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Dizzying Intellect » Big Dumb Sex

Category: Big Dumb Sex

All Over Submarines, They Think She’s So Serene.

I’m obviously a big fan of the pin-up genre. Readers of my old site may recall that I almost always had one in the design. So here’s a link dump of some of the articles I’ve collected and haven’t done anything with…

California Woman Raises Troop Morale, Funds With ‘Pin-Ups for Vets’ Calendar

Pin-up art — a morale-booster for troops fighting overseas during World War II — is making a comeback, or will be if a California woman has anything to say about it.

Gina Elise, 26, is bringing retro back with her third annual “Pin-Ups for Vets” calendar, which features herself in costumes and poses that were popular among America’s fighting men in the 1940s. Profits from the sales of the calendars provide assistance to U.S. military hospitals.

I think this would have been more interesting if she’s used more models than just herself. But then, maybe she doesn’t have any hot friends. Whatever. It’s still pretty cool, er hot, and supports a good cause. And she’s about as cute as a freaking button. Here’s the Official site.

On the higher budget end of the spectrum, Vanity Fair introduces some popular actresses to the medium. Few have ever seen the real thing, apparently, because most of the pictures have nothing subtle or fun about them at all — but there are a few really great ones. Mila Kunis, Leslie Mann, and Kristen Stewart are among my favorites. Isla Fisher is so perfect that she almost doesn’t look like a real person. And holy cow! Summer Glau! Smiling!

And finally, Pinups for Pups, featuring adorable, secretly smart girl Sugar, from Survivor Gabon. I can’t find an official site for her, which is just plain silly.

Close Enough

I don’t check my stats nearly enough, I guess. Maybe they should concern me more than they do, but… eh. Too busy. Anyway. I checked them last night and found this:

“tamara+taylor+rosario+dawson+side+by+side”

I know!

They aren’t dead ringers or anything, but I watched almost the entire first Tamara Taylor season of Bones, thinking she was Rosario Dawson — and wondering why she was doing TV. The main difference is really how they carry themselves. Dawson knows she’s crazy hilarious smoking hot, where Taylor doesn’t seem to realize it at all. So she’s always doing the big cheerful, mom-like smile. Maybe it’s the age difference? I don’t know. If I looked like her/them, I’d be doing the sultry, smoldering stare thing every day, count on it.

Men on Men

No, no. Not like that, silly. Men judge themselves, and other men from their own countries…

Can it be that our male counterparts here in America have an over-inflated ego? I have noticed a certain bravado, but thought it was restricted to the guys I was dating. I turns out that it might be an epidemic, according to a recent report from a global marketing firm.

It turns out that 57 percent of American guys consider themselves sexy. That makes them among the most confident around the globe. The only nationalities to beat them in cocky assurance were the Greeks (81 percent felt sufficiently sexy), the Russians (80 percent, must be all the vodka), the South Africans (78 percent) and the Brazilians (63 percent).

Some of the other numbers surprised both me and the author. The French, particularly. And then the more specific analysis kicks in.

On an interesting note, the survey sought to find out just what it takes for a guy to be considered sexy.

More than a third of American women said that old-fashioned good hygiene is the most important attribute. But only 23 percent of American guys said that was number one, they believe that confidence is much more important. But who cares if you’re confident if your clothes are wrinkled and you stink.

It’s interesting mostly because men don’t normally talk about what makes men appealing. (Unless they’re insisting that it’s all wallet-based… see below.) So there’s kind of a sense of being a “fly on the wall.” The results show some surprising disconnects between what men and women think women are attracted to. Read the whole thing — it’s curious, in an endearing, anthropological sort of way.

And there’s a poll at the end. Bonus!

Daggers?

I know I’m a few days late on this, but I finally watched the video, and it’s kind of cracking me up.

Anne Hathaway couldn’t hold back the rambling and tears as she received the dual honor of Best Actress (along with “Doubt” actress Meryl Streep) for her performance in “Rachel Getting Married” at Thursday night’s VH1 Critics Choice Awards. But one lady who looked less-than-impressed was fellow nominee Angelina Jolie.

Let’s put it this way: if looks could kill, Hathaway would definitely be dead.

FoxNews has harbored this irrational hatred of Angelina Jolie ever since she required interviewers to sign a contract stating that they wouldn’t ask questions about her personal life, when A Mighty Heart came out — heaven forbid she should want a film about terrorism to have actual publicity on its own merits — but this is just absurd. Here’s the video:

Does that look say “anger” to you? She just looks bored. To be honest, looking at other pictures from that evening, I imagine her train of thought was more like, “This is the first time I’ve been alone with Brad in six months. Why are we watching this inanity instead of doing something slightly more naked?”

Heart of Gold (Digger)

There have been soooo many articles in the past few months about gold-digging women, and college students who are brazenly unashamed of their “Sugar Daddies” (until they’re labeled as sluts, at which point it immediately becomes “twue wuv.”)

In the comments of these articles, men always insist that they’d never behave so shabbily, and that women are all simply evil bitches from hell who are only looking for money (and yes, some of them certainly are). They say that men are honest, and looking for love (as long as love puts out by the third date), and they’re sick of being used.

So I got a kick out of this counterpoint. The Sugar Mama:

Ricardo is a tall, handsome and suave 28-year-old Italian. Even though I’m 14 years older than him, he seems completely smitten with me. He texts me several times a day to tell me that I am gorgeous - my skin is like porcelain, my eyes are like deep pools and my hair is like golden sand. He wants to spend Christmas with me, so that he can make me feel ‘delicious all over’.

