FIGHT ON

SC's first home game of the season vs. Colorado State: 49-0

to all the Trojans who couldn't be with us at the Coliseum...well, we wish you coulda been here....

To Vicky, Tusk just wasn't the same without you, though I still managed to look severely retarded (with my tumbleweed cape - wtf?).

To Ray, don't leave us again.  Who else will we make fun of?  What other painfully heterosexual male will Jen and I be able to play dress-up with?  Why must you continue your search for bisexual brunettes with British accents and dental problems?  Who else would sit with me all Saturday watching reruns of the Surreal Life and eating three pizzas and not showering?  Oh, don't go, Ray. But if you have to, don't forget:

NO PLANTS, NO GANTS, NO MUSTACHES.

My First Week

Well, it was my first week for a few things.  Monday, bright and muphuckin EARLY, I trekked over to Port Hueneme for my first day of classroom observation.   I've been assigned to a second grade class.  The first thing I got to do was handle a knife - it was to cut up apples for a taste test activity the kids were going to do.  But isn't it disturbing that they let me into a classroom and hand me a knife without ever having checked my background?

It was pretty funny to hear the teacher say things that would send me back to my own school days, like, "I really like the way table two is prepared and has all their eyes on me," or, "Jose, I notice how you're being very neat today and I never had to say anything, thank you!" or, "Well, Kierston, if you don't finish, we'll just have to do the taste test without you" (which led to "guess we'll have to stay in at recess" to "guess we'll just have to call your parents" to "guess we'll just have to send you to the office").  Definitely a trip to see good old fashioned teacher psychology at work, especially the same shit that they used on you almost two decades ago.

It also amazed me how much kids farted.  Not out loud, you know, just flying under the radar, so when I would roam the classroom to keep the kids on task, I'd run into random clouds of gas.  At that age, kids think it's seriously smooth if they can fart without making a noise - nevermind the olfactory byproduct.

At the end of my four hours, the teacher asked me if I wanted to read a story to the class before lunch.  Man, did I ever relish that opportunity.  I haven't used my forensics chops in years, much less my storybook telling skills.  I was all over it.  Little did the teacher suspect that I was the phenom I proved myself to be.  I read those snots "The Itchy Witch" like it was going out of style, and they ate it up - not a bad way to start my introduction to the world of teaching, truth be told.

Oddly, my MUCH-AWAITED introduction to the nonprofit world, which also began this week, did not start as auspiciously as my teaching gig.  Like, I've been waiting nine months to dip my feet into this nonprofit work, and I finally get the perfect opportunity (albeit as an unpaid intern, boo), and it seems it may not be all I'd cracked it up to be.  That would just figure, though. 

So I started my Nonprofit Operations Internship at the California Wildlife Center in the mountains above Malibu, where they rescue and rehabilitate injured, orphaned, or sick native wildlife - anything from baby squirrels (so cute) to sea lions.  Unfortunately for me, there is no interaction with the animals, as they need to stay as wild as possible (i.e. minimal human interaction). 

Anyway, so the center is housed in this old ranger's station in the Santa Monica Nat'l Park, all isolated and shit.  It's like this old cabin-like edifice - pretty neat, but no air conditioning.  I haven't done much I'd like to do yet, but I think it'll get better. I did see a coyote about twenty yards above my car, and I got to go on this release that you see above.  That was dope, they had nursed this hawk from a fledgeling, and not only was I lucky enough to go on the release, I captured the money shot (and props).  If only I could make a living by reading selected stories to children and by taking photographs....

ABOVE PICTURE: View down Jen's street in the middle of LA on Friday night.  The blackout lasted six hours, and I was afraid to even get out of my damn car.  Fuckin carjackers and shit...

Last week I schlepped down to LA for the first HOME GAME of the season.  I was so excited, man.  It couldn't have been a better time, except had we chosen a better spot to tailgate and had flown all of our missing Trojans out to Cali.  It wasn't quite the same without them.  But it was awesome nonetheless - at halftime, me and Jen proclaimed it officially against the rules for Colorado to score any points (a rule which was dutifully observed by the downtrodden Rams), and the second half became turnover city, with Pete Carroll keeping the third string on the bench until at least the early fourth quarter (Thanks, Pete!!!).  To call it a blowout would be an understatement - embarrassment would be more fitting.  Every other minute, we were screaming and jumping everywhere. And for those who stayed till the end, a special treat: a thirty minute - plus concert from the Trojan Marching Band, the yell leaders, and the song girls.  It was the perfect alumni welcome back.  As soon as Raymond gets his ass in gear, there will be pics from the actual GAME.

Chano's on our way out of the game....such good memories, and still as popular as ever.

An alcohol run to our old Ralph's turned up this sad, lonely, hilarious orphan.

More some other time, suckers.

You Could Use Booty:

How Jen's Innocent IM Suggestion Works On Every Level

(or, "Sara Drools all Over Her Keyboard")

Jen was merely trying to help me think of USC players to add to this entry when she made this all-too-true remark.  See, right now, I could use booty. I am actually lacking about one square-inch of my own booty right now.  It will grow back eventually, but I could use it now. 

