top 5 reasons to love hillary clinton (unofficially dedicated to K)

1. that smile... ah, hil-dawg, your smile truly is stunning. with a gesture as simple as a smile, you evoke so many warm fuzzy feelings for me, like happier times when your hottie hubby bill was in office. i remember the days under his governing when gas was cheaper; while we pay nearly $4/gallon here in the 818 today, 10 years ago, gas was free. i was in high school, and my parents paid for it. thanks for nothing, george w.

2. she's a woman... and everyone knows women are superior to men. we're smarter, more fun and popular, and we really know how to get a party started! men, on the other hand, are universally known to be lazy and slothful. who do you want in the white house: a graceful woman with brains and beauty and who can make a mean taco dip, or a doofus man whose knuckles still scrape on the ground and wouldn't know a dessert spoon from a soup spoon if it hit him in the face?

3. she's got boobs! now, be careful here; this is not an extension of the "she's a woman" argument. this point deals with one... err.... two things: boobs. it is a scientific fact that every human being - gay, straight, man, woman, bi, transgender, confused, plain ol' whoreish, whatever - finds boobs very comforting. through countless studies of brain activity, scientists have proven that when we see boobs, receptors in the pleasure and comfort sensors are activiated. if hillary's magic tits aren't the solution to peace in the middle east and ending the genocide in darfur, i'm not sure what is.

4. she used to look like this:

if a woman can go from looking that homely and dorky to running for president of the united states of america, she's got to be something special. if she survived high school without having her head flushed in the toilet, she must be a miracle worker. if she managed to snag a hottie like bill, she must be a wild, witchy woman, cuz he sure didn't fall for her looks. hilly baby, you've gotten super sexy with age, and i definitely think pantsuits are more your look than whatever that paisley monstrosity is. you've come a long way, girl.

5. in all seriousness, people, she's the best person for the job. this country is in dire need of a leader who will wear her passion and commitment to the american people on her sleeve. she's got the experience and strength to help our nation recover from what has been a difficult and often devastating 8 years. she's a woman (ok, so maybe i do find that fact totally in her favor) who has fought for what she believes in all of her life, and while some politicians shout about promising "change," her lifelong footprints reveal a path of change and progress. she is prepared to face the challenges that doubtlessly await her, and i hope to someday proudly call her "mrs. president."

for more information or to make a donation to the hillary clinton campaign, click here: http://hillaryclinton.com/

"if i wasn't pacing myself i'd be throwing up in this fucking bush right now."

momma b and i recently took a a mini-vacay to everyone's favorite bastion of sin and sex, las vegas! i went for work, and momma b decided to tag along to have some fun while i wasn't busy preparing my article for the super delish p.i.n.k. vodka (so cute!). here's a log of our adventures in vegasland.

friday, april 25

5:00 am - rachel morgan wakes up. this is not fun. it's still dark out, and for once, she is awake before lulu, the famous hair-chewing kitty.

5:05 am - rachel morgan realizes she has no choice but to get out of bed. she hops in the shower. (stop thinking about me naked, pervs.)

5:15 am - out of the shower, rachel morgan lounges on her bed for a moment, thinking that she has plenty of time.

5:20 am - rachel morgan gets out of bed and decides that it is time to pack. she packs two dresses, two pairs of tights, three pairs of shoes, a cute nightgown, three pairs of underwear, workout clothes, four headbands, two tank tops, and two purses. she will be gone for 36 hours.

5:45 am - momma b knocks on the front door. rachel morgan is wearing a towel.

6:00 am - rachel morgan is finally ready. poppa b drives rachel morgan, momma b and lulu to the airport. rachel morgan and lulu have a tearful farewell. rachel morgan loves that evil kitty.

7:00 am - rachel morgan and momma b are on the plane! momma b offers to buy rachel morgan a cocktail. rachel morgan declines, but regrets not bringing her own mini bottles of vodka.

7:10 am - rachel morgan has a moment of clarity: she is in a tin can thousands of feet above the earth. rachel morgan has a mild panic attack. she rethinks momma b's boozey offer, but decides that if the magic that keeps the tin can in the air stops working, she wants to be sober when she crashes to the earth. jesus would have wanted it that way.

8:10 am - plane lands. rachel morgan rejoices to still be alive.

