we don’t like rushing so we were understandably pissed! Mama Diva was REALLY pissed ‘cause that’s just how she is but she kept yappin’ about it all the way to church, which didn’t help matters!

As usual, all the children did an excellent job. Especially the little ones with their Christmas speeches – it was cuteness wrapped in sweetness nestled inside adorable ya’ll! So at 10am I hightailed it out of there and headed back to Madame X’s house. What should I find when I opened the door? Madame X’s other daughter baking up a storm and using the ingredients I’d sat out! Now it was my turn to be REALLY pissed! You see, we’d told Madame X that we’d planned to bake the cake and that I was coming home after the 9am service to do the baking. At no time did she mention her daughter would be starting her own bakery from her mother’s kitchen! After some deep breaths and a few bars of Om Shanti Shanti, I called Brother Diva, waking from a deep sleep of course, and asked him if I could come over to his house, changed my clothes, took what was left of my ingredients and made like the proverbial banana and split!

As you can imagine, I was spewing volcanic ash when I got to my brother’s house. I told him all about the last minute change in church plans and the miscommunication with Madame X and his sister-in-law. The conversation was as follows:

Him: So did you cuss her (his sister-in-law) out? [Grinning like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth]
Me: What? No! But I wanted too! I just figured she isn’t a blood relation so she’d have less incentive to keep talking to me if I pissed her off…
Him: [laughs]
Me: Seriously, I don’t understand these people sometimes! I told Madame X I’d be baking you a damn birthday cake! Why didn’t she tell me what was going on?
Him: Now you understand what I’ve been going through for the last 18 years…

Once I’d settled down, borrowed spare ingredients from Brother Diva and set everything up, I noticed I’d forgotten one ingredient so I had to go back to the House of Bakery Horror and get it. After I got back I discovered that Mama Diva, in her infinite wisdom, had placed the recipe in her purse! Not to worry, your intrepid baker went online and retrieved it. But wait! Brother Diva’s hand mixer is busted (Natch) so off he goes to buy another one! While he’s gone I make myself busy with egg separating, pecan pulverizing and playing with my brother’s beautiful doggie Naima the Basenji .

Now remember, I’d left Madame X’s house about 10:30am. It was after 1pm and I hadn’t even started that damn cake! By then Mama Diva had finally made it back from church – Yes that’s right, she’d been sitting in church for almost FOUR freakin’ hours – and she was not pleased to say the least! A typical church service for us lasts 1 hour, 2 hours tops for Christmas and Easter services! So I went back to Satan’s Sweet Shoppe and picked her and the cake recipe up and drove back to my brother’s house to start the cake. The two of us baked the hell out of that cake and it was fun watching my brother turn into a little boy, licking the beaters and the bowl! We even sang happy birthday to him as he blew out his candle. And that candle! My mother found an “Over the Hill” candle shaped like a tombstone that played the Death March. A barrel of laughs is my sweet mother!

After the mini-celebration we headed back to Madame X’s Torte Torture Chamber for we had been summoned, under penalty of extreme annoyance, to come and partake of the meal she had so fiendishly prepared! The night passed peacefully enough but Christmas morning brought with it fresh horror! [Insert evil laugh]

So it’s Christmas morning and we’re all chillin’. Madame X is banging around in the kitchen and Mama Diva and me are doing our own thing. The phone rings and it’s Sister-in-law Diva, she wants me and the mother to come over for dinner. We both think this a little odd because that would mean we’d have two Christmas dinners but we didn’t complain. We just packed up the pressies and headed out to the brother’s house. Dinner was really nice and the five of us (the Niece was getting her hair did at Madame X’s house. Don’t ask!) had a grand old time. I even took Naima out for a walk around the neighborhood. We met one of the neighbors; the conversation was as follows:

Me:[to Naima] Say hello!
Neighbor: Hello!
Me:Wow! I was talking to the dog but you are very obedient!

So after the walk we all headed back to Madame X’s house (except for Little Miss Naima) for Christmas Part 2. Me and the mother headed to our rooms to pack and get ready for bed because we had an extra early flight the next morning. While I was chatting to galaxyMafia on the phone my brother walked in and informed me that I needed to move my belongings to my mother’s room. I said ok and continued to gab. About two minutes later Mama Diva flung open the door and told me to move my ass so I hung up the phone and got to steppin’! Apparently Madame X had invited a relative to stay the night and my mother thought it was silly to have two old ladies sleep in the same bed when the two us were leaving so early in the morning. Well Madame X didn’t want me to move but Mama Diva insisted so we changed the sheets and I moved all my shizz into the spare room.

After all the un-Christmas like exertion I really was exhausted and decided to turn in. While I was dozing off I heard Mama Diva yelling and soon after she came busting into the room we now shared. As you can imagine I was concerned so I asked her what all the hollin’ was all about. She said she’d tried to explain to Madame X that is made no sense to have two people in a bed when we were leaving in the morning but Madame X wouldn’t listen and blah…blah…blobity BLAH! I tried to calm her down by explaining that Madame X never listens to anyone, even her own children, but Mama Diva wasn’t hearing it! So then I tried to explain that yelling at your son’s mother-in-law in front of the in-laws and the grandchildren, probably wasn’t the best way to foster goodwill between the families. Besides, we were heading home and Brother Diva had to stay there and live with the repercussions of that shizz!

Logic and reason prevailed (but just barely) and Mama Diva apologized to the in-laws, the grandchildren and her son. And I was finally able to get the hell to sleep seeing as how I was going to have to drive our asses to LAX in the morning! The flight back was packed and there were the usual annoyances like crying babies, inconsiderate passengers and tight seating but we made it back in one piece. THE END…Or is it? [Insert evil laugh]

And one last thought…

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler. – Henry David Thoreau

Well Dear Readers, I’ve blown my expository wad! Was it as good for you as it was for me? I know this post was long, rambling and pointless but at least you have the satisfaction of knowing your life isn’t as pathetic as mine. And really, isn’t that what blogging is all about? – GD

ALL BLACKS: THE MUSICAL

Starring
Glamour Diva
GalaxyMafia

Wentworth Miller
Adam Rodriguez
Gabrielle Union

and

The All Blacks


ACT ONE
Scene One

In a 20,000 sq.ft. mansion in Bel Air, CA, best-selling author Glamour Diva and Wentworth Miller, star of “Prison Break” argue about their relationship. GD and Wentworth have been together for a year, and GD has only recently discovered that her boyfriend has been cheating on her with Gabrielle Union.

