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Real Housewives of New Jersey: The Second World War Begins [Recaps]

• Jun 29, 2010 from gawker(Gawker) in Entertainment
  On last night's wander into the black forests of the Garden State, we saw a sad woman at a crossroads. We saw an angry woman coming undone. We saw women who were trying to be better, but failing.This was something of a transitional episode. We were setting the scene for what's to come in one week's time, an epic blowdown of magisterial proportions. It will involve shrieking and women falling down and hyperventilating, and, like any true blowdown, the police. But for now, there is only this. The waiting. The anxious rumbles before the quake. The chicken skin-yellow sky of the terrible storm swirling our way. Let's stand in the eerie quiet and see what we can see.
  Ah yes, what's that there, can you make it out? It's the arched roofs and gilded doors of a very fancy shoppe, an emporium perhaps. Aha! It's the Posche store, where one can get a very "classful" Posche automobile. The steering wheel is conveniently located in the middle, so you can drive in England and the US and A. Do you like windshield wipers? Then you will love windshield cats, who lick all the water off, eventually. They live in the engine and eat spark plugs. A Posche is the finest off-brand luxury combustion device since the Marseillesdees, a French vehicle that runs on orange peels and sour wine. Who runs such a fancy dealership? Why Kim X, of course, a woman with a wispy white dead dandelion tuft of hair and a sharp, ambitious face. While she does bask often in the riches that the Posche dealership affords her, she wants more. She wants in with the Housewives, so very very desperately. She wants in so badly that she's been playing both sides of the field. She cozies up to Jacqueline, Teresa & Co. and cackles up to the notorious bug-witch Danielle. Kim X. is an amateur, so you'll forgive her for forgetting that she is being filmed by television cameras, which steal your essence and then rebroadcast it into America's homes. She does seem to forget that, so she thinks it's totally cool to just be completely two-faced. Oh Kim X. Ohhhh Kim.
  So first in this episode she drove her Posche Flamingo coupe over to a restaurant where Jacqueline and Teresa were eating. "Wait, is that centimeters or inches," Teresa was grumbling, while Jacqueline held a ruler to her forehead. Jacqueline frowned, "It's centimeters, honey." Teresa was about to throw a small fit but then she looked up and saw Kim X. coming, so she slapped the ruler out of Jacqueline's hand, hard, and rose to say hello to Kim X. Jacqueline sulked and kissed her boo-boo and searched the table for her sippy-cup. Kim X folded her long Jack Skellington limbs into her chair and, as the air conditioning blew parts of her hair off, wasted wishes, she told them about a big event she was planning. See Posche not only sells various wheeled machines, they also sell clothing. Very interesting, bold swaths of cloth that the ladies of Franklin Lakes use to lash around their murderous frames in various creative ways. When Kim X. gets a new shipment of cloth from the mysterious, ghostly old steamer ship that appears out of the mist and docks at Elizabeth on the same day every year, she throws a fashion show party to get all the girls interested. (She needs desperately to sell as many of the clothes as possible, if only to make the terrifying trip into the ship's metal belly worth it, with the screaming and moaning she hears from down dark, dripping corridors and the lone, withered old man with no eyes who greets her when she raps three times on the ship's door.) It's quite a big event held at one of North-Central New Jersey's 36,000 event spaces, and all the ladies in town want to come. This year, Kim X. would really like it if Jacqueline and Teresa would go.
  But they, of course, are not so sure. See, Kim X. is friends with Danielle and Danielle will probably be at the fashion show. Jacqueline is scared. Twice a week she's been talking with that nice lady, Dr. Karen, whose office is pleasant and has lots of bright, soft toys that she can play with. One day Dr. Karen leaned in close to Jacqui and said in her soothing ladyvoice, "Jacqueline honey, why don't you tell me about these pictures that you drew?" and she pointed to all the pictures that Jacqueline had drawn in art class, of a fissure-thin raven woman with bug eyes and red (blood?) spewing from her mouth, a thick black crayon halo surrounding her. And, after having been too scared to tell her for weeks, Jacqueline finally said to Dr. Karen, in a quiet voice, "That's the mean lady Danielle..." And Dr. Karen took in a quick breath, something was wrong. But then the moment passed and Dr. Karen was calm again, comforting again. "I see. And did this Danielle... Did she... hurt you, Jacqueline?" And Jacqueline nodded, squeezing her favorite Puffalump tighter. "She hurts everyone." And, when Jacqueline was sitting in the waiting room with Teresa while Caroline had grownup talk with Dr. Karen, she could hear from behind the closed door Dr. Karen saying...

