an international lovefest

viva la olympics! once every 4 years (because, seriously, who cares about the winter olympics? i mean, they're fun and all, but we all know the reaaaaaaal glamour is all about the half-naked people in the sun, not some bundled-up badass skier or 50 year-old "athlete" smoking a cigarette while "competing" in the "sport" nobody gets, curling), the entire world comes together to cheer loudly for their country and watch incredible athletes duke it out, all while staring at their TVs, stuffing chips into their faces. it's always such an incredible experience, and i'm constantly reminded of my own childhood dream of being an olympian (i believe i once wrote a poem about this hope. it went something like, "gold, silver, bronze. my olympic dreams are dashed," or something totally ridiculous.)

today, i'm still envious of all of the olympians; however, while i was once jealous that these athletes had achieved the height of their sport and earned the opportunity to represent their country, these days, my jealous mainly centers around the fact that these athletes are banging like freaking testosterone-fueled bunnies. seriously! that just sounds like an awesome, awesome orgy. it's like summer camp, but waaaaaaay more fun. it's like boarding school, with waaaaay less supervision. it's like spring break, with waaaaaaay fewer accidental pregnancies and resultant abortions. it's like freshmen at a frat party, with waaaaay less GHB and sorority girls puking in showers. like, OMG sign me up!!!

of course, all of this brou-ha-ha over sex in the olympic village is magnified by the RIDICULOUS amount of attention the media has been paying to michael phelps, who's a bigger celebrity than the kardashians these days. i've subjected many, many, many of my friends to recent rants about how sick i am of the phelps phanatacism (haha, get it? aren't i sooooooo clever? feel free to leave comments praising my unending witticism!! k!), and at the risk of seeming unpatriotic, i shall refrain from doing so yet again. all i have to say is: michael phelps is not jesus. he is not luke skywalker. he is not harry potter. he has not cured polio. he has not invented a magic pill that transforms people into the thin, well-read, nice-smelling people they want to be. he is, of course, an incredible athlete, but COME ON. please stop agonizing over whom he's dating, what he's eating, where he's living and what his underwear looks like. because i don't care, and i don't want to hear about it :)

however, there are some athletes i would actually like to applaud: both the USA men's and women's water polo teams totally kicked ass!!!!!! i've had the privilege to know and play against many of these players, and i'm totally proud of their commitment and want to give each of them a big HIGH FIVE. i must take special note of one player in particular, the SPECTACULAR, BRILLIANT and TALENTED BETSEY ARMSTRONG, whose totally badass goaltending helped the women secure a shiny, hard-fought silver medal!!! congrats, bets!! i also hope that all of the water polo players who wanted to cash in on the olympic orgy banged as many dudes or chicks as they wanted to. they deserve it.

ps: you can totally see phelp's teenie weenie in this pic. i'm not impressed.

you can go back, but you can never go home again

ok so, i'm totally all about adages, proverbs, sayings, clichés and other such clever witticisms. whenever a friend comes crying to me about how their life is in the crapper, i totally pretend to listen for like 3 minutes before offering some words of wisdom like, "whenever god closes a door, he opens a window," or, "a woman is like a cup of tea - you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water," or my personal favorite, "don't judge a book by it's cover," which is the stupidest proverb i've ever heard because, really, if we're not supposed to judge books/people/dogs/politicians/celebrities/hotties at the bar by their LOOKS, what else do we have to go on?!? like, the inside or something? LAME.

however much i may love throwing around these catchy phrases, i must say that i typically tend to disregard them as little more than silly, outdated quips designed to make people feel better about themselves ("everything happens for a reason," "every cloud has a silver lining," "everybody shits," which, coincidentally, was the only advice momma b ever gave me about feeling inadequate in jr. high school. i tried explaining that i was sad that ALLLL of the boys liked this one pretty, popular, MEGABITCH girl, and that poor little rachel morgan was a book-toting, braces-wearing, uber nerd, and all she said was, "everybody shits." it stuck with me, so thanks momma b!). nonetheless, i must admit that behind each and every one of these little gems, lies a kernel of truth and wisdom.