8:15 am - rachel morgan and momma b stumble upon an airport slot machine. rachel morgan walks out up $3. it's all about the max bet on the triple diamond - penny slots, baby!!!

10:27 am - rachel morgan tries her luck again. looses $3 lead.

11:25 am - rachel morgan gets a little big for her britches and plays with a $20. rachel morgan looses $20.

12:00 pm -rachel morgan and momma b have lunch at todd english's olives at the bellagio. yum! they have two drinks each.

2:30 pm - rachel morgan and momma b go shopping. momma b buys them matching lingerie at frederick's of hollywood. rachel morgan wonders when her mom became dinah lohan.

3:00 pm - rachel morgan and momma b wander over to the wynn. they stop at the first bar they see and each order a drink. momma b's champagne is passable, and rachel morgan's pear martini is decent. momma b and rachel morgan are unimpressed, and vow to never step foot in the wynn again. bastards.

3:58 pm - momma b finally lets rachel morgan go into margaritaville. rachel morgan has been looking forward to this all day. they make their way to the bar, but there is only one seat available. like any good daughter would, rachel morgan lets momma b have the seat. they order a margarita and dance to jimmy buffet.

4:10 pm - rachel morgan returns from the restroom to find that the seats next to momma b are empty. when rachel morgan asks where all of the tough-looking guys went, momma b replies, "they were whiney so i beat the shit out of them. now we have their seats."

4:12 pm - rachel morgan and momma b drink a few more margs. they also befriend the fat ugly man sitting next to momma b. his name is ed, and it is his birthday. rachel morgan demands to know where his friends are, though she suspects he doesn't have any.

4:46 pm - ed shows rachel morgan his "official parrothead" business card, and rachel morgan laughs (inside. maybe.) at what a strange old man her new friend ed is. rachel morgan gives ed a birthday kiss (on the check, obv. i have super high standards).

5:19 pm - momma b tells rachel morgan to pace herself for a long night of drinking. rachel morgan responds, "if i wasn't pacing myself i'd be throwing up in the fucking bush right now."

5:30 pm - rachel morgan is in bed for a 30 minute pass out/nap.

6:30 pm - momma b and rachel morgan dine at MIX, a chic new restaurant, and order the pairings menu. that's 4 more drinks each, but rachel morgan makes momma b drink hers, as she's trying to pace herself.

9:30 pm - rachel morgan and momma b hiccup into a cab to go see LOVE at the mirage.

10:00 pm - LOVE begins. momma b begins to cry.

10:00 pm - 11:00 pm - rachel morgan and momma b dance, sing, laugh, cry and cheer throughout LOVE. the people sitting next to them look like braindead zombies and do not even crack a smile. they were NOT fun.

11:15 pm - rachel morgan and momma b weave through the mirage, draped in pink crepe paper that fell from the ceiling at the end of LOVE. momma b keeps ranting about the "boring geezers" next to her, and rachel morgan is thoroughly enjoying pretending to be a jellyfish with the crepe.

11:30 pm - rachel morgan achieves her lifelong dream of partying aboard the cleopatra's barge at caesar's palace. unfortunately, neither rachel morgan nor momma b wanted to party anymore, and the band sucked.

12:15 am - rachel morgan and momma be retire, exhausted after their big vegas adventure!

the end.

your man is ugly

i must say that what you're about to read is a long time coming, so this might turn into a bit of a rant. throughout my life, i've doubtless spent countless hours ruminating on the topic at hand, and i'm pretty sure i'm not the only one. so without further ado, let's get to it: uneven couples.

what is an uneven couple? simply put, an uneven couple is one in which one party is significantly better looking than the other. you know you've seen them; they're everywhere! based on my very scientific observation of this phenomenon (please see pie chart below), in the overwhelming majority of uneven couples, the fugly one is the man.

for some reason, women who are cute, have a lot to offer, have big boobs, dress really well, use deodorant, etc..., have no problem dating men who are fat, pigeon-toed, have boils on their faces, constantly reek of gross hairy man smell, and are just all-around unattractive. WHY, ladies, WHY?? sure, he may be a "nice guy," but that doesn't make up for the fact that he gets complimented on his quasimodo costume every halloween even though he's not wearing one and it to him it's just another day being ugly!

