Thursday, March 30, 2006

It's that time of year again...

Time for FHM's international readers to weigh in, time for me and Jen and KS and even MuffinMan if he can ever be bothered to update to rejoice or attack. Women on my faves list in bold and italics, women who aren't entirely there but who I wouldn't rule out a hot and sweaty night with merely in bold, the rest in italics.

1. Scarlett Johansson.While watching The Island, it occurred to me that Scarlett's face had quite a collection of spots on it. But The One With The Tits (TM & Copyright © MMV Jennifer Orangio) is at least not as objectionable an Alba-robber as...
2. Angelina Jolie. The whole Brangelina thing, the tendency to look like a radioactive hooker, the tattoos, the inability to get through a day on E! without seeing either her or Paris Hilton, the True Lies-meets-War of the Roses-without-being-nearly-as-good-as-either that was Mr. & Mrs. Smith... Please fuck right off. NOW.
3. Jessica Alba. Though a huge improvement on her placing last year, she's still two places lower than either she or Cindy Crawford should be. On the upside, given her recent statements she probably isn't too sorry about her final position, and she's very deserving of being in the higher altitudes anyway.
4. Jessica Simpson. If nothing else, at least it's revenge for UK FHM readers giving the ex-Mrs. Lachey's bottom an award over the future Mrs. Warren's.
5. Keira Knightley. Like the Oscar-winning star of Mr. & Mrs. Smith and Lara Croft: Tomb Raider - The Cradle of Life, E!'s blanket coverage of her - in this case at the Oscars (and British coverage of her in general) put me off her. Though the same can't be said for MuffinMan.
6. Halle Berry. It's okay, she's forgiven for Catwoman and for her lameness as Storm.
7. Jenny McCarthy. No.
8. Maria Sharapova. She apparently didn't want to go the whole skin-baring route, and yet like Steffi Graf, Anna Kournikova and the Williams sisters there she is in Sports Illustrated. Is this a problem? No.
9. Carmen Electra. It doesn't say much for Cheaper By The Dozen 2 - or anything - that she was the best thing about it. At least she's harmless, though never one of my favourites.
10. Teri Hatcher. AAAAGGGHH!!!! My eyes are bleeding!
11. Paris Hilton. I could actually be tempted to have a three-way with her and her sister, but it's the idea of her mum joining in that relegates her to the italic section. That and her presenting a Red Carpet show about the Brits.
12. Jennifer Garner. And just in time for the final season of Alias on Bravo. Rachel Nichols and Elodie Bouchez, even when non-pregnant, aren't as fine as Jen.
13. Eva Longoria. Who, I understand, lives not very far from #3, #4 and the woman at #44. Their meetings would surely be more fun than the current season of Desperate Housewives.
14. Lindsay Lohan. As long as she never makes any more records. And gets the curves back.
15. Charlize Theron. Thus satisfying MuffinMan. Until he realises she came below Paris Hilton.
16. Jessica Biel. Why is the second-hottest Jessica ranked the lowest? It wasn't her fault that Stealth was a bomb.
17. Jaime Pressly. Note to Nadine Velazquez - someone's stolen your spot.
18. Beyonce Knowles. Yep, I still like what I see.
19. Katharine Heigl. At the time of writing, Five's promos for Grey's Anatomy include Ellen Pompeo and Sandra Oh. But not her. As if being scheduled directly after House isn't bad enough for this show's chances.
20. Shakira. If I stop to think about Shakira in action I'll never get anything done, so...
21. Vida Guerra. The Lucy Pinder of America, if Lucy was known for her bottom rather than her chest. And if Lucy was from Cuba. And if Lucy didn't mind showing just about all of her buns. Constantly.
22. Alyssa Milano. Would probably be in bold and italics if she didn't have to work with Rose McGowan and Holly Marie Combs... neither of whom are here. Sorry, K.
23. Cameron Diaz. If she ever leaves the list, it'll collapse.
24. Pamela Anderson. Stacked has just started in the UK. Should I give it a look like VIP, or not?
25. Beth Ostrosky. Blame the Stern fans.
26. Jennifer Lopez. Appropriately, below Garner.
27. Adriana Lima. Much liked by Victoria's Secret fans. Not really by me.
28. Mariah Carey. Another of my favourites, and riding high again. Always a pleasure.
29. Anna Benson. Apparently the Colleen McLoughlin of America (i.e. a baseball player's - as opposed to a soccer player's - wife).
30. Shania Twain. Bye.
31. Mandy Moore. Er, no.
32. Mischa Barton. Incidentally, Rachel Bilson is not here. Thus ending the Archivist's interest.
33. Jenna Jameson. Go away, and take your insinuations about Cindy with you.
34. Reese Witherspoon. Is this a joke?
35. Natalie Gulbis. The Anna Kournikova of golf... or should that be the Maria Sharapova?
36. Salma Hayek. Well, yes, obviously.
37. Christina Aguilera. I don't care how much lighter she is, how much less embarrassing her husband may be, or how many Grammys she has, Christina will always be a Tabitha to Britney's Bewitched.
38. Erica Durance. Earns the bold because of potential outside of Smallville (I still don't watch it).
39. Victoria Silvstedt. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!
40. Gwen Stefani. Oh, that's better...
41. Heidi Klum. Can take pride that she hosted a more successful version of Project Runway than Elizabeth Hurley.
42. Danica Patrick. Racing driver. I guess it's about time the straight/bi guys had one to fancy.
43. Jennifer Love Hewitt. Say what you like about Ghost Whisperer, but do you see Patricia Arquette anywhere here?
44. Eva Mendes. Still haven't forgiven her for the Revlon thing...
45. Jennifer Aniston. Better her than that cunt Jolie.
46. Kristin Kreuk. See Victoria Silvstedt.
47. Leeann Tweeden. Nice.
48. Faith Hill. Okay, I guess.
49. Kristin Chenoweth. Cute, but would she be here if she hadn't done FHM?
50. Kelly Clarkson. The behind, the voice, the only positive thing to come out of reality TV...
51. Rachel McAdams. Can definitely act, but not as cute as Isla Fisher.
52. Estella Warren. Never quite equalled the days of Planet of the Apes, but it's nice to see she's still around.
53. Brooke Burke. As if Burger King wasn't delicious enough already.
54. Elisha Cuthbert. Sadly, I don't actually miss her in 24 that much.
55. Gretchen Bleiler. A power surfer, apparently.
56. Alessandra Ambrosio. And that, at least, means that the Bilson Archivist can relax a bit.
57. Tera Patrick. Two porn stars (or three, if you count Paris Hilton) in this lineup? What's the world coming to? :)
58. Hilary Duff. Yes, dammit, even as she is now.
59. Uma Thurman. I could be persuaded to upgrade her.
60. Landi Swanepoel. The South African in this lineup not called Charlize Theron.
61. Natalie Portman. Sadly not.
62. Morgan Webb. Don't know, don't care.
63. Sienna Miller. Do know, still don't care.
64. Lauren Harris. Miss FHM, it says here.
65. Alicia Keys. Can I swap her for Rihanna, Ashanti or The Pussycat Dolls (yes, all of them)?
66. Kate Hudson. Is this dry spell ever going to end? Cute ass, though.
67. Mayra Veronica. Excuse me?
68. Megan Fox. The older daughter on Hope & Faith. Not too bad, though nothing to make me tune in regularly.
69. Kate Bosworth. Next!
70. Kristanna Loken. Swings both ways, but so does Laurel Holloman from The L Word. Laurel is a much better actress, and more fanciable pregnant (as demonstrated on said show) than Kristanna is non-pregnant. And she does more extensive nudity.
71. Rachael Ray. This US TV cook has only been seen by me on Entertainment Tonight, but she looks delicious enough to deserve bold.
72. Penelope Cruz. Thank goodness she escaped Cruise.
73. Evangeline Lilly. Unlike Jennifer Garner, Evangeline isn't actually the prime hottie on her particular J.J. Abrams show - where's Emilie de Ravin? Where's Maggie Grace?... Oh.
74. Amy Smart. I want another moment like in Road Trip, Amy. And I want it NOW.
75. Elizabeth Hurley. Hosted a less successful version of Project Catwalk than Heidi Klum.
76. Petra Nemcova. For surviving that tsunami, for recovering from her injuries, and for shots like this.
77. Ashley Judd. A favourite of both TRL and B.D. from Doonesbury. Both have good taste.
78. Kate Beckinsale. Even if she did make Van Helsing.
79. Lucy Liu. "Silly little girl..."
80. Malin Akerman. From Lisa Kudrow's HBO sitcom The Comeback, which was an even bigger non-success than Joey. Ouch.

