Planet Manola: Love Lost, Love Gained

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not less frequently.


Dating should be really called carbon dating, because by the time it's over, it's ancient history.

The topic of dating has crept up back into my life again. No, not because I'm dating creeps, but because I've come across some good dating reads!

BUSY DATING

I learned about this brave and sassy chick while attending Blogalicious earlier this month. (Anyone who actively dates is brave in my book.) Busy Dating describes herself as a "thirty something single woman exploring the dating scene with an open mind and a fresh pair of eyes. Learning, laughing and chronicling along the way."

Yes, a girl after my heart! Every woman should read her dating horror stories section Don't Get Punched. Also, follow her twitter. She recently had me cracking up on when she announced that some jackass on an online dating site had asked her if "she could clap her hind parts."

(I'm wondering if he misquoted William Butler Yeats, "soul clap its hands and sing.")

In any case, while she was at the conference, Busy Dating had a far more pleasant and innocent enough encounter in South Beach that led to a phone call on her way back home. Could romance spring up between two out-of-towners on the sidewalk? Stranger things have happened on the island. No, I'm sorry. The strange thing would be romance. The normal thing on a South Beach sidewalk is a walk of shame before the hookers come out for coffee.

Could a South Beach flirtation find fertile ground elsewhere? We shall see ...

THEY ALWAYS LEAVE ... OR COME BACK FOR THE CASH ON THE NIGHTSTAND

My sarcasm does a terrible injustice to Jeremy Glazer, a local writer whose prose I've recently discovered. He had me at the the first few sentences of a story published over at WLRN's blog, Under the Sun. Glazer's beautifully written fictional account of a local man who falls for a transplant explores the bane of every native Miamian's existence: the good ones always seem to be from elsewhere. From They Always Leave:

You want to say you and Tanya broke up because she smoked too much. Or because she was on facebook all night. Or because her apartment was a complete mess. But those are all excuses.

Just like every other relationship you’ve had in Miami, it ended because she moved away.

Glazer's poignant story about love lost begs a question about romance in a city of accidental residents. Yes, alas, the good ones leave, but why do all the damn psychos stay?!?

LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHARLES DEERING

While love may last as long as the life cycle of a fruit fly in South Beach, a different story comes out of Old Cutler.

Last night I took the first Deering Estate ghost tour of the season, during which a staff member shared one of the best South Florida love stories I've ever heard.

You see, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Deering each had their own personal servants. But for some reason, these servants were not allowed to date each other, although they were madly in love. They kept their romance secret for many years until the Mr. and Mrs. passed away. The lovers eventually married -- she at the tender age of 61 on the day of her nuptials.

Oh, can you imagine the kisses they stole behind the Richmond Cottage? The furtive embraces in the dense foliage of the mangrove forest?

Speaking of romance, ghost tours are a great way to explore one of the most hauntingly romantic spots in Miami-Dade -- haunting as in "its beauty will haunt you." If you can't make the night tour, go during the day with a picnic basket for wooing under the royal palms or consider attending one of their moonlight concerts on the gorgeous bayside lawn. More information about it all here: Deering Estate at Cutler.

My story on last year's investigative ghost tour is over at Miami Beach 411.

Planet Manola: Heartfelt Thanks and Shameless Plugs

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

THANK YOU SUN SENTINEL AND READERS

Thanks to all who voted for me for the Best of Blogs Awards sponsored by the Sun Sentinel. Sex and the Beach won Best Humor Blog and I'm very grateful. Here's to more years of funny stuff, no matter where life may take me. My readers, know that YOU are my inspiration and that I would not be where I am today without this blog and the blogging/social media community that I've come to know and love.

AND SPEAKING OF FUNNY ...

It wouldn't be me without giving credit to some other wise ass wordsmiths out there who are relatively new kids on the block. The guy who was in second place in the Humor category is a Twitter buddy of mine who's based in Broward. Though soft spoken and quiet in person, he's funny as hell online, but his blog isn't for the faint of heart. This guy doesn't mince his words. Check him out at Yeah, I Said It.

Another Broward blogger who has tickled my funny bone -- yet who was not nominated -- is Jenny from Working On A Ramp. She's rivaling Ellen DeGeneres on the blonde gringa dance moves and she has blog chutzpah, which I admire!

AND SPEAKING OF CHUTZPAH ...

Two friends of mine have got a surplus of it and they're starting a new blog and talk show called Unaugmented Reality -- unaugmented as in "yes, they're real." In their own words:

Now you might be asking…what’s with “The UnAugmented Reality”…your point would be ladies? Our point is this…beautifully aged (you know like cheese or wine) women without augmentation, like new boobs, new lips, tucked tummies/buns, ZERO VaJayJay rejuv are here to tell it like it is. We’re gonna bring it...all the bitter, the sweet, the ugly…but mostly the funny.

Both gals hail from South Florida and are using pseudonyms; however, I expect the same candor online as I've enjoyed from them in real life. Join Paprika Fancy, Starr Buxxom and yours truly tomorrow night at 10 PM for the premier. We'll be discussing the subject of intimacy. This should be a riot -- or cause one.

MORE LINKS

Carlos Miller, who won Best Overall Blog, put together an excellent recap of the award ceremony over at Miami Beach 411, which won best News blog. (Warning: really hot photo of a married couple kissing in front of a fire!)

My thoughts on the awards process over at Miami New Times.

Photo credit: Carlos Miller

Planet Manola: Fried Chicken, Food, Sex and Fat

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!

Photo courtesy of thebittenword.com on Flickr.

RECESSION FRIENDLY FRIED CHICKEN

I nearly bust a gut laughing when my fellow writer buddy Teresa Mears (@miamicheap) reported Michy's $33 all-you-can-eat fried chicken special on her fabulous (and practical!) site, Miami on the Cheap:

For $33 per person, you can get endless helpings of fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, coleslaw and watermelon Greek salad, plus a piece of dark chocolate cream pie for dessert. The price doesn’t include tax, tip or drinks.

Now, I don't have anything against Michelle Bernstein or her Biscayne corridor restaurant, Michy's. In fact, I'm all for the culinary adventures and success of any woman who had made it in hard-ass business in an even harder part of town. Kudos, all the way.