GLAMOUR DIVA
“Caught out there” by Kelis

Last year - Valentine's Day
You would just warmly say
“Babe I love you, love you. . .babe I swear”
Held you when you were sick
Heavin...
The whole time I think to myself, this isn't fair

WENTWORTH MILLER
“My Way” by Limp Bizkit

Special
You think you're special
You do I can see it in your eyes
I can see it when you laugh at me
Look down on me
You walk around on me
Just one more fight
About your leadership
And I will straight up
Leave your shit
Cause I've had enough of this
And now I'm pissed

GLAMOUR DIVA

What is this I see (No)
You don’t come home to me (Oh, no)
When you don’t come home to me (Man)
Can’t deal, can’t bear
You keep tellin’ me lies
But to your surprise
Look, I found her red coat
And you’re. . .bitch
Caught out there

WENTWORTH MILLER
Just one more fight
About a lot of things
And I will give up everything
To be on my own again
Free again

GLAMOUR DIVA

So sick of your games, I’ll set your ass in flames
And watch it blow up, blow up, tell me:
How you gonna see Gabby now
So far from sincere, fabrications in my ear
Drive me so far up the wall, I come slidin’ down
What is this I see (I don't believe this)
You don’t come home to me
When you don’t come home to me
I can’t deal, can’t bear (I won't)
You keep tellin’ me lies
But to your surprise
Look, I hope you're happy
Since you're
Caught out there

WENTWORTH

Just one more fight
And I'll be history
Yes I will straight up
Leave your shit
And you'll be the one who's left
Missing me

GLAMOUR DIVA
I hate you so much right now
I hate you so much right now
Aaaaah
I hate you so much right now
I hate you so much right now
I hate you so much right now
Aaaaah

[Disgusted by what he views as GD’s pedantic behavior, WENTWORTH leaves the house]

ACT ONE
Scene Two

Across town, galaxyMafia is arguing with current flame, CSI:Miami star, Adam Rodriguez. GM has just learned that Adam has been carrying on an affair with Gabrielle Union, who was one of GM’s good friends. At least she was until the bitch pulled a Denise Richards.

GALAXY MAFIA
“Fine” by Whitney Houston

All those sweet (sweet) sweet kisses (yeah)
And those sweet (sweet) red roses (yeah)
They convinced me it was youI made you (you) exclusive (yeah)
Now it's so (now it’s conclusive that) conclusive
That you wasn’t doing it too.

ADAM RODRIGUEZ
[gives GM his trademark sexy, crooked smile]

GALAXYMAFIA
If you’d told me from the start that you’re playing around
It would have been fine…
Then I would have played too and I guess I would have had a good time.

If you’d told me from the start that you’re playing around
It would have been fine…
Then I would have played too and I guess I would have had a good time.
Something didn’t feel right, and I wish I knew itI just could not see your games
I got respect for you, and you put me through it
Why would you bring me so much pain.

ADAM RODRIGUEZ
“Ain’t No Fun” by Snoop Dogg

I had respect for you lady
But now I take it all back
Cuz you gave me all yo pu$$y
And you even licked my balls

GALAXY MAFIA
I hate you so much right now!!
I hate you so much right now!!

[Enraged by ADAM’s flippant, unrepentant attitude, galaxyMafia leaves the apartment]

ACT ONE
Scene Three

THE GREEK CHORUS OF ONE: MISS SAKAMOTO
“Love TKO” by Teddy Pendergrass

I think they better let it go
Looks like another love T.K.O.


ACT ONE
Scene Four

A month passes. Both GLAMOURDIVA and GALAXYMAFIA are both heartbroken and disappointed by their failed relationships. Even though the ladies have plenty to keep them busy with work, writing, personal appearances and (in GD’s case at least) sleeping, they still lament their respective lost loves.

One day, GLAMOUR DIVA comes across an old photo of her and WENTWORTH during happier times. At the same time, GALAXYMAFIA finds a love letter ADAM wrote to her.

Though in separate locations, the ladies both sing the same song.

GLAMOUR DIVA/GALAXYMAFIA
“Stronger than pride” by Sade

I won’t pretend that I intend to stop living
I won’t pretend, I’m good at forgiving
Oh, I can’t hate you
Though I have tried
I still really, really love you
Love is stronger than pride


ACT ONE
Scene Five

One month later, GLAMOUR DIVA is trying to pick up the pieces of her broken heart when she receives a message on her cell phone from MA’A NONU, a New Zealand rugby star who plays for the All Blacks. GD had met MA’A several months ago when she traveled to Auckland as a special guest of the ambassador to help recruit more African-Americans to the country. Upon meeting the tasty young player, GD had to restrain herself from smackin’ her lips. . .after all, everyone knows black people luvs eatin’ chicken and MA’A was a juicy, tender chicken but, GD was, at the time, totally committed to making things worth with beau, WENTWORTH MILLER. She and MA’A had secretly exchanged numbers, and MA’A had wanted her to do an “international booty call”, even going so far as sending plane tickets via overnight mail so she could join him in Kiwi-land. GD was tempted but wanted to concentrate on one man at a time.

However, with WENTWORTH seemingly out of the picture, GD found herself listening more attentively to the message MA’A left.

MA’A NONU
“Lonely Girl” by Jon B

He started out takin' you out
Doin' what any man would do
Sayin' any and everything to just get wit you
I can't say I blame him for a girl as fine as you
So he played you out, ain't no doubt
He was runnin' game on you
After all the fun he was through with you
Any way that it goes down girl, he's the one that's gonna lose

Don't cry lonely girl
If you need somebody girl
I know you feel deserted
And you can't find your way back home

I will show you girl
The way that love should feel
You ain't suppose to be hurtin'
And you don't have to be alone

Later that night, GD called GM and asked her advice

GD
Do you think I should visit Ma’a in NZ?

GM
Why not? What’s keeping you here? Certainly not that dumbfuck zebra Wentworth.

GD
Yeah but. . .Ma’a is very young.

GM
The younger they are, the juicier they are! I think it’s just what you need right now, some tender, succulent, hot chicken!

GD
I don’t know. . .I’m still so upset about what happened with Wentworth.

GM
I know. . .and I’m upset about what happened with Adam but. . .

GD
Maybe you ought to come too. You could hook up with that guy you met in that bar the last time we were down there.

GM
Who? That drunk island nigga that didn’t know how to hold his liquor? The one who was fighting?

GD
You know you like ‘em rough neck...

GM
Yeah. . .that’s true. He may be crazy as hell but he’s tall and fine and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

GD
Okay. . .so, we’re going to NZ for tender, young chickens.

