In a series of ironic adventures, I was asked to review this book for Dr. Jennifer Ashton, an Ob-Gyn in New Jersey. Ironic, because my last term in school revolved around my own writing of “postpartum” manuals for women, but in a “straight talk” sort of way that really makes my heart sing. If you’ve really been following my blog, you may have noticed that my current (and last) term is about female sexuality (and its evolution in literature and society, as defined in...
On Saturday, I woke up very, very sore, like I had somehow done aerobics (because that happens in my world) or a couple of hours of ATS drills. My legs hurt in ways that are totally not explainable by random acts of belly dance, yoga or anything else that is usually the culprit in my world. I was sore in a way that was almost concerning, but then I fell back on the bed in a puddle of giggles because I remembered what I’d done: I danced in public. For hours. Flashback about 15 years ago, when...
I don’t know, it was something about the subtle endorsement of Lady Gaga by the almighty Elton John (I cried, because I AM that dorktastic) that has sucked me into the Grammy’s. So, here’s my “live-as-it-happens-even-if-you-only-read-about-it-tomorrow” commentary. Steven Colberrrrrr. He’s just part of the group sex I’ll one day have with Jon Stewart and Q. Or not. But he’s awesome. J-Lo. Wow, uh, didn’t see that one coming. And announcing Green...
