From Karen D come some fine, fine specimens of old-skool Silhouette cover art. We give thanks to Karen, and to the used book store romance pile from which she rescued these cultural icons. read more »
Behold, the entries for the Biking Vulva Romantic Comedy Contest. Which one best advertises a romantic comedy that has the perfect storm of comedic ingredients, from a giant pink vag on bikes, to the cunt bringing the art of everything. Entries are below the fold. Vote early, vote once (that’s how the software is setup, folks. Sorry). You’ve got 24 sleek, slippery hours. read more »
Here at Smart Bitch HQ, there’s a driving rhetoric behind our blog. Yes, we have A Nefarious Agenda. I kinda thought it was obvious, but really, I can spell it out: 1. We love romance. You can’t put us down for loving it. You can’t even call us bitches ‘cause, lookee there, we already did. 2. We want good romance to read. And we want to spread the word about the good romance because the good romance makes us panty in our happy parts. So! In an effort to further Our Nefarious Agenda, readers like Lori offer up brilliance that,… read more »
From Noelle: Photobombers make me cry mascara. From a source I can’t remember (sorry, cool person!) we have a site that does nothing but cover snark and does it so well: Judge a Book by its cover. I’m particularly fond of Phallus Phridays. Because, dude. Awesome. And from Star Opal and Sasha, Green Porno a short feature in which Isabella Rossellini, according to Star Opal, “dresses up as insects and bugs and shows how they have sex, playing (when necessary) both female and male roles.” How can you not love that? read more »
And what in my magical inbox should appear, but Christine Feehan, and eight tiny reindeer of rational prose. Ok, no reindeer, but prose? Got it: The story as I know it: The camera did in fact belong to me, not my daughter. Heather and I are friends and have been for many years. I’m old and body part photos don’t really work so well for me as a joke and I was concerned that perhaps someone else might post the pictures on the internet. No, my son never saw the pictures, the ones he saw were of our home so… read more »
Heather Graham contacted me regarding the great “What What In My Camera” debate with the following statement: The story as I know it . . . . A bartender had a camera and insisted, as the bar was closing, that someone there take it, as he knew it belonged to our group. (Of hundreds.) Some of the kids—assorted kids, as in children of participants, models, not “camps!”—took silly pictures of armpits. Someone had discovered that close-ups of pressed pits resembled other body parts. The pictures were in bad taste, but then, again, it is a convention where we do have… read more »
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