GM
I’ll ask Miss Sakamoto to make the arrangements.


THE GREEK CHORUS OF ONE: MISS SAKAMOTO
“Maneater” by Hall and Oates

Oh, oh here they come
Watch out boys, they’ll chew you up
Oh, oh here they come
They some maneaters
Watch out boys, watch out boys!


copyright 2006. . .galaxyMafia

Oh my Dear Readers, it’s a sad thing when there are no naked boys to be found on the web! I searched and I searched and I just couldn’t find any good enough to be featured on this here blog (You know we gots standards galdarnit!). But don’t you fret and don’t cry Dear Readers, Ms. GD will leave no stone unturned and no clip unscreened until she finds the Holy Grail of all naked boy videos – Wentworth Miller, naked, licking chocolate syrup off his own nipples! HA! WOOOOOHOOOOOO! No? Okay…watch these fab 80’s pop hits instead…

Spandau Ballet – True


The Proclaimers – I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)


Tom Jones and Art of Noise – Kiss


Rick Astley – Never Gonna Give You Up


Winger – Seventeen


David Bowie – Ashes to Ashes


The Clash – Rock the Casbah


I'll have some naked boys for you next week…hopefully. The boys just don’t seem too keen on getting naked these days. Must be cuz it’s getting cooler outside. Damn you Fall! – GD

Back in the day.

Considering the types of menfolk that galaxyMafia used to like, it does seem odd that she thinks nothing of old Wentworth "Stinky" Miller. Funny how time flies when your tastes are changing.

This bloke (above) is John Beaudion. Oh, how galaxyMafia was in love with him!! When she first say him, walking down the hall at Nimitz High School when she was in the 11th grade, it was like the Heavens opened and an angelic chorus breathed, "AHHHHHHHHH. . ."
GalaxyMafia lost her marbles for this fool. Between the love notes on lavender stationey and the pastel colored M&Ms for Easter, she also found herself in the middle of a plot only de Bergerac would appreciate. You see, galaxyMafia was too shy to talk to this guy but she had one thing going for her - a hefty allowance and greedy friends who lived in the ghetto. With one twenty dollar bill, galaxyMafia was able to get said friend to do all of her dirty work (i.e., delivering the notes and the M&Ms, asking questions). As it turned out, said friend and John became good friends and GM was left with the realization that not only do M&Ms melt in your hand but the peanut ones make your breath stink.





This here chap is Hector Rosado. galaxyMafia fell hard for him to. It wasn't easy getting this cholo to notice her. She had to do some intrepid detective work. She first saw this guy walking in the mall. Smitten, and knowing that she'd seen him before, she put unseemly demands on her brain and memory and realized that they'd gone to high school together. Consulting her trust year book (the same one she gnawed her picture out of in one of her furious low self-esteem moments), she came up with his name. Using the phone book, she found his number. And once again, manipulating one of her friends into calling him for her, she made contact. This was the first Cro-Magnon she ever kissed. She almost had sex with him but her vagina was too tight and he couldn't get it in. No worries, though. 'Twas a good thing the hymen held up - this bloke only wanted her for sex. Imagine that!




And the worst is saved for last. Habib Salley. Boy did galaxyMafia like this masher. And what for? What did he ever do for her except. . .use her for her intelligence (she helped him with his tests and exams) and her transportation (he didn't have a car and she shuttled him around)? For his birthday, she bought him a card and some candy. He never came to thank her until he was prompted by some dean's secretary who felt sorry for her. Her repeatedly ignored her. And when she called him to wish him well when the school semester was over, he asked her if she'd help him study for yet another test.


Well, thank God galaxyMafia is out of that phase. Although, it's quite amusing. If galaxyMafia were still in the 11th grade, she'd be head-over-heels for Mr. Miller. Thank the Lord Jesus that was years ago!!!!

copyright 2006. . .galaxyMafia. . .is currently getting a dopamine high from Adam Rodriguez. For now, at least. She fully expects her chemicals to return to proper levels around the 8th episode of "CSI-Miami".

I can’t sleep. And when I can’t sleep I get silly. And when I get silly I do shit like the following:




Ah He He He…Haaaa! Ha Ha Ha..Hee..He! Ah…mmmmm. Well. Call me Went! – GD


Cute pics of WM and “date” found here

2 Comments

Academy Award winner Morgan Freeman and Golden Globe Nominee Wentworth Miller star in a remake of the 1959 Lana Turner classic (itself a remake), “Imitation of Life”.

Why this movie should be remade starring these two lug nuts?

Because Freeman lends poise, confidence and assurance to every character he plays – that is, the non-threatening Negro white audiences marvel at and long to root for.

Because Wentworth Miller fans need something, anything to finally convince them that he’s a zebra, and Miller needs another role in which he can exercise his ethnicity (and no, “The Human Stain”, hot, steaming mess that it was, doesn’t count).

Because Freeman would be terrific as the gentle, wise personal driver who befriends his boss (Tom Hanks as the CEO of a Fortune 500 conglomerate), sharing anecdotes, vinaigrettes and snapshots of the challenges they both face raising high-maintenance, recalcitrant sons.

Because Miller would be delicious as the zebra trying to pass for white at said Fortune 500 conglomerate, much to the resignation of Freeman and the disappointment of Hanks.

And finally, because Wentworth Miller running down the street behind the casket carrying a dead Freeman screaming, “DADDY!! DADDY!!” (while Mariah Carey sings the Mahalia Jackson classic, “Troubles of the World”) would be too damn perfect!!

2006 galaxyMafia. . .hopes that Wentworth Miller will have a lovely and anticipatory time here in the great soverign nation of Texas. Yee haw, y'all!!!

Oh my…I really cannot stand this anymore! I honestly cannot accept the fact that Prison Break is over! This has been the most horrendously boring Monday night of my life! No tense drama…no nail biting cliffhangers…no national conspiracies…no hot ass men…just no damn fun! Good googa mooga I need a date! Oops, did I type that out loud?

And speaking of conspiracies…my favorite little conspiracy theorist, galaxyMafia, is out gallivanting…that’s right I said GALLIVANTING…in Hawaii as we speak! So now I don’t have anyone to bitch, moan and kvetch to about the serious lack of Wentworth Miller (aka The Pretty) in my life. As Florida Evans would say, damn, damn, DAMN! Anyway, on to the randomness…

But first:

Hot Man Break


Glamour Diva’s Adventures In Waxing

I’d resisted the urge for far too long Dear Readers so last Saturday I decided I would get my legs waxed. How did I come to this conclusion? Well a few weeks ago I was taking a shower and just happened to look down and there I beheld the forest that was my leg hair. Now I usually shave or use a depilatory but something inside me kept screaming GET IN WAXED! So that’s what I did.