There’s just one small hitch that may prevent this beautiful budding romance from blossoming - Ricardo thinks I’m worth £20million and that I am going to rescue him from his life of drudgery working at a call centre. He wants me to be his sugar mummy - someone to dress him, pamper him and travel the world with, all at my expense, of course.

Both sides are the exceptions to the rule, of course — I really believe that — and both are equally as skeezy and disgusting, and make my upper lip twitch in an involuntary sneer. But it’s still funny, especially since the joke’s on the gigolos.

Purely in the name of investigative journalism, you understand, I set about finding out by attempting to net myself a fortune-hunting toyboy.

I receive a simply hilarious message from Giles, an Englishman based in Sydney, Australia, who wants me to fly him (first class, of course) to London and to put him up at the Dorchester. In return, he will help me run my business and, he says, boost my turnover massively.

When I fail to respond, he writes increasingly desperate emails, claiming that it was he who invented the iPod - not Apple - and Daniel Craig’s portrayal of Bond is based on him.

Then there is Kevin, a toothless roofer from Pontefract, who writes: ‘I knows how to treet a lady rite and if you pick me you wont be disserpointed.’ Oh, Kevin, I think I will.

Alex arrives ten minutes early at the Italian restaurant I’ve chosen, bringing with him a rather wilted rose. It is wrapped in brown paper, rather than cellophane, which makes me wonder whether he’s just stolen it from someone’s garden.

Unlike the previous two gold-digging men I’ve met, Ricardo isn’t subtle when it comes to the subject of my money. ‘My last lady is worth $10million, can you beat that?’ he asks bluntly.

When the men fill out their online profile, they can declare how much of a monthly allowance they would expect from their sugar mummy. Most leave this open to negotiation, but John has said that he is looking for up to £20,000 a month, so at least that’s clear.

Fabulous.

Actually, through the giggles, maybe it is a little bit fabulous. I’m not sure whether to retch or start writing a screenplay. That pretty kid from High School Musical could pull off the role of Ricardo in two years or so, right?

Unpleasant Dreams

I know I’m a few months late on this, and I’m not really a big reality TV fan unless it involves actual talent of some kind. But I was scrounging hulu for a distraction, and I have to admit, I kind of got a laugh out of The Search For The Next Elvira.

I grew up watching Movie Macabre — on Sunday afternoons, not Saturday nights, being a little kid and all — so I’ve loved Elvira for ages. Twenty years later, she’s still surprisingly gorgeous and rackish and most of all hilarious, and some of the contestants are… well, no. The contestants are lacking. But a few have their funny moments.

Check it out when you have some time to kill. Horror + cheese = fun!

Aw, Man - part GODDAMNIT

Sonofabitch.

Bettie Page, Majel Barrett, and now f’ing Eartha Kitt, in less than two weeks?!

You’ve GOT to be kidding me. Damn it. I get that heaven needs hot, clever, funny chicks. I do. But Ann-Margret, Brigitte Bardot, Raquel Welch — please keep your heads down until you get an all-clear. Thanks.

DAMN it all.

[ Note: "Why do we even HAVE that lever?!" *sniffle* ]

Aw, man - part 2

Bad week for pretty young things of my parents’ generation, dammit.

The lovely Majel Barrett passed away on Thursday. You probably remember her as Nurse Chapel, if you remember her at all, but it was a big deal that she was Pike’s Number One in the pilot. A female first officer, in the sixties? Really?

Of course, she was also Mrs Gene Roddenberry, and the voice of the computer in every series. Supposedly, she’ll also voice the computer in the upcoming JJ Abrams version. And that, if nothing else, makes me happy.

*sigh*

Aw, man.

I barely even think of her as a real person. More like a beautiful, idealized cartoon — no more flesh and blood than a Varga girl or nosecone painting. She was the hallmark of a new version of sex kitten, but there’s always been something that seemed weirdly innocent about her, to me.

Model Bettie Page in Intensive Care After Heart Attack

Bettie Page, whose magazine photographs in bikinis and see-through lingerie helped her become one of the most notable models of the 20th century, was hospitalized in intensive care after suffering a heart attack, her agent said Friday.

“She’s critically ill,” Mark Roesler of the Curtis Management Group told The Associated Press.

Page later spent decades away from the public eye, and during that time battled mental illness and became a born-again Christian.

“I probably sold 3,000 of her autographs, usually for $200 to $300,” he said. “Eleanor Roosevelt, we got $40-$50. … Bettie Page outsells them all.”

They say she’s in a coma, so it doesn’t look great, but there’s always hope. She’s a neat chick. Keep her in your thoughts, if you don’t mind.

Update 12/12: She’s gone. We’ve lost a lovely lady, but as SondraK says “Heaven just got real interesting…”

Away

I think we all know that I have rather… strong opinions about men, right? How real men act, and live, and treat others? What makes them so amazing and so horribly rare?

I’ve had my ipod cranked all morning today, which I don’t often do at work because it distracts me, because I need to drown out someone who will not. shut. up. This song came on, and it’s always funny to me how it says exactly what I’m “looking for” in a man — to the extent that I’m looking, which is to say, not at all — even though it doesn’t really say anything at all.

Maybe it’s just where I want to get myself back to.

I only have half a dozen country songs on my ipod. It’s not my thing. And I know, it’s the Dixie Chicks. My general dislike for the genre and the band (Why, Nathan Petrelli? Why?!) is completely washed by how much I love this song. (Unofficial video linked because Natalie Maines is just odd looking, and even worse in a pink bra.)