a romantic interlude with edward de bono

edward de bono's carer message

I often tell people that I am looking for a fat cross-eyed hunchback to look after me and then I shall stop travelling so much. This is really a metaphor. Most women seem to have long agendas and men are a sort of accessory to that life plan. There is nothing wrong with this at all. I am all for ambition and pursuit of purpose. But perhaps there are others who regard 'caring' as a worthwhile mission. This is not a matrimonial advertisement but I should like to hear from those who agree or disagree with my comments. (edwdebono@msn.com Subject: hunchback)

Edward de Bono
10th November 2006

my lovely email to mr. de bono, second guessing his reluctance to marry again.

oh, hello;

how certain are you, that it wasn't a proposal? it sounds a bit like you have made room for an exception and are just waiting for a lovely lady to call your bluff. sometimes i wonder if you really exist... but, oh, you romantic fool. i do.

kaylen

surprisingly, he wrote back from his private email, saying,

Kaylen:

I do exist. Tell me more about yourself !

Edward de Bono

dearest of dear edwards;

how nice you responded... my heart expresses more than quite a bit of joy that you exist. i exist too, so already i can tell we will get along just swimmingly.

i have no idea how many marriage proposals you get, but i am not allergic to peanuts and that seems like it would set me ahead of the masses... i also don't know how much information you really would want from a lady. so here is a brief bit and you tell me "more" or "less".

i enjoy homogeneous type; muggy-warm climates; thinking about soft things like chinchillas and de-clawed persian kittens; doing laundry; smelling laundry; and my two fishes: david foster wallace & nixon. they are pretty great, for fish. i had two cats, curtain & napkin, but my family rather pinched them from me...

i do not, however, enjoy more than one exclamation point; australian accents; the colour "coral"; and the way swimming pools are never the right temperature... i like the ocean tremendously, but it unfortunately gives me severe pangs of vertigo and panic attacks, even from the safety of a boat. i am not afraid of heights, though.

i would like to give you an idea, but all i can think of is how sleeping pills should be marketed as overnight 'vitamins'. i hope that isn't too sinister for courting.

sincerely,
kaylen

fruit(headed people) of the ACAD artist's labours

so finally, after a week of being bombarded by design-based depression and enthusiasm, i bring to you the review of the 2006 ACAD christmas show & sale.

if you don't know what i'm talking about, the show & sale is the event our school hosts twice a year- east and christmas. the whole main mall is opened up to the community and essentially every available surface is covered in layers of student work. that's right. our opportunity to shove our work onto the public at large. students pick what they sell and how much they're selling it for.

some of this work is made specifically to sell at this event. however, the larger bulk is composed of old projects, first-year attempts, and a whole lot of random fan art (clearly made before any art instruction) that kids figure, "hey...someone might buy it".

like the jerk that i am, i went about snickering and taking photos of the worst. certainly not all the worst, but... enough. in retrospect, i should have taken pictures of the price tags to go along with them- it's a whole other facet of humour. all's i remember is the gigantic kitty was about $1500.oo...

the highlights (the worst):

african lady with a village on her forehead (rhianna's vote for ugliest)


people with fruit heads- suspiciously miserable (my vote for ugliest & best overall)


seal in top hat in questionable background (nipping at the ankles for my favourite)


someone's idea of an abstract painting (yikes)


harry potter fan art (a semi-popular theme- other popular themes that spring up year after year are john lennon, ballerinas, phil collins, horses... unfortunately i do not have a picture of last year's painting "unicorn with boobs".)



i guess someone thought it was a good idea at the time... i don't know what else to say about this one.


random, horrible lover paintings. this one is actually one of the better examples.


here is rhianna standing with one we actually do like.


and finally, i present to you, the gigantic kitty. seriously, keep in mind this kitty is about 6 feet long. both rhianna and i immediately covered our mouths with our palms and exclaimed, "KITTY!". it's debateable where this painting belongs. bathroom? kitchen? bedroom? the ceiling of my bedroom right over my bed? even if someone was eccentric and tasteless enough to want a 6foot cat picture, wouldn't they want it to be of their own cat?


