He’s still sleeping under the blanket; at least she thinks he is. He’s just a lump in the bed, a creature from a children’s story written in one of those big pop-up books with the thumb-thick black letters. She imagines that his nose is buried in a pillow, his mouth slack-jawed, lost in another one of his psychosexual dreams, like the one about her vagina really being the mouth of a red-velvet system of caverns leading to the crystal core of the planet. He said the secret to ending the war was hidden there, deep inside. The war didn’t make him any less of a pervert. Just a lazier one.

Maybe he’s undreaming, awake, listening to her shift into her stained silk robe and negotiate her way across three months of dehydrated water sacks, crumpled plasma capsules, torn silver mush bags strewn across pre-fab carpeting. Maybe he’s listening to her use the head. Urination, running water, a toilet flush, her faint morning cough.

She climbs up on the toilet lid and peers out of a triangular observation hole. The dust storm must have finally cleared, because she can see as far as the edge of the Eastern Valles Marineris with its landmark cliffs. The ones shaped like decaying molars. The tundra has teeth, she thinks. It could chew him up. It could chew me up. Spit us back out onto the tundra like tough meat. The kind of meat no one wants to eat.

Now that the storm has lifted, she wonders how long she can keep him. Not long. And not because he will leave, but because they will take him.

She returns to the bed and sweeps her penny-nickel hair back into a bun, opening her legs just enough so that the soft white part of her thigh hits the light.

His hand snakes out of the blanket and squeezes her knee.

They don’t speak for a while.

Just to be clear, I came into this movie with low expectations. I wasn’t expecting it to be a sci-fi masterpiece in the same league with Alien, Aliens or Blade Runner. However, I was looking forward to an above average film that would chill and thrill me. Maybe even make me think a little, like District 9 or Surrogates. Not mind-blowing. Just a nice ride from one of my all-time favorite directors. Boy, was I wrong. (Luckily, I remembered to bring four little bottles of Jack Daniels in my purse).

What’s wrong with Prometheus? Let me count the ways (WARNING: SPOILER ALERT)…

Prometheus is not an existential horror movie. Prometheus promised to be a scary, thrilling sci-fi film. It promised to at least entertain me for a couple of hours and, well, it didn’t. It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t intellectual. It was just… meh. Hey, honey, don’t promise me untold pleasures and then take me the Chucky Cheese. You will get no action.

The best thing about the movie was Michael Fassbender’s performance as an android full of more wonder and curiosity than his human counterparts. The entire movie would have been greatly improved if it had been told from his perspective. And I’m not just saying this because I think he’s as hot as the surface of the sun.

It’s not actually Prometheus. So, if you’re a keyboard warrior who’s up on all the Prometheus reviews, you’ve probably read Cavalorn’s Livejournal epic thesis on the film’s roots in mythology. I’d just like to say that I don’t give a shit about the movie’s symbolism. If anything, it was so weighed down with it that it bruised the story. Being pretentious, doesn’t make your shit not shit. Trust me, it’s still shit. Just piled higher and deeper.

In Greek mythology, Prometheus was a Titan and the creator of mankind. But, Prometheus is not just a myth about creation; it’s about humans receiving knowledge from the Gods. Prometheus showed man how to use fire and was punished by Zeus. He took us out of the dark and into the light. And at no point in this film, does one of our alien creators gift us with any kind of knowledge. They are just mean, giant brutes with nothing interesting to say to their children.

Yes, they look like Titans, but beyond that – they are basically less interesting versions of Kratos from the PS3 hit God of War.

Hollywood: if you are going to make a movie about based on Greek mythology and the ideas presented in “Chariot of the Gods,” please make it at least as good as the History Channel’s Ancient Aliens show – or a B sci-fi movie from the early 1990s like Stargate. Even Aliens vs. Predator is a better interpretation of the genre. Thank you.

Lazy Storytelling. From the very first scene, this movie failed. Why show Prometheus (our alien creator) right away? Ever heard of building a mystery? Building tension? Making the audience wait to discover who created us? I don’t care if the scene is taken from the Greek creation myth. It doesn’t serve the story. Toss it. Show some discipline. Put your craft before your need to show everyone how smart you are.