But Michy, please ... Are you fucking kidding me? $33 for fried chicken? FRIED CHICKEN? $33 for the classic, cheap American comfort food? $33 for what? A cupla chicken breasts? I mean how much am I gonna eat, really? And why would I eat your fried chicken when I can get your awesome and exclusive Miami Spice menu for $35? And what's up with not having collard greens, mac and cheese and cornbread? And does this fried chicken come with a lotto ticket?

Boy, I imagine there are some cash-strapped families in Liberty City who would either laugh or cry over this offer. Or, I can just imagine a few people getting off at the Greyhound Bus station downtown and saying, "hey, let's take a bus to Michy's and chow down on some of that cheap $33 fried chicken." (Surely, the extra expense is worth it over the fried chicken sold at the gas station across the street from Soyka.)

Come to think of it, how does the $33 price tag compare to blow jobs and crack on Biscayne?

Oy vay, I don't know if Michy's chickens lay golden eggs or what, but I hope this doesn't become a trend in our city's finer restaurants. What's next? Barton G doing their own version of a Denny's Grand Slam?

There's chicken. And then there's chicken. Pass the KFC bucket, please.

(PS, every self-respecting Miamian should follow @miamicheap.)

No, it's not a penis, but it sure would be nice if I had one for dessert. Photo by yours truly taken recently at the food-gasmic @hyattpier66 brunch in Fort Lauderdale.

FOOD PHILOSOPHY

And speaking of food and people to follow on Twitter, one of my favorites is Jennifer Iannolo (@foodphilosophy) of the Culinary Media Network, a gorgeous, informative food and travel website. Jennifer's writing focuses on the sensual aspects of food, which of course I love. Recently, she started a meme on twitter called #sexonaplate, which provides me with mouth-watering fantasies all day long. As Jennifer explains it:

The original “sex on a plate” quote comes from my first manifesto, On Food and Sensuality, written in 2004 when I discovered that the pre-consumption sight and/or smell of certain foods evokes a visceral reaction in me that is so sensually satisfying, the eating is almost an afterthought. Almost.

So now I’m asking what evokes that reaction in you. What makes you swoon? Sigh? Tremble? Drool?

I do have an ulterior motive here, which has become my life’s work: I want you to eat better food and have better sex. They go together, you see.

I couldn't agree more. Especially with the first line of her manifesto: “Never trust a woman who doesn’t like to eat. She is probably lousy in bed.”

Amen, sister.

Read this manifesto NOW. You'll never eat the same way again.

(PS This edition is about ladies in the kitchen, but Jennifer works with Chef Mark (@chefmark), who is another great follow from the Culinary Media Network.)

GONZOGASTRONOMY

Another favorite food blogger, Katie Pizzuto (@gonzogastronomy), also writes zestfully about food on her site Gonzogastronomy, inspired by Hunter S. Thompson's term gonzo journalism, of course.

And speaking of chicken, Katie's biting wit is clear in her latest post about how to make things taste good without "the fat crutch":

I’ve recently come to the forehead-smacking conclusion that most of the chefs whose mantra is “fat is flavor” have that mantra because they’re just fucking lazy. Putting a half-stick of butter in a pan to finish a dish is undoubtedly going to be delicious, but it’s easy—and, of course, fattening as all hell. . . .

The challenge that presented itself to me is the one that, in the end, forced me to define just how good I am in a kitchen. Exactly how good can you make that chicken breast taste, sister, if you can’t deep-fry it, wrap it in pancetta or drizzle it with a cream sauce, hmmm?

Amen, sister!

Now if anyone can come up with a low-fat, low-cost version of fried chicken, I'd be in heaven.

And by the way, I'm really tempted to do a blind review of Michy's fried chicken. I'll just see if I can wrap my mind (and wallet) around the $33 tab, which you know is gonna be more, since you gotta have some bubbly with fried chicken.

Planet Manola: Social Media Edition

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!

Even in the hot, sticky and rainy doldrums of South Florida summer, life goes on and gets creative!

FIESTA! A CELEBRATION OF LIFE! MARCH 30

In collaboration with Life is Art, my Fiesta Movement bad-ass driver Brad Schenck is celebrating his birthday in socially conscious style with a fundraiser for ECOMB at the lovely Upper East Side Gardens. A $5 suggested donation gets you in to enjoy some drinks, artist exhibits, tunes and even mini-golf!

Since I'm finally off my crutches, I hope to use them as a putt. Learn more about the event here.

DETAILS
Saturday May 30th
7pm - 12am
Upper East Side Gardens
7244 Biscayne Boulevard
Miami, Florida

LAID OFF CAMP, JUNE 6







The first ever Miami-edition of LaidOffCamp, featuring FreelanceCamp, will take place at the Miami Beach Convention Center:

a gathering of job-seekers, freelancers, entrepreneurs and startups will meet at the Miami Beach Convention Center for South Florida's first community-driven conference for creative employment.

If you've never been to a camp style event, here's what it's like: it's a gathering of people who specialize in a particular field and some of them make presentations followed by question-and-answer sessions. Everyone networks and typically meets up afterward for some socializing.

This is NOT a formal, suit-and-tie corporate style convention. On the contrary! A limited number of slots are available, which presenters fill on a first-come, first-serve basis, so no one knows until the morning of the event who will actually be making presentations. It's an unconference. It's all about sharing. And everyone contributes -- not just presenters.

You don't have to be actually laid off to benefit from attending this event.

Yours truly may make a presentation about "How Blogging Can Help You Find Writing Gigs," or something like that.

DETAILS
Saturday, June 6
9 am - 2pm
Miami Beach Convention Center
1901 Convention Center Drive
Miami Beach, Florida

Registration is FREE and includes breakfast. A catered lunch will be available at an additional modest fee. Register at Eventbrite.

SOCIAL MEDIA CLUB SOUTH FLORIDA, JUNE 9

Social Media Club South Florida has put together a panel of Miami creatives, including yours truly. The other panelists are some great Miamians I know and admire: Steve Roitstein, musician (gopalo.com), Onajide Shabaka, artist (miamiartexchange.com), Carlos Miller, photographer (carlosmiller.com) and Irina Patterson, events (mylifeandart.typepad.com). This month's topic is “Creative Community Engagement and Engaging Creative Communities.”