81. Kelly Ripa. Morning show host and star of her own sitcom. Top that, Carol Vorderman.
82. Catherine Zeta Jones. No.
83. Gisele Bundchen. See above.
84. Amanda Righetti. Shame about The O.C. and North Shore. And Reunion...
85. Anne Hathaway. Not sure.
86. Ziyi Zhang. Definitely sure...
87. Amanda Peet. So underrated.
88. Fergie. The definition of the word "butterface."
89. Denise Richards. See Victoria Silvstedt.
90. Katie Holmes. Now sadly defiled for many, but still cute, so I'll bold her..
91. Sarah Burke. A skiier, apparently.
92. Amanda Beard. Some would say not the only Beard on this list, though not me. :)
93. Linda Cardellini. Finally Velma has upstaged Daphne.
94. Sarah Michelle Gellar. Like I said. How the mightly have fallen (Sarah is the lowest ranking former #1 still on the 100).
95. Olivia Wilde. Give me Shannon Lucio, thanks.
96. Ana Beatriz Barros. Not a patch on Ana Hickman, methinks.
97. Vanessa Marcil. No offence to Molly Sims and Nikki Cox (as opposed to Marsha Thomason), but if they could only have one person from Las Vegas here, at least they picked the right one.
98. Heather Graham. I could go for her, and anyway it's the least I can do after Emily's Reasons Why Not.
99. Naomi Watts. Somehow, not quite...
100. Josie Maran. See Kate Beckinsale.

Well, at least the Olsen Twins aren't there... I predict the UK list will be even worse. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

The Longest Weekend Part III: Where You Lead, I Will Follow

Here's what's been done so far for the third part - the first two are over at CSSA, as is the two-parter Jessica Love Hewitt, which this part refers to at one point (if anyone asks, I can link to the stories or send them via email come the weekend). Special thanks to Jen for her help with this bit, by the way - all comments (especially hers) welcome. (Warning: Not to all tastes.)

The story so far: Abducted and with bombs placed in their chests that'll turn Hilary, Lindsay and Jewel into living geysers if they move further than 100 feet apart, our heroines spend a day at the mercy or likewise of Stuart Holmes and his colleagues, some nice (like the silent and also primed-to-explode Kimiko), some possibly nice (like her sister Kiana), some not nice at all (like Stuart's assistant Tina). Meanwhile Lindsay's male friend Toby and Hilary's mum and sister are on their trail, and Jessica Simpson may have an idea as to what's been going on. Now read on...

* * * * * * * * * *

Stuart Holmes liked watching television. He had multi-regional DVD and VHS players everywhere, he never bought any TV set smaller than a widescreen, and he never let anyone join him when he was taking in the box, whether it was The Shield, The Office, or The Show About Dancing With Kelly Monaco That He Insisted On Calling By The Original British Name.
Though Stuart would have loved to see her lapdancing with the stars and give new meaning to the name Strictly Come Dancing, Kelly Monaco was not cavorting on screen that evening. In fact, what Tina Powers and her audience was watching would never make prime time viewing on any channel anywhere. They were all watching the finished tape; it was a tribute to Tina's skill and speed that she had assembled this cut so quickly - the interested parties had been known to CulhaneTech for a while, and Corliss had wanted them to arrive on the ranch as soon as possible once it was ready. Now as the midnight oil burnt, twelve men leant forward in their chairs in front of the enormous, wall-size TV screen as they watched the young women be seduced on the bed, their cries in crystal-clear digital sound.
As a close-up of Hilary's anguished but orgasming face faded out, Tina stopped the tape. "That was the end of our sneak preview," she announced as she walked in front of the screen, looking at the men. They were aged anywhere between 30 and 70, and some of them had distinctly sticky-looking spots on their trousers; Tina would have congratulated Hilary, Jewel and Lindsay if a) they had been there and b) she liked them. "And before any of you asks, you cannot have this." She pressed a little button on her control, and the machine burst into flames, causing those nearest to jump in alarm.
"There's only one copy of that little orgy, and it's not going to end up online making people other than us rich," the powerfully-endowed blonde continued, ignoring the smell of the burning machinery. "But why settle for a DVD or tape when you'll get to be with the real thing?"
They nodded.
"Now, before we start the bidding it has to be understood that you are going to take them as a job lot... one won't be any good without the other two."
"Why would any one want just one of them when you can have all three?" one of the older men chuckled.
"Why indeed?" Tina laughed. "Why indeed?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Stuart Holmes liked watching television. He also like watching women making love, whether they were pretending to be lesbians or the real deal. So when Hilary and Jewel entered, he knew what he wanted them to do this time around.
"Good morning, ladies," he said cheerfully, refusing to call it the night since it was after midnight. Stuart was relaxing on his bed, having chosen to go without clothes, the better to get through multiple sessions. Mercifully he wasn't stroking his cock. "I think I'll just watch this time."
"Watch what?" Hilary asked, playing all innocent as she took hold of Jewel's hand and turned to look at her colleague. The two blondes kissed, starting to touch each other's breasts; Jewel's generous hooters and Hilary's more petite pair made a wonderful contrast as they felt their flesh, their bodies coming closer as they continued to kiss. But they weren't so close that Stuart couldn't see little flashes of carpet down below; the thought of their pussies touching made him start to reach down for his prick again.
Hilary broke their kiss and rested her head on Jewel's ample bosom, looking with a soft smile at Stuart. "Leave that alone," she cooed. "Want to join in?"
Even though they were supposed to be at his sexual beck and call, this caught Stuart by surprise; for a moment he wondered if they were planning something. Distracting him while the other one went for help...?
Then he remembered that insurance policy he'd placed under their tits. The girls weren't geniuses, but they weren't stupid; they knew they'd be safer staying put. And for all he knew, time could have started to make them change their minds; give him what he wanted, and things would be better. Or maybe they were starting to like it, the way he'd seen Lohan start to enjoy it. Stuart pulled his hand back from his prick; wanking was fine, but there was a time and a place for it.
"I'm really only up for one of you," Stuart admitted. "And I've always liked younger women the best," he added, studying Hilary's waiting cunt.
"So do I," Jewel replied, gently stroking Hilary's ass. "But as long as we're both here we might as well make the most of it," she continued as the girl fought the urge to look sideways at the singer; Jewel's fingers were a long way from half-hearted in their caressing. Either she was a really good actress or... With a last little pinch, Jewel let Hilary go over to their waiting captor, before turning herself around and bending down, her ass touching Stuart's cock. She started to circle it, gently rubbing the prick with her cheeks and feeling it swell up again; Jewel flung him a look over her shoulder, seeing if he was liking it. Stuart had a beatific grin on his face as he saw Jewel's butt stroking his prick, and Hilary's caresses on his chest were the icing on the cake.
"Don't look at that," the girl whispered. "Look at this..." and Hilary climbed onto Stuart, blocking his view of Jewel but giving him a direct shot of her own lovely body. She continued stroking him as Stuart in turn began to touch her cute little boobies, lightly pulling on her lovely stretchy nipples. Tiny but tasty; he kissed her stomach as he fondled her, his cock fully stiffened and moistened. He couldn't see Jewel, but he could feel her moving away from his prick, and then feel something warm and tight slipping onto it. Something warm and tight and deep. It was Jewel's pussy; she was thrusting herself up and down, as Hilary pressed herself down on Stuart's chest. He could see she was straining, but Hilary's cunt was right on his skin; she moved herself along it, just a small distance - but Stuart could actually sense her pouting pussy lips on his chest. Resting his hands on her behind, he pushed forward slightly; smiling, Hilary moved herself forward and placed her crotch on his face. Stuart eagerly shoved his tongue into her, not sure what he liked the most; the taste of the Duff muff, or how Jewel's mouth felt on his cock.
One thing Jewel had always wondered about was how her own cunt felt like; masturbating was one thing, but the only way to get the full experience was to taste it herself. And since she wasn't strong enough, this was the next best thing; she paused briefly while sucking away on Stuart to lick her own lips... she tasted pretty damn good, even allowing for Stuart. Jewel opened wide again and hungrily consumed Stuart's prick, energetically teasing his balls as she swallowed.
Stuart, for his part, was thinking about both Jewel's mouth and Hilary's entire body. Of the three girls, Hilary was by far his favourite... whoever got them would have to keep all of them, but perhaps he could sort something out so that he could pay whoever won them a visit. Once a month, probably - Hilary Duff was far too delicious to leave for some overweight French businessman or whoever... he pulled Hilary even closer, thinking he could eat this cunt for hours.
"Oh God..." Hilary moaned as Stuart's tongue slipped inside her. "Don't stop..."