of these insightful and educational adages, my favorite has consistently been some variation of "what goes around comes around"/"you reap what you sow"/"karma's a bitch" etc etc..., mainly because i take serious, evil pleasure in watching people get what they have coming to them (MWAH-HA-HA, or however that maniacal laughter is spelled). however, i've recently become obsessed with the darling little idiom, "you can go back, but you can never go home again."

on a recent visit to my favorite city and former stomping grounds, chicago, i realized just how true that statement was. there i was, back in the city where i spent so much time (where i learned how to use public transportation, how to survive a total mental breakdown (yay!), where i learned that sunday afternoon is the most enjoyable time of the week to drink, where i once fell in a gutter, spraining my ankle, on a sunday afternoon (fill in the blanks, people), where i turned down a threesome (one of the most ridiculous things ever, BTW), engaged in many shady activities, and managed to spend a lot of time having fun without actually achieving very many "grown up" goals), and i was instantly struck by the truth of that statement. there i was, walking down the same streets i'd wandered so many times before, yet somehow, everything was different. i was different, my life was different, the city was different... hell, even the air was different (since the smoking ban went into effect after i left, i realized that many bars in chicago freaking STINK like yucky, murky closets that haven't been aired out in centuries, but have recently had a gaggle of teenagers playing seven minutes in heaven inside of them).

it was a strange sensation, really, but overall, i think i realized that although chicago will never be "home" again, i'm ok with that. chicago felt like "home" before because of the friends and relationships i had while living there, not because it's where i slept at night. its streets were so welcoming and comforting to me before, not because of the mortar and pavement beneath my feet, but because of the life i shared while walking there with people i cared about. naturally, there are still people i love and care about in chicago, but with time and distance, all things must change, including the connections i once had with the people who live there. so, chicago's not home for me anymore... but that doesn't mean i'll look back on my life there with anything less than fondness. i love the CITY itself, but i think, for me, chicago will always be a bit of a ghost town.

wow, i just got all serious and shit.

ok, well, anyway, the point of my long, rambling, not entirely sensible blog is: adages rule. so the next time you're listening to someone gripe about their life, tell them to "buck up," "keep a stiff upper lip," and "go forth and procreate." because sex makes everyone happier.

daddy's little whore

momma b has recently undertaken a project to digitize all of our old family photos and movies, which has been highly enjoyable for me, since there's nothing i like more than looking at pictures of myself (seriously, it has been a life-long obsession of mine. i used to spend warm summer afternoons looking through old photo albums while little brother b was running around outside, hopped up on sugar and breaking things). of course, it's also been amusing to see what momma and poppa b were like 25 years ago... momma b had some truly exceptional fashion choices, including a large librarian-like bun LITERALLY ON TOP of her head, and some reeeeeaaaallly stylish electric blue, high-waisted, elastic shorts, worn with what can only be described as hiking boots. awesome. poppa b's not escaping my commentary either, with his propensity for walking around shirtless in shorts so short that daisy duke would blush (and don't even get me started on the ponytail years. yep, i was the girl with the "hip" dad with the ponytail. until the blessed day he cut it when i was around 13, it was TRULY humiliating. thanks, pops!).

however, of all the pictures we've recently revisited, one stands out. mainly because i look like a freaking child prostitute in it. "oh, it can't be that bad," you're probably saying, or "that rachel morgan - always telling lies!" well, friends. take a gander at the photo below and pick out the one little girl who looks like she's spent the entire 6 years of her life blowing her classmates during kindergarten naptime (those little blue mats were so conducive towards preventing rugburn!):
if you picked the little lolita front and center, you're right. that mini hooker is none other than your very own rachel morgan!! now, i normally avoid putting photos of myself on my blog (mainly because psycho poppa b would have an aneurysm and claim that some obsessed fan/internet stalker/death row inmate is going to somehow find me and murder me in my sleep), but i just can't resist (and i'm confident that i'm no longer 3 feet tall, have grown teeth and tits, and am wearing enough makeup in this photo to be mistaken for a clown, and am thus, safe from any would-be serial killers). besides, this photo is ridiculously funny. look at all of the other six year olds , smiling with their half-toothed grins, thinking to themselves, "gee, i hope mommy doesn't find out i ate all of that dirt earlier!" (girl on far left) or, "i wonder how my dead bug collection is coming along?" (talking to you, back row on the left), or "i am an AMAZING ballerina!" (smug little bitch on the far right of the middle row).