The meetup runs from 7 to 9 PM. We'll start speaking at 7:30 PM, sharp (not Cuban time) for about an hour and half. Afterwards, we'll enjoy the music of Steve's Afro-Cuban funk band, PALO!

Social Media Club gatherings usually consist of a presentation followed by networking and socializing. If you're a newbie to social media, or a curious business owner, keep in mind these events are for everyone -- not just for professionals already working in a social media-related job:

Social Media Club South Florida is being organized for the purpose of sharing best practices, establishing ethics and standards, and promoting media literacy around the emerging area of Social Media.

Please come, ask questions and share ideas!

DETAILS
Tuesday, June 6
7 - 9pm (followed by performance)
Transit Lounge
729 SW 1st Avenue
Miami, Florida

Please RSVP on Eventbrite (FREE) You can connect with Social Media Club South Florida on the social networking site of your choice: Facebook group, Twitter as well as LinkedIn.

Planet Manola: Sartorial Edition

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!

Since we're all going to die from swine flu, I thought I would focus on vanity in this edition of Planet Manola.

Not even the finest, most elegant pair of shoes could undo the damage of this common South Beach fashion faux pas.

IF THE SHOE FITS, MARRY HIM

Today's Herald features an article about Donna Sozio, a self-proclaimed "shoe-ologist" who claims she can size up a man based on his shoes:

• If the shoe is really clean and the stitching moves in one direction, then the person may be balanced or organized.

• If the shoe has cluttered stitching, then the wearer may welcome chaos in his life.

• If the shoe has long laces, then the man has boyish characteristics.

Is this for real? Well, here's my rule of thumb. Never date a man whose hair is more fabulous than yours! Let's start talking about hair. You know how important that was for Bill Gates in rescuing his marriage!

Seriously, I never think to look at a man's shoes. Does that make me a piss-poor candidate for Millionare Matchmaker? Oh Lawd! I might as well pop that can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and trim my toenails while watching Jerry Springer, right? Does this mean I'll end marrying Mr. Buttcrack? And what would Joe Plumber have to say about that?

Well, there's so much more to a man that what he puts on his feet. And besides, all the sartorial fireworks in the world aint gonna make up for a lack of personality. If he's just right in every respect but his shoes, why kick him out of bed?

For real. If he's some rich dude and is way too obsessed with his footwear, I'd be turned off. But you know, a barefoot crackhead on Biscayne Boulevard won't get me to come hither either.

So how about a happy medium? The idea behind Never Trust a Man in Alligator Loafers is definitely sound:

... her theory explains how a man's relationship with himself trickles down onto every relationship he has, which includes his relationship with shoes and his relationship with his significant other.

True, guys. If you can't take care of yourselves, how are you going to take care of us? Still, while I wouldn't want you to look quite this trashy, I'd rather you take more care of other things than your shoes.

Shoe stuff is girly stuff. Amen.

Read more here and join the forum discussion, started by Carlos Miller at 411.

NOT DRESSED UP AND SOMEWHERE TO GO

New contributor at Miami Beach 411, recent northeast transplant and utterly lovely Christy, goes where no voluptuous, big-ass Cuban woman dare go: South Beach boutiques! If you wonder why South Beach is famous for its scantily clad denizens of nightclubs, it's because most dresses sold are barely larger than a maxipad and far less absorbent than a shamwow! (That's Manola talkin', not Christy.)

In her words:

There are many factors at play in our decision to wear a cocktail dress. We want to show off our tan, show off our body, and it’s hot here! We enjoy getting dressed up and looking as sizzling as our town’s nightlife. We’ll save those skinny jeans for a night out in NY, thank you very much! And most of Miami’s tourists play along. A friend of mine revealed that, to her, one of the best parts of coming to Miami is being able to wear the racy dresses that somehow accumulate in her conservative closet!

So to make the long hem short -- you guessed it -- South Beach is the place where it's ok to like a ho! We've always known this here on Planet Manola. And we also know that in South Beach, "cocktail dress" refers not to the length of your hem, but the alcoholic beverage that you will be wearing after some coked-out asshole spills your drink all over your boobs as you make your way to the bathroom.

How to get that look? Read more at A Girl's Guide to Shopping and Style in South Beach. Kudos to Christy for showing us the ropes to get inside the velvet rope! There are tons of fashion-savvy tips about different shops in the area -- from the relatively economical to the Black Amex splurge.

Now ... go buy some clothes and strut your stuff!

Planet Manola: The Truth Is Out There

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!

HEALTHY IS SEXY

On the one-year anniversary of my heart troubles, my dear friend Stephanie Quilao, publisher of Back in Skinny Jeans, asked me to write a guest post on her blog about a very personal issue I've never discussed here.

She urged me to share my untold story because I have recently made a complete recovery from a crippling, long-term episode of anxiety disorder and agoraphobia. And in the process of getting my life back, I lost 50 pounds.

You may be surprised to learn that I started this blog in one of the darkest moments of my life. In the post, I explain why the quirky phrase "a single woman's guide to chronic living" is so significant.

I thought it would be challenging to discuss this condition publicly, but the truth is, there is nothing to be afraid of and no reason for holding back. Millions of people worldwide suffer from anxiety disorder and if I can help ONE person find inspiration and hope, it will all have been worthwhile!

Read "Overcoming agoraphobia, panic attacks and losing 50lbs in the process" at Back in Skinny Jeans.

Thank you Stephanie for encouraging me to write this post. As always, it's an honor to contribute to your incredible, inspirational blog!

By the way ... Stephanie will be speaking at a BlogHer session on Saturday. If you're attending, don't miss it!

SEX AND THE SINGLE BLOGGER

On an unrelated note, I found out yesterday that this blog is in very good company! Citylink Magazine, where I used to write a column, considered Sex and the Beach as one of four of South Florida's sexiest blogs written by singles. The other three were Ipanemic, Naked Boy Chronicles and Restaurant Gal.

Thanks Citylink!

Planet Manola: Of Poems and Plants

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

SEASONAL AMNESIA

Not long ago, I bumped into my high school English teacher while taking the Metrorail downtown. Peggy Hall is retired now, but she and her partner Sandra Riley (another former teacher) have been writing poems, books and making films for years.