there were others that i just didn't get shots of. some precious ones like a still life of a shoe that the artist didn't compose beforehand, so it wound up mostly just being a gigantic painting of the gaping hole you stick your foot into.

everyone agrees this year's show & sale was crappier than usual. i didn't find a single bag i wanted to buy. this makes me sad. i rely on show & sale to give me new and unique bags...

i did, however get a pair of gigantic turquoise earrings. rhianna kind of made them. kind of.

just one of the cute things i did as a girlfriend

i found this floating in the way-up murk and forgotten mess of my iphoto library. i was looking for pictures of baby hippo (now kathleen's cat) and had a "oh..i remember that" moment...

this is peter's arm. and this is just one of the many little things i did as a ladylover.



i also used to write him secret messages on the insides of his pants pockets with marker, etc... the last i left was "no sooner said than done" in greek.

what does a spambot know about moodiness?

what are you working toward as a couple?

moodiness

You would have thought that they would have bonded and formed friendships, and generally supported each other. In fact, when is the last time you even read it? It's certainly been the stumbling block for a lot of jobs that I've gone for. And so he would have to delay by another day, while he waited for the supplies depot to sent out a further piece of piping. And at that time, no doubt, they'll find it impossible to shut me up, as I tell them all my about my exciting new job. The difference in hourly rates is quite astonishing, and so it wasn't exactly a hard decision to choose between them. But I feel it's always a good idea to do a bit of research before going out to get such an important purchase.

So I had a bit of hunt around for repair people, and ended up going with British Gas. But it was not until we got outside that we appreciated the scale of the storm. This comes after almost a year of broadcasting the show here in the UK with the strange blur in the corner. Indeed, it took them about half an hour to find someone to drive the bus that takes us from the plane to the terminal building. And at that time, no doubt, they'll find it impossible to shut me up, as I tell them all my about my exciting new job.
With introductions by Dr.
And so, they decided they would have to bus all the passengers across the island. And so I only had two formal shirts that fitted me.
Will you know what do the first time the baby cries? a group of friends hangs out regularly and eventually two people have feelings for each other.
what are you working toward as a couple? First of all, I need to sort out how I'm going to be paid for this contract; the traditional route seemingly to form a limited company.
Because it's better to know that my friends do care about me.
They remind me about my own failings, and my own human weakness. I've certainly never seem anything like it in my life.

But, inevitably, we gradually all became a bit lazy about keeping in touch. Unfortunately, however, when he came to fit the new valve, he found that he couldn't detach the old one from the pipework. Luckily, then just have stone tiles down on the floors.

I was also fed for free on the flight, which is something you don't get from easyJet. a group of friends hangs out regularly and eventually two people have feelings for each other. ask the parents for permission.

First of all, I need to sort out how I'm going to be paid for this contract; the traditional route seemingly to form a limited company.

A couple of my old friends from when I used to live in Yorkshire came up to visit Edinburgh for the weekend, and I met up with them. And the rest is just down to finding the time to edit and upload the files on a regular basis. Have you bought the perfect ring?

Indeed, I'm rather excited to hear that one of those friends is already planning her next visit to see me in the next few weeks.

Ys? eeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhh......no.

i couldn't be more reluctant to love this album the way so many love this album. that's all i really have to say about that. could you be any more of a novelty?

an open letter to our c-train, who is suddenly a little girl.

dear c-train;

you are a woman.

oh dear me, one of your rails cracked. just one, as far as i heard. a single rail breaks and your downtown stops-- all your downtown stops-- are shut down. for both trains, going both ways.

besides the fact i had to walk about 45mins in the freezing snow (without hat, without socks, and without feeling in about 70% of my limbs), i couldn't be less impressed with you right now. one rail. how long are rails? really, both trains? they do not share rails. what the hell is wrong with you that you aren't working on the coldest day in all of our thus-far winter?