The next day I called Sanctuary Spa and made an appointment. I’d been there several times before but only for massages and facials so I was still pretty nervous. My technician’s name was Linda and she soon put me at ease after she told me she’d been doing this for twenty-five years. The waxing was painful but not in scream your head of sort of way. I must say Dear Readers that I am mightily pleased with the results. For the rest of the day I had to fight the urge to walk up to complete strangers and demand they caress my smooth, smooth legs!

Let us all pray that the rumors are true and that Wentworth Miller and the rest of the Prison Break cast and crew really will be in Texas come June! Hey M8, you think I could get him to run those baby soft hands up and down my hairless legs? We shall see…

Hot Man Break


Not Putting All My Eggs In Someone Else’s Basket

My goodness but life is truly a crapshoot isn’t it? Or maybe it’s just my life? Case in point: Last Wednesday Mama Diva left a very interesting message on my cell. In this message she informed me that women are now selling their eggs to infertile couples for big bucks! She went on to say; will wonders ever cease, those magnificent men in their flying machines, great Ceasar’s ghost and Egads!

Now I don’t normally loose my freakin’ mind when I listen to one of my Mother’s breathless messages about the latest new and exciting technological advances but this one really got to me. Not because I have anything against harvesting eggs for baby starved people, no I’m all for it I mean more power to the people who want to breed I always say. Ya know Ms. GD love tha kids! I think what really got to me is that Mama Diva thought harvesting my eggs was something that I’d really do. Me. Glamour Diva. I don’t care how much money I was offered I would never part with my eggs! And yes I know I’m just frittering them away once every month and that I have absolutely no plans to use any of them and they could be bring new baby petite Glamour Divas into the world but ze eggs, they are mine! Now when I’m dead there are several people who will benefit because I’m an organ donor but I will never…NEVER…ass up off the eggs!

So after I stewed in my own juices for a few days (or should I say “poached” in my own juices?) I calmed myself down and had a nice long think about why I am so violently against selling my eggs. I can scratch off any moral or ethical considerations because I don’t find anything morally or ethically wrong with making people happy. So what could it be? Does the thought of having some anonymous person with half my genetic code running about loose in the world freak me out? Well yes, sort of. Am I secretly holding out hope that I’ll meet a decent, intelligent man with good table manners? Well…yeah. Am I in denial about wanting to hold my own precious Mini Diva (or Divo) in my arms and cuddle her and feed her and play with her and watch her grow into a responsible and honorable human being? Maybe.

But the fact remains that I have no kids and no prospects of ever having any. The only thing I have is hope and I think that’s worth much more than anyone could ever pay me.

Hot Man Break


Where Do You Fall In The Curve?

No one's gonna tell me what's wrong or what's right/Or tell me who to eat with sleep with/Or that I've won the big fight big fight – “Goody Two Shoes”, Adam Ant

A while back I was checking out Totty Land and I ran across the cool website called Breakout Youth Project . It’s a UK group dedicated to helping Gay and Lesbian youth. The site offers plenty of advice and resources but the part I like best are the quizzes. I took the Klein Sexual Orientation quiz. And here are my results:

Klein Sexual Orientation Grid

I scored an average of 2.43

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

Heterosexual

Bisexual

Homosexual

Meaning

This result can also be related to the Kinsey Scale:

0 = exclusively heterosexual
1 = predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual
2 = predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual
3 = equally heterosexual and homosexual
4 = predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual
5 = predominantly homosexual, incidentally heterosexual
6 = exclusively homosexual

Summary

The idea of this exercise is to understand exactly how dynamic a person's sexual orientation can be, as well as how fluid it can be over a person's lifespan. While a person's number of actual homo/heterosexual encounters may be easy to categorize, their actual orientation may be completely different. Simple labels like "homosexual", "heterosexual", and "bisexual" need not be the only three options available to us.

Take the quiz

Interesting huh? Actually, I thought I would have been more bisexual but that’s another post all together…

Hot Man Break


Well I’m off to watch a Bollywood movie. I rented three of them Friday so that’s about nine hours of all singing, all dancing, yummy schmaltz for me to drown my sorrows in. I think by the time Prison Break does return I will be fluent in Hindu and Urdu. I wonder what languages, if any, Wentworth Miller speaks? Hmmmm…

And one last time before I go:

Hot Man Break


Easter picture borrowed from here – GD

Ever wonder what Wentworth and Dominic talk about in
between gettin' gussied up and lookin purty while gettin' their picture made?

Well. . .wonder no more. At a recent photo shoot (see photo at left), a plucky, intrepid photographer's assistant heard the following exchange between the two delictable dishes.

Dominic Purcell: "You heard?"
Wentworth Miller: "Heard what?"
DP: "They shut down the First Church of Wentworth Miller at Television Without Pity."
WM: "Finally. Goddamn! Them bitches was tryna put a choke hold on a n*gga!"
DP: "You know yo punk ass liked them hos brown nosin' you."
WM: (after a contemplate pause, rather wistful) "It did have its moments."

Goodnight and good luck to all the ladies of the (now defunct) First Church of Wentworth Miller!! MWAH!!!!!!!!!

copyright 2006 - galaxyMafia. . .

"Can you keep up?
Hit me hard, make me lose my breath"
- Lose My Breath, Destiny's Child

. . .In this installment, Glamour Diva finds that she has a competing admirer for her fickle affections. . .

“Adewhat?” GD stared at Miss Sakamoto, incredulous.

“Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. . .you know, Mr. Echo. . .” Miss Sakamoto clarified, fingers flying over her laptop.

“Mr. Echo. . .?” GD said, trying to ignore the delicious tremor that passed through her abdomen as she continued to pretend she had no idea who the hell Miss Sakamoto was talking about.

The truth was. . .she knew more about Adewale than she was saying.

She remembered him from the ground-breaking prison drama, “Oz”, remembered once scene in particular. . .Adawale walking off to the showers. . .even now, in the quiet confines of the Rolls Phantom, she could see his fine, hot black ass.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

Wait. . .wasn’t that galaxyMafia’s line?

Anyway, Adawale was a big, scrumptious hunk of dark chocolate, and GD was very much interested in tasting a sample. But, that was something Miss Sakamoto did not need to know.