* * * * * * * * * *

"...stop..." Stuart begged, as Hilary licked his chest on one side while Jewel fingered his spent cock with the other.
Even he didn't expect to find himself asking them to give him a break, but there it was. He had had his mouth deep inside their cunts and assholes repeatedly, both women had had a cock-sucking tournament, and they had pawed each other as much as himself - but he needed a break. Even he did.
"What's wrong?" Jewel cooed. "Aren't we making you happy?"
"Oh, you are," Stuart said wearily. "I just have to recharge for a bit..."
"We understand," Hilary smiled. "Will this help you relax?" She snuggled up to Jewel, resting her hands on her friend's shoulders as the singer embraced her. Cuddling together, they kissed lightly, knowing Stuart was watching, mumbling something. Hilary closed her eyes and kissed Jewel again, fondling the blonde as her tongue entered.
"Hilary..." Jewel whispered as their lips broke, and flicked her eyes towards the bed. Following her gaze, Hilary saw Stuart flat out, his hands away from his trousers - and fast asleep. His low snores cut through the silence of the room, a little signal giving them their freedom.
"I never thought I'd be glad to send a man to sleep," Jewel laughed as she and Hilary got off the bed to begin their search for the pen.

* * * * * * * * * *

"DAMMIT!!!" Lindsay Lohan shouted, still on her hands and knees. Though the ache of Stuart's cock inside her butt was lessening, it was still a little awkward for her to walk. Especially considering the genuine pain in her ass - that damn music - was still being flooded into the room, and Lindsay just could not find the speakers. She was getting to dread hearing whatever wimpy male singer Stuart's DJs would inflict on her next... Lindsay had been reduced to scrabbling along each wall, one ear flattened next to it listening for when it was loudest. If this didn't work -
A tap on her head. Oh, now this crap she did NOT need. Her face reddening with anger, Lindsay turned around to snap at whoever it was; but the insults never came.
Standing over her, smiling, were Hilary Duff and Jewel. A silver pen was dangling from between two of Jewel's fingers.
"I know, you're wondering is this the one," Hilary said before Lindsay could respond, and carefully pulled the two halves of the pen. "Careful... don't want to set something off..." Lindsay peered at it - inside was a mass of circuitry that wasn't in any pen she'd ever seen. Enough to convince her, anyway.
"Stuart had it at the bottom of one of his drawers," Jewel explained as Hilary shut it. "Not with the other pens, obviously." She held a hand out to Lindsay. "Come on, we're getting out of here. Now."
Lindsay took Jewel's hand, relieved that she wouldn't have to find the source of the music any more, as Kimiko watched the scene. The speaker system, wherever it was stashed, was a two-way one; Kimiko wasn't under any illusions that Jewel was talking about going to the toilet. Her finger hovered over the button that would let the others know that they were about to run for it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Stuart had been right; the three ladies had pretty much the run of the ranch. With only a quick change into street clothes, the three had made their way from the bedroom to the front double doors, never quite sure that each time they put a foot down they weren't setting off some kind of alarm. With that on their minds, it was very slow progress to the doors, but with breath being held almost all of the way they had finally arrived.
Jewel took the handles, counted to five and pulled them down. A loud piercing whine cut through the night, red lights came on, and a net dropped down from the ceiling trapping the three of them - inside her head. In real life, Jewel pushed the doors open and let in the cool night air; there was a little chill, but they were closer to getting out of there.
"We need to get to a hospital," Jewel told her friends. "Say we need a checkup cause there's something not right, get ourselves X-rayed, they see what's inside us and we blow this thing wi... oh. Look, one of you know how to steal a car?" she asked as they crept outside into the night.
"Lohan might," Hilary snickered.
"Lohan doesn't," Lindsay parried. "You?"
"We can't walk all the way to whatever city's nearest!" Jewel snapped. "I guess it's up to me."
"That, or..." Hilary was blanching at the thought before she could finish. But it was looking like the only other way...

