Ladies and Gentlemen: The Spray-On Condom (by Reese)

(image via InventorSpot.com)

Click the dick to find out more.

C'mon, you know you want to.

Goodbye and Goodnight (by Reese)

Okay, so this isn't my last post. But this is my last post where I'm actually speaking to you (the real last one I have, scheduled for Saturday, defies any description I could give it; sometimes a picture truly is worth a thousand words). And I think there's a few thing I should own up to.

I've read a few romance novels before. I'll probably continue to read them in the future. I wouldn't identify myself as a "rabid" or even "avid" reader of these fine pieces of literature, but I do admit I'm no virgin (ha, ha) to the inner workings of 450 pages of pulsing, sweating sexual detail.

And I'm also aware that I've been making fun of all this, so in honor of my exit from this blog (and at the suggestion of a certain author as well as The Romance Reader Top 100 List) I've selected a few titles that I might pursue reading for my future enjoyment.

Ready?

1. Montana Sky by Nora Roberts. I love Montana, I would like to move there. This is justifiable reason to me.
2. The Last Hellion by Loretta Chase. Hellions are much more my style than damsels in distress. I think I could enjoy a hellion quite more than I could enjoy a helpless blathering wench.
3. Deeper by Megan Hart. Yes, I have posted on this one before. And that's why I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is and see what it's really all about.
4. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. This does not sound particularly appealing to me, as it is a one-world, non-descriptive title that says little about plotline or sexual content, but the List rates it as number one, so my curiosity is piqued.
5. The Windflower by Tom and Sharon Curtis. The title interests me, but its more the fact that this appears to have been written by a couple (I dearly hope they're not a brother-sister team) that makes me want to read it.

That's it for now (don't want to get too crazy) but I'd like to thank you guys for listening to me ramble on for the past week--if, in fact, you have been listening and not just following Lizzie in her waitressing escapades at Waiting On Wisdom.

So if you've been following along, my gratitude is sincere. And I have to say, the, erm, pleasure has been all mine.

On that note, dear readers, goodbye and goodnight.

Books That Sound Like Romance, But Aren't (by Reese)

Oh, Amazon. The place to find whatever you want to buy, whether it be used Converse sneakers or an amusing list of dirtily-named literary works that are actually about very, ahem, rigid topics. Here are a few favorites:

Penetrating Wagner's Ring by John Louis Digaetani. Reviewers found this expert take on Opera "stimulating, but a bit sloppy". The writer of the Most Helpful Favorable Review was, at least, in on the joke.

The Golden Ass by  E.J. Kenney is a based on a premise not unlike that of Kafka's Metamorphosis (rather lighter, though): a jerkish man is transformed into a donkey.. The most promising thing about it? The keyword is "inserted stories". Oh, I bet they've done some insertion.

Sexing the Cherry by Jeanette Winterson. With a name like Winterson, it has to be frigid, right? Not necessarily. Customers are calling her everything from "inventive and imaginative" (oh baby) to "tedious and unsatisfying". But the best title of all? Queen of Fantasy (scroll down).

The Original Digital Dating Service (by Reese)

 
(video via YouTube.com)

Come on, ladies. These are the kinds of guys you've been waiting for.

"At night, I operate a damsel in distress hotline"

"My favorite food is pizza.... and sugar and spice and all those things that are nice."

Oh baby. Sign me up.

The Language of Love (by Reese)

As I have yet to get my hands on one of Lizzie's most precious hot-and-heavy romance novels and do a "true and deep" analysis of it, I thought I'd occupy my time by revealing to the hungry eyes of all you readers the pulsing, heaving extent of, um, "descriptive" language used in every inch of the romance novel--even the summaries of books themselves, which don't explicitly refer to sex. Consider this example, from eHarlequin.com:

Deeper

by Megan Hart 

Twenty years ago she had her whole life spread out before her. She was Bess Walsh, a fresh-scrubbed, middle-class student ready to conquer the design world. And she was taken. Absolutely and completely. 