the simple truth is that women are typically less concerned with their partner's looks than men are, and that women take other factors into consideration when searching for a partner. i'm sure that this has something to do with evolution (cave women sought men who could kill the biggest mammoth, not men who lounged around the cave all day looking hot and putting sabre tooth tiger jizz in their hair to get optimum spikiness), but ladies, that is some serious BS right there. we should be just as shallow and superficial as men are (lord knows i am. an ugly man with a gimpy arm and a droopy eye once asked me on a date. i spit in his eyeball and kneed him in the balls for his impudence. take that!)!

in order to combat this growing epidemic (even the film industry has capitalized on this trend. now they make movies like knocked up, where a short fat jewish guy bangs and wins the hot tall blonde. ew.), i propose that women raise their standards STAT. it is time that we look in the mirror, recognize our hotness*, and refuse to let whomever we're screwing drag us down. fight the fug! viva la resistance!!!

so, ladies, the next time some turd-faced douche tries to seduce you with "wit," "charm," "intelligence," "money," or "trustworthiness" (lame), throw your drink in his face (glass and all - scars might improve his look) and tell him, "i'm hot. you're not. now get out of my sight, you peasant."

* fugly girls: this does not apply to you. you can date the fugly dudes. xo!

a play in one act: stranger danger

the scene: SR and rachel morgan's housewarming party. guests are mingling, drinking, talking and eating. everyone is having a great time. suddenly, the door opens. a strange man walks in carrying two heavy bags of ice. momma b follows and shuts the door. rachel morgan recognizes the man instantly. the party goes silent. cue crickets.

RACHEL MORGAN (nervous): hiiiiiiiiiii.... thank you so much.......

WEIRD-BLEACH-BLONDE-FOREIGNER: you're welcome! having a party?

RACHEL MORAGN (uncertain. does she invite him to stay?): yep........ well, thanks again!

weird-bleach-blonde-foreigner leaves. the party is silent for a moment after he shuts the door. momma b and rachel morgan erupt into giggles.

RACHEL MORAGN: ok, who reads my blog? that's the weird-bleach-blonde-foreigner!

PARTYGOERS, WHO ALL READ RACHEL MORGAN'S BLOG BEACUSE IT'S THE BEST: omg! i knew it! he does have really weird and ridiculous bleached hair!

curtain.

special thanks to: momma b, for being easily recognizable as shoshanna's mother, and for inviting the foreigner in. xo!

toot toot

not to toot my own horn, but i looked super hot the other day. i mean, i generally like to think that i didn't fall out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, but sometimes, i know i'm looking extra fine. how do i know, you might ask? well, there's the obvious healthy dose of self-confidence (which is possibly slightly exaggerated in my case sometimes), but there's really nothing more ego-boosting than other people letting you know you look good (there are definite exceptions to this rule. the next time some asshole looks me up and down and calls me "sexy" as i walk into jury duty at 9:00am, i'll stab him in the heart with a prison-style shank fashioned from a toothbrush).

sit back and let me regale you with my tale of ultimate hotness...

first, there was chuck at bevmo. as i approached chuck, i was just trying to get some info quickly. i did not strut, saunter or shimmy towards him, and i was wearing an outfit that is tame for me (while i usually prance about in miniskirts and tight sweaters, i really butched it up that day with a cute cowgirl shirt and some jeans), so i was surprised when his attention turned flirtatious. sometimes, you just can't keep down the sexy.

chuck complimented me as a great customer, then asked how my day was and what i do for a living. i was there to check about keg availability, so i followed him to the walk-in refrigerator, where he warned me i might get cold. we stood inside, discussing my options for a few moments, and i apologized for making him stand in the cold while i made a decision. he responded: "oh, it's ok! at least we're alone in here." ummmmmmmmmkkkkaayyyyy? is that a line? i wasn't sure what to say, so i giggled, made a quick decision and hurried out of there before chuck attempted to act on some bizarre keg/walk-in refrigerator fantasy. he asked for my name to reserve the keg, then sadly told me he wouldn't be there when i picked up the keg in the morning. sad face. i said that maybe we'd have better luck next time, and he told me he hoped so. ok, so chuck wanted me, right? i know! he was practically begging for a piece.