“You know, the guy from “Lost”. . .the show that J.J. Abrams created.”

GD tsked disdainfully. “I haven’t watched Abrams since he dumped Keri Russell for that ho Jennifer Garner.”

Miss Sakamoto gave GD a skeptical look. “Now you sound like galaxyMafia. I’ve never known you to bash Jenny G.”

“Hmmm. . .well, there are those who think we’re one in the same,” GD mused. “But, matters all that. “What did this. . .Adawale have to say?”

“Girl, I know you ain’t tryna act like you don’t know who he is,” Miss Sakamoto said, in an effort to practice being ghetto. “That man is fine. I thought you knew.”

“Please,” GD said, holding up her hand. “If I want ghetto, I’ll call Wentworth Miller.”

“Are you going to call him?”

“Depends,” GD said, deliberately cagey.

“On what. . .?” Miss Sakamoto said with a sigh, knowing that in order to keep her job, she had to play along.

“On what Adawale had to say.”

“He left a message,” Miss Sakamoto said. “Listen for yourself.”

Reluctantly, GD pushed a few buttons on the cell phone then listened to the message.

“Hello, Glamour Diva, this is Adawale,” came the British accent, as smooth and polished as a brand new Jaguar right off the damn showroom floor! “I know that we have never met but I hope that you will forgive me for that oversight. I saw you in London last month at Richard Branson’s place in Belgravia but I wasn’t able to talk to you. That was my mistake and since I make it a point to never make the same mistake twice, I do hope that you’ll do me the honor of having dinner with me. My assistant will make all of the arrangements. I do hope your response will be affirmative.”

The message ended and GD leaned back against the leather seat, conflicted.

On the one hand, she was glad that Adawale didn’t have that Cockney slur so common in East Enders. As a grammar Nazi, she could definitely appreciate a man who knew how to manage a compound complex sentence, a man who didn’t drop the endings from words.

And yet, as excited as she was about the prospect of dinner with dark chocolate, she nevertheless found that he didn’t hold much glamour for her. It wasn’t so much that he was boring as it was that she didn’t know if she found him interesting enough.

Sure, it would be nice to see the man naked but, from the sound of his message, she didn’t think he was interested in standing in the raw while she examined and scrutinized his every pore and orifice.

Oh, if wishes were horses!!

And then there was Wentworth Miller to consider although why she would still be considering hooking up with him after that trifling-ass message he’d left she honestly did not know.

What to damn do?

“So. . .?” Miss Sakamoto prompted.

“So what?” GD snapped, wishing the little haiku heifer would just mind her own damn business.

“So which one are you going out with tonight?”

“Probably neither. . .” GD said, turning to stare at the fashionistas sashaying down Fifth Avenue.
But, that wasn’t true.

She was in New York for the weekend and a three-day tryst might just hit the spot, especially considering that it was only days before her period, a time when, historically, she was voraciously horny.

Still, she didn’t know whom she wanted to be bothered with. . .Wentworth or Adawale. Time was a precious commodity, one that could never be returned, and she didn’t want to waste it on a ghetto fool, or a Continental bore.

“Why don’t you just flip a damn coin?” Miss Sakamoto suggested.

“And leave my fate in the hands of a United States coin?” GD scoffed.

“Well, you’ll never be able to make a decision,” Miss Sakamoto said.

“Unless. . .” GD said, a plan formulating on the outskirts of her mind.

“Unless what?”

“Unless I put both of them on the chess board,” GD said, smiling wickedly.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Miss Sakamoto asked. “After all, when the pawn – ”

“Spare me, Fiona Apple,” GD said. “I know how to sack king.”

“Listen, why don’t you let me do some research on these guys,” Miss Sakamoto said. “They could be pros. They could allow you to think they can’t play and in the end, you could end up – ”

“That won’t happen,” GD said.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because Adawale and Wentworth don’t play chess the way I play chess.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Miss Sakamoto said, nervous.

“Don’t worry Susie Wong,” GD said, patting her assistant’s shoulder. “This will be fun. I have an excellent endgame.”

“But – ”

“No buts,” GD said, resolved. “Now. . .this is what I need you to do. . .”

copyright 2006 - galaxyMafia

Well, galaxyMafia is tired of writing "reality" fiction about old Wentworth Miller. She's got to concentrate on other projects so this is the end of this for awhile. If you happen to read this, you'll see I left it hanging. Maybe one of ya'll could finish it for me. . .?

Anyway, here goes nothing. . .





"Diabolical Lust"