And then of course there's that other, less literal of the truths: that I really, truly could use a fine piece of ass right now.

So, I present to you the following...

The Quintessentials

That's right: Johnny Depp. I don't really gotta spell this out for you kids at home. Lookin' at him just makes me want to go to IHOP and order a hot stack of wheat n' nut pancakes smothered in butter pecan syrup.  Actually, I think I wanted to do that before I looked at these pictures.  I still do.  But seriously, even as a serial killer in an unfortunate Stephen King adaptation, even as a bald, coke-snorting Hunter S. Thompson, even as a gap-toothed, stank-ass pirate, Johnny Depp is somehow ALWAYS so goddamned hot.  And oh my god, look at him smoke a square.....  

I saw this pair of shots as a good segue into my next round.  That first one came up when I Googled "Depp" - God bless the classic beer-gut/Speedo combination.  It's making a comeback.

Mmm, Benicio.  I'm not one to ogle the Latinos, but Benicio warrants a break from tradition.  I'm not sure what it is - his hair, his voice, the chiseled features...the way he looked in Fear and Loathing...no, most definitely not the way he looked in Fear and Loathing, but like Mr. Depp, he manages somehow to be dead sexy even when overweight, OD'ed, and wallowing in a bathtub full of feces and oranges.  Their hotness defies reason.  They don't need no stinking badges.

Ah, and here's Hugh - no doubt a serious asshole in real life, but since when has that deterred us highly irrational females from fawning over men?  Christ, I mean, LOOK at him!  And that goddamned ACCENT!  Verklempt. Then we have Hugh's Bridget Jones nemesis, Colin Firth.  Sweet mother of God, do they know how to sport a tux.  You know, I am not a fan of romantic comedies, but there's just no way to avert your eyes from these two.  Oh, and when they fight over Bridget - oh HOW would I EVER be able to walk away from Hugh like Bridget did?  The simple fact is, I wouldn't.  And Colin Firth in that Rudolph sweater?  Ach, mensch!  Meanwhile, this adorable bunny came up under my "Colin Firth" google. 

The Comics/The Less Obvious

Now for some less quintessentially "hunky" guys.  Jon Stewart, while not macho per se, is incredibly sexy.  See, funny can equal sexy.  Especially if you enjoy scathing political humor.  And salt-and-pepper hair.  And providing that he who is funny is also not prohibitively ugly.  Mo Rocca would earn a spot in my book simply for inventing the word "Obama-tastic" (as CNN'S roving reporter at last month's Democratic National Convention), but his cute, shaggy hair and cutting wit are also endearing.  Sample political commentary: "Democracy smells like Grape Nuts to me, sort of. It's good for you, it's not always easy to get through, the process of Grape Nuts can sometimes be painful, and it gets stuck in your teeth, but after you consume a bowl of Grape Nuts... you have a really fantastic bowel movement."

Oh JD, don't fall in love with that godforsaken Natalie Portman.  Fall in love with me.  Because you're attractive without being intimidatingly so, goofy, lovable, intelligent, and talented.  But mostly because of that first thing.  I gather that Zach Braff is actually a cocky bastard in the real world, which is always really disappointing to hear about a favorite celebrity.  Because he isn't, like, Johnny Depp or anything in the looks/physique department, you almost want to knock him down a few notches - be like, "Yeah, whatever, dude, I wouldn't cop such a big ego - you're just a gangly-ass awkward Jewish kid who made it to the B-list. Oh, oh yeah, and the sappy conclusion to Garden State totally BLEW!!"  That would be sort of mean, maybe take him off the pedestal for a few.  But if I saw him at a bar and he called me fat, I would not hesitate to kick him in the anus.  That totally got off-topic. He's still dreamy.

The Honorable Mentions

I just want to defend my choices here - Brad Pitt: I don't really like him all that much, but those pictures were admittedly some hot shit.  Ben Affleck: don't really like him either, but when I saw him guesting on Larry King Live (at the DNC), he was impressive, articulate, politically informed, and he took down that right-wing tool Tucker Carlson every chance he got.  And he had toned down his usual swarthy, no-hygeine look and was wearing a hot suit (a really well-tailored suit helps, children, it's true).  Jude Law: A lot of people think he's a pretty boy.  I kind of agree, but there's no way around his classically beautiful features.

The Musicians

Aw, Jesus.....The widow's peak......The square jaw.......The perfectly-tousled hair.......The mouth.......The voice....... Jeeesus. That widow's peak!!!

I'm not the kind of girl who swoons over the asshole who strategically busts out a guitar at a college party, but I will admit that  musicians do generally receive a bit more leeway as far as what defines sexiness (i.e., musicianship can actually make up for looking kind of odd).  In every case presented here, at least part of their sexiness (in my opinion) is derived from a willingness to evoke sexual ambiguity, or the embrace of the traditionally feminine.  Robert Plant had this really tremendous body which, in performances, you just feel like you have to watch.  He may seem an unlikely sex symbol, but he just exuded sex in a non-typical way.  Same goes for Hendrix.  And Perry Farrell just reminds me of Robert Plant. Dave Navarro caught my attention when he first joined the Chili Peppers, wearing patent leather pants and thrusting his groin at the camera - fantastic!  Outkast is sexy because of their collective attitude and style (not mentioning, of course, their insane talent) - they fall as far from the rap/hip-hop tree as you can get, and they don't give two shits.  Watch me wear plaid pants, mutha fucka!  P-Diddy can suck a dick.