after beating chuck off with a stick, i made my way to ralphs as part of the great pomegranate hunt of 2008 (screw you, pomegranate, for not being "in season"). while in the checkout line, the bag boy (man? calling him a bag man sounds like he is homeless? like the male version of a bag lady?), turned to me, smiled, and said, "my you're beautiful." sure, he was 60 years old, cross-eyed, had a band aid on his forehead and left me with the distinct impression that he was a few chromosomes short, but he thinks i'm hot! there's no stopping this caboose! it's goin' all the way to sexy town!

later, i joined K and E for lebanese in hollywood (no, that's not some sort of lesbian joke. lebanese. like the food. from lebanon.), where our waiter continued the inexplicable trend of rachel morgan flattery. when he was going over our order, he referred to me as "the lady," and then invited me to a party when he cornered me on the way back from the bathroom. riding high on the wave of "everyone thinks i'm hot," i may have shamelessly flirted back (just for fun), and waiterboy soon joined the ranks of my ravenous romeos. i was hot shit, and everybody knew it.

it's been three days since i was the sexiest single in los angeles. no one has thrown themselves at me since, but i have faith that the flattery and flirting will pick up again. after all, when you're hot, you're hot!

stalker school 101

it has come to my attention recently that a large portion of the general public is in severe need of being educated on stalker technique and etiquette. far too often, i see a stalker get caught, hung up on, cursed out, slapped, kicked out, and even arrested. stalkers of the world, take heed! rachel morgan is here to the rescue with her patented "6 Steps to Stalker Success." follow these simple guidelines and you'll be stalking better than ever!

step one - who is a stalker?
anyone can be a stalker! yes, even you with your gimpy leg, snaggle tooth and smells-like-a-skunk-died-and-shat-in-your-armpit BO! worried about your boyfriend's wandering eye? you can stalk him! tired of fantasizing about that girl with the great ass at the gym? stalk her! met a great girl in a chatroom, but worried about meeting her face-to-face? it's time to turn off the computer, grab some night vision goggles, put on a mask to hide all that hideousness, and START STALKING! all it takes is a little confidence! you can be a stalker - and a great one at that! if you work hard enough, focus, and train every day, you could even become a stalker superstar.

step two - what should i stalk?
well, since we already know that anyone can be a stalker, doesn't it make sense that anyone/thing can be a stalkee?! while most stalkers prefer to stalk someone with whom they come into contact during their daily lives, there is a growing trend within the stalker community to stalk celebrities. although this is a hot fad right now, i must urge burgeoning stalkers to leave the big name stalkees to experienced and professional stalkers. if you're just getting started in the world of stalking, but aspire to obsess, agonize over and stalk britney spears (been there, done that... trust me, the hot tranny mess is worth it. you're my girl, brit!), i suggest that you start with a D or C list celebrity, like breckin meyer (scoff not: his career may be on a decline these days, but remember how cute he was as the slacker skater in clueless?), or tara reid (but if you choose tara as your subject, please keep in mind that the paparazzi love her and are constantly trying to snap pictures of her pissed-drunk and vomiting in her purse, or gallivanting on the beach and showing off her freakish stomach). start with the little fish, and you'll be tackling the sharks in no time flat.

step three - when can i stalk?
traditionally, stalking is a nighttime activity. the most important (and surprisingly tricky for newbie stalkers) reason we stalkers prefer to chase our prey under the veil of darkness is that it is harder to see a stalker during the night than during the day. lost? allow me to explain: imagine that you are your target... you silently and seductively undress in your bedroom at night, peeling layer after layer of your catholic school girl uniform off. suddenly, you hear a noise outside the window; you look, but only see tree branches swaying in the night. relieved, you begin to stretch and rub oil all over your naked body in front of the window. now lets flip the scenario to daytime: you're still undressing, but this time when you hear a noise and look out the window, you see a man, standing behind the tree, videotaping your every move. ten minutes later, another stalker bites the dust (shout out to my homey, ben, who was dumb enough to be caught during the day! we will stalk again when you're out of jail, buddy!).

