If you didn’t love Paul Rudd before, you sure as hell will after this video clip:
Click on the picture to watch the video.
Oh, and p.s.- I totally want to bang both of these men. Though not necessarily at the same time. But honestly, you wouldn’t have to ask me twice.
via Music Snobbery
~Kiki
Hello darlings! Hopefully you didn’t forget about your two favorite girls with great taste…. I know, I know. We’ve been on hiatus, but I am back… for a little while at least, Suz still has some grad school applications to take care of. I have been caught up in a whirlwind of parties, vacation, fabulous friends and love affairs that resulted in 1) a slightly more damaged liver (yeah, and who thought that could happen?), 2) more confidence in flirtation, 3) a friendship tattoo, and last, but not least 4) a Thanksgiving trip to St. Croix.
That’s right, I’m going to the Caribbean for Thanksgiving.
I’m still pinching myself in disbelief, and also astonished that my pasty ass is going to have to get in a bikini in two weeks.
So how did this whole trip come to be?
Well… While my fabulous friend Russel was in town from Dallas (who’s NYC cherry I officially popped)… Hmm, bad way to start this… So backstory: One of my best friends, Russel, whom is one of the most individual characters on this planet and I hold very dearly to my heart, came to visit me and NYC about two weeks ago and stayed for a week. He had never been here before and we crammed as many touristy, and locals-only, things as possible into his trip. One day before Russel had to leave we had a day full of shopping and sightseeing and we had planned a wine & cheese night for later that evening at my house with the guests being Suz, Dan and a friend of Russel’s, Trish.
We stop in at one of my two neighborhood bars, Kings County. Probably the best decision I made all day considering what happened as a result of it. I gave a gentleman, who happens to live in St. Croix (but is originally from Iowa) but was just visiting, my phone number and the rest is history. We spent the few days he had left in New York together and he invited me to the Virgin Islands for Thanksgiving. So I bought a ticket, and now I’m going.
Jealous much?
Hope you’re all having a great Wednesday, and keep checking back in for more updates spawned from my boredom at work.
❤ Kiki
Right after I posted about Pharrell’s sex chair and how much I’m thinking about sex right now, I stumbled upon this:
Click on the picture for more about David Altmejd and some amazing, and amazingly sexual, sculptures.
Thanks to The Selby
~Kiki
When you’ve got sex on the brain, it’s pretty hard to concentrate. And honestly, it doesn’t happen to me that often, so when it does happen I’m pretty much totally consumed by it. Especially after looking at pictures of Monica Bellucci covered in honey and caviar and now this chair by Pharrell:
For more info go here or here.
~Kiki
monica bellucci
no earthlings, star trek has not died yet. can any of you cable viewers let us know if the afternoon reruns are still circulating? this time around they got my attention…as my mother would say, the actors are so hunky. i’ll take the curly haired geek in the front and leave the pretty boy in black to my roomy.
my roomy and i have drastically different taste when it comes to men and most everything else for that matter. however i do recall a concert we went to early on in our merge. we both swooned over a pony tailed beauty. as soon as my roomy noticed our common interest, she leaned over and whispered, “lets take him home, you can have him first then send him over my way.” i looked at her with a brow raised in intrigue. keep in mind this is coming from a blonde, conservative, girl next door, legal assistant from texas. as you can probably imagine we instantly became the best of friends.
-suz
via gizmodo
back in my working days with kiki we had a big hotel blog project. we met with the clients on a weekly basis and the son of the hotels owner would always show up. he would irritatingly try to lead the meeting before someone would quickly put him in his place.
daddy’s boy looks like a gorilla with a hernia*. the hernia would continually talk at me in meetings, only me. at one point i had to excuse myself before i pissed my pants laughing at his attempt to give me the eye in front of my colleagues. the hernia sized me up as i left, as noted by kiki, and even had the cojones to intercept me in the hallway for small talk but of course, i sashayed past.
at the end of the meeting as i curtsied the gentlemen, the hernia grabbed a marker and with the undertone of a pedophile asked if i liked sniffing them. he uncapped his favorite color, green, took a huge whiff and tried to pass the goods over my way. as my brow raised in distaste, his hand lowered in shame. when they left, kiki and i ruptured into laughter. this story resurfaced because the hernia has hunted me down on facebook. what to do?
-suz
*To elaborate on the gorilla with a hernia: When Suz and I first encountered this rare species we actually thought he was semi-decent looking. He hid his man-boobs and gorilla paunch quite well in an understated polo shirt (of course by Ralph Lauren, what kind of Daddy’s boy would he be?). However, the next time we were graced with his presence we realized the err in our judgement since he did not hide his exquisite features all too well in a t-shirt. To add to this grotesque picture we’ve painted for you, just imagine the light in his eyes whilst consuming two-bite brownie (from Whole Foods) after two-bite brownie… after two-bite brownie (in one bite). The dude deserves to be on Animal Planet. Yummy. ~Kiki
When you can meet fine, young gentlemen while walking your dog?
For example: Tonight when I got home from studying all day with Suz, I decided to take Bella to the park so she could run around. I let Bella off her leash and am standing in the park, which is really a baseball field, where there are no lights on and the sun had already gone down. To an onlooker, I most likely looked like a shadow and you definitely wouldn’t be able to see any of my features. Most likely just an outline, and conveniently I have breasts so that you can tell I’m female. My gentleman caller, standing against the fence about 25 feet away, was obviously swayed by ominous, faceless figure and decided to let me know, from said-distance away:
“Hey, you’ve got great legs!”