But that’s not even the start to this movie’s poor storytelling. Each scene failed to use the conflict it created in the previous scene (HUGE fail and a sign that the script was disjointed as if 10 different writers worked on it and there was no one checking to see if things made sense). The plot is illogical. It fails to create character arcs – and, well, the poor scene work and cringe-worthy dialogue makes you wonder if anyone cared if this movie was any good.

Weak Protagonist. So, who the hell is our hero? We spend a lot of useless time with other characters in scenes that do nothing to move character or story forward. After Dr. Elizabeth Shaw gets impregnated with facehugger/squid baby, we realize she is supposed to be our protagonist. But we have no emotional connection or investment in her. Why does she care about finding our alien creators? What drives her? Why do I care about her more than the hunky android played by Michael Fassbender?

Take a cue from Contact and show us why this scientist is so passionate about finding these alien beings. Show us what she’s been through to get to this point in her life. Show us her personal stakes. Because I do not understand… or care.

Everyone is stupid. All the characters in this movie are dumb as a facehugger – and just as suffocating. They keep doing stupid, illogical things like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (who are totally dead, btw) playing with menacing serpents slithering in black ooze. Yeah, don’t touch that, dude. If you were on an expedition in the jungle, you would bring a gun and you wouldn’t try to play with the black mamba.

A dying Weyland in really bad old man makeup secretly travels with the ship in order to meet his maker, before he meets his maker, just so he can get his brains bashed in by his maker. What did he expect? God to be a nice guy? Silly man.

But the most dumbass move of all comes from our so-called hero Dr. Shaw. At the very end, she decides not to return to Earth, but to find the home planet of our homicidal creators, so she can ask them why they wanted to destroy us. WHY IN THE HELL WOULD SHE WANT TO DO THAT?! They were planning on wiping out our planet. So, you want to remind them that they never got around to doing it? If this is the best example of human heroism in this sci-fi universe, we all deserve to die.

They think YOU are stupid too. So, a very, very misguided Dr. Elizabeth Shaw takes off with her handsome android head to find the home planet of the Titans, because she wants to know why they were going to destroy us.

This, of course, is to set-up a sequel (Ugh, enough already). Really? That’s your cliffhanger? Wow. The filmmakers must think we are as dumb as their cardboard characters.

We don’t need a sequel to realize why they were going to deliver a ship full of that black ooze to Earth. Let me explain with a simple equation:

The Titans + Facehugger / Squid Creature = Xenomorph.

Or more eloquently…

They created us to be genetically similar enough to them, so they could use our bodies to breed Xenomorphs. Duh (flips hair).

They were going back to Earth to impregnate the human population with Xenomorphs, probably because they are fighting a bigger intergalactic war and need a crap load of biological weapons.

You don’t need to waste your money (or time) watching the sequel. And don’t bother paying to watch the first movie either. You will see nothing new. You will experience no thrills. You will be barraged with a bunch of mythological imagery that does little for the actual story. And you will be wondering how such a legendary director got it so wrong.

If you’re into the whole “Chariot of the Gods” premise, re-watch Stargate (1994) for free on YouTube right here:

Your brain will be more satisfied. Plus, James Spader is nerdilicious.

Yeah. I know. I have a hangover just watching it. (The good kind). It’s got the same throbbing soundscape as “Fire Walk With Me” and just as many throbbing, lost girls and sadistic men. The whole scene reminds me of some debauched mid-semester college party where I lost my sense of morality circa 2002. If you find it, keep it. Who knows who she’s been sleeping with.

Seriously. It’s a literal party in my pants that only I’m invited to.

Want play a symphony with your booty too? Don’t just sit on your ass!

Get yourself some ass-olations with these helpful rump-shakin’ tips and tricks that I learned from Nicole Da Pole Williams, owner of Los Angeles’ Pole Dance Allure.

