Dear Apple Music:
Thanks for the reminder that Hinder existed.
What’s next? Nickelback? Creed?
Now I have fucking Kiss From An Angel banging around in my head like a babelfish that translates everything into crap.
Why do you hate me, Cupertino?
Category: Broken Girl Media
Film, Television, Radio, and Gaming
I had such a huge crush on Sherilyn Fenn back in 1990.
I loved Audrey Horne so much that I watched every shitty movie Sherilyn made prior to and immediately following Twin Peaks: Two Moon Junction (the blond phase), The Wraith (the uncharacteristically tan phase), Just One Of The Guys (the, like, totally bitchin’ phase), Meridian: Kiss of the Beast (the slightly kinky phase), Boxing Helena (the totally kinky phase), and so on. Hell, I watched every episode of Rude Awakening, and I’m gonna tell you right now, Jonathan Penner and Lynn Redgrave weren’t that funny. (And Richard Lewis, for the record, has never been funny. Not once.)
How old are you?
Old enough to have stolen a porn magazine from a Times Square sex shop because there was no internet.
My teenaged shoplifting phase was centered on violating the porn rack at the Waldenbooks in the mall.
I ripped off so many copies of Penthouse that I must have materially contributed to the collapse of Bob Guccione’s empire.
I remember Waldenbooks well. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time there lingering over Milo Minara graphic novels and issues of Heavy Metal and hiding my ridiculous teenage erections.
We only had one bookstore that carried Heavy Metal, and they went out of business before I was old enough to appreciate it. I remember surreptitously looking at it in the store when I was ten or eleven, and thinking, “If I’m ever caught reading this, my ass is grass.” In reality, I’m not sure anyone would have noticed —my parents weren’t that inquisitive— but my imagination conjured all sorts of dark consequences.
So my illustrated sexual excitement was far more mundane. Y’know what stupid-ass thing had me fascinated? Mastermind fucking with Jean Grey’s mind in the Claremont/Byrne X-Men from ‘78 to ‘80. My pre-pubescent brain didn’t fully get what was going on, but I knew I loved the idea of this creepy mutant fucker psychically gaslighting her into oblivion in order to make her his obedient little love slave/attack dog.
I learned early to enjoy watching the goodest of the good girls go bad.
besides this icon which others would you consider using?
Gabriel Byrne in Miller’s Crossing… “Sister, when I’ve raised hell, you’ll know it.”
I’ve always wanted to try Jeremy Irons in The Borgias… it works on a number of levels.
Or more likely than not, some version of Matthew Rhys in The Americans. Because Phillip knows 100 ways to use a woman, and 99 of them involve making them fall in love with him.
Or Ray Wise, for, y’know… when I’m feeling paternal.
“Not Pretty Enough” – Kasey Chambers
Am I not pretty enough?
Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too much?
Am I too outspoken?
Don’t I make you laugh?
Should I try it harder?
Why do you see right through me?
I’ve mentioned a couple times that Lana’s discography is the blog’s soundtrack, but if it had an actual theme song, it would be Not Pretty Enough by Kasey Chambers.
Every time I listen to it, it breaks my heart a little. And kinda makes me horny.
Why do you see
Why do you see
Why do you see right through me?
“Furious” – Jade Bird
Did you make up your mind?
When did you decide to let me down?
When was the turning point?
When you put out your joint and you laid her down
She’d take off your tie
With a smile, on knees
I bet she looked pleased with herself
And I’m furious
My whole body shakes
I’m furious
My mind slips away
How could you do this?
After everything
I’m furious
When Love Island is over, I’m going to need a three month detox to recover from overexposure to the word “babe”.
Laura Dern was never my sexual cup of tea, but she made me suspend my disbelief twice in the ‘90s: in Wild At Heart and Rambling Rose. Of the two, RR is the one everyone has forgotten, which is strange, since it was practically designed in a lab for Tumblr.
All I need to tell you about it: a man named Daddy takes in a teenaged nymphomaniac named Rose, who allows Daddy’s tween son to become sexually fixated on her while she betrays the trust of Daddy’s wife by longing to worship Daddy’s body and soul.
Good luck streaming it anywhere, but it’s only $6 on iTunes and $7 on Amazon.