* * * * * * * * * *

Being the sister and daughter of a famous singer/actress, Haylie and Susan Duff had met a lot of famous people they wanted to meet. Being the sister and daughter of a famous singer/actress who wasn't THAT famous, they hadn't met some they wanted to meet. Being the sister and daughter of a famous singer/actress who was still more famous than some, there were some people they had met they didn't want to meet. The woman the Duffs were sitting in a car park waiting for was one of them.
"My friends would kill me if they knew I was waiting out here for Jessica Damn Simpson," Haylie fumed. "This better not be a joke..."
"You've said that ten times now, Haylie," Susan snapped. "Did you hear the girl's voice? Jessica Simpson couldn't out-act that girl from The O.C. - she's on the level."
"Which one?"
"Which level? God, HAYLIE--"
"No, I mean which girl?"
"Good question," Susan sniggered. "It's got to be Mischa..."
Before Haylie could argue the case against Olivia Wilde, a car pulled into the otherwise empty park. Thoughts returned from Orange County as mother and daughter watched the car drive up beside them and come to a stop. Susan's mind went to the gun she had in her glove compartment, just in case; she regretted that the car was on Haylie's side as the driver got out. Both Duffs hissed; they didn't like Jessica Simpson much either.
"Hello?" the gorgeous, well-stacked blonde asked nervously, her fingers clutching a folder. "Is that you, Miss Duff?"
"No, it's the Smothers Brothers!" Susan growled.
"Who?" asked Jessica - and Haylie.
"Never mind. Why'd you have to go and get all cloak-and-dagger?"
Jessica Simpson bent into the Duffs' car through the window, her face full of apprehension as if she was still thinking if this was the right thing. "Look, I haven't told anyone about this - I'm afraid they're still keeping an eye on us. It's been like this all these years since..."
"Since what?!"
"Give her a chance, Mom," Haylie urged. "Go on, Jessica."
Jessica eyed Haylie nervously, still playing with the folder. "...since they snatched us. I keep thinking they're bugging the phones - that's why I wanted to talk to you two out here. Nothing as far as the eye, and so on. You gotta understand, we promised we'd keep it silent, but after this-"
"Wait, wait, wait... us? We? Who are you talking about, Booberella?" Susan interrupted.
"This," Jessica said quietly, and handed the Duffs the folder. Susan opened it up, and was greeted with a mass of press clippings dated four years back, from various glossy magazines. Jessica Simpson was in them; so was Jessica Alba; ditto Jennifer Love Hewitt. They were all from around the same time period, and journalists from the shallower end of the media had been wondering why they had all suddenly up and vanished, and reappeared without any kind of explanation.
"Oh yeah, I remember. Nine days' wonder," Susan Duff nodded. "Didn't you say it was some kind of vacation?"
"That's what we said, yeah," Jessica agreed. "But it wasn't my kind of holiday. We were snatched. And we were..." The blonde paused, knowing that what she was about to say sounded ridiculous. "...we were exper... expell... experimented on, that's it."
"Oh shit..." Haylie groaned. "Are you serious?"
Jessica nodded briefly.
"What'd they do to you?"
"You have to promise you won't freak..."
"We promise," Susan said. Whatever was about to come out of this bimbo's mouth, she thought, she could take it.
"Those guys... they..."
"They put Alba and JLH in one body and turned me into a shemale."
Haylie and Susan Duff looked at Jessica Simpson as if she had just recited "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam" from memory. In Latin.

