April 2006

« March 2006 | Main | May 2006 »

America's Next Top Model-Airplane-Glue Sniffer

A hugely talented friend took some photos of me all tarted-up yesterday. It was a rainy, goose-shit gray morning in Northeast Minneapolis, but I visualized a Monterey sunbeam and cocked my hips gamely. I'll post more pics soon. Some of them are OMG-NSFW! Remember: it's not a nip-slip if said nip has been willingly proffered.

Tyra: "You need to work on your body. In person, I don't see a model. Your mouth can get ugly. The judges don't remember you week after week. I see a beautiful girl with no confidence. What happened to that fire we saw at first? You've lost your fire. Your arrogance can be offputting. Your teeth don't say 'Cover Girl.' Work on your voice. Me. Commercial. Fierce. Gilles Bensimon."

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 30, 2006 1:31 PM

 

My New Favorite Band!

Just as slutty and pompous as me: The Pink Spiders. "Little Razorblade" is yummier than the strawberry-milkshake nipples of your favorite yell leader.

Don't call it a crush.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 28, 2006 3:02 PM

 

Joybuzzers

I swear, I planned a really intense and career-defining blog entry today, but I'm hungover (surprise!)

I will say that the Smitten Kitten rules the school, especially if you've been, shall we say, excommunicated from another prominent sex-toy retailer and must purchase your novelties elsewhere. Harrumph.

I hit the Kitten on Wednesday, and I've been having such fun with my new non-toxic vibrator, which looks like a giant rubber Twizzler and feels like Jake Gyllenhaal if you really concentrate. (I kid.) Everything that's been written 'bout the Kitten is right on: the place looks like a clean, airy upscale boutique and the merchandise is artfully displayed. I especially liked the strap-on harnesses gracing the wall as nonchalantly as the Super-Flex-Ipex-Teflon-Kevlar bras at Victoria's Secret. Nothing to be ashamed of here, plus they don't stock anything stinky or potentially dangerous like jelly rubber. I can't believe I used to cram that stuff for hours on end during my peep show tenure.

I also bought one of those discreet remote-control eggs so I can buzz my ass during boring meetings.

And blog entries.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 28, 2006 10:30 AM

 

Many spanks!

Thank you for voting me "Best Local Girl Made Good" in the City Pages "Best Of" Readers Poll! I truly love all your bad asses. Let's hang out!

Next year I wanna be "Best Restaurant, Pink Taqueria Division." OH YEAH.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 26, 2006 2:53 PM

 

World's Best Dad!

I was just in Target trying to buy my generic Slim-Fast in peace when a man approached me with his son, who looked to be about three years old.

"Are you married?" the guy asked. I flashed my ring.

"That's too bad, because you have an amazing ass," the guy says. Then, in front of his son, he adds "I'm very excited right now."

I fled to the registers.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 25, 2006 12:55 PM

 

Provolone on Rye

I stayed up very late last night writing, gulping Starbucks Doubleshots, also known as Wee Cans o' Fun.

Now I need to take a brisk whore's bath and get to writing again. Unfortunately there's a chihuahua attached to my foot and my dear, dumb brain wants to watch E!

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 20, 2006 11:00 AM

 

Desire

Jennifer Garner, if this is the only way I can have you in my grasp, so be it.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 20, 2006 10:55 AM

 

The Silvergirl

Please preview a few tracks from Jonny's delicious new album here. This is transcendent country rock for anyone who's pined for the pines and waited for the sun. Pure California-inspired psych-flavored goodness.

Jonny plays everything, including Febrifuge's graciously loaned 12-string. He actually recorded the whole thing at our house with limited tech. Writing a book ain't nothing compared to this.

(I especially recommend "Topeka's Trying.")

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 18, 2006 2:17 PM

 

Could I be tired of PORN?

Due to my recent subscription to Wanted List, I've been, erm, consuming copious amounts of adult entertainment lately. As such, I've become a jaded connoisseur, casting a critical, flesh-weary eye on even the most ambitious "Hunny Bunz" productions. This must be how Paris Hilton feels when she uncorks a magnum of Cristal, the chilly vapors tickling her Anastasia eyelash extensions. False gaiety, muted by familiarity.

I know I should be enthusiastic about these naked people, but my Bartholin glands can produce nary a pearl. What gives? Who shuttered the Jiffy-Lube for Easter?