I just love Hall's homegrown South Florida verse in the form of a classical Italian sonnet. What local can't relate to this?

Seasonal Amnesia

Miami summer skies, puff-bloated black
by three o'clock, chase faces red or pale
from pink cabanas by the pools, assail
slow picnic parties with swift thunder cracks
and scare us all with lightning rickrack
quick-basted down from sky to sea—I shall
desist from piling up these dire details
and simply ask, Knowing this, who'd come back?

The old, who rise to take diurnal walks,
the young, who bed the day until sunset,
some Witnesses, who knock from door to door,
flambéed tourists, who come to shop and gawk,
and optimistic natives, who "forget"
each daily storm and crowd the blonde seashore.

As a highly creative team, Riley and Hall started a non-profit arts and culture organization that puts on some shows each year. This coming Saturday, July 12, Hall and others will be performing some of her poetry at the New Theatre in Coral Gables. Other events will follow in the summer. Visit Crystal Parrot Players for details.

HONKY TONK WOMAN GOES GHETTO

Speaking of poetry, I recently read my Pillow Poems at The Bohemia Room on Lincoln Road. Joining me were two other fellow poets, Carlos Miller and Brad Schenck, as well as 411 colleague Suzy C.

The theme that night was Cunnilinguistics: Erotic Poetry. You'd think that'd be a natural for me, right?

Our gorgeous, vivacious host welcomed me warmly but the audience reception was lukewarm. Not that there was anything wrong with the audience or with my little verses; my coffee-house-meets-boudoir groove was simply out of place. Kind of like that movie Save the Last Dance -- ballet in a hip-hop world.

However, I just loved the down and dirty rhythmic spoken word style of the other poets, so deliciously raunchy and unabashed. One woman sang a beautiful, soulful song -- a weekly crowd favorite. Surrounded by such talent and loungy DJ interludes, I can't think of a better way to spend late night on hump day, even if it will occasionally interfere with beauty sleep. I'll definitely be back, but first this white girl better play some funky music.

SEX AND THE GARDEN

I think I might have to change the title of this blog. After all, what could be sexier than a tryst in a lush, tropical garden, surrounding by the sweet, intoxicating scent of ylang ylang? Well, if you can get past the heat, humidity, bugs and pesky raccoons ... but heck, at least you wouldn't have any sand lodged in your crotch!

I started a new blog where I can go crazy with plant porn, but the only tryst I'm having in this garden is with those gorgeous trees, flowers and shrubs. And even if I just happened to slip on a banana peel and fall on top of a hunky, shirtless gardener, I wouldn't tell ... or would I?

Planet Manola: Of Madames and Spinsters

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

Have you ever been out on a date and felt exactly like this? Photo by Shveckle.

LOVE/HATE

A forum member at Talk Night Life posted a link to my Raleigh Runway Caper piece and inspired a little discussion, mainly about tourism. One member, however, expressed his opinion about Sex and the Beach:

that blog is pretty lame.

ohhhhh south beach, i love you i hate you i love you i hate you i blah blah blah

I realize this opinion was meant as negative criticism, but that second line is brilliant! Actually it made me laugh my ass off and I hope it gives my regular readers at least a good chuckle. Enjoy.

BARGAIN BLOW JOB BUS BUSTED!

Just when you thought Lincoln Road's Chabad bus synagogue-on-wheels was quaint, another bus comes along that gives whole new meaning to local culture, and by culture I don't mean the seat stains on the 25 cent South Beach local!

Nope, if you've seen that big-ass limo bus tooling around town, you've spotted a movable feast that would put Hemingway's debauchery to shame. According to The Herald, we now know for whom the bus blows:

Undercover Miami Beach detectives Sunday busted a brothel-on-wheels, which charged $40 admission and offered sex for sale inside.

On board: prostitutes, fully stocked bars and the bus' madame -- Christine Morteh, 29, of Miramar.

Cops have charged Morteh with engaging in, directing others to and deriving support from prostitution, as well as operating a business without license.

Oh for pete's sake! What took so long for this cult of fellatio bus to arouse erections instead of suspicion?

In an unconfirmed report, one male tourist arrested for soliciting prostitution on the bus claimed he was confused by false advertising. "Me no speak English. Me thought it was Duck Tour! D-U-C-K. Duck like quack quack, yes?" [via 411]

SPINSTER BASHING

In the movie Baby Mama, Kate (Tina Fey) has this interesting exchange with her mother, Rose (Holland Taylor). Rose doesn't understand why her daughter wants to be a single mom.

Rose: "Now, we have all adjusted to your alternative lifestyle."
Kate: "Mother, being single is not an alternative lifestyle."
Rose: "It is when you are 37 years old."

Ugh. Whenever I tell people I'm single, most react incredulously. "How's that possible? Why have you never been married?" And I quickly reply: "Because I avoided two divorces." That usually shuts them up.

tags: south beach, baby mama, christine morteh

Planet Manola: Pass the Vagina, Please

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!

Businesses of South Beach, you better be on your best behavior and nurture some class, because Manola doesn't mince her words! Photo by the amazing Miami Fever.

I just wanted to point out that while I am a lover of all things Greek, including hot poolboys who work without green cards at expensive Miami Beach hotels, I will NEVER patronize Taverna Opa South Beach for as long as I live, because I actually like to EAT food and not have napkins strewn all over the table while I am nibbling, much less have some skanky ho from Baltimore purloining a Mediterranean ethnicity while shaking her ass over my tzatziki, furthermore forcing me to scream in my dining companion's ear, because the music is so loud, only worsening my already bad case of tinitis.

However, the food is good. Pity ... maybe you can do take-out and open an otolaryngolist office next door.

And to add insult to indigestion at this part half-assed tourist trap strip-joint, part eatery is the utter rudeness of some bartenders. My first tender poured me exactly what I wanted for $9. Now call me crazy, but on a writer's budget, that's already pretty pricey, but he was young, short, dark, fabulously gay and the citrusy martini was perfect. What could possibly go wrong if the end product of fun, social and warm banter between a lady and her tender is a refreshing beverage? Nothing, right?