i had to rub myself inappropriately in public, just to keep my thighs working! c-train, you made me rub myself inappropriately in public. and you made me make very, incredibly sad faces. oh yeah, they were sad. scale of 1-10 in sadness? 10.

what a mamby pamby train you are. cracked rails. yeesh. are they made of precious, peach-tinted depression glass? you are: a raaaging lady; a feminine volcano full of florence nightingale girly magma; a delicate pink cherry blossom of a girly girl who broke her nail and can't go to work. i didn't realize you were prancing around on little, glass slippers. cinderella.

what's that mary kay? are you crying? is it making your eye makeup run?

yours,
kaylen

what a sad spam box you are, spam box...

my spam box was empty except for three e-mails from spam machines, using one word for their name, followed by a period.

only.
place.
relied.

fun with george

some names are so excellent that every single savage culture takes to them like ducks to water. and oh, the joys to be found in the variety of pronunciations.

"george" is one of my personal favourites. in spanish, it's pronounced "whore-hay".

fun "George/whore-hay" sayings:
1. a room full of Georges.
2. filled up to here with Georges.
3. you georges looking for a good time?
4. look at all those Georges...
5. just call me George, of the morning, George...just touch my cheek before you leave me, George.
6. i've never seen so many George's in one place.
7. Hey, George. (see how symmetrical it is? oh baby)

ways to avoid cries of subliminal advertising:

1. always show the penis, so there is no guess that it is not, in fact, aroused or erect.
2. show both hands. if you only show one, it will be assumed that the other is on your genitals or the genitals of a victimized woman (or three). take, for example, this advertisement. his hand is missing and despite the fact he'd have to be miraculously pleasuring these women through gloves and snow suits, that's the conclusion jumped to. like at school dances: keep both those hands visible, all the time.
3. if your product comes in any kind of tube, has any capacity to spray... forget that product shot. wherever you put it, there's going to be someone crying "oral sex!".
4. like inthis ad, make sure your raindrops fall in forms that could never be construed as sexual. mother theresa, maybe.

5. once you're sure there's nothing offensive in your ad? turn it upside down. because you know they will go there, if they have to. as this proves .
6. nothing should ever, ever resemble 's's, 'x's or otherwise. alphabets just scream 'slut'.
7. any copy suggesting your product makes people relax, feel pleasure, or enjoyment in any way will only be misconstrued. i suggest either being more detailed ("the chocolate will taste exactly like chocolate"), tweaking the vocabulary ("the most austere chocolate"), or suggesting the opposite ("this chocolate will make you never want to have sex, ever again.")

safe words:
austere
chaste
eunuch
sterile
barely tolerable
tolerable
completely sober
parched

as for the mouth: unfortunately, there's nothing to do about women's mouths. if they're open, you're going to get someone saying she's inviting a penis in. if it's closed, there's someone going to call you on insinuating women have nothing to say. if you cut off the head entirely and just show the neck down: well you know where that one leads.

in essence: never show women in advertising. it steals their souls. show these safe animals instead: zebras, chinchillas, kiwis. nothing with horns, wrinkles, or any sex joke in the history of humankind attached to it. the jury is still out on scorpions.

why danielcraigisnotbond.com should never be taken seriously

i find danielcraigisnotbond.com a weak and disreputable source for the bond debate.

first of all: are people seriously forgetting how unattractive sean connery was as bond? you know i don't care for mr. connery (who isn't even british) to begin with. some people insist he was The Bond.



okay, let's get a line-up here. you pick how many classic bonds you find attractive; because let me tell you, it is a compromise for me to pick even one.


figure 1: not british; receeding hairline ; odd eyebrows; really odd & deflated baloon checks
figure 2: if bond were a cruise director on a retirement vessel or a school principal from the 50's, he'd look like this. mustache = creepy. receeding hairline = well. very receeded.
figure 3: kind of blocky and penal-code-looking. if you ignore his tiny, tiny gun not so bad.
figure 4: looks shocked and dragged off the set of a jeopary knock-off game show.
figure 5: too much eyebrow, too scary, and too 'my hair was transplanted to my scalp from my crotch'.
figure 6: yeah i can't really complain about this one. he's a pretty-lookin' guy.

