Hottie Turd Blossom

Today I intended to do a rare post without a picture. That is because I want to talk about Karl Rove and what scarce coverage there is about Rovegate on CNN. Let's face it: Karl Rove is hot. And being a considerate-- not to mention ethical-- soul, I know that seeing his thick scarf of evil chins will make us girls quake in our skirts. And how can we be good citizens and get work done if we're hiding in our cubicles surfing news on Rovie? But then again, who can resist our hottie. Here ya go!

See, I decided to indulge our Karl lust since CNN, the most trusted news source, won't. For some reason, while CBS and NBC have been going gangbusters over it (as they should be, all hail a rare recent sign that journalism is still alive)-- CNN has not been posting ANY Rove-related headlines in its 7 online headlines. Hmm, I wonder why? Oh, yeah: Robert Novak, the "journalist" or "pundit" (such a fine line, in these polarizing days) is CNN's star hottie (sad but true, because Tucker left them) (sniffle) and the featured columnist on CNN.com. And, well, al I can figure is that he must be a competing hottie. Oh, wait! Novak blabbed what Rove illegallly told him... the plot thickens. Or, the plot is just obvious.

However, today is different for CNN. They have finally put it up there in their headlines... except the deadline is "Doonesbury pulled from some papers over Rove nickname". Yes, Doonesbury called the Rovester a third grade name, ultimately doing that pegging-the-liberals-as-dirty-and-out-of-touch-with-America thing. Because blowing CIA cover and endangering their lives is much more in touch with America. But that kind of news is, like, such a bummer to hear about. Better not cover it. Makes more sense to spend a headline on a whopping 12 papers complaining about a Doonesbury cartoon jabbing Rove, who everyone knows was that guy in grade school who put a frog in your shorts. I mean, that's why we like him. See, girls always lust for the bully. What was the name you ask? Turd Blossom! Sensing the locker room rumble, our girl lust surges...

Lies, lies, lies...

Let he who has won and been "1 in 12" please come forth...

Summer of----

Summer 1983: Summer of First Kiss (Charlie Goodyear and the belted Polo shirt-- I mean dress...)

Spent any time lately going through your old grimey box of audio cassette tapes with mixes labeled "Summer '85" or "Summer of Billy's" and wondered what the hell was going on? Well so did I. And I took notes.


Summer 1976: Wonder where best friend Wendy is and why she has not called all summer. Later in September, after weeks of having to see Wendy together with Meghan (my best friend before Wendy) and suffering their potent silent treatment against me, am delivered the news in a Public Service Announcement while on the jungle gym by third grader Laura that Meghan and Wendy were teaching me a lesson about jealousy. (Me: Laura, what's jealousy?... Laura: Well, jealousy is when...)

Summer 1981: Summer of Camp Chippewa Trails. Camp of girls who seem to do this every year (hence the inside jokes) and are already wearing bras, all set somewhere in Northern Michigan. Lose baby fat. When mom and dad pick me up, give them 24 hours of silent treatment in an effort to seem older and more mysterious. Plan fails when parents take no notice.

Summer 1984: Summer of Madonna. In-depth study of "Lucky Star Video" and where Madonna might have gotten those boots. In August, travel to east coast and acquire lace gloves and black rubber bands. In September, with new attire in hand, successfully take over 8th grade and become Queen Bitch.




Summer 1986: Summer of McMeade Daycamp. Establish 3 hour day camp with best friend Kendall. By September, conclude that kids are overrated and that the making money thing is, like, totally hard.

Summer 1987: Summer of Julian's Betrayal. Through a web of lies and cross-betrayals about where we were all staying one Friday night (mere excuses to cut curfews and party hardy), spend most of summer grounded, conveniently supplying parents with free babysitter for five year old brother. In August, get friend with mature-sounding voice to call and pose as parent, providing alibi. Alas, alibi does no good; parents still need a babysitter.

Summer 1989: Summer of Joey. Note to Self: Men are Trouble.

Summer 1991: Summer of Obsession. Girl takes Boy for granted, Girl abuses Boy, Boy leaves and finds Another Girl, Girl FREAKS OUT. Lose 25 pounds. Coming soon to a theatre near you, The Break Up Tape (Registered with the Writers Guild of America East, #996969-2Cute)

Summer 1992: Summer of Thinking about Tomorrow. Summer internship in New York City. Get excited about Clinton campaign. Go to Susan Bartsch parties for Deee-Lite at the Roxy and don't realize until the next day that all the women dancers were... MEN!!! in ... DRAG!!! Wow!

Summer 1993: Summer of Pride. Leather vest, jean shorts, half shaved head. Need I say more?

Summer 1997: Sober Summer. Get into odd relationship with cute guy, mostly because he has a great high BTU air conditioner.

Summer 1998: Summer of Hell. Thrill of being admitted to Film School dampened by realization that summer will be spent working 80 hour overnights at a lawfirm affording Film School. Amen internet boom. Entertain self by spending Saturday nights with aloof, be-littling and marginally paedophilic film director.

Summer 1999: Summer of America and Air Conditioning. Spend 3 weeks driving cross country through southwest producing lavishly budgeted, unscripted and nonsensical student short film, ended by yelling at spoiled soap opera actor. Return to NYC glad as hell I don't live anywhere else AND to a fat tax refund (GO CLINTON!) from Summer of Hell. Purchase first air conditioner. Get into odd relationship with cute guy, mostly because I have a great high BTU air conditioner.

Summer 2001: Summer of Atkins Diet. $530 worth of steak and eggs to combat weight gain from quitting smoking. Lose 12 pounds, enter boring relationship in fear of Newsweek article about biological clock. Come September 11, abandon diet and comfort self with Ben & Jerry's. End boring relationship.

Summer 2002: Summer of Editing. Abandon all personal life to finish editing feature film about a Goth chick dying. Get scared again about Newsweek article and try to get into a stable relationship which in fact is not only platonic, but unstable. End of summer, abandon plan, meet girl, throw out Newsweek article.

Summer 2003: Summer of Tears. Girl dumps girl, blah blah blah. Come September, decide to ban dating.

Summer 2004: Summer of the Nomad. Travel travel, write write, work work. By September, finish projects and thought occurs: is that all there is?



Summer 2005: TBA.