Drag U: Blue Collar, Pink Pumps

• Aug 05, 2010 from celebritynews1 in Entertainment
  Drag U: Blue Collar, Pink Pumps is a post from: Celebrity News | Celebrity Gossip | BuzzHollywood.com
  Drag U: Blue Collar, Pink Pumps is a post from: Celebrity News | Celebrity Gossip | BuzzHollywood.com
  Hey, boys and girls and lady boys and girly girls.its time for another session of RuPauls (RP) Drag U! First we had Tomboy Meets Girl and then Dateless Divas. Now its Blue Collar, Pink Pumps.
  
  As every week starts out, RuPaul is meeting with the teachers to assign the tasks. This weeks professors are Professor Shannel, Dr. Pandora Boxx and Ongina PHD.
  
  Who looks like she's channeling Markie Post
  
  Shelley Long?
  
  Sinead O'Conner?
  
  RP tells them this weeks theme is turning blue collar into pink pumps. Or dirty to flirty. Are we ready to meet the students???
  
  Shannon is 35 and a longshorewoman. (I called her "Shannel" in my About Last Night because I'm a moron). She is ashamed of her body and spends all of her time covering it up. She wants to be sexy and pretty. She wants to be the female role model to her daughters that she never had. (ouchgrandma smackdown).
  
  Why does she look like she has beef jerky on her person?
  
  Jules is 31 and she owns a doggy day care (love!) and then says she wants to get sexy back (hate!). She dresses down on purpose. She used to be a model but it wasnt fulfilling. Her mom is totally disappointed in her and Jules now wants to find the balance between the girl she was and the girl she is now.
  
  Yep, look behind you. That was your modeling career.
  
  Our last victim contestant is Laura, 33, a zookeeper. Laura needs to find her softer side. Laura tells us that on the inside, shes nice and sweet. On the outside, shes the tough girl.
  
  Does anyone smell jerky?
  
  For Orientation, RuPaul comes out to describe the process. They will be assigned Drag Professors who will help them find their inner diva. They will draguate at the end of 48 hours and the woman with the highest DPA (drag transformation, performance and attitude adjustment) will draguate with top honors and win fabulous prizes. He tells the ladies they need to make a break from their dirty, dirty, dirty jobs. Here at Drag U, there are only 2 bad words: Impossible and mother-scratcher. I would have thought subtle and demure
  
  Are you ready to be the baddest bitch in school??? Can I get a Ru-ha???
  
  Ru introduces them to the Drag Lab where they will have everything they need to make the transformation. Looks like a costume shop with boas, outrageous jewelry, wigs. Here the girls meet the drag professors.
  Both subtle AND demure...
  
  Shannon will be with Ongina; Jules is with Pandora Boxx and Laura is with Shannel.
  
  Shannel is very excited to be paired with Laura because Laura has exquisite cheekbones that she cant wait to chisel out. At first, I thought she said "jizzle" and I was like, "Whoa, Logo..what's going on???" Whew---still a family show...
  
  Now that the girls have been paired with their men-tors, its time for the entrance exam. The entrance exam is basically a one-on-one interview and the professors ask each of their charges very personal questions to try and figure out why they are the way they are.
  
  Ongina asks Shannon, Whats in your closet? And Shannon tells her, mainly coveralls. She then calls them Sweet, which draws a disapproving look from Ongina.It must be 5 degrees where Shannon does her longshoring, if that's all the girl wears. And much like kilts, are we never to find out what's worn under the coveralls? Oh, yeah, right...family hour. We also find out Shannon has 5 girls. It doesnt take long for Ongina to figure out that Shannons main problem is her self confidence. Shannon tells Ongina all her girls are "girly girls" and she doesn't feel like she's a good role model for them. Obviously, someone is, unless there is something called "Garanimal Coveralls" for the little ones.
  
  Pandora Boxx asks Jules what the craziest thing shes ever done is. Jules answers Posing for a mens magazine. Pandora asks her which one and Jules responds, Playboy.
  
  Centerfreak
  Alright before we move on, lets discuss this. Jules used to be a model, but now since the whole modeling thing wasnt fulfilling, she feels the need to cover up and dress down. I see it differently. She discovered chili dogs and double fudge brownies. She doesnt need a drag makeovershe needs a diet. And keep in mind, she is also 31 now. I don't think even Terrible Tyra would want her.
  Shannel talks with Laura: Do you have any hidden talents? Laura responds that she is a hula hoop dancer. Shannel excitedly tells her You crazy bitch; I live for that. Im a juggler. Simmer down, Shannel, were all jugglers in the right environmentAnd I don't really know if I would considerhula hoop dancer as a "hidden" talent. I won't argue the talent part of, because the only way I can do it is swing it real hard around my neck, which is not only ridiculously unattractive, but inherently painful. But hula hoops are big--really big. It's not like you keep one in your purse in case you're at some...