Eva turned to the mirror, clutched the basin, her stomach twisting.
She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to do this.
But, she didn’t have a choice.
She had to. . .
His emotions will manifest themselves as physical symptoms.
What does that mean, exactly?
The experiments have rendered him incapable of sustaining any kind of emotional trauma. He’s at a critical stage. Anger and sadness might kill him. That is why we need you.
You want me to what? Feel his emotions for him? Take on his pain?
You’re the only one who can.
“Did I kill Gabrielle?”
Cautious, terrified, Eva raised her head, met Wentworth’s blue-green eyes in the mirror.
The intensity of his sorrow stabbed into her, sliced her open.
Eva stumbled, gasping.
“Tell me. . .” Wentworth demanded.
Noradrenaline flooded Eva, swirling in her veins.
The anger was returning.
Heart slamming, Eva turned to him. “You have to calm down. . .”
“Where is Gabrielle?”
“I don’t know. . .” Eva told him, looking up at him. “But you have to calm down, you have to – ”
“Tell me!”
“Wentworth, please – ”
With a savage growl, Wentworth grabbed Eva, lifting her off the floor, and hurled her across the ladies room.
Screaming, Eva slammed against the wall, her head banging against it violently before she slid to the tiled floor, moaning.
You must be very careful when dealing with him in the subconscious. His rage divests him of any limitations, and his strength is amplified in direct proportion to the escalation of the anger.
What the hell does that mean?
Subconsciously, he could kill you.
I don’t understand. . .
Just be careful. For your own sake, you must take steps to lower his blood pressure and his heart rate
How am I supposed to do that?
We’re not sure yet. . .but, you must find a way. . .
Wentworth stalked over to Eva, grabbed her wrists, pulled her up. “If you don’t tell me what happened to Gabrielle, I will kill you.”
“Listen to me,” Eva said, forcing herself not to struggle against him. “You love Gabrielle. You would never hurt her.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No. . .” Eva whispered, lips trembling.
But, Wentworth was right.
She was lying to him.
Because she had to, because if she told him the truth –
“Why can’t you tell me?” Wentworth asked, staring at her.
“What. . .?” Eva asked, gazing into the blue-green eyes.
“I can read your mind,” he told her. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Eva took a deep breath, calculating her next move. His extra-sensory perception was another byproduct of the experiment Dr. Xing had conducted.
“I hurt Gabrielle, didn’t I?”
“Let me go,” Eva said, relaxing her body. If she could think calm thoughts, if she could flood her mind with tranquility, perhaps he would –
“It won’t work,” Wentworth smirked. “You think that all you have to do is think of a nice, calm, gentle breeze and I’ll leave?”
“Listen to me,” Eva said. “I don’t have any answers for you – ”
Wentworth grabbed her around the throat. “No, you listen to me. If you don’t tell me what I did to Gabrielle, I’m going break your goddamn neck.”
“You can’t,” Eva gasped, squirming, digging her nails into the hand that was crushing larynx. “You’re in my subconscious. . .you’re not real. . .”
“If I’m not real, then how is it that you can feel my hand around your neck?” He asked, his smile wicked.
Eva slapped at his face, her heart pounding, her lungs burning as she tried to breathe, to fight against the dizziness and the darkness threatening to overcome her.
She had to think, she had to find a way to calm him down. . .
She had to find a way to get him out of her damn mind. . .
“Okay, I’ll tell you. . .” Eva rasped. “Please don’t. . .kill me. . .”
“I don’t want any of your fucking lies,” Wentworth warned.
Weak, Eva shook her head slowly. “No. . .lies. . .”
Reluctant, Wentworth removed his hand.
Gasping deeply, gulping great breaths of air, Eva dropped to her knees on the floor, panting, trying to breathe.
“Get up. . .” Wentworth grabbed her, pulled her to her feet.
Yanking her arm away, Eva glared at him. “You want to know where Gabrielle is, Wentworth?”
“I believe that’s what you need to tell me if you want to live.”
“Gabrielle left you,” Eva said, sneering at him.
“That’s not true. . .”
“It is true,” Eva said. “She left you. She doesn’t love you. . .she never did. It was just a job. But, you had to go and fuck everything up by falling in love with her.”
“She fell in love with me – ”
Eva laughed. “Are you serious? You were never good enough for Gabrielle. Every time you told her that you loved her, she laughed at you behind your back, she never – ”
“Shut up!” Wentworth slapped Eva, sending her stumbling against the bathroom counter.
Eva laughed again. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck you!” Wentworth said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I know you’re so fucked up,” Eva said, taunting, “that after Gabrielle left you, you made up a story in your head about killing her. . .that was the only way you could deal with the fact that she left because she didn’t want you!”
“That’s not true. . .” Wentworth whispered, sinking to the floor.
Eva gasped.
Sorrow, cold and raw smothered her.
Wentworth’s sorrow.
Searing, suicidal pain swirled though her.
Okay. . .well, at least the anger was gone. But, goddamn, this emotional pain was no better. . .and he was still in her damn head. . .
“Wentworth,” Eva sat in front of him, lifting his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Listen. . .you need to wake up. . .”
“I need Gabrielle,” He told her.
“Gabrielle is not the only woman in the world who wants you,” Eva told him.
“But, she’s the only woman I want.”
“Wentworth,” Eva took his face in her hands. “In your dreams, anybody can be Gabrielle. . .you just have to close your eyes. . .”
Eva watched as his eyelids dropped.
“And pretend that she’s with you. . .” Eva whispered, leaning close to him, placing her lips lightly on his. “Just don’t open your eyes. . .”
Maybe this would work, she thought, pushing him gently to the cold, tile floor, crawling, stretching out on top of him.
Already, she could feel the pain subsiding, being replaced by desire. . .
No, desire was a polite word.
It was lust traveling trough her body now, pure and unfiltered. . .and diabolical.
Wentworth’s mouth moved over hers delicately, slowly, but commanding and insistent. Eagerly, Eva opened her mouth and he slipped his tongue between her lips. She felt his erection against her thigh, and her heart slammed inside her chest.
Along with the lust was an icy panic, warning her, telling her that she couldn’t let this happen, she couldn’t let Wentworth make love to her. . .
But, this isn’t real, Eva told herself. This is only in my head.
And yet, she could feel her vagina expanding, moistening, her clitoris swelling.
Abruptly, Wentworth reversed their positions, moving on top of her.
Wentworth’s hands moved from her breasts to her neck, his fingertips like ice against her skin, his thumb pressing into her throat, his nails digging into the flesh at the back of her neck.
Eva gasped into his mouth, arching up against him.
Wentworth moved his head back, staring at her.
The blue-green eyes were glazed and luminescent, exciting her, hypnotizing her, terrifying her.
This isn’t real, Eva reminded herself. He isn’t even thinking about you. . .
She felt his hands under the hem of her skirt, and she opened her legs.
She wasn’t wearing panties, and she didn’t need foreplay.
She needed him to fuck her, and then get out of her damn head.
Wentworth entered her, thrusting into her, her hands still around her throat. Eva couldn’t breathe. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rocking her hips. He thrust faster, harder, deeper into her. Eva bucked against his hips, squeezing his penis with her vaginal muscles and Wentworth cried out. . .



“Wentworth! Wentworth!” Gabrielle said, shaking him as he writhed beneath sweat-soaked sheets. “Wake up!”
Violently, Wentworth sat up, his eyes wide, wild as he gasped for air.
“You were having a nightmare,” Gabrielle said, gathering him in her arms, resting his head against her chest as she stroked his cheek. “Are you okay? You want to tell me about it?”
Wentworth pushed away from her, grabbed her wrists.
“What is it?” Gabrielle asked, alarmed by the fright in his gaze.
“You do love me, don’t you?”
She sighed. “We’ve already gone over this, Wentworth. You know how I feel about you.”
“She told me you didn’t love me,” he said.
“Who?” “I don’t know who she is,” he said, dropping Gabrielle’s wrists, lying back down on the bed. “I’ve seen her before but, I don’t know. . .I can’t remember who she is. . .”
“Listen, you were dreaming,” Gabrielle said. “It was just a dream. Now, I need to get going – ”
“Where?” Wentworth demanded.
“I have a meeting with my business manager and my agent,” Gabrielle said. “I’m not like you, I don’t have a hit show. I’m not on the cover of Entertainment Weekly.”
“I don’t care about that bullshit,” Wentworth told her. “It doesn’t matter if we’re not together.”
“We’re together, Wentworth,” Gabrielle said, standing up. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you finally believe it?”
“If we’re together, then people should know.”
Gabrielle shook her head. “You’re a very private person. It’s nobody’s business who you’re sleeping with. And anyway, you don’t want to disappoint your squealing fans, do you?”
Wentworth sat up again, his gaze intense. “You are coming back, right?”
Gabrielle bent over to kiss his forehead. “Of course, I am. I promise. Now you get some sleep, pretty.”