how is daniel craig anything but an improvement? have you seen his eyes? they are like delicious face-glaciers. even you don't find him pretty enough, you have to remember:
a) he is british. that's sometimes the price you pay for authenticity.
b) he can't possibly be any worse than guys like bond #2.
c) he played an almost sexier-than-bond character in layer cake.
d) no creepy mustache.



now for the people behind the anti-craig site... is this an intentional spelling error? the double question marks lead me to believe it isn't.




quotes from the site which have me further second-guessing their opinion:

DanielCraigIsNotBond.com endorses Happy Feet


CRAIG SICK OF MARTINI OFFERS: -The 38-year-old actor is bored
of fans using the superspy's infamous catchphrase and asking
him if he likes the beverage "shaken or stirred". He says, "I want
to chin people who ask me that."

well, who wouldn't? i know i could 'chin' people for less.

i have a hard time taking people seriously, when they stood behind the last, incredible flop of a bond movie.

me? i'm not even a huge bond fan-- i think craig will class it up, though it's beneath his potential to play in a bond movie-- and i keep thinking: what is bond, really, except a revolving door for actors anyhow? the business of bond, is finding the next replacement. why paint such a vicious bullseye on just another guy passing through the door?

please keep your fossilized knowledge and wisdom out of my toast

it was a nail-biting race up the end, between some stone-ground, low-fat bread(seriously?), and soft cut... but the winner of the gayest bread ever is:

ANCIENT GRAIN



[the most homosessual words are in bold.]

"Spelt is the oldest grain in Europe [note, none of those pictures are from Europe, dude] dating back to 6,000 B.C. Quinoa has been grown for over 5,000 years in the Andes Mountains and Amaranth has a long and interesting history in Mexico where the Mayans & Incans have been harvesting it for thousands of years. On the other hand, Ancient Egyptian farmers cultivated Kamut. All this knowledge and wisdom has been combined to bake a delicious loaf of bread bringing all the nutritious value of ancient grains to you and your family."


yeah. your gay family.

baffling accusations of subliminal advertising

codewest
"The Xs on the license plates are suggestive." ....to what?
"She clearly is looking at someone and doing something that she thinks is funny and/or is embarrassed by." i don't know if "clearly" is the right word here. and i certainly don't know that"looking at someone doing something" is subliminal. or even remotely negative.

newport

benson

bombay
what is the twist of peel suggesting, exactly? as far as i can fathom: sexy intestinal worms.

incest in paris
does she look like she's late 30's? or like she's ever had children? frankly, what benefit would incest be to the advertisement?

clinique

rembrandt
because when i see a tube of toothpaste, i think "penis!".

gay wool

squirt!

note to self: i do not go 'squirt!" often enough. not nearly. but now that i know it's a selling point....

what is the lanolin content for confusion?

why is it that these days search engines' only magic mean is the power to exponentially increase my curiosity by infinity? my curiosity, which goes completely unsated despite any amount of online rifling and detective-ry. i wind up walking around asking random people who have odd stores of knowledge. isn't that the sort of practice that search engines attempted to eliminate in the first place?

okay, so my mind was wandering–mostly to the very round, very blue alpaca hat i was wearing today (read: am wearing)–i turned to anders and sang my hat- is a very very very round hat... and continued on explaining: it is from south america; it is very blue; and it was made from llamas.

me- "not llamas...you know. their fur"(pause) "no, not fur... um.. what is it called? wool? what do they call wool? it's not sheep fur..."

we puzzle over this, until i remember the word "fleece".

then this leads to me asking anders: "hey. so what's the difference between fleece and fur anyway?"

we race to our respective laptops and search engines. assuming there was more than just a vocabulary-based difference, i searched for difference between fleece and fur and only got a long list of clothing sites in return. so i slammed (action verb of the day) parentheses around my search phrase. only to be bombarded by yet another question.

