The Family Channel, NBC, ABC, ESPN and Robin Byrd have teamed up to bring you a new Near-Reality Ten-Part TV feature for the whole family (providing Junior's gone to bed and gramma's drool is obscuring her vision), new to the Tuesday night line-up on NBC: It's "Jeff Garcia's Bitches!"
The first episode, entitled, "The Off-Season," centers on Jeff Garcia (Carson Kressley) being harassed by his evil ex-girlfriend, Kristen Hine (Bea Arthur), while he dates the luscious Playboy Playmate of the Year, Carmela DeCesare (played by herself). Mayhem ensues when it is revealed that Jeff has a secret: he likes men rather than women. When Carmela demands he perform in bed, laughter aplenty abounds when he is forced to fantasize about his handsome neighbor, Ned McSprightly (Kyan Douglas) and his accountant (Albert Brooks) playing Baci, naked, in his living room. Despite secretly knowing he's a homosexual, and loving every minute of it (especially in the locker room -- hiss), Jeff agrees to be her bitch and play along, noting during the coital act that the curtains in the living room really do need the quick pick-me-up that only a curtain rod and some dusters from Pottery Barn can provide.
In the meantime, Kristen, on the suggestion of her new man, Richard Simmons (Burt Reynolds), gets a pet ferret and, in the process of lining the ferret's bed with newspaper, the pair stumble across the newspaper article about how Carmela and Jeff are a hot item, so Kristen decides to exact her revenge by sneaking into Jeff's apartment and cutting small holes in each pair of his thong underwear, but she is thwarted by the overwhelming scent of pot pourri inserts in each of his dresser drawers. Richard stands guard outside the apartment entrance and begins to cry spontaneously before Kristen can accomplish her goal and they make a hasty retreat so she can get Richard back to his apartment for a green tea bath and some exfoliant wrap.
Cut to the final scene of the first episode, which shows a latex-wearing Carmela telling Jeff to get on the floor, naked, shouting "buns up n' kneeling, piggie!" and Jeff hits the deck, snorting like Arnold from Green Acres.
The show will certainly turn some heads, but all in all it ought to be a fantastic debut and something which cannot be missed.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
The "Tramp" News Blotter Update
Just yesterday, word of Carmella DeCesare's legal woes spread, detailing how she was accused of swinging on a stripper pole at the Tramp (insert ironic quip here) Nightclub and kicking a former girlfriend of her current beau, Cleveland Browns quarterback Jeff Garcia, in the face. Well, Da Judge ruled on the case, and it's (mostly) good news.
The good news is DeCesare ("May I call you Carmella?") was acquitted of the most serious charge, ie the misdemeanor assault charge (of kicking someone in the face, not the stripper pole swingery). However, she was convicted of violating a protection order (a protection order for whom remains unclear) which translates to a year of probation. On top of that, she was ordered to pay a $150 fine and serve 24 hours of community service (hopefully she'll perform said community service by lap-dancing for cigarettes at local prisons and bars). Apparently, justice was not quite meted out in this case, although the judge who listened to this case, Judge Anita Laster Mays, isn't necessarily a fan of the 22-year-old Playmate.
Eyewitness accounts at the scene indicate that Hine and DeCesare originally had to be separated three times with DeCesare, upon the last squaring off, yelling "I'm going to kill you!" to Hine and then kicking her in the face while she made an attempt to exit the club.
To reiterate, this all occurred at a club called "Tramp."
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=1965760
It seems that Cleveland just isn't a big-enough city for the both of them, so I personally recommend Hine relocates to Akron and DeCesare relocates to Columbus. And Garcia should relocate to Chelsea.
In other news, the weekly Star requested but was denied a copy of the club's surveillance video of the melee, hoping to turn around and sell it to the company responsible for "Girls Gone Wild XII: The Brawls."
Who says the news isn't fun?
The good news is DeCesare ("May I call you Carmella?") was acquitted of the most serious charge, ie the misdemeanor assault charge (of kicking someone in the face, not the stripper pole swingery). However, she was convicted of violating a protection order (a protection order for whom remains unclear) which translates to a year of probation. On top of that, she was ordered to pay a $150 fine and serve 24 hours of community service (hopefully she'll perform said community service by lap-dancing for cigarettes at local prisons and bars). Apparently, justice was not quite meted out in this case, although the judge who listened to this case, Judge Anita Laster Mays, isn't necessarily a fan of the 22-year-old Playmate.