The Men of Troy

The inspiration for the title of this post: John David Booty.  Not all that hot, actually, but hopefully solid as a backup for Leinart this season.  Troy Polamalu and Carson Palmer at the Coliseum - Carson scores points for the Heisman, loses points for resembling Frankenstein.  Nevertheless, a stand-up guy, hope he does well starting for Cincinatti this year.  Finally, our men PETE CARROLL and MATT LEINART, who turned SC's game around in record time (Pete)and who surprised us all with an amazingly strong debut that nearly held up to Palmer's Heisman season (Matt).  It was difficult to find truly hot Men of Troy, but I had to represent, okay?  Fight On.

The Ballers

I don't know why, but this season, Luke Walton's boyish smirk and ability to see the floor and make plays won me over.  I am all for him, except for his stupid tattoo.  Here's Wally Szczerbiak.  Wow, where the - what! - since when did Wally look like that?!!?   SIZZLING HAATTTT!  And poor Yao, it seems he's only good for laughs.  No, he's actually not bad looking for a Chinese man with gigantism.  I just put this picture in because it's super.

The Spurs Hotness

(NOTE: the following is not reflective of my own personal taste. This is only for responsible consumption by Jen White.  That is all.)

Forget Tony and Tim - it's Pop in the fourth shot who's got a monopoly on the hotness! 

I think that girl is trying to trick Manu into reading something inappropriate - he looks very overwhelmed by her line of interrogation.  Someone should tell the little conniving bitch that he doesn't speak so good english.  It's not nice to fool foreigners.

The Unattainable Hotness

You may be asking yourself, "what makes Kyan Douglas more unattainable than any of the other guys, Poop?"  To which I say, "He's gay."  But at least I found this cute little picture of Kyan the puppy dog to make me feel better (thanks, Google image search!).

I know I'm forgetting people.  I know this isn't a comprehensive list of every hot guy in the world.  But it was fun to look at, no?  When it comes down to it, I'm just like every other girl - I'll probably end up with a guy who only meets one or two of my requirements (like "has teeth" and "doesn't wear mandles").  Then again, I would never be comfortable with a guy who so outclassed me, people would stare disbelievingly at us on the streets ("How did she get him!?!?"), so settling for a guy with cauliflower ear and club feet will suit me just fine.  Good news for those of you with cauliflower ear and club feet, eh?  Send me your specs!

As for those of you who object to any of my nominations, or who wish to add on or suggest others, please feel free to SUCK IT.  No, I'm actually quite interested in your opinions. Sometimes I even respect them.  So send me your choices for hot shit, and I may just amend my post, okay?  In fact, alert your pals about this post and tell them to give me an earful.  I want to hear arguments and debates over who and what is sexy - entertain me. 

Apologies to Big Ray, who requested that I include one concession to the heterosexual males out there and post a picture of a really hot chick.  Well, sorry Ray, but take heart in the fact that you've got plenty of well-worn magazines in your stank bathroom to pore over.  I may just do a "Women I'm Excessively Jealous Of" post in the future...when you're dead. BWAHHH! 

Dude, I just found out that Ben Affleck has club feet - I'm IN!!!!

WARNING WARNING!!! DO NOT READ WHILE EATING!!!!

My Pet Cyst

by Poop Johnson

The nurse ladies at the Pain Center were very nice, although one of the surgical RN's reminded me of the Todd.  He didn't fondle my boobs or make innuendoes about my ass hole, though. I woke up as they were finishing the surgery.  I heard a searing noise, and I asked if they were cauterizing the wound.  They said "Yes, we're almost done!"

"Can I see it?!" I asked.  "Sure," they said, and laughed.  As they wheeled me into recovery, they handed me a smallish metal bowl, within which was my cyst.  Dr. Dixon handed me a surgical tool to poke at it with, and he poked around and showed me one of the sinus tracts.  It was neat.  I asked if they could go get my camera from my mom, who "wasn't surprised."  I got to take as many pictures as I wanted.  My surgical team was the bomb.

I left feeling like the recovery process would be a simple one.  But that was just the anesthesia speaking.  As soon as it was time to change my wound dressings, the easy feelings stopped. It hurt like a bitch.  It took a lot of tugging and pulling for the mother fucking gauze to come out.  I was also surprised at how much the bitch bled.  I sat in a bathtub of blood for an hour, and the gauze still did not soften up.  It smelled like I was sitting in a tub of raw meat - seriously enough to make anybody a vegan (except for me - my thirst for blood will NEVER BE QUENCHED!!!!).  

So here I am, kneeling before the computer so that you kind folks can lose your lunch over my insides.  I'm hating the thought of four or more weeks of this.  Thank God for Vicodin and Al Franken, the two things that are getting me through this.  I have to go now, time to stuff the turkey again....moan.......