Now about an hour and a half later, my second tender poured me the same drink for $12. She was bleached blonde, highly bitchy ... come to think of it, if Jane Austen were alive and writing the sequel to Pride and Prejudice, she would've been one of Bingley's intolerably arrogant sisters.

I asked the first bartender why I was now paying an additional $4 for the same drink even though there was no clear distinction of happy hour. A discussion ensued between both bartenders and she averted her gaze while I signed my tab. He smiled politely. Kudos to him, for not letting his vagina get in the way of good service.

So let me get this straight ... at Taverna Opa, the grand central of all South Beach kitchiness, only one wikipedia entry away from absolutely tacky (I'd rather go to Mango's, at least you're expecting tacky!) ... you will pay more for goods and services, if you happen to have a vagina and another vagina is serving your drink. Not only that, but you have to eat with a vagina shimmying on the table and she's not even stomping on grapes or mortaring your chick peas!

And now this has me concerned. Is South Beach really all that unfriendly to the heterosexual female tourist? I should hope not. I'm a toughened local, but shame, shame, shame to these bitchy servers who would get all PMS on your ass when it comes to hospitality.

Do y'all think we walk around taking blood samples in white slacks and white leather pumps like Calleigh Duquesne on Miami CSI? Or are there real women in this town who want a fair price on their martinis, served happily by gay bartenders? Oh, where's Horatio Cane and his brand of justice when I need him?

PS ... more kudos to Joe's Take-Away, they unquestionably provided change for the parking meter, even though I didn't buy a damn thing. I'm definitely going back there for some quiet nosh.

tags: south beach, greek, bitch

Planet Manola: Club Douche, Balls and Dating

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!


Learn more about Club Deuce here.

Well my birthday week was quite intense. As you can see, I grew a whole new head of hair, courtesy of Beatnix, a new and vintage clothing and accessory store located at 1149 Washington Avenue. The shop is great for all your drag queen needs -- wigs, fake eyelashes, fishnets, platform heels and more at reasonable prices!

TITS AND TESTICLES

Uploaded with Skitch! Original photo by the fabulous Shveckle.

Well, even though this blog is a single woman's guide to chronic living, I wanted to point out some very cool things going on in the world where testosterone reigns supreme. Remember breast cancer awareness month? How about health problems involving the other two ballsy objects we love to fondle? Even though November is almost over, it's not too late to sponsor Darren Rowse of Problogger for Movember.

IT TAKES BALLS TO DATE IN SOUTH BEACH

Speaking of playing with balls -- of the pool and ping-pong variety -- my new friend Scott from Ipanemic has shared some candid tales about dating in South Beach. Navigating the relationship waters in this town full of transient folk is not easy. Such courage I do admire!

Read his first, second and third dates, respectively.

Planet Manola: Sowing Your Wild Oats

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently. If you are easily offended, do not read on!

"Comfort me with apples for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head and his right hand doth embrace me." -- Song of Schlomo

Memo to Employees of Wild Oats in South Beach: Although we embrace the diversity of our employees and respect your tongues, we kindly ask that you please refrain from referring to cunninilingus in the presence of our customers. Kind regards, Human Resources Department

OVERHEARD AT WILD OATS YESTERDAY

Clerk: Yo Ricky, where's Rocko?

Cashier: Lo vi saliendo del carro despues de mamar su geva. (I saw him get out of the car after he went down on his bitch.)

Clerk: How do you know?

Cashier: (rubs hand over mouth): He was wiping it off, man.

Clerk: So where is he now?

Cashier (shrugs shoulders): I don't know.

What if the same conversation had taken place at Kosher World?


Sofi also overhears plenty of interesting conversations ...

tags: sex, song of solomon, wild oats, humor, audio, cunnilingus

Planet Manola: Tancredolandia

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

BREAKING NEWS! We interrupt this blog to stray from the subject of sex!

Greetings, citizens of the world, far and wide. It has come to my attention that communication is a major issue in third world countries such as Darfur Miami. So Maestra Manola Finlandia, an expert in Spanglish who teaches at the Ritz Carlos School of Language, has taken on a philanthropic mission paralleled only by Bradgelina to teach the world the language of the new America.

Listen, screw all the news. Many of you bitch about Hispanics but none of you have paid any thought to this very interesting phenomenon: the hard-working, highly-intellectual Cuban-Americans raised in Miami who aren't some yahoos living in mud huts. My Cubanos ... you know who you are and I'm not talking about stogies! It's time we made a statement and flung some verbal frituras de bacalao out into the world!


THIS IS FUCKING AMERICA, GET OVER IT YOU PASTY-FACED CHILDREN OF SLAVE OWNERS FROM TEN GENERATIONS AGO WHO ORIGINALLY CAME FROM EUROPEAN POTATO FARMERS! ONE-LANGUAGE SPEAKING XENOPHOBIC DOLT WHO CAN'T DANCE DOESN'T EXACTLY SPELL WORDLY SOPHISTICATION OR HUMAN WISDOM, EH? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT WHEN THE PENINSULA IS SITUATED SO CLOSELY TO OTHER COUNTRIES? WAR, IMMIGRATION, EXILE, LINGUISTIC CROSS-POLLINATION, ETC; IS LIKE THE M.O. OF WORLD HISTORY AND CULTURE ALREADY! SO DON'T LORD IT OVER ME, YOU HONKY ASSHOLE!

Oh, but Maestra Manola Finlandia has enjoyed deep, rich irony in her life, such as the fact that she too is pasty-faced. Favorite line:

"You're Cuban? Really? I would've never thought so. I thought all people not from America were black and stupid and didn't speak English. Who knew? You're whiter than my South Beach bleached ass and have blue eyes. What's more, your English diction is more impeccable than the Oxford Dictionary tear sheets the Queen uses to wipe her ass on the royal toilet. How can you possibly be Cuban?"

See, apparently many Americans have an issue with Spanish. They get so pissed off about it, they even cancel blogs. Shit! It doesn't matter that the man who "discovered" America was a greedy Genovese (that's Italy, people) mother fucker who screwed the Queen of Spain to kill a bunch of Indians and deplete this continent of its natural resources just to fill his own pocket and masturbate to the cross while millions of Jews and Muslims were being slaughtered in a horrible inquisition.