but me? what does rachel morgan's face say? oooh something along the lines of: "hello there, daaaaahhhling. i've been waiting for you. i just melted some wax. it's warm and sticky... come over here so i can pour it all over your hot, steamy body." i mean, honestly - i think this is the sexiest i've ever looked in a photo! these days, whenever a camera's around i smile and i'm all like, "woohooo !!! i like to party!!" but somehow, when i was six, i was a smoldering temptress, ready to devour any man who crossed my path, and with bedroom eyes that i'd kill for 20 years later! no wonder i'm single! i reached the height of my sexual seduction at the age of 6!!!! check out the sexxxxxy:


although this radiating sexuality obviously came to me naturally, i must admit that the whore makeup doesn't help the situation. what type of sick bastard would let their little girl wear that much makeup, you might ask? only one man would be so foolishly brash: poppa b. moreover, poppa b put that much makeup on me!! ON PURPOSE!!! so, poppa b, count your lucky stars that i'm not some gutter-rat whore today, because, really, if i look this slutty at 6, i could've turned out sooooooooooooooo much worse. instead of being the smart, classy (i use that term loosely, obviously) blogger that i am today, i could have continued along this path and looked like ali lohan by 14 (aka total freaking slutwhorehookerface), lindsay lohan by 21 (coked-out vagina flasher), and dina lohan by the time i reach 40 (fake from head to toe and getting kicked out of parties for being belligerently wasted and giving hand jobs in exchange for drugs and publicity). phew! really dodged a bullet with that one!!

top 5 reasons to love harry potter

although we all know i've got 101 reasons to love nick carter, these days, my main man is a little shorter, darker, scarred-er, and fictional-er. yes, i'm talking about the one and only harry potter*****, the greatest phenomenon of the new millennium (other than the return of fro-yo!!! thanks, pinkberry, for helping revive my favorite frozen treat's popularity, but give me some of the good ol' fashioned, non-made-from-paper shizzzzz any day!). harry and i have had quite a torrid affair over the past few years; we've had our ups (becoming a gryffindor! winning the house cup!!!!!! defeating the horntail in the first challenge of the triwizard tournament!!!!!!!!!! WOOOHOOOO!!!), and we've had our downs (watching cedric die :(, watching sirius die :(, watching dumbledore die :(, watching like 10004587634 people/elves/owls die in HPADH :( SAD), but despite it all, i've never loved anyone like i've loved harry. we've laughed (mainly at ron, whose eternal dorkiness endears him to both of us), and we've cried (only like every time i read HPATGOF and HP's parents' ghosts come to protect harry when his and voldemort's wands connect, and like a bagillion other times throughout the series), and through it all, i've realized that there's no place like hogwarts, diagon alley is cooler than any mall (except, perhaps, that one on market in san francisco. i'm not a fan of the stores there, but i could ride those windy escalators alllllll day), and most importantly, i'd give my left tit to be a witch and live in HP world. cuz then i'd just magically grow it back, y'all!