But not by Andy, her well-groomed, intellectual boyfriend who had hinted more than once about a ring. No. During that hot summer as a waitress and living on the beach, she met Nick, the moody, dark-haired, local bad boy. He was, to put it mildly, not someone she could take home to Daddy.

Instead, Nick became her dirty little secret— a fervent sexual accomplice who knew how to ignite an all-consuming obsession she had no idea she carried deep within her.

Bess had always wondered what happened to Nick after that summer, after their promise to meet again. And now, back at the beach house and taking a break from responsibility, from marriage, from life, she discovers his heartbreaking fate—and why he never came back for her. Suddenly Nick's name is on her lips…his hands on her thighs…dark hair and eyes called back from the swirling gray of purgatory's depths.

Dead, alive, or something in between, they can't stop their hunger.

She wouldn't dare.

(my highlights)


Of course, not all romance writers adhere to this particular philosophy. Take this, er, confident woman from AllExperts.com, in response to an inquiry about what sort of language should be used in in writing this sort of book:

"Personally, I'm not a fan of the flowery filler-words used in older romance novels. I'd rather them just get straight to the point with the real word."

Well, okay then.

(image via eHarlequin.com)

Roundup: The Best In Smut (by Reese)

Here's the no-brainer: Walmart's website will give me access to the full collection of, uh, quality reading.

This romance-novel directory promises to get "a little on the wild side." Sounds appropriate. Let's take a peek.

Oh, the mother of all woman-oriented crap: Lifetime wants to show me the ropes.

It may sound innocent, but Public Bookshelf promises me that I can read tales of "southern bells longing for lost lives or steamy, hot romance stories" for free online. Oh goody.

Apparently, this delectable variety of fiction is so intoxicating to some that they would go so far as to call it addiction. Not one, not two, but three different women in the first few entries of Google claim marriage problems and addictive habits as a result of their obsession with "written porn" (they claim they didn't know it was bad for them).

I always wonder about the people writing these things. Are they shut-ins with no other way to connect with humanity? Are they savvy businesswomen who know they can make big bucks cranking out 450-page bundles of "throbbing" and "quivering" sex scenes? I'm not sure, but they do have a website.

Refreshing News and Billy Idol

I'll be on waitressing leave next week (guest-blogging over at Waiting on Wisdom), so I'm leaving you fine people in the hands of my most trustworthy and reliably bitter colleague: Teresa. What are you in store for? Let's find out.

The following answers are quoted verbatim:

What are your least favorite styles of music? Why?
Fucking opera, because I can't stand loud, screechy noises.

What was the last thing you bought at WalMart?
I don't remember. Why don't I remember!? Avocados. I think it was avocados. Say it was avocados.
 

What is the ideal name for a dog?
Peanut.


What is the worst book ever written?
Oh my god. Give me a moment to think about that one. Dude, what is the worst book ever written? There's this one by Danielle Steel that sucked so bad, but I forgot the name of it. 


How old were you when you got your first cell-phone?
Sixteen. It had flames on it.


How do you feel about Billy Idol?
I have no comment on Billy Idol.

Are swim-up bars really a good idea?
Yes. They are the best invention of humankind.

Where is the last place you would want to go on vacation?
Siberia...or China. Or Africa. Yes, Africa. Africa's worse than everything because they have Ebola. And female circumcision.

If you could only drink one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Mmmm..it might be coffee. I would probably drink espresso forever. Espresso or Jack Daniels.


How do you feel about cats?
I fucking hate cats. Spawn of Satan.  [Why do you hate cats so much?] I just do. You're either a cat person or a dog person, and I'm a cat person. Cats are stand-offish, bitchy...I don't want them and I don't like them. That's like trying to convince me to have children. It's not going to happen.

Have fun, guys. I think I'm leaving you in good hands.