He spoke Spanish, you say? Well, then that's it. Although not documented, it is said that Sir Francis Drake refused to clink his glass of calvados with Old Columbo! This may have had to do with the fact that one was dead, but heck, it was pirates in the Caribbean back then, and you know ... oh and less does it matter that the first fucking city in the territory currently know as the United States of America was St. Augustine, Florida, founded by a bunch of spick monks. Damn!

Oh and all those desperate English-speaking people who took the bangers-and-mash boat over from England to land in Plymouth because they hated their greedy, disgusting rancid-smelling fat pig of a king who dispensed with wives like he spit out peach pits inspite of all this Magna Carta crap, they were a bunch of mother fuckers also.

Y'all, half of them stayed sequestered in the Appalachians and came out with Pork BBQ and Southern twang, as well as a predilection for maudlin, melodious songs. All these idiots were followed by genocidal-crazy Germans who ended up killing a bunch of Jews (oh no! just broke Godwin's law!), lightbulb-challenged Polacks, pizza-tossing Italians and so forth, while all the peeps who used to live here were treated like shit.

And there you have it, the history of America in one fell swoop. IS IT ANY WONDER WE ARE A 231-YEAR-OLD COUNTRY? GOD BLESS AMERICA! MORE OR LESS THE SAME SHIT THAT HUMANITY HAS BEEN DOING SINCE DAY ONE IS GOING ON NOT JUST HERE BUT EVERYWHERE.

Conclusion: we are all a bunch of assholes from somewhere else and in spite of this, so many amazing people born here have made a positive dent in the history of the world. What would the earth do without the chongas from Hialeah going viral? I'm telling ya, there's hope yet!

PATRIOT PORK

Do you or don't you go for pork? This should be the international law of war. Think about it: isn't the current bellicosity divided so?

Here's what I say: cultures that cook pork should not go to war: this includes, well, everybody excepts for Jews and Muslims but pastrami and goat are fair substitutes. Damn, I ate choucroute French version of bangers and mash in Strasbourg and that was a 2,000 year old city. In fact, my first love, the Nazi, was so into lard that his grandmother tried to pass it off to me as a delicacy while we dined in Cologne. So shut the fuck up and let's have peace and break bread over the caja china, ok?

Hot tamale delivery service aint necessarily a bad thing! Want a taste of the real Tancredolandia? Visit the dangerous blonde! And do support our troops, especially if you are against the war and want peace. I don't care what you believe. Peace starts in the heart, one conversation, one letter, one person at a time.

BACK TO SEX IN MIAMI

In other news, the Miami construction bubble may be burst, but at least someone is making good use of all those cranes!

YOUR SPANGLISH LESSON

Learn all about Tiki Tiki, an indispensable Spanglish word, sort of like a tampon. Especial tanks to Guayn Kokran's hair and to Tere la mamasita mas rica!



tags: miami, tancredo, spanglish

Planet Manola: Kooks vs. Books

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

I want to see pictures of boys' pee pees!

VAMOS TO HELL

Just because we simply haven't had enough warmongering among the males of the local blogosphere about the clusterfuck known as the "Miami-Dade School Board Does Not Heart a Book Called Vamos a Cuba," let's look at some of Manola's favorite reads, which have been considered unsuitable for the tender minds of innocent Americans.

Decameron by Boccacio: Call Homeland Security! All those damn Italians yapping about Muslims having orgies!
Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller: All those damn American expat writers having sex with French whores in Paris and washing their genitals in bidets! Ew!
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner: You sicko, your dead mother is not a MILF!
Canterbury Tales by Chaucer: That Wife of Bath was some skanky old ho!
Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence: Crippled husband with no penis? Yum! Can I have fries with that?
Lord of the Flies by William Golding: Stupid ass title. Americans worship fries, people!
Little Red Riding Hood by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm: You know what the big bad wolf really wanted, eh?
Candide by Voltaire: Those damn French people again! Over the limit in allowable number of rapes and disembowlments per chapter!
Ulysses by James Joyce: Ew, Irish women menstruate and men fart? That's not literature! Gross!

Who needs fuckin' books anyway? They only fill your mind with gobbledygook and make you question things. Who has time for that shit? Let's just get rid of all books in all school libraries. We could fill up the stacks with Martha Stewart tchotchkes from Kmart!

I JUST CALLED TO SAY I LOVE YOU

Ladies, here's some practical advice from Maestra Manola.



tags: books, vamos a cuba, miami, parody, audiocast, satire, spanglish

Planet Manola: Is Your Bunghole Spotty?

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.



MIAMI BLEACH

Intrepid New Times reporter Joanne Green wanders into a waxing salon on South Beach and discovers bunghole bleaching. Just when you thought human beings couldn't possibly be more vain and shallow, a genius invents Anal Bleach Cream. Let me tell you something: if you are peering at my asshole, you better not fucking complain about the shade of its complexion. Have some manners, you sicko!

Now here's a product we must have! Where did I put the phone number of that pharmaceutical company exec who brought me drinks at ... ?

CYBERSPACE VS. MEATSPACE

What's up with people trying to hook up through blogs? Just because a woman writes about sex doesn't mean she's advertising her interest in dating to the world. Let me tell you something: a blog is not a fucking personals ad. You want to date? Go to fucking mismatch.com, ok? As a matter of fact, the author of this blog is a pimply, overweight raging lesbian Buddhist monk mother of three brats spawned by Mighty Dyckerson with a terrible case of gonorrhea who suffers from boils and lives on welfare while practicing abstinence. And no, you can't nominate me for Jerry Springer's show. I love my privacy. Fuckin' A.

PS ... NY Mary, are you proud of my Queen's English?

I'M PROUD OF MY BIG CUBAN ASS

Ay mi Celia! Mi reina! The world is not the same without you, but your legacy lives on! You were the body electric, mama! You put the song in our hearts and the wiggle in our butts. Whenever anyone gives me shit about being Cuban, I just want to hold up a banner that says: don't mess with the memory of Celia! AZUCAR!