Eyewitness accounts at the scene indicate that Hine and DeCesare originally had to be separated three times with DeCesare, upon the last squaring off, yelling "I'm going to kill you!" to Hine and then kicking her in the face while she made an attempt to exit the club.
To reiterate, this all occurred at a club called "Tramp."
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=1965760
It seems that Cleveland just isn't a big-enough city for the both of them, so I personally recommend Hine relocates to Akron and DeCesare relocates to Columbus. And Garcia should relocate to Chelsea.
In other news, the weekly Star requested but was denied a copy of the club's surveillance video of the melee, hoping to turn around and sell it to the company responsible for "Girls Gone Wild XII: The Brawls."
Who says the news isn't fun?
Things Worthwhile and Really Worthwhile
Forget the pilgrims and the Indians, if you really want to see things from an optimistic perspective, go looking at some of these items/sites and see what you've been missing. And then whip out the plastic (or other things) and get ready for fun.
Worthwhile:
http://thinkdifferent.com/ipodshuffle/
The newest iPod is equipped with a flash memory drive, meaning that it can hold about 200 songs and it will mix 'em up for you, sans screen, so you never know what's a-comin' next.
Really Worthwhile:
http://thinkdifferent.com/ipodphoto/
(Insert drooling, panting noise) Displays up to 65,536 colors and plays up to 15,000 songs. Hot.
Worthwhile:
http://www2.victoriassecret.com/images/prodlgvw/V235614.jpg
As long as it doesn't inspire nightmares by reminding you of Mariah Carey, this is definitely a keeper.
Really Worthwhile:
http://www.agentprovocateur.com/index.php?id=31&styleName=BRIEF&colour=
I think they call this the "Eve" brief; it actually has a suspension bridge across the back, so it basically creates "butt cleavage." In essence, I think they call it a brief to describe how long it will stay on the wearer before it is removed...
Worthwhile:
http://www.nypost.com/photos/pg601122005d.jpg
Seeing Keith Richards in public looking like this reminds me that a blind man could dress himself better.
Really Worthwhile:
http://www.nypost.com/photos/pg601122005i.jpg
Madonna. Scary. Hide the children under the bed before she comes a-callin'.
Worthwhile:
Yasmine Bleeth's mug shot, courtesy of The Smoking Gun:
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/packageart/mugshots/bleethmug.jpg
Really Worthwhile:
Wynonna Judd's mug shot, courtesy of The Smoking Gun:
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/packageart/mugshots/wynonnajuddmug1.jpg
Worthwhile:
Porsche Design three-cigar carbon fiber case, which protects robustos, er, robustly:
http://store1.yimg.com/I/a-zlighters_1827_357745
Really Worthwhile:
For a mere $2,632, you too can own the Elie Bleu "Vegas" humidor...holds 100 of your finest cigars and does so in style...
http://www.vivre.com/images/prod_images/e_aw30829.jpg
...And for a mere $1,007 more, you can own a James Bond-inspired St. Dupont gunmetal palladium lighter to fire up your cigars, one at a time:
http://store1.yimg.com/I/a-zlighters_1825_14703073
Worthwhile:
Blogging to check out the female undergarments worn by professionals who've got the goods and aren't afraid to use 'em:
http://lingeriedreams.blogspot.com/
Really Worthwhile:
Nothing more'n humor and porn, rolled into one tidy little site:
http://www.sensibleerection.com/
Worthwhile:
http://thinkdifferent.com/ipodshuffle/
The newest iPod is equipped with a flash memory drive, meaning that it can hold about 200 songs and it will mix 'em up for you, sans screen, so you never know what's a-comin' next.
Really Worthwhile:
http://thinkdifferent.com/ipodphoto/
(Insert drooling, panting noise) Displays up to 65,536 colors and plays up to 15,000 songs. Hot.
Worthwhile:
http://www2.victoriassecret.com/images/prodlgvw/V235614.jpg
As long as it doesn't inspire nightmares by reminding you of Mariah Carey, this is definitely a keeper.
Really Worthwhile:
http://www.agentprovocateur.com/index.php?id=31&styleName=BRIEF&colour=
I think they call this the "Eve" brief; it actually has a suspension bridge across the back, so it basically creates "butt cleavage." In essence, I think they call it a brief to describe how long it will stay on the wearer before it is removed...
Worthwhile:
http://www.nypost.com/photos/pg601122005d.jpg
Seeing Keith Richards in public looking like this reminds me that a blind man could dress himself better.
Really Worthwhile:
http://www.nypost.com/photos/pg601122005i.jpg
Madonna. Scary. Hide the children under the bed before she comes a-callin'.