Stunned and disoriented, Eva stood on wobbling legs.
Wentworth was gone.
But, that dull ache between her legs remained, taunting her, making her want to spread her legs and stick two fingers inside of herself.
Eva cut the taps on, splashed cold water on her face.
She had to get it together.
What had happened between her and Wentworth wasn’t real. . .it hadn’t really happened.
Eva looked at her haggard expression in the mirror.
The sex hadn’t been real but it had felt real.
And part of her, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, wished that it had been real.
Which didn’t make any sense because the pretty boys with the gorgeous eyes had never been her type. Hadn’t she told Paul Walker to fuck off when he’d tried to hit on her during the filming of “2 Fast, 2 Furious”?
So what the hell was it about Wentworth Miller?
Damn it, she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to forget what had happened, go back out and enjoy her dinner with Joaquin.
Sighing, Eva straightened her dress, and left the restroom, worried and self-conscious, afraid that her encounter with Wentworth Miller was written all over her face.
People were staring.
But, that’s because you’re hot tamale, she told herself, feeling foolish.
She didn’t feel like a hot tamale.
She felt more like a limp noodle.
“Are you okay?” Joaquin asked as she took her seat.
“Fine,” Eva told him, picking up her menu. “I just felt a bit sick. . .”
“How can you say you’re fine?” Joaquin asked, his voice a harsh whisper as he leaned over the table, staring at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Eva. . .there’s blood all over your hands. . .”


Wentworth woke up.
Darkness, hot and cloying and menacing cloaked the room, smothering him.
He tried to swallow the warm lump in his dry, cottony mouth as he pushed the bed linens away, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
Groggy, he stumbled over to turn the light on. Right hand splayed against the wall, he felt for the switch, found it, flipped it up.
“Gabby. . .” He said, squinting against the hard, harsh glare of the 75-watt bulb as he turned to the bed.
Wentworth screamed.
The bed linens were drenched with dark, wet blood.

In this true account, galaxyMafia is pleased to offer you a glimspe of the life she and Glamour Diva live. You didn't know. . .but know ya know. Okaaaaaaay!!!

“Charlie Rose sent another instant message,” Miss Sakamoto said, French manicured fingers flying over the keyboard of the computer sitting on her lap as she scanned the hundreds of invitations and requests received via email for her boss, world-famous blogger, Glamour Diva.

“And what did he want?” Glamour Diva asked, laconic, glancing out of the window of the stretch Rolls Phantom that had been sent by the Senior Editor of Random House with whom GD was meeting in less than an hour to discuss her latest book contract.

Sex and the Sushi, the companion book to GD’s blog with partner galaxyMafia, had been No. 1 on the New York Times bestseller list three months straight, selling an unprecedented 600,000 copies in two weeks. As a result, GD and galaxyMafia were the latest publishing princesses, real-life black Cinderellas who’d catapulted from middle-class ambiguity into slavish megastardom.

However, it didn’t escape GD’s keen perception that they only had one thing in common with Cinderella: the great shoes. Despite all the attention and the fame, neither she nor galaxyMafia had any princes waiting to ride them off into the sunset (pun intended). Of course, galaxyMafia, who’d branded herself as “asexual” claimed not to want a man but GD had to admit that she wouldn’t have minded finding someone nice, and intelligent with decent table manners.

“Charlie wants you and galaxyMafia to come on his show,” Miss Sakamoto told her. “He promises that he won’t ask you any dumb questions like Jay Leno did.”

“I don’t know,” GD said, noncommittal. “He might try to get all in our business like Oprah did.”

“Yeah but going on Oprah was good for the book,” Miss Sakamoto pointed out.

“Yes, in the end, Oprah is good for something,” GD remarked.

“Oh, Matroska’s sending more purses,” Miss Sakamoto said.

“Oh, good!” GD said. A purse from Matroska, the new “It” designer of fashion handbags was a coveted item that women would maim, shoot and kill for. Currently, the waiting list was three years. But, GD and Matroska had been friends before each of them had blown up the spot, respectively, and thus GD never had to wait for one of the purses.

“They want you guys on “The View” again. . .”

“Did anyone call who doesn’t want us on their show, or to interview us?”

“Wentworth Miller,” Miss Sakamoto said, casting a shifty sidelong glance.

“And what did he want?” GD inquired, as if she didn’t care, pretending to be nonchalant when really, she was curious, and if truth were told (as it inevitably would be by somebody who couldn’t keep their damn mouth shut), she was excited.

After all, she’d always thought Wentworth was sexy even before she’d blogged about him in the “Tasty Monday” column. She’d first become enamored with him after viewing “The Human Stain”.

Still, there was no reason to get all fan-girlish. Especially in front of Miss Sakamoto.

“He left a message,” Miss Sakamoto said, whipping out a cell phone. “I saved it.”

Reluctantly, Glamour Diva took the phone.

Honestly, she didn’t know how she felt about Wentworth Miller calling her.

She’d often thought about meeting him, imagining what she would say and what he would say, what kind of person he would be, and how they would react and respond to one another. In her scenarios, he was smart and funny but with street cred; a down to earth type who would know how to keep his sarcasm from turning sardonic; and in the bedroom, he would know exactly how to use her leather paddle.

But, she knew that if she met him, Wentworth might not be any of those things. He might be boring and elitist; or pompous and fascist; or any other distasteful combination of disgusting characteristics.

There was an image of Wentworth Miller in her head that she was loathe to let go of, and she was hesitant to have her fantasy destroyed.

“You going to listen to the message?”

GD sighed. “Why not?” she said, putting the phone to her ear.

Seconds passed, and then she heard:

“Hey, GD, this is Went. Yo, peep this: I read that story you wrote about me, that Bulletproof Love and it was off the chain, fo shizzle. So, I was wonderin’ if me and you could hook up and thangs, and see what it do. What am sayin’ is, I’m feelin’ you, girl, and I wanna know what’s up? You gone let a playa holla at cha, or what? Let me know. Peace out.”

After the message ended, Glamour Diva rolled her eyes.

She didn’t know whether to retch, or pull a Naomi Campbell and beat Miss Sakamoto over the head for not erasing that ignorant message.