Story Institute RamblingVerser Episode 31 Elementary Dear Whats Your Name

• Sep 06, 2010 from ramblingverser(John E Murray III) in *
  A look at a better story driven character and your connection as a writer
  
  If you are an author in search of readers or have comments about our show, contact us:
  ramblingverser@storyinstitute.com
  615-431-WRIT (9748)
  
  This weeks episode was brought to you by Enchanted Travel Tales (www.enchantedtraveltales.com), bringing travel, magic, and fun to your holidays.
  
  Featured Quote:
  Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius.
  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859 1930), (Sherlock Holmes) Valley of Fear, 1915
  
  Featured Short Story:
  The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Adventure 4 The Boscombe Valley Mystery
  By: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
  
  We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way:
  Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15.
  What do you say, dear? said my wife, looking across at me. Will you go?
  I really dont know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present.
  Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmess cases.
  I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of them, I answered. But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour.
  My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long gray travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap.
  It is reaily very good of you to come, Watson, said he. It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets.
  We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack.
  Have you heard anything of the case? he asked.
  Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.
  The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult.
  That sounds a little paradoxical.
  But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man.
  It is a murder, then?
  Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few words.
  Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts.
  On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of...

Ecology of the Frost Giant

• Jul 20, 2010 from franklymister(Jayson Elliot )
  Ecology of the Frost Giant
  Varstel leaned his shoulder against the tavern door and used his thin frame to push it closed as the howling wind blew against him and the cold snow hit his face. Pulling his hood down and knocking the snow from his robes he looked around the small room. The fire burned brightly in the hearth and its welcome warmth began to remove the chill from his bones. He began to notice all eyes of the dozen or so people in the room were on him. He began to feel a little unnerved at the steely gaze of these men and women hardened by life on the edge of civilization. Likely they did not see many wizards or scholars, and the ones they did see they probably did not trust.
  Clearing his throat and trying to sound nonchalant he said I am looking for a man, a ranger, who goes by the name of Rydin. I have made arrangements to meet him here.
  The heads in the crowd turned to stare at the back corner of the room furthest from the fire. There at a table was a figure that could have been mistaken for some great beast. The figure rose and turned to face the mage. It was a man, a large man wearing a long thick cloak and boots of bear skin and armor made of hides. I am the one you seek city dweller. The man said.
  Varstel looked the man over. He waswell oversix foot tall and had to weight over two hundred pounds. The thick hides covered a massive frame, he was more than twice as wide as Varstel and it was easy to see it was hard earned muscle and not fat that made up his thick frame. His hair hung to his shoulders and was thick and tangled, as was his long curly beard. His skin had a leathery appearance, and was still slightly tanned even though it was the middle of winter. A red scar ran across one cheek to the corner of his mouth and one eye was milky white. Varstel made his way over to the man as the rest of tavern turned and went back about their business. Reaching the table Varstel sat in the chair opposite the rough looking ranger, it was then he noticed the intense stare the man was giving him. Goose bumps rose on Varstels arms and he swallowed hard, it was the kind of gaze predators give heir prey just before they pounce.
  It was a long journey to find you Rydin, I have been traveling for nearly two weeks and last night just before we reached the outpost the storm hit us unexpectedly. The mage said nervously.
  Unexpected? I have been expecting this storm for more than a week. The ranger said derisively. What is it that brings you all the way from your walled city to speak with me.
  Upon exhaustive inquiry it was determined you would be the most knowledgeable person in the kingdom to speak with on the subject of frost giants, and the king insisted I gather as much information as I could as quickly as I could. The mage said wringing his hands.
  The ranger stopped the cup of grog half way to his lips at the mention of frost giants. He set it down on the table and leaned forward his eyes wide and lips turned into a snarl And what would the king want information on frost giants for Rydin asked angrily.
  Varstel shrunk back into his chair under the angry blaze in the weathered rangers eyes There have been some attacks on caravans and raids of small villages in the east. From the descriptions given by survivors we have determined frost giants responsible.
  The ranger leaned back in his chair and his face relaxed Well I guess I know as much as any man about the vile bastards. Eighteen years ago they killed my best friend, and I spent fifteen years leading expeditions to wipe them out. There were once three clans in this region and we killed off the last of them three winters ago. There shouldnt be any frost giants within two hundred miles of here, so if a new problem has sprung up in the east then its because a clan was driven from its traditional territory. Never minding where they came from though, what is it you want to know.
  Varstel licked his dry lips and motioned for the barmaid to bring two drinks.
  We want to know how they think, what their objectives are, how to find them, and the best way to stop them. Rydin looked at the slender mage for a moment and burst into laughter, the sound of it boomed through the small tavern and made the barmaid nearly spill the drinks she was delivering. Rydin took a long pull of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I was just picturing you city dwellers going after a clan of frosties with your silk robes and pillows under your bottoms as you ride your horses. Varstel bristled at the insult, but held his tongue. This certainly wasnt the place or person he wanted to start trouble with.
  Shifting his huge frame to get more comfortable Rydin looked seriously at the slender mage. As to how they think, they think they are your better. Normally they consider humans little more than an annoyance. However if they have recently been displaced from their territory by humans or demi-humans and are looking for a new place to settle then they will not ignore you, in fact they...