"difference between fleece and fur" resulted in one hit: apprising ministries (mormon blog) wherein the following appears:

As Dr. Martin used to say: “if you don’t know the difference between fleece and fur, you’re going to lose your spiritual arm right up to the elbow.”

what the hell does that even mean? it follows a short quip about false prophets. but even if it's relevent to that, which is the false prophet? the fleece? or the fur? dear family practitioner: what is my spiritual arm? attempting to look up the meaning of what is already a digression from my initial curiosity, i come across unhelpful sites covering everything from simple "arm of fellowship" definitions to debates centered around the spirit-body connection and amputation. yeesh.

okay, so according to the mormons, the difference between fleece and fur should be obvious (unless they simply mean vocabulary-wise... that's kind of a big hangup to lose that spiritual appendage over, though). i, for the life of me, don't know what that difference is exactly.

but from now on, i am going to threaten people with the loss of their spiritual arm up to their elbow.

fish food fiasco pt II

i've gone through so much hassle to get up to the petstore and buy proper betta fish food... the other morning i ran up before school only to find that it didn't open until 9, right when i had to be at class... i left in a cold huff.

this evening,since i was out of butter, i figured i'd make a trip up to the petstore and stop by the market that's basically right beside it... because my fish deserved the right food (even it petcetera only sells their own store brand of food) and who had i been kidding feeding them goldfish food, anyway? i've been feeling like a horrible owner and i have been plagued by a deluge of "my fish get sick and die all over" nightmares.

anyhow, i also brought my camera to demonstrate how exactly i managed to mistake goldfish food for betta fish food. this is the most confusing aisle in aisle-land. i was almost blind with panic, thinking i'd somehow walk out again with goldfish food...

seriously people. is this good marketing?




what vexes me? well, i flipped over the packets, comparing the ingredients in order to see what awful things i was feeding david foster wallace & nixon this past week...

goldfish food ingredients:
fish meal, shrimp meal, soybean meal, wheat flour, rice bran, wheat germ, yeast, vitamin A, B, C, and E + other minerals


betta fish food ingredients:
white fish meal, shrimp meal, soybean meal, wheat flour, rice bran, wheat germ, yeast, vitamin A, B, C, and E + other minerals

survey says? sons of bitches.

i hate this trend in food photography..

i will tell you what bothers me, but first i will describe my eyes. my eyes are blue and resplendant. now i will tell you what bothers me.

pictures can be found here- scroll down

so much overexposed white.

how i plan to spend my Remembrance Day

clearly, i do not remember any canadian wars- i don't even remember which war or which veterans they are remembering. i hate remembering old people. too wrinkly and too sleepy.

so, i will remember the ice age instead. oh boy!

i bet you want to know how i plan to do that. honestly, you're welcome to join me.

i plan on pretending i am the ice age itself. if there's anything more fun that pretending to be a whole era- an epoch!- well, i don't know what it is. so, i'm going to make popsicles (fruit juice ones, coffee ones, alcoholic ones...whatever tickles my fancy) and freeze interesting things in them. like little wooly mammoths! i will go around the apartment and find things i want to preserve in my tasty little time capsuls- also i get to pick what things go extinct.

have a nice remembrance day yourself.

why was yesterday so purple?

or aubergine. you decide.

guess who locked herself out of her apartment again?

oh, it was me.

yes, i did it again: i locked myself out of the apartment. i left without my keys (and apparently my wallet too). i realized my mistake sometime around 11:30 this afternoon and opted to crash at the coffee shop for awhile. it was a little awkward, because i was also carrying 3 gigantic panes of black foamcore for mounting tomorrow's advertising project for presentation. nothing makes hallways or coffeeshops awkward like foamcore.