* * * * * * * * * *

Like New York, Tina never slept; she got by on about two or three hours. Those hours were a while off; she was too busy studying the screens again. Specifically the bedrooms. The ones that Lindsay, Jewel and Hilary weren't in.
She looked at Stuart, still fast asleep. Her boss was a pain to wake up, and by the time she had him alert, who knew how far away those little bitches would be? And what had Kimiko been doing, playing with herself?
A second later, Tina wasn't in the room either.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Look, you think I'm crazy, fine! Just do one thing for me, that's all I ask - just one little thing!" Jessica begged as Susan started the car up. "See the number on the folder?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Just ring it up for me, please! You can even use my phone, here!" she added, flinging her cell phone into an eye-rolling Haylie's lap. "But I'm telling you, it might be your only chance to get Hilary back..."
Susan turned the car off. "What the hell, it's not my phone. Humour her, Haylie."
Looking at the number, Haylie dialled. "Whoever it is, he might not be up..."
"It's a she, and she will be. I know her," Jessica said, hoping she was right as Haylie listened to the rings. "And when she answers, I just want you to say these words..." The phone was picked up, and Jessica crossed her fingers as Haylie said those words. Just to humour the obvious nutcase, like Mom said.
A few seconds later, the woman on the other end of the line managed to say "How'd you know... who... who is this?," sounding as if she'd just heard the Last Trump. It didn't sound as if Jessica had been putting her up to it at all; Jennifer Love Hewitt wasn't a good enough actress to pretend the words "Corliss Culhane" didn't mean anything to her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hilary, Jewel and Lindsay stood at the entrance to the stables. All three of them remembered what happened last time they were there, and none of them wanted to go in there again, even though Stuart was still asleep.
"Let's do this all together, okay?" Jewel managed to say. "We can do this...they're not going to blow up if we look at them." Swallowing her nervousness, Jewel edged forward; Hilary gingerly walked ahead, and Lindsay, sweating a little, followed with a feeling of gratitude that at least she wasn't hurting any longer. Even though the inside of the stables was only three feet away, it felt like the Gobi Desert before the three women were inside.
The horses were starting to wake up with the day approaching as the females scanned each one while they walked. "This isn't an auction," Lindsay hissed. "Let's just get on one and get out of here."
"It's got to be big enough to carry all three of us," Hilary pointed out. "A big stallion..."
"Yeah, that's what I could use right now," Lindsay chuckled, trying to break the mood with a little innuendo and failing. The blondes just shook their heads as they kept going.
In the middle of the stable, they found what they were looking for; he was tall, he was black, he was strong. And best of all, he was awake. Their luck continued to hold as they led him out of the stable, the clip-clops of the horse not quite making them look around as if they were warning signs, and Lindsay (who was doing most of the leading, holding the strap from the bit between his teeth) regretting that they'd have to ride him bareback. Not as much as she was regretting having to abandon this big guy when they got far enough away - but better than leaving him to Stuart. Not because he was cruel, but because she just didn't like him.
At last they got outside, and Lindsay climbed onto the horse's back; she helped Hilary up, and the two helped Jewel up. With Jewel clutching Hilary and Hilary clutching Lindsay, the latter kicked the horse in the sides. "Get us out of here!" she shouted, hoping he wouldn't rein up and throw them off.
The horse took off at a gallop as Lindsay jiggled up and down, trying to get some kind of control over this thing, dammit. "Come on, kid... we want to get off this thing alive!" Hilary peered around Jewel to look at the receding stable, wondering how far they were going from it, waiting for the horse's midsection to erupt, sending the three young women hurtling from it to their deaths. At least it would be quick... she was still looking behind them and waiting for the explosion when they left the 100-foot mark far, far behind.
Over the ranchlands and up the hill the horse galloped, his mane flying as wild as their hair. "DO YOU KNOW WHERE THIS THING'S GOING?!?" Jewel yelled, hoping he wouldn't stumble. He was surefooted so far, but you never could tell. "SUPPOSE HE GOES OVER A CLIFF OR SOMETHING?!?"
They were getting near a familiar looking fence, and Lindsay's plan came together in her head. She urged the horse on faster, hoping he wouldn't be as yellow as he was black...
"HANG ON!" Lindsay yelled, reassured as he didn't cut back a bit. The fence wasn't that high, he was building up a good head, and none of them weighed that much... soon he'd be carrying them over the fence to freedom. And then...
And then the horse stumbled. One moment the three ladies were safe on his back, the next he had buckled and sent them rolling as he landed on his front legs and crashed to the turf. In their only stroke of luck for the day, Lindsay, Hilary and Jewel hit the ground with little real injuries - no broken backs or worse. The three were lucky to be alive, Hilary thought as she rolled to a stop, not far from the other two. "What was that?!?" she wailed as the horse's anguished whinnies filled the air, looking ar her downed comrades and gathering her thoughts.
"Who do I look like, a fucking jockey?!" Lindsay snapped, wanting to move but afraid she'd twisted something as the day got brighter. And brighter. And brighter. Almost as if there was a flashlight in front of them...
"You know, The Great Escape is Stuart's dad's favourite movie," Tina Powers said as she casually drove up by the injured stallion. "Nice of you to try and make a little tribute. Right down to not getting over the fence... too bad you had to use Rodney here."
"The horse's name is Rodney?" Jewel asked, surprised in spite of herself.
"Yeah, I thought it was a stupid name too," Tina agreed, as the others saw the rifle she was holding - the rifle she had used to shoot the horse in its flanks. "Said it was after his favourite character from his favourite sitcom. Only Fools And Horses or something like that." She hefted the rifle and aimed it at the injured stallion's whinnying head; Hilary shut her eyes just as Tina pulled the trigger. When the echo died out, it took the whinnying with it.
"Which just leaves us with the fools," Tina said briskly, and turned the rifle towards the captives. Fear shot into their eyes, and Tina let them start to say their prayers mentally before winking at them, dipping the barrel down.
"You really thought I was going to kill you? And how would I explain that to the customers? Or to Stuart? Or that fat old cunt Corliss? 'Course, there is one sick bastard who wants to poke Jessica Biel after she's dead. JOKE!" she added. "No no no... you're coming back with me live and kicking." She jerked her head towards the jeep. "Come on, ladies... gotta get you cleaned up."
The ladies gingerly started to their feet, all trying to ignore the dead horse by them.
"But first, we've got to do something about this," Tina continued. "Not the horse - it's not like you were riding Lady Penelope or Col. White or one of his prize steeds. It's the whole trying to escape thing... see what's in the jeep, Duff?"
Hilary, who was closest, looked in the back seat. Nothing there but a case, and said so.
"Look in the damn case. By the way, Stuart was right... he's always talking about that nice plump ass you've got back there," Tina continued as the girl leant inside and opened the case, and failed to throw Tina off her stride when she gasped at what was inside.
"Should be able to take a little whipping," Tina continued as Hilary stared at the cat o'nine tails. "Only about ten lashes... don't worry, it won't hurt much. I think."
"No..." Hilary moaned as she felt Tina's hands dropping on her shoulders. "Please..."
"Sorry, girlie, but one of you's got to get it, and you're it. Unless you'd prefer..." And Tina wrenched Hilary back and shoved her to the ground, her foot near the girl's frightened face. "My feet need some loving, slave. And I haven't showered yet."
"No, wait..." Lindsay said, and Hilary looked up at her, hopefully. "I'll do it."
"You?" Tina asked, with contempt. "It's no fun to have slaves who look nasty - you've got dom written all over your face, Ho-han." She grabbed a fistful of Hilary's hair and pulled the girl's head up so they could all see the fright in her eyes. "But Hilary here... all cute and perky... now she's someone you want to fucking... mess... UP!" She shoved Hilary to the turf again. "You, get over there and work on Lindsay's feet. Kilcher, take care of mine. NOW."
"I can't..." Hilary groaned.
"Or do you want to do the horse?"
Swallowing the urge to gag, Hilary crawled over to Lindsay, now not even bothering to pretend she was loving this more than McDonald's. Now fully on her feet, Lindsay looked down on Hilary and enjoyed watching her there, dirty and ashamed and ready to be her slave. Lindsay extended a foot out to the blonde and wriggled it, and smiled as Hilary clasped it in her hands. The blonde shuddered as she opened her mouth and began to lick Lindsay's toes, half-heartedly moving her tongue over the tips while stroking the sole. Looking up at her rival with pleading eyes, she saw only a hard-looking smirking face; Hilary turned back to Lindsay's foot, and started to suck on each toe in turn.
"Get the dirt out, missy." Hilary kept from squealing as she started to wriggle her tongue in the tiny spaces of Lindsay's toes, cleaning under each toenail and giving each toe one last suck before moving on. If nothing else, Hilary at least got a bit of grim pleasure over a tiny callus she found...
"Suck it," Lindsay spat as Hilary's finger moved past said callus. "And like it."
Hilary put her lips around the growth, rubbing its roughness and slowly sucking it, hoping she wouldn't catch anything from it.
"That goes for you too, jugsy," Tina snapped to Jewel. "On the ground. Now." She hefted the cat o'nine tails and dangled it in front of Jewel's face to get the message across, letting her lips almost smile at the shocked look on the singer's face. "Or do I have to make you? Please, let me make you."
Jewel started to kneel.
"No, on second thoughts leave the feet alone," Tina grinned, wielding the cat o'nine tails and stroking Jewel's tits with it. "I've got something else for you."
"Oh please God, no..." Jewel moaned. "I can't... not that... don't wanna be beaten..."
"Spineless little asswad, ain't you? Just how I like 'em," Tina spat. "Open the hand."
Jewel shook her head.
Miss Kilcher put her hands palm outwards, as Tina lifted up the cat - and dropped it into the open palms. "No one said anything about you being whipped, Miss Tits."
"You want me to do..." Jewel started, with gratitude and a bit of hope in her voice.
"Hell, no," Tina finished. "You're on the right track, though." With that, she bent down until she was next to the heaving Hilary. Tina looked at Hilary with her mouth sucking one of Lindsay's heels for a moment, before resting her hands on the girl's jeans and yanking. With a rough jerk, they came down just enough to expose Hilary's red panties to the morning air; Hilary started with the sudden coolness, but she knew better than to stop licking Lindsay's tootsies. Even when she felt Tina's hands grabbing the underwear and tearing it open, she just steeled herself for another bout of something hard being jammed into her backdoor.
"Ain't these legs something?" Tina continued, stepping out of her own jeans. "You're not going to touch them, but guess what?" Miss Powers did a dainty (for her) pirouette, showing Jewel and Lindsay her butt. "You get to touch this," she added to Jewel, kneeling down. "And kiss it. Deep. Now."
Jewel went down, and stayed down as she crouched behind Tina, handing her captor the whip. "And no dabbing around the top either, or it's your turn after her."
After... Hilary's heart jumped as she realised what Tina was talking about. "OMIGODDD!!!!" she muffle-wailed as the cat o'nine tails cracked across her exposed rump. And it wasn't a delicate thing, either; no playing around. It was like the spankings Mom had doled out to her when she was a kid from time to time, except this wasn't ("OOOHHHHH!" she yelled as the second lash snapped across her) for her own good. It was for Tina's. And as hard as her mom's hands had been, Tina's whip made Mrs. Duff's hand seem like the softest cotton blanket on Earth; the cords were long and tied off at the end with a tiny bit of wire, and Tina ALWAYS dragged it backwards before lifting it. Hilary tried not to scream as she felt the edge cutting her...
CRACK! "DON'T STOP WITH HER FEET, DUFF!" Tina roared, lashing Hilary's buns again and enjoying the tiny red lines that were coming up. "Keep going and I'll stop after ten..."
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Hilary jerked with each bite of the whip as she kept fellating Lindsay's foot, licking each side and cradling the sole in her hands. Hilary then started to suck on the other foot, which felt even less clean than the first one; "Suck all the dirt out, missy," Lindsay sneered, wriggling the toes as she forced the top of her foot into Hilary's mouth, wishing that she could force it down her throat like the world's biggest cock. Hilary was certainly gagging as if it was one.
Jewel, for once, knew exactly how Hilary felt as she faced Tina's brown, open asshole jerking in front of her face as its owner enthusiastically thrashed the Duff buns. Jewel's nose wrinkled; Tina may have been beautiful, but she wasn't a poster girl for hygiene. Miss Kilcher started counting in her head to take her mind off where she was as she put the tip of her tongue on Tina's back door, and to try and quell the nausea when she realised just what that little dampness she felt was. Oh fuck... Jewel, as slowly as she dared, started to push her tongue up the tiny river of runny shit leaking out of Tina. Tiny brown rivulets coursing over the tip of her tongue, a little crustiness around the hole itself... even the appealing firmness of Tina's buttocks didn't take the edge off what was between them. Jewel's hands were rubbing Tina's rump as she pressed her mouth further against the anus, but she really wanted to slap them.
"Here's a little extra for you, Jewel!" Tina laughed, and Jewel felt the muscles of the Powers asshole opening a tiny touch - Jewel prayed she wasn't about to actually crap in her mouth, or that would be it right there. What came out wasn't solid, or any kind of visible material - but that was her only blessing as Jewel Kilcher took a faceful of gas. Foul, rancid gas. FUCK! What did this fucker EAT?! And there was so much of it... unlike Christina Aguilera (known in the biz as A Thousand Miles - not because of the Vanessa Carlton song, but because of the distance from which her flatulence could kill a herd of cows), Tina Powers always let off "silent but deadlys," but even if it could have drowned out the 1812 Overture Jewel still wouldn't have felt any better.
"Damn, that feels good," Tina chuckled, studying Hilary's bleeding buns. "Best perfume you ever had, right? And as for you, Duff..." Tina set down the whip. "Never let it be said that I don't keep my word. Give Lohan the treatment from behind, and I'll do something for your poor sore ass."
Trying hard to keep back her tears of rage and pain, Hilary finished sucking Lindsay's now-clean feet as the smug fellow actress turned around, presenting her own pink tush for Hilary's mouth. "Dinner time, Hilary," Lindsay smirked. "You can spread them if you want to."
Tina nodded in approval as she watched Hilary bend forward, her tongue out and touching Lindsay's closed-up back door. For once, Tina regretted that her trumps were silent as she let off again on Jewel's face, enjoying how the singer's tongue was cleaning her out down there. "Stay with me, Jewel - just moving forward a bit here," she said, edging forward and listening to Jewel crawling on the grass behind her until she was just above Hilary, her blonde head pressing against Lindsay's ass. Hilary didn't look as if she was having fun with Miss Lohan at all, which was just how Tina liked it. And even better, Hilary's legs were slightly open as she lay there - Tina wanted to get a little look down there, but there wasn't time. Passing some more gas over Jewel and feeling the beautiful singer shuddering against her ass as she had to keep excavating, there was one more thing Tina had to do. "You're gonna need something for those cuts, girlie, aren't you?" Tina said conversationally. "I'll bandage you up back at the ranch, but first let's get something to cut the infection..."
Lindsay's asshole wasn't as foul as Tina's, but neither was it free of the brown stuff; Hilary prayed that Lindsay wouldn't take this whole mistress/slave thing the bitch was getting high on too far. She felt Tina patting her head as she ate, feeling sicker by the moment. "This won't take long," her captor assured her.
Lindsay, facing away from the others until then, craned her head around and so was the only one of the three to see Tina, standing over Hilary, sighing happily as she let out a shower of urine over Hilary's soft seat. The golden liquid sprinkled onto Hilary's wounds, rushing along the young woman's seat and creating a tiny river inside one of the cuts. Tina could imagine the urine dripping down the gap between Hilary's legs; she could almost see Hilary's open pussy behind the curtain of piss. Tina kept sprinkling it, wishing she could see Hilary's face wondering what the hell that was covering her ass.
Jewel couldn't see what was happening, nor could she feel it, but she could hear it...and then her tongue touched a tiny solid bit left over. Her mindset broke; the singer broke away from Tina and hurled herself away, vomiting onto the grass in disgust and anger. Her puking continued alongside Tina's pissing, and kept up afterwards. Sobbing and revolted, Jewel started to crawl away from the spectacle as Tina, drained, patted Hilary again. "Time to get back; and Kilcher, get the ropes from the jeep. Two of you are walking."
"Two of us?" Lindsay asked.
"Yeah. YOU get to be in the jeep... Assgirl and Lizzie McGuire - "
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!" Hilary screamed, pulling her face out of Lindsay's ass, and ignoring Tina's smirk when she saw a tiny little smudge on her nose.
"Just for that, after Lindsay's tied you twenty more lashes. Oh, and Lindsay..." Tina continued as a beaten Jewel sullenly assumed the position. " can do the honours."
It wasn't the added whipping and the dragging back to the ranch that was weighing on Hilary's mind as Tina pulled her up, slammed her hands on the back of the jeep and tied them tight. It was the look on Lindsay's face as she joined the captives, holding the cat o'nine tails; Lindsay didn't look as if she was being coerced into it. She looked as if she was...enjoying it. Almost like she didn't have a bomb in her chest. Hilary turned her head away so she couldn't see Lindsay's smile as the dom stroked Miss Duff's back and buns with the whip, and tried to keep from hyperventilating as she told herself Lindsay was just playing along.
But Lindsay was too at ease to just be playing along; she was the one in control. She'd been wanting to have perky little Hilary Duff in her hands for as long as she'd known her; one good thing about this scenario, now her wish had come true. Twenty? Hell, if Lindsay could make the whipping in The Passion of the Christ look like a feather fight she would. And best of all...
CRACK! boy bands.
Hilary's cry as another cut opened was matched by a thrill going through Lindsay's body. "That's another five for that," Miss Lohan told the frightened girl, and drew the whip back.