Worthwhile:
Yasmine Bleeth's mug shot, courtesy of The Smoking Gun:
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/packageart/mugshots/bleethmug.jpg
Really Worthwhile:
Wynonna Judd's mug shot, courtesy of The Smoking Gun:
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/packageart/mugshots/wynonnajuddmug1.jpg
Worthwhile:
Porsche Design three-cigar carbon fiber case, which protects robustos, er, robustly:
http://store1.yimg.com/I/a-zlighters_1827_357745
Really Worthwhile:
For a mere $2,632, you too can own the Elie Bleu "Vegas" humidor...holds 100 of your finest cigars and does so in style...
http://www.vivre.com/images/prod_images/e_aw30829.jpg
...And for a mere $1,007 more, you can own a James Bond-inspired St. Dupont gunmetal palladium lighter to fire up your cigars, one at a time:
http://store1.yimg.com/I/a-zlighters_1825_14703073
Worthwhile:
Blogging to check out the female undergarments worn by professionals who've got the goods and aren't afraid to use 'em:
http://lingeriedreams.blogspot.com/
Really Worthwhile:
Nothing more'n humor and porn, rolled into one tidy little site:
http://www.sensibleerection.com/
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Twilight Darkness
Flecks of snow and light descend through vertical alleys,
scouting and covering the vacant streets.
Traffic lights swinging with light and dark
coalescing the silhouettes around and behind.
We fight the chill and the biting wind,
easing through our repast with natural aplomb,
our gloved hands warm, her eyes warmer,
her cheeks cold but her lips warm on mine.
The streets are shiny with the afternoon's fall,
street signs reflecting the dark, cold pavement
and the emptiness around us.
We find our return and make our way in,
the smell of spice and strawberries and warmth;
sexy and inviting, the light low and seductive,
clothes flying and hands and eyes and shoulders,
cool sheets and blankets, hips and wrists and lips, warming
and shocking in its perfection.
Later, we christen the afternoon a snow day
and deem to repeat our endeavor when
ever possible.
scouting and covering the vacant streets.
Traffic lights swinging with light and dark
coalescing the silhouettes around and behind.
We fight the chill and the biting wind,
easing through our repast with natural aplomb,
our gloved hands warm, her eyes warmer,
her cheeks cold but her lips warm on mine.
The streets are shiny with the afternoon's fall,
street signs reflecting the dark, cold pavement
and the emptiness around us.
We find our return and make our way in,
the smell of spice and strawberries and warmth;
sexy and inviting, the light low and seductive,
clothes flying and hands and eyes and shoulders,
cool sheets and blankets, hips and wrists and lips, warming
and shocking in its perfection.
Later, we christen the afternoon a snow day
and deem to repeat our endeavor when
ever possible.
News, Or Else (aka Swing On The Pole)
Since the South Asia Earthquake/Tsunami, news about anything but had been hard to find. But thankfully, the return to normalcy prevailed: people forgot about the destructive force that tore up much of South Asia as soon as they heard Jennifer Aniston & Brad Pitt were separating. Thankfully, we Americans have a wonderful sense of what news is important and what is really crucial to our daily existence. Our fickleness as a culture astounds me, by the way.
Much of what we absorb, especially but not exclusively since 9/11, is highly filtered to insure we as Americans don't read anything too upsetting or too sensitive; more often than not, what is news is determined by a handful of people in this country who have a lot of money, a lot of power, big egos and asses to match. If anyone reading this thinks Tom Brokaw, Dan Rather and Peter Jennings have a say in what they report, think again -- they're puppets that can be removed and replaced faster than you can say "Rupert Murdoch has a small weenie." News reporters are puppets and unless their evidence is hard and their facts are iron-clad and triple-checked, they go with the flow, which is a pleasant euphemism for covering their asses. While Dan Rather's sudden departure isn't really news, it should raise an eyebrow, especially considering what we've been reading this week, ie the firings and "departures" of the people involved with CBS's reporting of President Bush's National Guard service. Shit rolls downhill, and the farther down the hill you are, the more you get hit.
