Hugo

Fifty Shades of Grape

On a recent trip to the liquor store, I learned that this exists:

Bottle also serves as a handy butt plug.

Bottle also serves as a handy butt plug.

I knew of other tie-ins with the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy like a soundtrack, a neck tie and a flushable tampon (maybe) so the inclusion of wine is not all surprising.

Wine plays a big role in the books–at least it did for me because I needed to drink quite a bit of it to slog through the 15,000 pages dealing with Ana’s dampness and Christian’s hair-thrusting.

The wine website includes a choice Christian quote that reminded me why I was drunk most of the time:

“If you spill the wine, I will punish you, Miss Steele.”

Awwww……..

So romantic?

I planned to write a post saying the wine likely tasted of hackneyed writing, greased butt plugs and despair, but that felt too easy, and, as you may be aware by reading my recraps of the series, I enjoy inflicting pain upon myself.

I felt humiliated purchasing the bottle so I figured it put me in the right mindset to sample it.

fiftygrapes

I feel so defeated…let’s crack this puppy open!

I must confess something. I’m not exactly sophisticated. While I do sometimes wear a top hat and cape whilst watching Real Housewives of Dogpatch, I know very little about the art of drinking wine. I know there’s a lot of sniffing and swishing and spitting and sobbing and drunk Facebooking, but that’s about it.

I decided to do a search and thought about the perfect search terms to get exactly what I needed:

50sheep

This led to a picture of Christian Bale in American Psycho. Not bad, Google.

I tried another tactic and found an article on how to taste wine “like a pro.”

Apparently it is important to place the wine into a glass rather than an old shoe or a taxidermied hamster. Fair point, well made, wine-tasting article.

I didn’t want to use any ol’ glass, but something extra special.

hugomugNext, you hold the glass in your hand rather than something else like a foot or nipple clamp.

Nailed it.

Nailed it.

You swish it around or I swear to god, I will beat you…sorry, sorry,…I just channeled Christian Grey for a second. Swish it around in the glass, then taste it with different parts of your tongue. This makes more sense then dumping the contents over your head.

It’s recommended to pair red wine with cumin-spiced burgers topped with Harissa mayo.

whole wheat pop cakes were likely a second option.

whole wheat pop cakes were likely a second option.

Hmmmm. It sort of smells like feet or tires, but maybe that’s the Hugo mug?  It tastes a bit bitter and makes my tongue feel numb like I just injected it with novocaine. How bizarre–the exact reaction the books had on my brain.

I’m forgetting one of my important drinking rules, which is never drink alone.

handg

It’s 5 p.m. somewhere, right? Up top. handg2For those unfamiliar, Hugo and Goofy were the stars of my Fifty Shades recrap. What do you think Goofy?

goofytries

Hugo?

hugotriesThere you have it, folks. Two butt plugs down.

The Final Countdown

Today marks the last post in the Anonymous Le Contest of Secular Holidayness.

I promise it will be worth your time to head on over to Le Clown’s blog. I think today’s post may contain dick pics and who doesn’t love dick pics.

weinerroast

For those slightly confused by the above sentences, Le Clown has been displaying anonymous posts all week. Your job is to figure out who wrote them.

Your choices are:

Those who participate have the chance of winning something pretty amazing. I don’t want to give too much away, but I have caught Hugo doing some provocative selfies in the bathroom so basically: dick pics.

Le Clown will reveal the results in a star-studded special on Dec. 24 hosted by Ryan Seacrest and a sock puppet Ryan made to look like Dick Clark. Justin Bieber will unveil his new song titled “Irrelevance” and then be thrown into a pit filled with rabid wolves. It will be truly something.

And just because I want to mention this again: dick pics.

Shit’s Gettin Real

Wow…that’s a terrible title, but probably will help you pick my post out of the line up.