Monday, March 27, 2006

If I can just follow up on the big sister thing...

...spending some time living with Sharon will almost certainly spur me on to get out of there.
Don't misunderstand me, I love her and I'm grateful for all her help; I'm also very relieved that the new guy in her life seems to lack the qualities that made The BBC such an asshole. It's just that I never feel very comfortable talking to her.
Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm there for her to have someone to rant to - about her "friends," about her car, about the travails in her life - and it's never easy for me to just chat about stuff with her. Partly because she is, by her own admission at least once, a bit dull; and partly because I owe her so much that I just can't let my shields down. The thing is, I want to tell her some things... to actually get critical. Tell her that no, I don't particularly care for her taste in music; that if she doesn't like my choice of viewing that's her problem not mine; that she really could stand to consult a listings guide at least once; that she could stand to be more direct and less discreetly critical the way Zeta is, or the way Jen is. I can take that far more than the hidden snideness approach.
The trouble is, I get the feeling that Sharon is not so good at taking it as she is at dishing it out, and since I've had so much support from her I can't bring myself to air any complaints about her. It's not like I'm such a prize myself, anyway - at least she isn't vicious or cruel.
But she is a nag. She only does it for my own good, mind. But I just wish I could genuinely like her as well as love her. I wish I could have someone who I could talk to about my favourite shows (yes, mine not hers) or the music from Lost or whatever without feeling she was only doing it to be polite and didn't really care. Hell, I know most of you don't, but you don't pretend to. And I like that.
And I wish I could relax enough to get openly gushy with Shaz (it is no fun seeing her openly confessing to fancying the likes of Isaiah Washington, for instance, while... look, let's just say it's much easier for me to watch the likes of Charmed now that I'm living by myself). But it's never going to happen; she's my big sister, she's motherly, she's considerate and she's caring, but she's never going to be a friend.
And yet, I'm still glad I never had a brother. (I do have a half-brother, but he doesn't count and never will.) I might have to live with him.

Esther Esther Bo Besther.../Hypothetical question.

Cheers to Butch for enlightening me as to who Esther Baxter is. Yum.
One problem: just as Sharon Stone would be off limits for me even if she wasn't a repellent hag on account of her sharing a first name with my big sister, so Esther has the same first name as a short, fat, often grating African woman who works with me. I can see much mental blocking in the future.

And a hypothetical question: If, when discussing viewing habits with an older sister who's a very good person but a bit on the tasteless side, the subject of Prison Break comes up... and said sister says she suspects I watch it because that woman from Gilmore girls is in it as Veronica... and thus professes ignorance about two (very good) shows for the price of one... should I whack her in the face with a plate and storm out in a way other than mentally? Thought so.
This is why I'm glad I won't be living here permanently. Good person, but it would be like InThe313 rooming with Bill O'Reilly. But not so extreme.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Early Weekend Update, but why not?