Having said all that, I think the top news story over the past week has to be the very visible, very humorous spat between Kristen Hine, 32, and Carmella DeCesare, 22. The reason why it's "news" is because Hine used to date, and DeCesare currently dates, Jeff Garcia, who used to play quarterback for the San Francisco 49'ers and who currently plays quarterback for the, um, Cleveland Browns. What makes it more interesting is the fact that, apparently, DeCesare, who also happens to be the Playboy Playmate of The Year, swung (using a stripper pole at the oh-so-appropriately-named Tramp nightclub), where the altercation occurred, and kicked Hine, in the face. Apparently, according to Garcia himself, Hine approached Garcia and DeCesare kicked someone else, but in self-defense. Okeee. Add to this the debate/controversy which brewed for a week or two early in the NFL season that Terrel Owens, a former teammate of Garcia's on the 49'ers, suggested that Garcia is homosexual, and you have a bona-fide keeper of a news story.
The article, first reported on Fox goes into more detail, ie how Hine and DeCesare apparently shared insults, and then Hine apparently poured a drink on DeCesare, etc. But what really floors me is that Garcia should be extremely pleased; not only isn't he gay, but he's got the Playboy Playmate (who isn't exactly rough on the eyes) kicking (literally) other suitors aside. Knowing he's dating a Playboy Playmate doesn't necessarily mean he's not gay; but when she's kicking other women -- in the face -- to keep them away from him, you have to assume he's straighter than a Republican. I can just envision the locker-room discussions that will ensue:
"So, Jeff, have a good off-season?"
"Yeah, I'm dating the Playboy Playmate of the Year."
"No shit!"
"Yeah, and not only that, she kicked the shit out of an ex-girlfriend of mine over the summer by swinging on a stripper pole at Tramp."
"No shit!"
"Yeah, and she's got a great rack, too!"
"No shit!"
"Too bad I'm gay."
"Um, lemme go get a towel."
If you have nothing better to do, the URL for the above-referenced story is: http://msn.foxsports.com/story/3316654
Much of what we absorb, especially but not exclusively since 9/11, is highly filtered to insure we as Americans don't read anything too upsetting or too sensitive; more often than not, what is news is determined by a handful of people in this country who have a lot of money, a lot of power, big egos and asses to match. If anyone reading this thinks Tom Brokaw, Dan Rather and Peter Jennings have a say in what they report, think again -- they're puppets that can be removed and replaced faster than you can say "Rupert Murdoch has a small weenie." News reporters are puppets and unless their evidence is hard and their facts are iron-clad and triple-checked, they go with the flow, which is a pleasant euphemism for covering their asses. While Dan Rather's sudden departure isn't really news, it should raise an eyebrow, especially considering what we've been reading this week, ie the firings and "departures" of the people involved with CBS's reporting of President Bush's National Guard service. Shit rolls downhill, and the farther down the hill you are, the more you get hit.
Having said all that, I think the top news story over the past week has to be the very visible, very humorous spat between Kristen Hine, 32, and Carmella DeCesare, 22. The reason why it's "news" is because Hine used to date, and DeCesare currently dates, Jeff Garcia, who used to play quarterback for the San Francisco 49'ers and who currently plays quarterback for the, um, Cleveland Browns. What makes it more interesting is the fact that, apparently, DeCesare, who also happens to be the Playboy Playmate of The Year, swung (using a stripper pole at the oh-so-appropriately-named Tramp nightclub), where the altercation occurred, and kicked Hine, in the face. Apparently, according to Garcia himself, Hine approached Garcia and DeCesare kicked someone else, but in self-defense. Okeee. Add to this the debate/controversy which brewed for a week or two early in the NFL season that Terrel Owens, a former teammate of Garcia's on the 49'ers, suggested that Garcia is homosexual, and you have a bona-fide keeper of a news story.
The article, first reported on Fox goes into more detail, ie how Hine and DeCesare apparently shared insults, and then Hine apparently poured a drink on DeCesare, etc. But what really floors me is that Garcia should be extremely pleased; not only isn't he gay, but he's got the Playboy Playmate (who isn't exactly rough on the eyes) kicking (literally) other suitors aside. Knowing he's dating a Playboy Playmate doesn't necessarily mean he's not gay; but when she's kicking other women -- in the face -- to keep them away from him, you have to assume he's straighter than a Republican. I can just envision the locker-room discussions that will ensue:
"So, Jeff, have a good off-season?"
"Yeah, I'm dating the Playboy Playmate of the Year."
"No shit!"
"Yeah, and not only that, she kicked the shit out of an ex-girlfriend of mine over the summer by swinging on a stripper pole at Tramp."
"No shit!"
"Yeah, and she's got a great rack, too!"
"No shit!"
"Too bad I'm gay."
"Um, lemme go get a towel."