*****please note that all references to "harry potter" or any such similar language herein refers ONLY to the literary version of the aforementioned character and his fictional universe. the movies are all pretty much craptastic, particuarlary HPATOTP, which was painfully bad and made me want to sue david yates for intentional infliction of emotional distress. this is why i went to law school for a whole year, bitches. to throw around really impressive legal terms.

anyway, here are 5 reasons to love harry potter

1. he's got the magic stick. and no, ladies, i'm not talking about that 11 inch holly and phoenix feather wand of his. i'm talking about that other stick. the one that rhymes with "benis." how do i know, you might ask?!? well, a lady never kisses and tells (OMG i totally did harry potter!!), but i think hp's impressive "swish and flick" motion is pretty apparent from the quality of ass HP pulls. first, there's pavarti, who is like super pretty. then there's cho, who is obviously hot, since she dated the hottest hufflepuff ever, dead ceddy-ced. finally, harry snags ginny, who is like GRADE-A meat, and obviously knows her way around a "benis" after dating like 16 dudes and letting them into her "chamber of secrets" (it is no coincidence that ginny opens the chamber of secrets and lets a gigantic snake in and out of that thing like, ALL THE TIME!). harry, baby, ditch those witches and come ride my broom.

2. he's totally THE chosen one. ok, so this may seem unoriginal to those of you familiar with the "chosen one" formula (hero, frequently an orphan, has to face off against an evil force that he is somehow connected to and must ultimately choose good over evil in order to save the world, yadda yadda yadda), but let's face it: skywalker, neo, frodo, ender (ender's game. orson scott card. read it, yo) and jesus have NOTHING on harry potter. harry totally whomps on voldemort, and voldemort makes darth vadar look like a husky-voiced, one-balled albino with penis envy (um, ever notice how phallic that light sabre is? and the death star clearly represents the gigantic testicle he wishes he had to replace the one ewan mcgregor sliced off withsome serious jedi shit??). and satan with this whole 40 days and nights of temptation in the desert?? LAME. voldemort would turn both of those fools into horcruxes or some crap, and harry would still be able to smash those wussy fuckers and save the world!!

3. he's a master at defense against the dark arts. i'm not gonna lie. that's super hot. although its obviously pretty sexxxxy that he got an O on his DADA OWL, let's face it: he's good at everything. but what realllly makes hp's mad skillz in the DADA arena so impressive is that it allows him to play hard-to-get. i mean, naturally, i'm kinda an evil witch, and have had to resort to dark magic to entice harry. but every time i try to give him a love potion or put him under the imperius curse and have my way with him, dude blocks me with a shield charm or some other lame non-violent spell, and is all like, "no, rachel morgan, i will not bang you!" UGH! it's maddening, hp!! but, hp, you know i like a little game of cat-and-mouse (or should i say crookshanks-and-scabbers? ok that's maybe not funny, but whatevs!), and that i'm not easily discouraged. watch out, harry. momma's coming to get ya.

4. he's like, invisible, yo. ok, well he's not REALLY invisible. but he does have the most kickass thing ever, an invisibility cloak!!! and the coolest thing about the invisibility cloak is that it totally allows him to be a rebel badass. he's always climbing out of bed in that thing, wandering hogwarts allllllll night long (you can come explore my dungeons, baby), sneaking into places he's not supposed to be (i'll let you in to the restricted section of my librabry, sugar), and seeing things he's not supposed to (you can look deep into my mirror of erised, hotstuff). better still, there's room for 2 under that invisibility cloak. you know what that means - late night trips to the astronomy tower... secret trysts in the forbidden fodrest... doing the dirty in the room of requirement... HOT, harry. hot.

5. he's loaded. ok, so blah blah blah, harry's parents died, then the closest thing he had to a parent died, but WHATEVER. they all left him a crapload of money, and now he's super loaded! harry's so rich he didn't even keep is winnings from the triwizard tournament, and feigned being all bummed over cedric's death so he could just GIVE it away! like, omg, hp! i mean, i know i said all of these nice things about other reasons to love you, but i kinda like that you're a veritable cash cow. besides, you're totally SET FOR LIFE after killing voldemort - you probably have a toilet made entirely of galleons!!!! so stop being all charitable and think of me for once. and buy me some stuff, k? it's really the only reason i keep you around.

in case anyone was wondering, yes, i am fully aware that this is probably the dorkiest blog i could ever have posted.