FXCM MENA 1 Year Later

• Sep 20, 2010 from krislarsen39(Kris Larsen) in *
  The cult of Leica.
  
  Image by nimboo
  From The New Yorker
  www.newyorker.com
  A Critic at Large
  Candid Camera
  The cult of Leica.
  by Anthony Lane
  September 24, 2007
  Fifty miles north of Frankfurt lies the small German town of Solms. Turn of the main thoroughfare and you find yourself driving down tranquil suburban streets, with detached houses set back fro the road, and, on a warm morning in late August, not a soul in sight. Nobody does bourgeois solidity like the Germans: you can imagine coming here for coffee an cakes with your aunt, but that would be the limit of excitement. By the time you reach Oskar-Barnack-Strasse, the town has almost petered out; just before the railway line, however, there is clutch of industrial buildings, with a red dot on the sign outside. As far as fanfare is concerned, thats about it. But here is the place to go if you want to find the most beautiful mechanical objects in the world
  Many people would disagree. Bugatti fans, for instance, would direct your attention to the Type 57 Atlantic, the only car I know that appears to have been designed by masseuses. Personally, I would consider it a privilege to die at the wheel of a Lamborghini Miuranot difficult, when youre nudging a hundred and seventy m.p.h. and waving at passersby. But automobiles need gas, whereas the truest mechanisms run on nothing but themselves. What is required is a machine constructed with such skill that it renders every userfrom the pro to the banana-fingered fumblermore skillful as a result. We need it to refine and lubricate, rather than block or coarsen, our means of engagement with the world: we want to look not just at it, however admiringly, but through it. In that case, we need a Leica.
  There have been Leica cameras since 1925, when the Leica I was introduced at a trade fair in Leipzig. From then on, as the camera has evolved over eight decades, generations of users have turned to it in their hour of need, or their millisecond of inspiration. Aleksandr Rodchenko, Andr Kertsz, Walker Evans, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, Robert Frank, William Klein, Garry Winogrand, Lee Friedlander, and Sebastio Salgado: these are some of the major-league names that are associated with the Leica brandor, in the case of Cartier-Bresson, stuck to it with everlasting glue.
  Even if you dont follow photography, your minds eye will still be full of Leica photographs. The famous head shot of Che Guevara, reproduced on millions of rebellious T-shirts and student walls: that was taken on a Leica with a portrait lensa short telephoto of 90 mm.by Alberto Daz Gutirrez, better known as Korda, in 1960. How about the pearl-gray smile-cum-kiss reflected in the wing mirror of a car, taken by Elliott Erwitt in 1955? Leica again, as is the even more celebrated smooch caught in Times Square on V-J Day, 1945a sailor craned over a nurse, bending her backward, her hand raised against his chest in polite half-protestation. The man behind the camera was Alfred Eisenstaedt, of Life magazine, who recalled:
  I was running ahead of him with my Leica, looking back over my shoulder. But none of the pictures that were possible pleased me. Then suddenly, in a flash, I saw something white being grabbed. I turned around and clicked.
  He took four pictures, and that was that. It was done within a few seconds, he said. All you need to know about the Leica is present in those seconds. The photographer was on the run, so whatever he was carrying had to be light and trim enough not to be a drag. He swivelled and fired in one motion, like the Sundance Kid. And everything happened as quickly for him as it did for the startled nurse, with all the componentsthe angles, the surrounding throng, the shining white of her dress and the kissers capfalling into position. Times Square was the arena of uncontrolled joy; the job of the artist was to bring it under control, and the task of his camera was to bring lifeor, at least, an improved version of it, graced with order and impactto the readers of Life.
  Still, why should one lump of metal and glass be better at fulfilling that duty than any other? Would Eisenstaedt really have been worse off, or failed to hit the target, with another sort of camera? These days, Leica makes digital compacts and a beefy S.L.R., or single-lens reflex, called the R9, but for more than fifty years the pride of the company has been the M series of 35-mm. range-finder camerasdurable, companionable, costly, and basically unchanging, like a spouse. There are three current models, one of which, the MP, will set you back a throat-drying four thousand dollars or so; having stood outside dustless factory rooms, in Solms, and watched women in white coats and protective hairnets carefully applying black paint, with a slender brush, to the rim of every lens, I can tell you exactly where your money goes. Mind you, for four grand you dont even get a lensjust the MP body. It sits there like a gum without a tooth until you add a lens,...