Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Decadent Smut: Christina's Ecstasy, 1980
Christina’s golden quest for love without restrictions has never been more compelling and dangerous than when she volunteers her name and body to an astute and persuasive promoter of sexotic vacations. With her fabulous figure and her international reputation as a connoisseur of the good life, the promise of a trip around the world with Christina lures even blasé millionaires to dip into their Swiss bank accounts to join her erotic entourage.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The following handwritten letter was found this weekend crumpled up on the unseasonably warm marble steps of McKinley Hall:
Dear Lisa,
I might be kinda concerned about my health. I can’t smell unscented perfume or taste unflavored ice cream. Obviously I’m losing my hearing. Plus how do you know if you have a flesh-eating virus? My appetite for skin has been totally insatiable lately. I mean, wait, my body is covered with extremely contagious, antibiotic-resistant open wounds likely caused by aggressive bacteria caught from a toilet seat I licked at Grand Central Station after a heroin junkie used it to deliver a nuclear-radiated stillborn fetus. Damn, I knew that was a bad idea. Hey--you know how I like to sleep in the nude, right? Well your Snuggie feels nice against my diseased epidermis—I was totally going to wash it before I gave it back to you, but I couldn’t find any quarters for the machine.
Ever notice math is all just numbers and shit?
Kristin
Song of the Day:
“Get Out My Life, Woman,” The Mad Lads
I might be kinda concerned about my health. I can’t smell unscented perfume or taste unflavored ice cream. Obviously I’m losing my hearing. Plus how do you know if you have a flesh-eating virus? My appetite for skin has been totally insatiable lately. I mean, wait, my body is covered with extremely contagious, antibiotic-resistant open wounds likely caused by aggressive bacteria caught from a toilet seat I licked at Grand Central Station after a heroin junkie used it to deliver a nuclear-radiated stillborn fetus. Damn, I knew that was a bad idea. Hey--you know how I like to sleep in the nude, right? Well your Snuggie feels nice against my diseased epidermis—I was totally going to wash it before I gave it back to you, but I couldn’t find any quarters for the machine.
Ever notice math is all just numbers and shit?
Kristin
Song of the Day:
“Get Out My Life, Woman,” The Mad Lads
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings on acid?
In 1978, everyone is high, dressing badly, and really in love with awful disco music.