If you have nothing better to do, the URL for the above-referenced story is: http://msn.foxsports.com/story/3316654
Monday, January 10, 2005
A Quick Run To Jersey
We braved the cold, the traffic and the week-night schedule and made our way out of NYC to New Jersey to visit my father, recovering slowly-but-surely at home, to have dinner, go over some files and to get some quality time in with the Big Man.
After spending 90 minutes on the West Side Highway, traffic which was a result of an emergency upper-level GWB closure, we crossed into New Jersey and 20 minutes later found ourselves in their driveway. Walking through the front door, it occurred to me that this was somewhat anti-climactic. As excited as I was having him home and recovering and getting back to himself, I also realized something: this whole experience, at least knowing how close we came to losing him, taught me that life is indeed a precious, precarious, uncertain, mysterious ride.
I know that sounds hackneyed and cliché: but as a son, my parents being there for me emotionally has always been a constant in my life. I've known some people whose parents are awful, dysfunctional, distant and unavailable, but I never could quite put myself in their shoes, and I thank god daily for that. Above and beyond the fact that my parents have always been there for me in a caring, loving way, they're my friends, despite their flaws as people. So I guess facing my dad's mortality has forced me to examine my life and my own mortality. And as much as I am excited and thrilled and relieved and happy and thankful that he's at home, I also know that one day I will be in a different place, and I guess knowing that, acknowledging it, has shaken me more than I wish it had. But I've realized I'm too happy to let the 1% of worry & concern over what might be taint the remaining 99%.
I spoke to my family doctor today to get a refill of a medication, and of course he told me he'd handle it without question; to his inquiries about my father and my mother and my sister, I told him we all were doing great and all was, finally, going really well. He then asked about me, and I told him I was finally feeling great and waking up happy. He asked me about the situation that caused all of this, and of course I told him it was erased from my life long ago. I then proceeded to tell him about how, as my father was recovering, I'd met and fell in love with the greatest woman I've ever known. I told him there was a time where I almost felt guilty being as happy as I was, having this incredible woman sweep into my life, and how I finally relented, chalking it up to "everything for a reason." So, hearing where I was, he advised me "I don't think I could be any happier for you guys. I'm thrilled. And I'm glad you're doing as great as you are." My response, simply, was, "What complaints could I have? Everything is amazing."
We hung up, and I realized that there's no day that will be worse than what I've already endured, no pain which can exceed that which I've experienced, and nothing I can't accomplish now that I've found where I want to be and with whom.
And I smiled.
After spending 90 minutes on the West Side Highway, traffic which was a result of an emergency upper-level GWB closure, we crossed into New Jersey and 20 minutes later found ourselves in their driveway. Walking through the front door, it occurred to me that this was somewhat anti-climactic. As excited as I was having him home and recovering and getting back to himself, I also realized something: this whole experience, at least knowing how close we came to losing him, taught me that life is indeed a precious, precarious, uncertain, mysterious ride.
I know that sounds hackneyed and cliché: but as a son, my parents being there for me emotionally has always been a constant in my life. I've known some people whose parents are awful, dysfunctional, distant and unavailable, but I never could quite put myself in their shoes, and I thank god daily for that. Above and beyond the fact that my parents have always been there for me in a caring, loving way, they're my friends, despite their flaws as people. So I guess facing my dad's mortality has forced me to examine my life and my own mortality. And as much as I am excited and thrilled and relieved and happy and thankful that he's at home, I also know that one day I will be in a different place, and I guess knowing that, acknowledging it, has shaken me more than I wish it had. But I've realized I'm too happy to let the 1% of worry & concern over what might be taint the remaining 99%.
I spoke to my family doctor today to get a refill of a medication, and of course he told me he'd handle it without question; to his inquiries about my father and my mother and my sister, I told him we all were doing great and all was, finally, going really well. He then asked about me, and I told him I was finally feeling great and waking up happy. He asked me about the situation that caused all of this, and of course I told him it was erased from my life long ago. I then proceeded to tell him about how, as my father was recovering, I'd met and fell in love with the greatest woman I've ever known. I told him there was a time where I almost felt guilty being as happy as I was, having this incredible woman sweep into my life, and how I finally relented, chalking it up to "everything for a reason." So, hearing where I was, he advised me "I don't think I could be any happier for you guys. I'm thrilled. And I'm glad you're doing as great as you are." My response, simply, was, "What complaints could I have? Everything is amazing."
We hung up, and I realized that there's no day that will be worse than what I've already endured, no pain which can exceed that which I've experienced, and nothing I can't accomplish now that I've found where I want to be and with whom.
And I smiled.
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