So just in case you thought South Beach was full of vain and shallow people who want their assholes to look like a newborn baby's scalp, let me remind you that our fair island does boast some signigicant culture. Don't miss the exhibit devoted to Cuban music's firebrand at the Ass Museum of Fart Bass Museum of Art, ongoing until August 19.

PIMP ME WITH A CHERRY ON TOP

Join the author of this blog at Miami Beach 411 for sizzling coverage of Top Chef Miami!



Beach sex photograph courtesy of never-ceases-to-amaze-me Miami Fever.

tags: miami beach, anal, south beach, butt, bleach, celia cruz

Planet Manola: Dating Sucks Ass

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

Ah, puppy love! So young, naive, hopeful and utterly blind!

LOVE IN THE TIME OF DIARRHEA

Actually, who are we kidding? Most grown-ups have their heads up their asses when it comes to love. Case in point: my dear friend Yvette, who does not have her head up her ass, but has dated many assholes -- literally.

I can count one hand the number of times in my life I have uttered to another human being the words, "I have diarrhea." There are lots of other ways to say that you are unwell. Saying that your stomach is upset does the job nicely. Saying that you have a stomach "thing" is universally understood. But the professor said, "I have horrible, horrible diarrhea!"

Now, even though I refrain from dating in my present life, I still take to heart some very sage advice Sir Fish A Lot's mother once shared with me. A retired police officer, she was the first white woman to walk a beat in the Bronx, so you know she's one tough cookie. "Whenever a man breaks your heart, just think of him taking a dump on the shitter."

When I was a crazy South Beach girl actively dating all kinds of loonies I met on mismatch.com, I used this advice preemptively. Why wait until he disappoints you? Whenever you decide to be a lemur and take that leap of faith called the first date, just picture the man in front of you taking a dump on the shitter. If the thought makes you want to run to the bathroom and hurl then you know he's not the one for you. But if you're able to see past that then proceed to date number two.

EXPIRATION DATES

Top ten warning signs on subsequent dates:

1. He brings alcohol to the movies, beer to bed and drinks giant margaritas with gummy fish.
2. He argues with you about the location of the urethra relative to the vagina and he's not your ob/gyn.
3. He's a Chilean who makes sophomoric and insensitive jokes about Cubans and you're Cuban.
4. He expresses vehement hatred toward entire foreign civilizations.
5. He's 46 years old and throws rocks at cats.
6. He tells your friend, whom he just met and is serving dinner at her home, that she doesn't know how to cook.
7. He blows smoke in your face even though you don't smoke.
8. He takes you to a cheap all-you-can-eat sushi dump and tells you about the million dollar condo he's about to buy on Collins Avenue.
9. He takes your hand, places it on his dick and says "Look how big it is!" All this while hugging good night in front of people dining outdoors at Smith and Wollensky.
10. And last but not least ... he takes a dump in your toilet and forgets to flush!

PARSLEY, SAGE, ROSEMARY AND GROSS

And speaking of gross, do you remember Oregano Man? OMG, he was standing in line behind me at the Morningside Publix the other day! I haven't seen this man in nearly 20 years and he still looked like he had just bathed in a vat of EVOO!

SIR FISH A LOT TAKES A HIKE

I received some exciting news the other day. EX BF #2 is going to do the Appalachian Trail and write a book about his experience. He will spend six months hiking the trail from Georgia to Maine. I am very happy for him. He's such a talented writer with a great passion for the outdoors, much of which he shared with me. I wish him a safe journey and Godspeed!

Photograph of young lovers kissing at the 41st street lifeguard stand courtesy of locarbhiflavor.

tags: dating, humor, shit, love, miami beach

Planet Manola: Cleavage Conundrum

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

The South Beach Steering Committee, Lincoln Road

What can I say? At a very jaded 39 years of age (none the worse for wear), I have suddenly become aware of THE POWER OF BOOB. Never mind that Rubens and Goya channeled me before I was even born and that my girls have been exhibited proudly at many renown museums and art galleries around the world. Never mind that in my wild South Beach days I wouldn't leave the house without a credit card, a pack of condoms and décolletage. No, never mind all that -- it took my BFF Nectarina to point out the obvious to me yesterday:

"Girl, do you know that guy? He's been staring lustfully at you for the last ten minutes with a smirk on his face!"

"No, I don't know him," I answer as he scoots away on his moped.

"Girl, you got boob power."

What? I'm wearing a baggy, old Target tank top. I'm not even remotely showing tit, because believe me, as any South Beach girl knows, if you want to show tit, twat or toe it's not only easy, it's acceptable. It's hot and muggy as a rutting elephant's ass, anyway. Stubble-free armpit is as far as sartorial finesse goes in this climate; tailored twats are more important than haberdashery.

But still, to be stared at like a sidewalk peep show and not even benefit from the price of emission?

Sure, in my baggy, old Target tank top, you can see a little pathway from the hills into the valley of pleasure, but what's the big deal? Aren't model types with fake boobs parading before us in this tourist haven? Doesn't everyone's stylist down here have a background in professional fluffing?

And it made me wonder: could it possibly be that men are finding naturally beautiful, intelligent, vivacious women with a modicum of class far more interesting? Or do I have a sign plastered on my forehead that says BLOW JOBS 99 cents?

It wouldn't be the first time last night I'd receive lustful stares.

Alas, there are more questions than answers to the cleavage conundrum. But I do know this, ladies: there is nothing more beautiful, more powerful and more intoxicating than knowing age is but a number and that sexy is about not being the insecure, pitiful younger version of yourself, smaller jeans and tighter shirts not withstanding.

Here's the real conundrum: Being beautiful and not appreciating yourself: worthless. Being who you are and appreciating yourself as beautiful: priceless.

I know so many women who find fault with themselves even when they are dazzling beauties. I invite you to come to the place I've found. Come to the real South Beach of your mind, not the cover of magazines nor the adolescent fantasies of men. This is Manola's South Beach and it's accessible to anyone with guts and chutzpah, I don't care if you're flat-chested or have nuclear warhead nipples.

While sipping Trappist Ale at The Crabby Bar, Nectarina and I met some gentleman. One of them was gay and told me: "You're at least a C-cup."

Yes, my darling. A C-cup and so much more, a world of wonder here on this little island. I'll raise my cup of Chimay to that!

