via.
Don’t tell anyone I did this but … unannounced hiatus has been due to Lent: wanted to see if I could give up something that was actually hard not to do this year. It is way tougher than diet coke or dessert, from which I’ve also been abstaining. But I didn’t give up smoking or bloody beer — I’m not completely crazy.
In the meantime, a preview of coming attractions:
La Maschera del Demonio/The Mask of Satan/Black Sunday/The Black Mask (Mario Bava, 1960).
In the meantime, remember that all the past spotlighted Playmates in the journal’s various projects have now been placed in their own Playboy category for your streamlined browsing pleasure, as well as to make it even more convenient for Hef to one day sue the everloving crap out of me.
via.
via.
…. And at which you have now guessed, correctly, unless you did a lot of tranqs in the last fifteen to twenty years. Don’t do drugs, kids. Don’t be like Carol Brady. Not ever.
All in all, I’ve been storming along, barbituate-free, like a Lent-observing bat outta hell and I got a lot of dogs in the fire — I’m looking forward to a strong return as soon as Easter has passed. As you can see, I will be back with a bang in a few weeks. This has just been a “can I even do it?” excercise to flex my muscles of restraint.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to see a man about a Giants’ game.
via.
Don’t you dare.
Catch you all on the upcoming flip side!
Tags: a confession, audrey hepburn, B @ T's, Baseball, batter uuup!, Bava, Black Sunday, bond, bond girls, boobs, Breakfast club, breasts, Carol Brady, Carol Brady is an insatiable drug-fueled nymphomaniac, Cindy Fuller, confession, excuses, Florence Henderson, giallo, Giants, hef, hugh hefner, images, John Milton, Judd Nelson, La Maschera del demonio, lent, litigation, Mario Bava, May Flowers, Milton May, Miss May 1959, molly ringwold, movie quotes, movies, naked, Naughty Girls Need Love Too, new steps new steps new steps, nipples, normal, nsfw, nude, photography, Pictures, playboy, playmate, quotes, revolution, screencaps, Self-audit, SF, stills, subtitle, subtitles, Teevee Time, television will rot your brain, the 415, The Black Mask, the brady bunch, the Mask of Satan, the Simpsons, topless, vintage, vintage television, writing
The Thought Experiment 
April 2, 2011 at 3:28 am |
you’re back….thank goodness….I was worried!
April 2, 2011 at 12:35 pm |
Going on hiatus: Lent.
Not telling your loving loyal fans for nearly two months: lint.
I’m glad you’re well.
April 3, 2011 at 8:25 am |
Thanks, I can’t wait to see the new stuff.
You were missed.
April 4, 2011 at 6:41 am |
Still here. Approach the Playboy thing as your Cultural Anthropology project and Hef will leave you alone. Go Giants.
April 5, 2011 at 5:35 am |
I’m so confused. Not sure how I stumbled upon your site, but, from what I can glean, you’re a bright, literate woman with a wide-ranging, eclectic set of interests and a good sense of humor. But I can’t seem to swing a dead cat near this thing without whacking a naked woman. As a man, I have my gender’s seemingly limitless appetite for female nekkidness. But — if you are a woman, for real and for true — I’m just having difficulty reconciling the whole girly mag thing. Are you from the future?
April 5, 2011 at 8:29 am |
Ha, I am a for real and for true woman.
I think the body is a great and beautiful thing; women’s bodies, aesthetically, so much the better. Nothing against men and swinging scrote in its time and place, but in repose I think the female nude is more arresting. In the case of the Playmates of yore, I also find their photo layouts and write-ups to be an interesting time capsule of sorts for the attitudes and trends of the time. Naked is fun. I think all women respond to photographs of beautiful models, but, for many, they turn their appreciation of the body they observe in to depreciation of their own figures and faces. I try to take the more evolved tack and see the beauty in humans in their most basic form.
I wouldn’t mind being from the future, but, if I were, I’d like to think I’d be wealthier.
I think the bigger question is … why are you swinging dead cats, Kevin? Merciless.
April 5, 2011 at 10:59 am |
No, you’re right; men are gross: sebaceous, hirsute, lumpy in all the wrong places, at all the wrong times. The funny thing is not, however, that we don’t care, but rather that we seem to have rigged the game in such a way as to ensure an endless supply of beautiful women who are anxious to nude it up in front of a camera. Perhaps, though, women don’t so much compete for males, as they do against other females, as your comment suggests. Either way, it seems to have worked out well for my lumpy little self.
(Science tells us that cats are uniquely front-loaded in such a way as to encourage a nearly-optimal centrifugal force).
April 5, 2011 at 11:56 pm |
There you have it. I can’t fight Science.