step four - where can i stalk?
the beauty of stalking is that it's a hobby that can be practiced almost anywhere. you can stalk on the phone, you can stalk on the street (following your target as they go about their day-to-day lives is a great way to get exercise while you stalk!), and thanks to modern technology, you can even stalk on the internet! social networking websites like facebook and myspace have become increasingly popular stalking stomping grounds in recent years, and offer a safe forum for beginner stalkers to refine their skills. with just a few clicks of the mouse, stalkers can find out personal information, the subject's likes and dislikes (which are particularly important if the stalker is harboring romantic feelings for the stalkee. a friend of mine once wooed a lover by stalking her on facebook and when he found out the target was a yoga aficionado, went to every yoga studio in the city until he found her there. they do their downward facing dogs together now. if that's not a classic love story, i don't know what is.), and enough photos to jerk off to for weeks!

step five - why do i stalk?
simply put, everyone stalks for different reasons. some of us are obsessively in love with the target, others passionately hate their prey and stalk in hopes of finding the key to their destruction (you may not know this, but the famed evil mastermind skeletor fell into this category. he stalked he-man, constantly seeking his weakness, but never prevailed due to he-man's indestructible pecs and loincloth woven from jesus' hair). personally, my stalking tends to be motivated by a narcissistic belief that i'm entitled to transform whomever i want into a friend or lover. that's pretty much how every relationship i've ever had has started, and it's why i'm confident that within two weeks, my current target will be mine. yes... all mine.

step six - how do i stalk?
every stalker needs to discover his or her own signature technique in order to make the most out of their time spent tailing the target. my friend MG prefers to use the internet to do her celeb stalking (she is particularly gifted; i've never met someone so committed to getting the information she needs!), while my friend CQ once memorized her prey's schedule and happened to "bump into" him around every corner. i try to attack from all fronts by doing some digging online and by initiating physical contact with my target. just be confident, thorough, careful, and follow these lessons; you'll be sniffing tom cruise's panties in a jiffy!

i hope you found this lesson informative, my stalker students! now, stalk on!

xo!

an educational tour of america part deux

Due to the overwhelming demand that I continue shaping the minds of the youth of America through my educational tour of state slogans, I've decided to post the second installment now! I'd do anything to make my fans happy. Except perform sexual favors. Or pose for photographs. Or sign autographs. Regardless! To my many, many fans, I must say, I love you all and please - enjoy! xoxo! rachel morgan.

Alabama - "Share the Wonder." Hmmm. Alabama. Using the word "wonder" here is a very clever move on your part. The word "wonder" typically carries very positive connotations. You know, Disneyland, Christmas, birthday parties with Shetland ponies and an ice cream bar... Yet somehow, when I think of Alabama, the images that pop into my head probably wouldn't fall under the "wonder" category. Lets see. When I think of Alabama, I think of: race riots, church bombings, scary hicks with bad teeth waving a confederate flag in one hand and a gun in the other, and that Neil Young song, "Alabama." Now I'm as much for Neil Young as the next guy, but what kind of "wonder" are you trying to share with the rest of the country? Is it contagious? Do I need to be vaccinated against your "wonder" before I enter the state? Am I going to suddenly find myself in desperate need of orthodontic work? If you're trying to convince people to actually COME to Alabama, I'd go with, "Alabama: Where Race Riots Are a Thing of the Past."

Arizona - "The Grand Canyon State." Arizona, I'm slightly disappointed in you for this craptastic slogan. I feel very confident in saying that any fourth grader could probably identify Arizona as the home of the Grand Canyon, so why on earth are you bragging about it? Your slogan might as well be, "Arizona: The Sky Is Blue Here." Now, I've spent quite a bit of time in Arizona, and I know that you have more to offer than just a big crack in the ground. You have some awesome malls. I love Fashion Square! Instead of just pointing out the obvious, try playing to your strengths. Try, "Arizona: It May Be Hot Outside, But Our Malls Are Huge and Air Conditioned!"

Arkansas - "The Natural State." I'm a bit confused by this one because there are so many ways to construe this statement. Are all Arkansians living life like Adam and Eve, running around naked and unshaven as in the "natural state" of mankind? Do Arkansas women not dye their hair or wear makeup because they prefer to go au natural? Is nature so bountiful in Arkansas that all trappings of urban life are left behind? If any of the above interpretations are true, Arkansas, I'm not coming to visit. I hate nature and women with hairy armpits. Ew.