Cindy: Josie Maran, who I've forgiven for making Van Helsing, is pregnant.
Vanessa: You'd think that would encourage our friend on Drury Lane to update. I guess not.
Cindy: Boxing well underway for the move, so less rushing on the day.
Vanessa: Boxes blocking the view of the TV, the path of the remote...
Cindy: Ennio Morricone coming to London during my week off.
Vanessa: That liveaction Simpsons opener is going to be on Fox. Still, at least they didn't make their own.
Cindy: Told Dad about the move.
Vanessa: As I told Sharon when she asked, he didn't actually offer to help. (Yet.)
Cindy: Payday!
Vanessa: Most of which... well, all of which... still has to go to the damn rent. At least it's the last time.

Cindy: Work in progress coming to this 'ere blog soon.
Vanessa: Paris Hilton in cartoon form. Why? (Insert "what's the difference?" joke here.)
Cindy: Elaine Quijano. Jessica's sister?

Thursday, March 23, 2006

And now, just to piss off Jen a bit...

If it helps, I'd do Jen as well. :) Meanwhile, this should piss off most of us in the fan club, just to balance it out.

Thorn in my side, you know that's all he'll ever be.

Even these days there are people - yours truly included - who refuse to give the slot of Greatest TV Cartoon Ever to a show other than The Simpsons (and yes, that does include Futurama - my wish to beat up everyone on it not called Amy or Leela is one of the reasons it'll always be Avis to Springfield's Hertz). All I ask is
a) they bring back John Swartzwelder to work on the movie (he hasn't written an episode of the show since the one where they went to London - "I can't believe we just met Mr. Bean!"), and
b) they not get Dave Stewart to work on the music, as has been threatened.
Dave Stewart. David A. Stewart. Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics. Boring in tandem with Annie Lennox, and boring without (see Lily Was Here in collaboration with Candy Dulfer, and Cookie's Fortune). I can understand Hans Zimmer being along, even though he hasn't done a decent score for a cartoon since The Lion King, because he's worked with James L. Brooks several times - although the only people who should be involved with the movie's music are, of course, Alf Clausen and Danny Elfman - but Dave Stewart?!? What is Twentieth Century Fox thinking? Alison Krauss (who's doing a movie for the House of Mouse) is one thing, but Dave Stewart? You just know they're going to get popular artists for the inevitable soundtrack album, but Dave Stewart? Fuck me!

Still, at least they haven't hired Kanye West. Yet.

Monday, March 20, 2006

It's hard out here for a fan/Monday Update

This was originally going to be a mere Vanessa but I decided it's worth a little more ranting. Anyhoo...

Thanks to What Would Tyler Durden Do? I got to hear Kanye West's end credit song for Mission: Impossible III. Apparently he came on board at the behest of that well-known bundle of comic joy Tom Cruise, and just as the first two movies brought them to a definite and possible damb-squib of an end courtesy of The Other Two From U2 and Limp Nizkit (I can't speak for sure for the second one because I refused to go and see it after the non-lubricated sodomy that was the first one). You can hear it here, and read some of the comments from people after their ears stopped bleeding here. Fortunately Lalo Schifrin is alive and therefore incapable of turning in his grave. I can only hope we get separate song/score CDs like the first two so I won't have to worry about hearing this lame-ass bollocks again. Ever.
This is the kind of stuff I've had to live with for years... albums filled with songs hardly in the damn movie while the score gets shafted, though it's been getting better of late. Still not ideal though - still have to put up with that kind of crap. Were there any commercial tack-ons on the original show? Hell, no. Thank goodness Cruise doesn't have musical say over his Spielberg films. And thank goodness for time elapsing - my copy of the Ghostbusters album is winging its way across the Atlantic as I write (and since it's through the US Mail as opposed to Royal Mail, it'll probably get here by the time I finish typing this). This one is from Varese Sarabande and won't ever be confused with the regular release - all Elmer Bernstein, no Ray Parker Jr.

Which brings us to the whole C vs. V thing.

Cindy: Several very kind colleagues (esp. Anna) and relatives' (especially Sharon and Joy - sister and aunt respectively) support for the big move.
Vanessa: Still having to pay the last month's rent.

Cindy: Getting some of the deposit back should I leave before the 14th (I'm going over to Sharon's on the 11th).
Vanessa: Still having to sort things out with ntl for disconnecting the cable. I hate those fuckers.
Cindy: Charmed Catch-up this weekend! Yay!
Vanessa: Still haven't bought my mum's birthday present yet.
Cindy: Washed my hair. As you can tell, I'm grasping at straws.
Vanessa: Change in leaving-for-work habits come April 12 - probably walking up to the 142 route, which is a lot farther than I'm used to (the first bus outside Sharon's flat arrives at 6:30, and I like to leave earlier than that).
Cindy: Last albums bought while still at the old place en route! (And not a song album in the bunch, mes cheries.)
Vanessa: Pink. For many reasons, but specifically "Stupid Girls." Whooo, slagging off Paris Hilton and Britney Spears (and leave the woman alone already, press packs)! So fucking BRAVE and CONTROVERSIAL! How about attacking Islam or recording a song called "I Love Donald Rumsfeld," Miss Moore?
Cindy: The Commonwealth Games, preempting Medium and giving me a shot at taping summat else tomorrow.
Vanessa: It's time for me to go...

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Will the circle ever be unbroken?

You are the leader of the free world. You are consistently scoring low in opinion polls because of your actions. You have consistently managed to fuck up just about everything you've set out to do in your job. Even many people around you are doubting you. Do you

a) Cock an ear towards people pointing out your many, many drawbacks and try to do something about it?


b) Set in motion more of the same stuff that resulted in the loss of faith and the low ratings in the first place?

If you said b), I never want to hear from you again.

What is it going to TAKE...? (And peace rallys are not the answer; you'd think the organisers of such things would have noticed by now as well.)

Update tomorrow, when I hopefully feel better.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Now this is my idea of a beautiful game.

Even if Jessica's FHM Collections shoot isn't quite up to her normal standard (it must have been sabotaged by someone. Keira Knightley, I'm looking in your direction). It still counts as a Cindy in a week that needs them, though.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

The second countdown begins...

When my internal alarm (the kind that usually wakes me up when money's been entered into my account) woke me up this morning at a few minutes after midnight, I found that Jim had slipped a little letter under my door dated yesterday.

Dear Mr Field

Due to my recent ill health, I have now decided to retire; therefore I am giving you one month's notice to leave the property, as of today.

Yours Faithfully
J. Dowling

To be continued.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

That Simpsons Sky One promo...

"Meh" pretty much sums it up.
"Cartoons in live action form never work unless they involve Brendan Fraser, and even then only if he's playing George of the Jungle" works as well.

"Setting Springfield in the UK shoots it in the foot from the off; imagine a promo for EastEnders set in Philadelphia or some such and you get the idea"... well, you get the idea. Meg White was right about Lisa-centric episodes tending to suck, but at least I can watch even some of those more than once...

Sunday, March 12, 2006

The countdown begins...

The Cunts' Corner section at Holy Moly! includes American foreign policy, Big Issue sellers, the Evening Standard, Nicole Richie ("Anyone who fancies her should be immediately placed on the sex offenders register. The spindly spoilt bitch looks and acts like a seven year old girl with attention deficit disorder. Bony cunt"), the Sugababes, golf, NTL, Steve Wright in the Afternoon and others. Some I don't agree with, others I certainly do - like all the ones I just mentioned (yours truly actually submitted one of them). Sadly, by the end of this year I may well have to metaphorically include Victoria. But I don't want to.
Victoria, for anyone reading this who doesn't know, is the main woman at CSSA and a woman who lives by the credo "He who pays the piper calls the tune." And even after getting stripped of my Mod powers for a while for mentioning Stargazerz (Victoria, unlike the BBC, really does object to advertising other places), I didn't have a problem with her way of doing things.
Until now.

