You Are The New Thing And The Week In Review

What a fucking week. We laughed, we cried, we ate porridge. We can't think of anything else to say, so let's get to it.

1. I started bloggin' for ANIMAL.

2. Somebody word jacked me.

3. Fox Searchlight sent those anal beads.

4. You met Mr. Bigshot.

5. I don't know. I was gonna post something about all this fighting, which I sort of got involved in, and the latest manifestation of it, but then it all got really boring, and I think I'm done with it. When the desert plain is deserted, the beasts feed in a frenzy. I think maybe I'm going to go sit in the mud for a bit.

Will you have a happy Fourth of July? When the sky explodes in front of your eyes, don't blink. It'll be you before you know it.

Violently Happy and the Week in Review

Oh, this week. We laughed, we cried, we thanked God it came to an end. Let's do it, let's review it, let's me and you it.

1. NSFW died.

2. I died.

3. Tom Junod met a natural born killer.

4. We danced!

5. Matt Richtel profiled a digital pimp.

6. We loved.

7. We lost.

8. We were moved.

9. We were paid a visit by Judith Regan.

10. Once upon a time, we were men.

Thank you for reading this week because I'm here, you're there, and whatever this is bridges the gap between us.

The Girl Who Looks Like She's Stuck In The Washing Machine And The Week In Review

This week, we laughed, we cried, and we blogged our fingers to the bone. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Let's get to it?

I watched the porn watchers.

Everyone pooped.

I resigned from the sex writing community.

"'Hello,'" said the waterboarder to the whale.

It was so fucking hot.

I compared the New York Times to a man with erectile dysfunction.

Sexy girls sang you siren songs.

This was an amazing week in ways that I am unfortunately unable to blog about at this time. Something happened that made me so happy I cried. It made me feel like I've spent the last five years running a marathon barefoot across broken glass, and maybe, just maybe, that's the finish line in the distance. Thank you for listening because without you I'm just one more puny inexhaustible voice, chattering away in cyberspace.

My Favorite Steve Diet Goedde Photo and the Week in Review

Isn't this a beautiful photo? I used to have it posted over my desk when I lived somewhere else. That's the work of the always magnificent Steve Diet Goedde and his sometimes muse, the always beautiful Marne Lucas. Once upon a time, she told me that shirt said ANIMAL, but the way it was twisted made it say ANAL.

What a week. I think I posted... I think it was 53 times. I will not lie. I am tired. We laughed, we cried, and the world went mad. Now let's get to it.

Max Hardcore got guilty.

Fox Searchlight started handing out anal beads, and now mine are in the mail.

Tom Ford went porno--again.

Mark Ebner is famous.

I started posting more like the bitch I really am.

I wrote a pornographic coolhunting manifesto.

Finally--the Reverse Cowgirl Soundtrack!

Traffic is bumping. Thank you all for coming. All I ever really wanted was for you to be happy.

A Crazy Bitch on a Motorcycle and the Week in Review

Ah, what a week. We laughed. We cried. We held one another in the moonlight. Oh, wait. No we didn't. But we sure posted a lot of crap about "Sex and the City: The Fucking Movie."

Look! I got to talk to Susie Bright! She's the bee's knees, bitches.

Lena Chen got gawkakked.

I entered the e-canon.

I'm a whore.

Hair hats!

Ashley Blue was cloned. Now, her genitalreplicants will roam among us. I, for one, welcome our new plastic vagina overlords.

Somebody passive-aggressively declared superiority over male reporters when it comes to sex stories, and, for that, someone will not apologize.

I posted ten times a day for the duration of a four-day week. Do I get a fucking medal?

I wrote the first 30 pages of my porn novel, Happy, and I'm aiming to have the first 50 pages done by Monday, dammit.

That's how I rolled.

Have a beautiful weekend because you're pretty, but life isn't.

Doutzen's Left Breast And The Week In Review

Ah, what a week. We laughed. We cried. We projectile vomited. Oh, the fun we had.

This was my return to posting-like-I'm-on-crack for the first time in a long time. I think I got 10 posts, like, one day, most of the time, I got eight. I'm shooting for 10 a day every day next week, dammit. I'm rusty. What can I say?

What was hot? I'll tell you what was hot. Those fucking stripper shoes with slots in them for tips. Everybody picked it up--from Xeni to Dlisted to Jezebel. After that, I sent an email to the company, asking them who thought of the idea. No one responded.

This week, the blog you should be reading is The Panther in Pumps. That's here, baby. If you're not reading it, you suck.

What did you like? Beyond the stripper shoes, I have no clue. The short posts? The long posts? The service-y posts? The personal posts? I guess I'll figure that out eventually. Who knows.

I wrote a post about burlesque legend Dixie Evans and the upcoming Exotic World Weekend and got a really sweet email from them, asking me did I want to come to Vegas and run around with the burlesque queens, to which I had to respond that I can't imagine anything I'd rather do, although I can't right now, but it was nice to imagine doing so.

I reviewed Chuck Palahniuk's new book Snuff and fucking hated it.

Hef farted.

Somebody asked about editing the Letters Project. I responded.

I wrote the first twenty pages of my novel. Praise the lord. Amen.

Have a rockin' weekend, come back for more next week, and thank you for reading.

Really.