California - "Find Yourself Here." As a native Californian, I'm going to have to admit that this slogan does our fine state no favors. I've discovered that people outside of California have a tendency to think of Californians as stoned, new age-y hippies who buy into metaphysical bullshit while doing yoga and eating granola. And the slogan, "Find Yourself Here" buys right into that stereotype. Yes, come to California and you will embark on an intense and spiritual journey that will help you "find yourself" on the path to enlightenment. Puh-lease. In California, the only place you'll "find yourself" is at a plastic surgeon's office picking out your new boobs. Or shopping. Or eating sushi. Now that I think about it though, I might not be giving California enough credit. Maybe in Central California people embark on spiritual journeys that lead to self-discovery. But that's the yucky part of the state and I don't think anyone wants to go there.

Colorado - "Enter a Higher State." Ok, this one is seriously just begging to be made fun of. Yes, we all get the allusion to the Rockies and the heightened elevation.. but its sooo much more tempting to go with the drugs joke. All I can picture is some half-brained snowboarding instructor saying, "Yeah, come to Colorado, get high and shred some sweet slopes, dude!" If Colorado really wanted to capitalize on this state slogan, it would lobby for legislation that legalizes marijuana. I have no doubt that the tourism board would be pleasantly surprised with a sudden surge in tourism and that the economy would benefit greatly from the influx of stoners who need pads to crash in and munchies to snack on. Awesome.

Connecticut - "Full of Surprises." If all of the states gathered for a family reunion, Connecticut would definitely be the rich snobby aunt that shows up and condescendingly brags that her son just accepted a full scholarship to Yale, despite Princeton and Harvard banging down his door. But when your crazy snobby aunt gets sloppy drunk on one too many vodka martinis and spills on her perfectly pressed button down shirt (worn under a cashmere crewneck sweater, naturally), that's where the surprise comes in. When she then continues to spill family secrets... SURPRISE! Uncle Bobby is gay! Try as you may, Connecticut, we know you're not as perfect as you'd like the rest of us to think.

Delaware - "Its Good Being First." I feel kind of sorry for Delaware. For those of you who don't quite remember your US history, this slogan refers to the fact that Delaware was the first state to ratify the US Constitution. Again, for those of you who aren't good with dates (or math, for that matter), this glorious event happened well over two hundred years ago. And they're still bragging about it? Poor Delaware! Two hundred years and that's still your only claim to fame? I mean, Delaware, the other original twelve colonies also ratified the constitution - its not like you were the lone bastion of democracy amongst rebel anarchists! Delaware, I'm glad you're proud of your role in the creation of our glorious nation, but I think you're giving yourself a wee too much credit. I'd try a more humble statement like, "Delaware: The Second-Smallest State."

Florida - "Visit Florida." When people think of Florida, they think of partying, old ladies and hot bodies tanning on the beach. Now, I'm not going to say that Floridians are stupid (because I have immense respect and love for two UF graduates and because I am obsessed with Dexter), but I'm not exactly surprised that the best they could come up with is "Visit Florida." The entire tourism board was probably too busy getting wasted on the beach to come up with anything better, and when spring break was over, they were too hungover to notice how crappy their slogan was. Try: "Florida: We're Hammered!"

Georgia - "Georgia on My Mind." Don't get me wrong - this is a great song. But you don't see California using, "California Dreaming," or Oklahoma using, "Oklahoma: Where the Wind Comes Sweepin' Down the Plain." Are you just too lazy to come up with an original slogan? Northerners always picture people sitting on porches in the South, sipping mint juleps and talking with that slow, languid drawl. I always assumed this was an unrealistic stereotype, but with a slogan as unoriginal as Georgia's, I'm beginning to buy into the lazy Southerner label. Why not fess up to it and go with, "Georgia: Where All Your Southern Stereotypes Come True."

Hawaii - "The Islands of Aloha." First of all, Aloha, much like the Hebrew Shalom, means like ten thousand things. Are the Hawaiian Islands the "Islands of Hello" AND the "Islands of Goodbye?" Or am I misinterpreting this translation of aloha, and the slogan is really the "Islands of Love?" What the hell, Hawaii? Secondly, Aloha isn't even English. Welcome to America, Hawaii, where the de facto official language is ENGLISH. Now, I know that you're kind of far away from the mainland, but that is no excuse to go gallivanting around with this foreign (native, whatever) language. Get with the program and come up with a translation that all Americans will love. How about: "Hawaii: Vacationland for Wealthy Mainlanders."