You see, she's suggested we get some new avatars, and asked us to IM her some choices and links to pictures, and she told us to tell us who they were since she wouldn't know. Now I admit I rather foolishly assumed that since my own favourite choice was fairly common knowledge on the boards she'd have a basic idea, so when I sent her three picture links I simply ID'd her as "guess who," so I do take the blame for not telling her. But not for Miss I'm Too Lazy To Spend Like What, Ten Seconds C&P-ing A Link To See One Of The Most Famous Models In The Damn World And Get The Message getting all pissy and closing the door to all further submissions. Not just mine (I could understand if it was just mine), but all of them after Dr. B's.
I guess it's different when it happens to you. It always is. I know Victoria's notoriously inflexible rule-wise, I haven't really been punished (I'm not banned or anything) and I really hoped that this wouldn't still irritate me after a good night's sleep... but it does. This is just too petty to go away, even for her. I've been bothered by other things about the site - from her failure to understand the concept of the term "quality control" in general and with Andrew Troy Keller in particular (not putting any more of his stories is not blocking freedom of speech; it's preventing any more of his crap from being seen. That's the same [and the number one] reason TV shows get cancelled, books are rejected, films get scrapped and so on... because they're awful and most people aren't interested. In the old days of the site I even sent in one which didn't get put up, and they were right not to do it because it wasn't very good...), to blocks on author criticism, to the fact that some of the regular members are dickheads (though the last one is a matter of personal taste, I'll admit... but Dr. Blasphemy and The Fan should not expect Christmas cards from me any time soon). But getting in-your-face confirmation about the bone up Victoria's ass; this is going to hang over me every time I go to the site. I've experienced similar unfounded petty dictatorship at work, and I don't need to get it at leisure.

And that's why come the end of the year, or come the end of The Longest Weekend and the Cindy Inc. series (whichever comes first), or unless Victoria lightens up... or unless I get convinced otherwise... I'm going to leave CSSA. I can't blame Jen for parting company now; at least Miss Orangio has a working sense of humour.

In fairness, HolyMoly also has a Sacred Cows section (included so far: the Internet, Rachel Weisz, Calvin and Hobbes, Alan Moore, Bill Hicks, Meg White, James Garner, whoever came up with the Sheila's Wheels advertisements, Silvio Berlusconi, Kerry Katona's breasts, money, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Jessica Alba). Link to it in the title.

Weekend again.

Cindy: All the CDs I paid for arrived, meaning plenty of listening. (More of that anon.)
Vanessa: Having to rearrange the bedsit slightly so Jim can put a new electric meter in. That was a week ago, and it still isn't done.
Cindy: Being shown the type of computer I'll be inheriting from work once the new machines are in. A step closer to being back online longer!
Vanessa: Victoria. (More of that anon as well.)
Cindy: Cindy. Specifically picking up several images of her in various magazines. Seeing them online is all very well, but having them in your hands... :)
Vanessa: Having to search for a few more still.

Cindy: Finally deciding to stop with 'Hater's mags. If you're reading this, when a huge Royal Mail box arrives from me cherish them, because that's it...
Vanessa: Everyone picking on Jessica Alba at the Oscars, especially the "that's as close as she'll ever get to one" crowd - close than most of you'll ever get.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

"Martin Scorsese - zero Oscars. Three 6 Mafia - one."

After staying up all night to watch The No Big Winners Show (and spending most of the afternoon in bed to recover), here's a weekday Cindy and Vanessa thing. Bad stuff first this time.

Vanessa: Sky's coverage having the most ill-timed commercial break ever during Itzhak Perlman's performance of the score nominees. And Williams not winning, by the way.
Cindy: The first award presented after that being the Sound Mixing Oscar. Butch must know why.
Vanessa: E!'s super-annoying Guiliana DePandi being unable to STFU about Keira Knightley.
Cindy: The Oscars refusing to make what would have been the most controversial decision of the night and not giving her a gong.
Vanessa: "The British tabloids will have a field day." Not about Homer and Marge's open air sex, but about Weisz and Park's wins. Enough already.

Cindy: The phony lobbying ads. Be honest, they were funny.
Vanessa: Lauren Bacall doing the worst presenting job of the night, if not ever.
Cindy: Hearing Jerry Goldsmith's L.A. Confidential music during the montage she introduced.
Vanessa: Too many dying jokes coming from Jon Stewart's mouth.
Cindy: Some that didn't.
Vanessa: Having to put up with Mariella Fucking Frostrup presenting Sky's coverage of the night. Suffice to say my mute button is working perfectly.
Cindy: The performance of "It's Hard Out There For A Pimp." Even if the Oscar should've gone to Dolly (as it should have done 25 years ago for "Nine To Five.")
Vanessa: Hughes Winborne (editing Oscar winner for Crash) also winning the Julia Roberts Award for Rudeness to Bill Conti.
Cindy: Jennifer Garner and Salma Hayek. Enough said.
Vanessa: That supposedly funny but really irritating intro to the Robert Altman tribute.
Cindy: See the picture link.

Bonus Cindy: I still have 15 more days off to apply for...

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Weekend update time again.

Cindy: Paid for a whole load of albums.
Vanessa: Realised too late that I already had one of them (Godzilla 2000)... damn duplication again! Fingers crossed for an exchange.
Cindy: Long holiday weekend for me, thanks to the Oscars. (And remember, Alba's a presenter. Go Johnny (Williams), go!)
Vanessa: Increased workload before said weekend thanks to departures from DMWorks. Damn.
Cindy: Charmed is now definitely due for the stereo cabinet. This qualifies as a Cindy because of what this season's been like thus far, for the most part. Kaley Cuoco notwithstanding.
Vanessa: James Blunt topping the charts in the US. James Fucking Blunt. How?! WHY??!?
Cindy: Still, at least it ain't Robbie Williams.

Vanessa: None of my eBay stuff has arrived yet.
Cindy: "Hey you guys!!!"

Friday, March 03, 2006

Bad Playboy, bad...

While I can't blame Playboy for wanting to have Jessica on the cover (face it, Willa Ford is hardly a name), the way they went about it was hardly ethical. I hope she wins. Who's with me?

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Followup to the beneath...

It has all been sorted out, apparently. It was all a misunderstanding with communication. We still lost two people over it; two good people. Dammit.
Oh, and quite a few of us are indeed not going, including myself. But don't worry...

Now all I have to get pissed about is James Blunt managing to conquer America (I'm not blaming Butch, Jen or the rest of my American friends because I know most of them - except possibly Teresa, my first penpal - wouldn't listen to that kind of neutered sappy crap, right?) and the possibility of FHM's list reaching a new low. More tomorrow, or whenever it comes out. Yep, it's that time of year again...

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

How not to get on with your employees, part several trillion:

1. Unilaterally decide to have your employees go up to Scarborough (in Yorkshire - up North; look on a map).
2. Forget to ask said employees a) what they think about it and b) if they'd like to go, thereby demonstrating the same facility for organisation that Denise Richards does for acting.
3. Fire two 16-year-old employees initially invited along because their names aren't on the books (and who are too young to go to the thing anyway).
4. Irritate just about everyone because of your employee relations.
5. Including having one employee transferred out of the computer room into the warehouse for "not being a team player."
6. Drive another one to quit because of his incessant cuntishness.

7. Generally create a storm in a teacup just because of a messup over a weekend trip.