It doesn't help that I keep accidentally ordering really bad porn. Last night's amateur selection featured couples (well, temporarily coupled people) fucking outdoors at Lake Havasu. This would have been fine if there hadn't been flies divebombing the women pussies. Every ECU reminded me of a deli tray neglected in the sun, all sticky-pink and buzzing wings. Plus, one of the dudes had a rather extreme case of Peyronie's disease (no offense to my 'Ronie's-afflicted homies). When his ladylove assumed the reverse-frog princess-position, his wonky banana POPPED right out of her cooze, resulting in an unintentionally hilarious sound that had me scrambling for the rewind button.

Like, when you pop your thumb in your cheek? That sound. Loud. It was like Bob Saget himself had overdubbed the scene for maximum yuks. How about a do-over, gang? Some second-unit coverage?

Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolly-lolly-lolly, lollipop...

(insert sound of guy's cock being forcibly expelled from the unyielding pussy)

Da-dum-dum-dum!

After this fiasco (plus the sight of mosqitoes crawling on a post-op Frankentitty), I decided to cleanse my offended palate with some good old-fashioned softcore. Then I remembered that they can't show dicks on cable, which made me sadly nostalgic for 15 minutes prior when I was giggling maniacally at the "Lollipop" snafu. Funny penis is better than no penis at all. Take that lesson with you, if nothing else.

Also, if you're planning to fuck at Lake Havasu, bring a few cans of Deep Woods Off and possibly one of those DEET trucks.

Also, if you have only one testicle, certain camera angles are going to look funny.

Also, if a pretty Goth girl is riding your jock, try to look alive. Don't just lie there like this is Weekend at Bernie's 2: Fetish Babe Cum-Dumpsters.

Also, don't go to Lake Havasu unless you want to see a woman who looks like your friend's mom fucking a guy who looks like John from Real World: Los Angeles.

Love,
Your sexually-stoppered author

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 17, 2006 11:07 PM

 

Confession:

I love Sousa marches. Like, love them. They make me choke up. I don't get it.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 17, 2006 10:56 PM

 

Jonny on life at the Ranch

"I might be trapped at age like 10 or something, but SHE is trapped in perennial teenager-hood, so at least we're BOTH arrested. I'm arrested at a more irritating age, meaning the crap I like is stupider than the crap she likes -- she's like a punk rock skateboarder from the mid-90s and I'm a Star Wars-obsessed nerdy kid from the 70s. But at least we're both arrested. I don't think either of us could tolerate living with somebody who was GROWN THE FUCK UP, like all the way grown up." - Hatesexy

C'est vrai.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 13, 2006 5:35 PM

 

The Italians, They Lie

In a feeble attempt to be cosmopolitan, I just purchased a small bag of "Pasticceria Assortita." (I reasoned Italian cookies might make me look sexy-earthy-fat, as opposed to lumpen-lazy-fat.)

The picture on the bag promised darling biscuits glistening with jam, studded with chocolate and spritz-gunned into charming shapes by some distant, genial Stromboli in chef's whites. The picture tells sweet loving lies.

The cookies themselves don't suck, but they bear little resemblance to the cheerful cookie-porn on the bag. They are dry and brown and taste like that cocoa-flavored Cream of Wheat everyone's mom used to con them into eating.

Hark, Italy! Your cookies get the boot.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 10, 2006 9:33 AM

 

Fox and Friends With Benefits

I just did the Fox morning show (Fox and Friends-- I suppose that makes me a mere "friend," though the brisk hand job I gave the sound guy tells a different story. Call me, Rigoberto!)

Anyway, I refuse to wash off the TV makeup, 'cause this paint looks tight. I mean, I went from Jena Malone to Jenna Jameson in five flat. I feel very pretty. On Letterman I did my own makeup and hence appeared exactly as I do in reality. Today, I am a comely mirage.

I miss Jonny.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 9, 2006 8:33 AM

 

"I fucking love people!"

I just shouted that at my computer screen.

Just as I'd lost faith in the Internet as a conduit for authentic human expression, I got a MySpace message--something quite simple, an appeal to sign a petition condemning PepsiCo for changing the taste of Diet Mountain Dew--that flooded my heart with love and optimism.

God bless you, Internet.

Stay the same.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 6, 2006 11:09 AM

 

Cheese sandwich, coming right up!

Occasionally, I just feel like blogging, even if I have nothing entertaining or informative to share. (You mean like always? the populace snidely inquires. Yes, my children. Like always.)