How to isolate your glutes:

1. Find your butt muscles

No matter how big your butt is, I promise you there are  muscles under all that soft, jingly marshmallow junk. Just close your eyes and squeeze those ass muscles together.

Don’t worry about isolating at first. Just try clenching your butt cheeks together. Remember to relax your hips and legs. These are ass-olations, so the only part of your body that should be moving is your money-maker.

2. Get on your hands and knees! (That was kind of fun to say)

This is the easiest way to isolate those ass muscles. Start by  sitting on your hands an knees. Open your knees and spread them apart. Bring your hands to the floor, leaning forward. Your toes should be touching behind you, with your luscious lady lumps right about them. Keep your head up and your back arched.  If you’re having trouble visualizing this position, think of a super sexy Sphinx.

Try clenching one cheek by itself, without moving the other one. Switch sides and repeat at least 12 times.

3. Make that Tush Talk

Got something to say? Say it with your ass. I promise everyone will listen.

Try standing up and practicing your ass-olations. But talk as you do it, as if you were ass was pantomiming… as if your tush was doing the talking. Don’t laugh. This isn’t funny.

4. Make Your Ass Sing

Once you think you’ve got this down and dirty, put on some music with a beat that makes your booty bounce. Now you can squeeze your butt cheeks in time with the rhythm.

In the words of Mystical: Shake ya ass. Show me what ya workin’ with.

What is this a picture of?

Oh, yeah.  I don’t know about you, but the entire area of my computer screen steamed up in obtuse love triangles.

Created by British multidisciplinary artist Luciano Foglia, GeomentricPorn is an interactive art project meant to simulate sexual organs and… sexual acts using simple geometric shapes. While it’s not actual porn, it does evoke certain erotic feelings that Apple felt crossed the line.

Reasons for Rejection:

16.1: Apps that present excessively objectionable or crude content will be rejected. We found that many audiences would find your app concept objectionable, which is not in compliance with the App Store Review Guidelines.

Maybe Apple is just too square?

Reblogged from Apocalypse Cakes:

• 

As the candidate sure to beat that socialist, baby-killing incumbent, Rick “Frothy Mixture of Lube and Fecal Matter” Santorum will spend his first day in office detaining you at Guantanamo for all your yoga and blowjobs. You will be chained to a rock, naked and pregnant, by Santorum’s legion of Abercrombie youth group members. Then, while you’re cold and alone and left to give birth to your gay best friend’s gay-by, a mob of Catholic priests will take a break from their Cuban slave-boy auction to tase you for each non-procreative orgasm you’ve ever had.

Read more… 146 more words

Inspired by H.R. Giger’s x-rated Xenomorph from the Alien franchise,  the late Alexander McQueen designed these Giger-gasmic pumps  back in 2010. But they feel so 23rd Century, don’t they?

"Get away from them, you bitch! They're mine!"

Remember, in order to walk in these monster heels, I suggest taking steps in “short, controlled bursts” of sexiness.

Gives a whole new meaning to Ku(brick), doesn’t it?

My apartment is a very, very short walk to the famed micro-bakery Sweet E’s. I attribute my love handles to my love of their mini sinckerdoodle cupcakes, cookies and cream cakepops and peanut butter bliss bars. But this month, both the Irish sweet-a-holic and alcoholic in me will have something to buzz over.

May I present the Bailey’s Irish Cupcake:

Baily's Irish Cupcake - March 9-18 - Special for St. Patrick's Day! Chocolate Cake with a Baily's Cream Cheese frosting.

Samoa Cupcake - March 1-31 - Vanilla Cake Filled With Caramel, Topped With Caramel Buttercream, Drizzled with Chocolate Ganache, Topped With Toasted Coconut and a Samoa Girl Scout Cookie

Samoa Cake Pop - March 1-31 - Vanilla Cake mixed with Caramel Buttercream, Dipped in Milk Chocolate, Topped With Toasted Coconut.

Damn. I’m gonna need more Jack and Ginger to wash these down with…

Sweet E’s Bake Shop

1417 S. Robertson Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90035

If Bill Murray says he will not appear in Ghostbusters 3, please do NOT make the movie.