How could Wentworth be so damn. . .ghetto. . .

And how could he have thought she’d written Bulletproof Love? Why did everyone think that she had written that charming piece of satire? That damn story had been penned by galaxyMafia but no one wanted to give her props for it.

Well, that was it. The fantasy was destroyed. Far from being intelligent and clever, he was coming at her with trifling slang that people didn’t even use anymore. Dumb fuck, Glamour Diva thought, disappointed. If he was going to use slang, the least he could have done was made it current.

“So. . .” Miss Sakamoto probed.

“So what?” GD snapped, irritated, pissed off at Wentworth’s ghetto vernacular. She felt insulted. Who the hell did he think she was that he could step to her like that?

“So you gonna call him?”

Glamour Diva hesitated. “I don’t know. . .”

“You know you want to,” Miss Sakamoto teased.

“Did I ask you for your opinion?” GD asked, uncharacteristically harsh. Usually, it was that contrary galaxyMafia who bit people’s heads off and spit them back at them.

GD was pissed because Miss Sakamoto was right.

She did want to call Wentworth back.

She wanted to do more than call him. She wanted to lick every drop of water from his body after he stepped out of the shower, and –

“Well, he’s not the only person who called,” Miss Sakamoto said.

“Who else called?” GD asked, dragging herself after from her fantasy.

“Adewale. . .”

copyright 2006. . .galaxyMafia would like to thank Mr. Wentworth Miller for driving traffic to our site. She sincerely hopes that you get some intelligent fans who aren't interested in worshipping you. As Mimi would say. . .you chickens is ash, and we're lotion!!

Is it just galaxyMafia, or does Mariah look like Miss Piggy in this video? And, the guy you love to genuflect to (and you lovely psychos know who you are - don't make me post your wedding photos) looks like Kermit the Frog dressed up as an MIB for Halloween. And what's with the black Chuck Taylors?

"We Belong Together" By Mariah Carey

copyright 2006. . .galaxyMafia

Yes, girls, galaxyMafia is quite bored. That must be why she's introducing new reality fiction starring the man she loves to manipulate as a character in a story, your very own Mr. Wentworth Miller. This time, his lovely co-star is hot tamale Eva Mendes. Gabrielle Union returns to make it a true threesome.







"Diabolical Lust"

I plunge the knife into her chest while she is sleeping, peaceful. . .
Her blood is warm, beautiful.
And I cannot wait to taste it


Patiently, gently, Wentworth Miller took the serrated combat knife and made an incision on the left side of the torso, just below her left breast, winding the knife down the side all the way to the tip of the left shoulder blade, cutting down to the rib.

He slipped the tip of the knife through the chest wall, puncturing the chest wall, stripping the muscles away. . .

The chest was open.

With his hands, he spread her ribs apart. . .

A huge clot of blood gushed out at him, soaking his hands, splattering his face. . .

Undaunted, licking her blood from his lips, he grabbed the pericardium sack, encasing the heart.

Using the knife, he sliced the pericardium sack, exposing Gabrielle’s heart. . .

His hands closed around the pulsating organ. . .



Eva Mendes gasped, dropping her fork.

It was eight in the evening, and she and Joaquin Phoenix, her co-star in “We Own The Night”, a police drama they were currently filming in New York, were having dinner at Les Halles on Park Avenue South, the restaurant made famous by chef Anthony Bourdain.

After long, arduous and occasionally boring days of shooting, it wasn’t uncommon to share a meal with a co-worker, and she and Joaquin had plenty to laugh and talk about, specifically the currently speculation about their so-called burgeoning romance.


Photos in Star and US had shown them leaving a hotel, getting into a cab, and now the whole damn world was poised to brand them as the next Brad and Angelina.

As they’d sat down to dinner amidst stares and whispers, they’d joked about the ways in which the media would try to fuse their names.

Evaquin. . .?

Jova. . .?

It no longer mattered.

Because her muscles were tightening, her blood traveling towards her brain and away from the surface of her skin. . .

So he won’t bleed to death, she reminded herself.

“Eva. . .” Joaquin stared at her.

Wentworth's neo-cortex is shutting down, the survival mechanisms in the more primitive, primal parts of the brain are taking over. . .he will start to react, his ability to reason and rationalize impaired. . .this is reducing him to basic emotions. . .

Fear.

Sadness.

Anger.

“Eva. . .”

Her face in flames, Eva grabbed her chest, clawing at it.

“Eva. . .? Are you okay?” Joaquin asked, concerned.

Her blood pressure dipped, and spiked as her adrenal glands released a flood of noradrenaline.

What was the hell going on?

Noradrenaline. . .he was angry.

No, not just angry. . .he was furious, psychotic with rage.

“What’s the matter?”

Eva shook her head, unable to speak, his emotions gouging her, slicing her open.

What was happening to him?

“Eva. . .”

“I need to. . .go to the Ladies room,” she rasped, clutching her stomach, her fingers digging into her own flesh. “I’ll be. . .right back. . .”

In the restroom, Eva stumbled, and fell to the floor. Crawling across the floor, her nails sliding across the damp tile, she went into one of the stalls.

Her gut twisted violently and she clutched the cold, porcelain bowl, emptying her stomach all over it.

Gasping, her throat constricting, she fell back against the stall.

What the hell was happening?

Her phone. . .

She needed her cell phone.

Dr. Xing. . .he would know what to do, he would know how to help her. . .

Coughing, she crawled out of the stall, over to the basin. Reaching up, she grabbed the edge of it, her fingers slippery, trembling, and pulled herself up.

Reluctantly, she slowly glanced at herself in the mirror.

His image stared at her, standing behind her.

Horrified, Eva whirled around, faced him.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, shrinking away from him.

“Where is she. . .?”

“Where is who?” Eva asked.

This isn’t real, she told herself, on the verge of panic. There was no need to be afraid. Dr. Xing had warned her this might happen. The neuropsychiatrist had told her that the experiment might cause this particular side effect, giving him the ability to navigate into her subconscious through cerebral projection.

“Where is she?”

“Who are you talking about?” Eva asked, her heart slamming against her ribs.

There was blood on his face, blood all over his hands.

I plunge the knife into her chest while she is sleeping, peaceful. . .

Terrified, Eva stared at him.

“Did I kill her?” he asked, pain in his eyes. “Did I kill Gabrielle?”







copyright 2006 - galaxyMafia. . .hopes you have a blessed day and invites you to check out her brand new twisted version of "Bulletproof Love" with a Prison Break vibe.