UPDATE: Speaking of boobs, have you taken care of yours today?

Photography courtesy of guess who? Locarbhiflavor!

tags: south beach, cleavage, tit, self-esteem

Planet Manola: Strap On!

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

Don't laugh! Absolutely adorable Anna from across the pond knows that sex toys aren't always the key to happiness!

SPERMALICIOUS

It's official! Sex and the Beach has crossed over into six digits, receiving 100,000 page loads this afternoon! Eh, seriously, who cares? What's 100K when some jackass jerking off at internet porn produces up to 500 million sperm?

So in honor of this momentous non-ejaculatory event, I'd like to ponder the following questions:

1. Would Rainman count each and every sperm?

2. What if fertility clinics had Technorati rankings? "Over 71 million sperm, some of them have to be good."

3. Can "sorry, I'm allergic to your sperm" be a good break-up line?

4. We know sperm is vegan but is a strap-on kosher?

5. Will insurance companies cover repetitive stain injuries on a fluffer?

STRAPPING FELLAS

Speaking of fluff, huff and puff, there's a new kid in town: South Beach Man Whore just started blogging about his sex life in HoBe, which I sorely needed to live vicariously, since HoBe Boobette, one of my dearest hos, found true love and moved to Hollywood, California. Move over, Adam Carolla: I see White Dade and Man Whore hosting the HoBe Man Show!

WHAT TO DO WHEN ACCOSTED BY A MONSTER

zOMG, would this be Manola's kid or what? Such chutzpah at a tender age!



tags: sperm, you tube, kick his ass, strap on, humor, dildo, south beach

Planet Manola: Jealous Bitch!

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

33139 is a culturally sophisticated neighborhood, look it: little red riding ho and bladder bro piss the night away in mojitoville!

BUILD CONTENT AND THEY WILL CUM!

zOMG! I got my first hate comment! So exciting! You know, you're not famous until someone hates you, so I guess Manola is honest-to-goodness famous now. And you know what? Since Manola is the semi-fictional fabricated voice of a persona created by the author of this blog with the intention of producing humorous yet thoughtful content, it really doesn't matter a rodent's rump what anyone who hasn't bothered to read all 207 posts thinks.

Ah ha! How exciting is it to be labeled as a vapid celebrity-mongering bimbo when your author is a professional wily wordsmith who doesn't give a shit about Miami?

Yeah, buildings, schmildings! Why would an award-winning published poet and rogue cartoonist who practices yoga give a shit about her community? Well, as Paris Hilton would say, "that's so hot!"

zOMG but wait, somebody's paying Manola to blog about crap! Yeah, that's right! She couldn't possibly be serious, could she? She gets paid to write!

IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EVERY PERVERT ...

And what's more, who cares about anyone's sour grapes when you hold top Googlegasms for monster clitoris? That's 1OOK page loads for the most random search engine requests like "ay papi" and "shit stain thong" in less than six months!

Because you know, returning visitors don't nearly excite my IP as much as you random sicko psycho fuckheads who land here as a result of your pornographic proclivities. Seriously, I write for no reason at all! Let the great bunghole vacuum of inane literature live long and persist! Let me never publish a serious word that could possibly be redeeming to another human being again! I shall wallow in my B CUP BOOBS and lusty vocabulary for all time! Oh my! Oh my!

(Seriously, Coconut Grove Grapevine is my favorite blog about one of my favorite places on earth. Rock on, CGG! Also on the neighborhood watchdog radar: Verticus, Transit, Boom or Bust and of course, SToP as well as CM. Oh and let me not forget that special someone who gives a shit and talks it too. Ay papi! I wish I could channel Charo right now. Que rico all those Miami blogs and many others not mentioned here besides!)

LADIES IN RED

The fabulous Commission On The Status of Women (PDF) held a peaceful march on Lincoln Road this past Tuesday. Manola -- who clearly only cares about celebrities kissing on the beach -- sported a fugly red blouse, marched on and conversed with commissioner Matti Herrera-Bower. Did you know competent, intelligent women are still being jilted out of fair salaries? What's more: Latinas and black women get slashed just because! Pissed off enough yet? I am and I don't even work at a rock pile!

TWITTER ME SOFTLY WITH HIS SCHLONG

zOMG! Move over Manolo Blahniks, Twitter is the new twat, trust me. Look it, if you're reading this, you're already sucked into web 2.0, so take it to the next level! Get Twitter'd NOW!













Piss photograph courtesy of the fantastic Chuck meister photographer of my dreams! Commissioner Matti captured by locarbhiflavor.

tags: yfly, miami beach, blog

Planet Manola: Pinga Versus Papaya

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

Manola's Glamorous Workday

In case you think Manola's glamorous celebrity workday involves being devoured by Colin Farrell, buying shoes, going for a pedicure and fielding non-stop phone calls from admirers, think again. Just look at my desktop.

I don't believe in multi-tasking and neither does Some Cranky Guy. What's the point of doing a million things at lightning speed? Why can't the world just do ONE THING RIGHT? No wonder everyone has ADD now. Yeah, that's right. I'm Addicted to Ding Dongs. Aren't you?

Oh, but I really love my widgets. Mac widget developers, please consider creating one called dildo, another serving the function of nap and pretty please, one that gives insta-shoulder rubs. Well, at least I have English to Pirate Translator on my dashboard.

Random Celebrity Smooching on Miami Beach

As per usual, some famous dudes were sort of having sex on the beach this weekend. The formerly estranged husband-and-wife team of Travis Barker (drummer from Blink 182) and Shanna Moakler (Playboy playmate) have reconciled for the moment and were showing us how it's done right. No multi-tasking here, baby!

Travis is sporting some serious tattoos but that kiss is quite cute, don't you think?

Yipee! Sex is fun! Woo hoo!

Photography courtesy of Mavrix Chatter. Copyright Mavrix Photo, Inc.

Technorati: Please Don't Pinga or Papaya Your Subscribers

Why is pinging called pinging? Every time I go into technorati and ping myself I am reminded of a most unpleasant word in the Spanish language. Seriously, why not call it papaya?

tags: miami beach, travis barker, shanna moakler, kiss, sex, mac, ping, technorati