Girls are allowed now!

Huzzah! So I guess with this post, I hope to balance out what appears to be a copious amount of boobies on this blog... In the eloquent words of Khoa, mandatory initiation is to write about "who wood u do"... my answer to that is:

Look at how cute he is (without the ridiculous stache) ! I don't know him very well (er, at all) so I can't really comment on important personality traits such as general intelligence or kindness... for all I know he could be a real douchebag. But he was hilarious in Freaks and Geeks (the greatest show ever, aside from Arrested), Pineapple Express, and in this. We'll all ignore the General Hospital nonsense and call it creative artistic expression.

This is irrelevant, but for the record, if the question was, "Who would you want to be your best friend forever" I would answer with this kid... who doesn't love him?

And the winner isn't

I'll admit, this whole sleeping with a celebrity has me flummoxed. I'll also admit that I only wrote the previous sentence to transmit to all of you the universal joy of pronouncing the word "flummoxed" in your pop-culture addled brains (yes, a universal pleasure-screw your cultural relativism).

Honestly, though, there is only one celebrity I've ever had a crush on deep emotional connection to. It carried me through puberty, and he's still the only celebrity I want to critique architecture and parking ramp placement with (yeah I'm gay). Unfortunately though, I hope to be entering into a business relationship with this, my one true celebrity, in the not too distant future. I'd hate for explicit sexual details to stated on this blog to make their way to his desk and sour the deal.

This love, which is best described thusly: close your eyes. Pick up the cheeseburger. Enjoy its warmth, the weight in your hand. Oops, that bit of stout sauce and onion on your hand. Move it closer to your mouth. Feel the saliva flood your mouth, the aroma assault your nostrils. Take a bite. WHAM. Punch in the face. Yep, someone just full on punched you. Right in the face. That's love, and that joy right there is mine alone, ladies and gentleman.

But, after much deliberation, there are a number of obvious and largely uninspired (but extremely attractive) celebrities I would certainly have meaningful one-night stands or 3-day-weekends with. Just to be clear, we'd warm up with some gay pornography and press banter, follow with blow jobs (which I definitely did not learn how to perform by reading a dictionary) and proceed to the main course. These lucky men are: Leonardo DiCaprio, for his panache and ability to pull off facial hair no one else can; Clive Owen, for the his inhuman ability to wear a suit; Daniel Craig, for his panache and Chris Pine, because he is the hottest white man I've ever seen.

Enough. Get me a glass of scotchka.

Also, photo copyright Jana Voigt

Greetings and Salutations and Unfulfilled Desires

There are a lot of hot celebrities. Tons of them. Endless masses, really, if the progression of time and the regular realities of breeding and plastic surgery are anything to set your watch to. So who is it amongst these beauteous hordes that I would take as my own?

Though I don't think I can match his visual panache, I'd like to borrow McFadden's lovely concept of "famous girlfriend," because I don't think I could go on living if Amanda Palmer and I were only allowed a one night stand.

I'm going to tell you something very strange: it was she who seduced me. As leading lady of The Dresden Dolls, Ms. Palmer's been singing siren songs to me for years now. If you can give me the name of anyone writing music as brutal and emotionally honest as her, I'll eat my hat (I have several).

And of course, dare I forget her loveliness? The delicate arabesques or hasty scrawls of her inconstant eyebrows? Or more importantly, the guts and grin she shows on every album? Especially her new solo material, Who Killed Amanda Palmer? a double punch to my heart- musical and referential. There's more to her than I can possible name in this brief post, and to condense further would only be insulting.

Amanda! I'm free on Thursdays!

We welcome you to Scrabblegories with sex and celebrity and answers to a personal question regarding those two things

Who? Who would you do?

...

You knew there would be a catch, didn't you? Well, I won't disappoint.

On copping-out, I mean.

Honestly, it has to be Abe.

...

OK, look. There were no rules against dead people, and if this is creepier than macking on people who probably pay interns (think of the interns!) to Google themselves every three seconds for defamation but also dream of running away from their wives and E-meters to sex all their fans, I stand alone but proud in the crypt.

Obviously, the only serious answer to this question is Cary Grant. But while I'd like to think Ceege would never leave me, come on.

Abe, on the other hand: miserable, body-dysmorphic (why else would he hide in all that hair?), kind of racist and not-so-good on the civil liberties precedents, but generally wanted to make people happy. Also, by all accounts he desperately wanted a man, and his wife probably concurred. How could he say no?

The point is, Cary Grant only said witty things other people wrote. Abe wrote, said, did.

Abe Lincoln: the celebrity for the rest of us.