That’s right! It’s day 2 in the “Who Wrote This Post” contest over at Le Clown’s Clown Car Round-up

If you’re late to the game, you still have a shot to post a comment and guess who wrote the anonymous posts. You have the following choices:

There’s also a chance the post was written by Donald Trump or some other fictional character.

To give you a heads up, my post will not contain any Hugo reference or my standard stock photo nonsense like so:

nutsack

There are prizes! My prize is a picture of Hugo twerking on Miley Cyrus’s tongue. If that’s not incentive enough, I don’t know what is.

The Most Dangerous Game

No, not really, but I am participating in this cool “Guess Who Wrote This?” game over at Le Clown’s Clown Emporium.

Every day this week, an anonymous holiday post will run and you have to guess who wrote it. It could be Le Clown, Madame Weebles, Rarasaur, Jen of Sips of Jen and Tonic or me.

Or it could have been miraculized into being by White Baby Jesus. That’s how tricky this guessing game is.

I’m trying so hard not to give it away, but my piece has stuff in it and things too. And it’s running on a day that ends in “day.”

Fuck.

I totally just gave it away.

So please visit all week and boost up Le Clown’s stats (Dammit!!! Now I know why he did this!!!!) whilst mine continue their dive down the toilet.

I believe there are prizes. One is a $35-off coupon for a free lobotomy performed by Hugo. I realize that makes no sense, but I find it best never to question him.

Make me proud, people.

The End

We have finally crossed the NaBloWriMo finish line! Doesn’t it feel great?

No, not really. I kind of feel like one of those marathon runners who can’t control their legs or bowels and collapses into a fecal-covered mess at the end.

According to my stats, the most popular post of the month was Deep Thoughts With Hugo. Typical.

hugothinksMy least popular post was If the Bra Fits which was about my chest and how I could not find a bra to fit it properly.

hugothinks2Thanks, Hugo.

I was curious to examine my writing this month so I stuck a bunch of passages into Wordle to create a word cloud. If you are unfamiliar with Wordle, the more you use a word, the bigger it will appear in your word cloud. I seem to be a big user of “just” and “fuck”

wordcloudSince it is The End, I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my dear friend Jen of Sips of Jen and Tonic for agreeing to engage in this exercise of despair and masochism. I also like to thank rarasaur for organizing the Nano Poblano Team, a team of bloggers that I may now have the time to actually visit their blogs, BlogHer and YeahWrite.

And in conclusion, just fuck celebrity side butt.

 

 

 

Hugo Gives Thanks

Hugo feels he has not been in the spotlight enough during the daily posting fecal maelstrom known as NaBloWriMo so I decided to let him share what he’s thankful for this Thanksgiving.

hugothanksOkay. Not too creepy. I like the hat.

hugothanks2Aw, that’s kind of sweet, Hugo.

hugothanks3Okay, this is getting a bit weird.

hugothanks4Um…

hugothanks5Maybe talk about something else?

hugothanks6Ew.

hugothanks7Uh…

hugothanks8Okay, I’m going to stop this….what? You have one more, Hugo?

Fine. Go ahead.

hugothanks9Wonderful.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Speaker7 is engorging on gravy today, the greatest day of all. She has only a few posts left thank gravy!

Here Lies Speaker7

The anniversary of the afternoon I shot out of my mother’s birth canal is this week.


For some reason, my mother felt this was the appropriate time to take a tour of the cemetery to pick out our family burial plot.

birthdaydeath

There are possible more morbid ways to ring in another year of life.

We could have gone casket shopping:

casketshoppingOr attended a slideshow lecture on organ putrefaction.

You will thank me for this.

You will thank me for this.

I haven’t been excited about my birthday for awhile. My knees are creakier, my memory is shoddier and my knees are creakier.

My husband says “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

Now I know the alternative will be a hole on a hill or a hole near the main thoroughfare.

My mother wanted to know what my dying self preferred. I tried to imagine where I’d like to be once I shuffled off this mortal coil.

urnthinkingSpeaking of cremation, did you know you that you can get an urn in the likeness of your head?