so, the man with the ladder (who i have bothered previously, sheepishly...) was either not in or he was ignoring me. who could blame him for the latter? i waited around until about 4:15.i then: stacked the unclaimed phonebooks from the entryway ontop of the garden stone wall (right under my balcony); stood on them; hopped enough to grab onto one of the posts; and attempted to swing myself far enough over that my foot could get leverage on the porch. well, that didn't happen. i grabbed, i swung, i failed, i swung, i made "trying so hard!" faces, i failed, i failed... i failed so hard, dudes. i panted and fell back into the snow and trudged back inside with the slghtly dampened phone books.

around 5pm, some pizza delivery guy let me into the building... and then tried to jimmy my door open for me, with a cards, which was a little disturbing. none of it worked and i just picked up half-decent wireless on my laptop and camped in the hall until paul got home (around 6 something).

things to do when you're stuck waiting in the hall of your apartment building:
1. put your palms on one wall, and feet on the other- remember how awesome it was to climb walls/doorways.

2. assuming you're like me and you have nail clippers in your everyday bags, go ahead and trim your nails without the debate of a) living with the nearly invisible bits of nails b)having to break out your roommates vacuum (which smells like burning hair) and clean them up. whee!

3. listen to other people's doors. the guy in apt #4 was singing "my-yyyyy looove my darling, i hunger for your touch" etc. he was horrible, by the way. some lady was shouting at her dog.

4. go around and count the number of unlabeled, mystery doors in your apartment building. i only found three- but one was very tiny and square and this almost makes it worth more. feel free to attribute points to various sizes and add them all up as is your (or my) wont.

5. sit very still and try and figure out the furthest away/most subtle thing you can hear.

6. look up "how to pick locks" on google.com



two conversations involving unhelpful help:

1)
me: i am attempting to look up websites that'd tell me how to pick my door lock
alex: Is it a normal lock? Cause you can make lockpicks out of a Coke can if you have to.
me: i guess so... but i don't have a coke can
alex: Well what do you have?
me: i have a set of nailclippers though with file. and a bunch of randoom things in my bags..
alex: Do you have a long very thin thing and a long bent stiff thing?
me: ummm...i don't know about the long thin thingy, no
me: what do you do with them?
alex: The bent one is a tension wrench.
me: your mom is a tension wrench :`)
me: sorry, go ahead
alex: You stick it in the bottom of the lock, and force it sideways, to force the barrel of the lock away from the frame.
alex: Then you use the pick to raise the pins one by one, which catch on the gap that you have created between the barrel and the rest, and remain in the "open" position.
me: ..you could write directions for a living.
me: it is a gift.

2)
rhianna: if i was there i could do it with a fork. there is no lock i cannot pick with cutlery. ask kathleen
me: really? funny you mention that. i totally have a fork. and a pearing knife, too
rhianna: i can't tell you how though, it's just intuitive.
me: do you stick it in the keyhole or use it in the crack of the dor?
rhianna: crack of door. it might be hard if it's a deadbolt though, instead of just a spring lock. you can't get enough torque.
rhianna: can i tell you the image of you trying to look at your computer and type and pick a lock is hilarious? cause it is.

ways you can "brush like a dentist"

1. try and initiate conversations with yourself, when you have a toothbrush in your mouth.

2. give yourself a lame toy when you're done

3. knock yourself out. wake up with clean teeth and missing underwear.

4. accuse yourself of not flossing well enough.

5. floss over-aggressively to make up for bad habits and ...well, hang yourself with the remaining floss because you hate your job. and who wouldn't?

why you shouldn't hesitate when you've got the right fish food in your hand

i hesitated. i'll admit, i paused, put the betta fish food packet back on the hanger thing and reconsidered going somewhere that sells the Hikari Betta Bio-Gold i know nixon & david foster wallace love. but petcetera was right there, and they needed food, and petcetera (apparently) only sells their own store-brand fish foods.

i snatched a packet off the thing, bought it, went home, fed nixon...

i thought they were bigger, and more terra cotta coloured than before. but he ate it, no problem. he was probably quite hungry.