A couple of days ago I foolishly programmed my computer to announce the time in a creepy, disembodied Stephen Hawking voice. (Actually, I will always associate that voice with "Fitter, Happier" by Radiohead, which was basically the soundtrack to The Great Seclusion of 1997, during which I only emerged from my dim apartment for lectures and sustenance.) Anyway, I never realized how quickly the hours slither through my fingers. "It's 11:00" the computer/Thom Yorke intones. I write a paragraph. Then: "It's 1:00." And now, it's already 5:30 and I have to go to church to volunteer, and all I've accomplished today is 1.) a new City Pages piece praising So NoTORIous and 2.) a pole trick called "the Sidewinder," which looks dope but produced a garish bruise on my right hip.

I've been in kind of a bummer mood since last night. Jonny and I had a very minor spat regarding the fact that his mother stares right through me. I don't fault her (I'm not high on the list of Most Coveted Daughters-in-Law), but I do have a pathological need to be loved by EVERYBODY! and...

...Wait a minute. Jonny just walked in bearing a gorgeous bouquet of Gerbera daisies. Consider my wounds salved. I'm easy, folks. My husband is radness, so I need never feel pain for long.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 5, 2006 5:22 PM

 

Three Shockers

1.) I actually enjoyed So NoTORIous on VH1 last night. I think Tori Spelling is my homewrecker soulmate. She boldly addresses every brutal criticism that's been lobbed at her over the years (bug-eyed, nepotist's daughter, lollipop-head, etc.) Bring on the copies! How about So UnBEEKable, a hypothetical show in which James Van Der Beek good-naturedly mocks himself?

2.) I ditched the broke-ass weave for some luxe pro stylin'. Barnabas is so pleased with Mommy's hair that he's feverishly doing the Cabbage Patch. UH!

3.) I talked to my favorite Degrassi cast member today! I nearly peed myself. I should have asked for spoilers, since the new season finally premieres in the U.S this Friday. But that would have been incredibly cheesy and uncool, and I pride myself on always being composed. Right.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 3, 2006 4:03 PM

 

Middlesex

When I was a college frosh (still faintly optimistic, but sobering by the minute), my roommate thrust a book called Men in Love by Nancy Friday onto my rumpled bunk. "This is so good," she gushed, her cheeks pink with discovery. I glanced at the cover and knew it would be dirty.

Dirty, it was: Men in Love, if you haven't read it, is a stout little paperback filled with graphic, authentic sex fantasies. Nancy Friday (an awesomely matter-of-fact sexologist) encouraged hundreds of dudes in--I think--the early '80s, to commit their dirtiest thoughts and urges to paper and submit the evidence to her. The result was a book that's equal parts Penthouse Forum and abnormal psych. I must have read Men in Love five times that semester, using a scattershot method akin to a "bible dip." I especially like reading about other people's fantasies--probably because I accidentally stumbled upon some really hardcore lit as a kid--and MIL is the motherlode. No fleshy pictures to distract me, just filth submerged in clean type.

Yesterday, while I was wandering through Barnes & Noble hunting for the shit-eating grin of Narcissus, I found myself in the "Love and Sex" section (if only those bright spines could deliver, instanter). I saw they not only had Men in Love, but a gynocentric counterpart called Women on Top. I had to buy it. I'd "related" so fully to the men's wank-off fantasies that I imagined the hens' fantasies would get me off double. I paid for my book and hurried off to Starbucks so I could enjoy it in public. (Watch those strollers clear out in record time!)

What surprised me (or didn't) was that the confessions in Women on Top felt shockingly alien to me. Sure, I felt a fillip of recognition in my belly, but it was minimal. A feeling of otherness descended on me, the same feeling I experience when I watch A Baby Story on TLC or pass a bridal shop. Not for me, never was for me.

Men in Love is my book, a book about me. I guess I knew it all along. I think and fuck like a guy, and I always have. When I was a little girl furtively dyking out with my friends, I always insisted that I "be the boy"; not just a boy, but a specific cunt-starved auto mechanic, a smirking proto-Diablo persona. I couldn't even imagine being the girl. Why would I be the girl?

Physically, I'm ultra-girly. The hair and makeup are my drag. I have flaring hips that I like to circle and thrust and bump. This is the puzzle. I always envied people who had the really straightforward sexual identities. Textbook mojo is as appealing as a textbook face: totally symmetrical, appealing to most. The rest of us are freaks. That's why it's important that we find each other.

Posted by Diablo Cody at April 3, 2006 10:46 AM

 

« March 2006 | Main | May 2006 »