Not the slightest bit creepy.

Not the slightest bit creepy.

hugolikesI’m shocked that Hugo has inserted himself into this moment. He seems to think he has the final decision over what happens to me in the end.

hugoplansMy husband is right. Getting older is wayyyyyyyyy better.

At this moment of publishing Speaker7 is even closer to her demise. What a better way to spend her remaining days, but writing a daily post as a member of the Nano Poblano Team?

Deep Thoughts with Hugo

You may have seen an earlier post in this scorching hemorrhoid known as NaBloWriMo where I inspired the world.

Well Hugo has been busy coming up with his own inspiration. For new readers, Hugo is a creepy half-man puppet who lives in my house. Do not look directly into his eyes.

I apologize in advance:

hugodeepthought2

hugodeepthought5

hugodeepthought

hugodeepthought4

hugodeepthought7

hugodeepthought6

hugodeepthought3Hugo is helping Speaker7 get through this shitfuck month of writing a daily post as a member of Nano Poblano Team. Theres’s a 97 percent chance that Hugo is lurking outside your window this very moment. 

NaNoFaLaTiDo

I am foolishly participating in this thingy where I write a post every day this month. I think it should go well because I used the word “thingy” in the previous sentence and this shows my creative juices are thingy.

I did this last year with Jen of the illustrious Sips of Jen and Tonic, the most hilarious blog on the nets of Inter. I had thought the endeavor would be a tad easier than NaNoWriMo, the national novel writing month, but it turned out writing a daily post was about as fun as trying to come up with an analogy for this sentence. A lemon juice enema? A Miley Cyrus tongue bath? A Miley Cyrus tongue enema?

I still got it.

I believe I’ve conned Jen into doing NaBloWriMo because we have a beautiful masochistic relationship.

There are many reasons why I will fail and you will likely not see another post after this one:

  1. Now that it gets dark so early, I feel it completely unnecessary to be awake past 6 p.m.
  2. My husband is running for local office and the last time I saw him was on a campaign flyer asking for my vote.
  3. There is a small person who demands most of my time. His name is Hugo. I also have a three-year-old son.

cutiepie4. Obamacare

5. They have come out with an Angus Beef version of Hot Pockets

Jen had asked me what I planned to write about and I replied “Hot pockets.”

I still got it.

Massage Freak

I am getting a massage today.

I’ve never had one before. I don’t think rubbing against the Criss Angel waxwork at Madame Tussaud counts. Although I did get my mind “freaked.”

crissangelMy last birthday my husband gave me a gift certificate to a swanky spa. It has heated foot pools, herbal-infused steam rooms, rich people and unicorn rides.

I made the appointment a couple of days ago because I have been feeling tense. We had a death in the family. I feel like I’m treading water in my professional life. My husband is running for political office. And like Demi Lovato, I am worried about Miley Cyrus’ twerking.

Of course, the spa phone call made me even more tense because I’m generally awkward when dealing in unfamiliar subjects. I ended up ordering the “Monet” massage, which I guess involves being kneaded with a rolled-up Water Lillies poster.

I was told to arrive early and bring my bathing suit so I can enjoy the other “amenities.” Jesus christ, I have to wear a bathing suit now? Maybe I can also rewatch that film strip about a girl’s changing body to feel the highest level of discomfort.

The whole spa idea makes me a bit anxious. I’m not much for pampering. I did get a manicure once before my wedding, and sweated through the whole process trying to make agonizing small talk with the manicurist.

Did you know that it looks like your nails grow after you die? That’s because your skin is receding and decaying. . . Oh, you just do one nail for a manicure? It looks good. Thanks.

My limited understanding of massages comes from playing the Justin Bieber Massage game.

justinbieber

I’m hoping my experience involves less hubris and trucker hats.

Maybe I would feel more comfortable if I took someone with me, someone who has gone through the experience and knows what to expect.

hugomassage

On second thought, maybe I’ll keep Hugo at home.