then i tried to feed him yesterday. he hopped, i dropped the pellets, he pounced them mouth-first...then went FOO and spit them right out again. what the hell, right?

i posed the question to rhianna.

me: "what the hell? what a picky eater."

rhianna: "maybe it's because you're feeding him goldfish food"

me:"....what?"

rhianna:"it says "goldfish"

me:"how did i miss that? i was sure i got the betta fish food"

rhianna: "dude, it even has a picture of goldfish on it."

me: "son of a...."


in my defense, they are the exact same packages (just different fish pictures), same colour, and right beside each other. i must have put down the betta fish food and without reconsidering, picked up the goldfish.

requiem for bad dreams

so last night i dreamt i had a baby, only it was like an earthworm/caterpillar. not a worm the size of a baby- just an actual worm. i tried holding him in my hand without squishing him, but i kept dropping him and he'd wriggle away really fast. and i kept thinking how good mothers can instantly find their babies and i had to look way too long to find him.

his name was jeremy.

...does this even constitute a bad dream?

what is wrong with this puppy's stomach?

a) scabies
b) premature acne
c) atopic dermatitis
d) myspace

if there is anything better...

...than looking at 19th century porn, i do not know what it is.

bigkugels.com

my favourites are the naturalists. they just don't have enough photos of lines of men running naked in a field (away from the camera) these days. maybe because it would remind people of that sweatshirt with cats on the front and cat butts on the back. just my guess. i have always been tempted to get one of those and wear it backwards. but by "tempted", i mean of course, "i am not doing that".

in second place, the line of men chasing a rolling circle hoop thing.

third, man with basketball.

in an alternate universe i am a ballerina with sore hamstrings. are you turned on yet? just wait...

rhianna and i were wasting time before The Islands concert (excellent) at some nearby coffee shop. this coffee shop offered, besides extraordinarily hot coffee, stacks sur la stacks of bad magazines.

for our delight, we grabbed a couple cosmos and went hunting for anything remotely excellent. there are surprising and baffling and surprising again mockformation articles in these publications. and contradictory too! one of the top ten worst things to do in bed is, spend half an hour licking his eyelids because you read somewhere that it was an untapped erogenous zone. dude-- if they read that, you know they read that in cosmo.

one article offered advice on how to give fantastic pec massages. i'll let you know when i find a guy:
a) who would even slightly enjoy that,
and
b) has nipples with sensitivity even slightly greater than that of elbow-skin.

c) doesn't mind me giggling while massaging his pecs in "sensual circles that get smaller and smaller!"



for your first date, cosmo suggests:

compliment something quirky:
tell him you always liked lefties, praise his e-mail humour, or if you're bold, lock eyes and say, "i love the way you took charge of planning tonight". noticing something unique shows you're focused on him in a way that a normal compliment wouldn't.

[ they didn't really specify, but i'm thinking you're only supposed to say that thing about liking lefties if you notice they're lefthanded. ]

tell him what's worth seeing:
men are visual creatures so ignite that part of his brain by using descriptive words that conjure up sexy images. For example, when you tell him a story plug in a detail about your physical self:

"my hamstrings are sore! from doing downward dog last night at yoga" or "last summer in france i practically lived in my favourite blue bikini."

you get the picture. and so will he!

[a) hamstrings aren't very sexy... b)he'll probably just realize you're bragging about spending a summer in france and write you off as a snot.]

share a secret dream
[i know what you're thinking. "sexy fantasy time!" right? wrong-o.]
tell him what you'd do in an alternate universe-whether you'd be a ballerina or a government spy-then ask what he'd do. [what he'd do in an alternature universe where you were a ballerina or spy? one can only guess...] revealing your imagination clues him into personality traits he might otherwise miss on a first date. plus, it assures him that you'll never settle for predictable (read: boring) exchanges.

[and also lets him know you enjoy thinking/talking about yourself- in hypothesy, no less. sexy, right? maybe...]

a little quote for you:
"his natural odor can draw you like a bee to pollen!"