Me: “Uh… Thanks” (In a very flat, monotone voice)
“Ya wanna have some fun?”
Me: “No. Thank you.”
“You sure? I got a condom.”
Me: “Wow. That is SO romantic. But I’m good, thanks.”
“I mean, I’m just being straight up. Ya know?”
Me: “Yeah. I got it. Now get the fuck out of my face.”
And, to think I could have made sweet love to this gentlemen is almost calling me back to that baseball diamond. Oh well, there’s always next time.
~Kiki
men, please listen. stop making women feel bad, particularly my girlfriends, about not sleeping with you. since when should a woman feel like they are in the wrong for wanting a little wining and dining, getting to know one another. a friend is currently struggling with this exact problem. she has this man absolutely whipped which she attributes to my mentoring, now lets just take a quick look at some of my wise words…
j: im gonna keep making him take me out
is that snobby?
suz: no not at all
he wants to get to know you better
he’s just a man, has no self control and he needs to put his penis away
j: hahaha
you crack me up
I may have just entered fuck-buddy territory. Damn.
SO many great actors and actresses in NY Mag (and check out Edie Falco’s hair.. whoah!):
I have a serious love for Christopher Walken, by the way.
Time Out New York article about sex! And a sex poll.
In my comment to Susie’s post I wrote about the emergence of a new fetish. Hooking up with people in costumes that resemble typographical symbols. I can imagine this would be big in the graphic design community. I mean those kids are already by themselves most of the day salivating over new typefaces in dimly lit rooms so that their CMYK color profiles are oh-so perfect (or whatever the hell they use)… as opposed to the creepy weirdos salivating over donkey porn, but still.. salivating nonetheless. So…. this reminded me of a story.
When I was 19, I think, I moved into an apartment in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn after living in the dorms at my college for a year. I moved in with two Southern gentlemen: Brent Owens and Bill McRight. Both AMAZING artists by the way… you should check them out. They are by far the best roommates I ever had besides the roommates I have now in Bushwick… Anyway. Brent had a habit of snooping around on Craigslist, wasting time and getting his kicks from various sections, though mainly from ‘missed connections’ and ‘casual encounters’. Whomever is reading this, do not pretend like you haven’t looked for yourself as a ‘missed connection’.
When Brent would find especially hilarious missed connections, or casual encounters, he would yell out to me from the living room and demand that I come out from my room and hear it. This was a couple days after Halloween and recited to me an ad I will never forget: A girl goes to a costume party, I forget what she was dressed up as, but became intoxicated and somehow enamored with a man in a gorilla costume. One thing led to another, or however that goes, and they got it on in some dark corner/bathroom/hallway and then went their separate ways. The girl never saw the guys face, let alone exchanged numbers… which lead to her want ad and her search for a man to bang her while wearing a gorilla suit. The last line of her ad was “And please don’t send me pictures of your penis. I just want to see your costume.”
Oh, young love.
Hey Suz,
Scarlett Johansson got hitched. To Ryan Reynolds. I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to shack up with Alanis Morrissette’s ex (wow, I most likely totally botched how that’s spelled)… Isn’t it ironic? And that makes sense because nothing in that song is actually ironic.. like the above statement.
I just ate a pumpernickel bagel and drank an iced coffee and now I feel like garbage. I went out with “Robb Zombie” again last night… drank a large beer and barely got any sleep. Again. That may be part of the reason, or most of the reason, why I feel like a trash can. I forgot to tell you the other day when I went on a date with him on Sunday night, the same night we had the talk about his girlfriend situation (the one I drunkenly forgot about), we went back to my place and messed around for a couple hours. It was hot, steamy and absolutely lovely and ended with him falling asleep…. while I was blowing him.
To be honest, I was falling in and out of sleep as well so I am almost surprised that I didn’t wake up with a dick in my mouth not remembering how I (or it) got there. I told him about it the next day and he was shocked. He slept at my house until 4 pm yesterday and he messaged me…
Him: “I slept till 4 today. I guess I was reeeally tired. Haha.”
Me: “The fact that you fell asleep while I was blowing you was the first indicator of how tired you were. Hahaha!”
Him: “I’m still amazed by that. You’re the best.”
For everyone else that doesn’t know this wonderfully handsome man, he’s a sound engineer so he is essentially nocturnal and barely gets any days off so when he’s tired, he’s TIRED. Or I’m just trying to cover up how badly I give head.
Clearly, that’s untrue.
He and I have been spending a lot of time together which is nice.. he had two days off in a row, which is almost unheard of. He’s still asleep at my house right now with Bella curled up right next to him. To say that it’s hard to get out of bed when I have a cute puppy laying on me from one side, and my Viking-hunk-of-a-man wrapped around me from the other side, is an understatement.
Ohmigod. “Carrie Bradshaw” (a.k.a. your former employer, and my current employer) just asked about his fucking purple pen. Again.
My father keeps emailing me and I don’t know how to stop letting it affect me, and/or ignore him completely. I want him out of my life but it’s kind of hard to say to someone “Hi. When I associate with you it makes me feel completely worthless and all you do is make me want to shrivel up and cry. I know I owe you money, but that’s essentially the only thing tying me to you at this point. Have a nice life and goodbye. -Kirsten”
I can’t wait to get my new computer so I can stop using this piece o’ shit PC. And oh, by the way, those new PC commercials suck donkey balls and their only saving grace is that Pharrell is in them and he happens to be extremely sexy.
And this is just ridiculous:
Ta ta for now.
Two Girls With Great Taste 