Messypants

Apparently, Nigella Lawson is a “mess magnet”, and her house is filled with stuff because she suffers from “shortage dread”.

As do I.

I draw the line at dozens of empty mustard jars, although New Wife has stashed a few such empty jam jars packed away.  (Curiously, a few actually came in quite handy over Christmas, as we filled them with Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms and gave them to the kids as stocking stuffers.)

I have no problem hoarding things like foodstuffs, but empty toilet roll cylinders and the like need to be turfed out, toot sweet.  I think I’ll offer my ahem  services to Nigella, as long as she has a few bowls of pasta first.  Here’s a before/after comparison:

  Q.E.D.

Clearing Out

At this time of year, James Lileks always talks about purging his hard drive of pics he’s accumulated as he puts together his wonderful screeds.  So if it’s good enough for Lileks, it’s good enough for me (although to be honest, the kind of pics I save are not the kind he saves).

Here’s 60s-era Italian actress Stefania Sandrelli, for example:

Then there’s the 80s-era Italian actress Serena Grandi:

And still on Italian actresses, how about the eternal  Italian actress:

And forgetting about actresses altogether, we have a Vespa model:

But let’s not get stuck on the Italians.  Moving on, we have a classical sea nymph of no known origin:

And speaking of antiquities, there’s always Jane Russell:

Moving into the modern era, there’s the elfin Jenna-Louise Coleman:

Still with the Brits, there’s Harvey Weinstein’s ummmm protogée victim, the exquisite Lysette Anthony:

There’s also one of my perennial favorites, Christine McGuinness:

…as well as soap star hottie Helen Flanagan:

And I have no idea why I saved these pics:

Okay, on medical advice, I have to stop now — and in any event, I think I’ve gone far enough.

Maybe more, next week.

Racing Beauty

As all know, I am a huge fan of the Ferrari Dino 246 GT, but I love its successors with almost equal fervor.  Here’s a little discourse about the 288 GTO by Alain de Cadenet, who waxes rhapsodical about this magnificent beast, the last Ferrari made when old man Enzo was still alive.  Enjoy.  (Right-click to embiggen the pic in another window.)

It was a 1980s car, which meant it was more wedge-shaped and less curvy than the 246 GT from which it was derived (right-click away):

But the 288 was racier — duh, it was created for Group B racing — and a better car to drive than the entry-level Dino, I think.  (I’ve driven the Dino quite a bit, the 288 only once for a disappointingly-few minutes.)

But both cars thrill — that engine being mounted only a foot or so behind the driver… oooh, Mommy.

Want.  Either, or both.  Where’s that lottery ticket, again?

Fat Ass

I haven’t ever understood the fascination with a fat ass on a woman.  I know the anthropological reasons in primitive societies — where a wife’s ass was an indicator of her husband’s success, i.e. the better he fed her, the better provider he was — but I never understood the fascination for lard-assed women in the civilized world, and nor do these guys.

I know, I know:  this post is useless without some kind of pictorial underpinning. [sigh]

…and that’s one of the least offensive examples out there.  A single trip to WalMart… well, you know the rest.  (No such pic posted, on humanitarian grounds.)  And in any event, I speak not of the genus walmarta  — those women who become pear-shaped either through diet, childbirth or unfortunate genetic background;  I speak here of those vain modern women who have fat or worse injected into their posteriors to plump them out deliberately.

Anecdotally, a Black (female) friend once told me that Black women have fat asses as a protection against their male counterparts’ predilection for anal sex:  “It keeps them further back” — but I don’t buy that, unless that’s the primal cause for Black men to have larger-than-average dicks, I dunno.  Maybe, in the case of the Kardashian coven, the butt enlargements are simply done as an attractant for their favorite choice of partner (i.e. wealthy Black men).

Whatever.

What I do know is that this female trend towards buttock-amplification is pretty moronic, even when matched against female stupidity such as spending untold dollars on crap like anti-aging creams and potions (none of which work).

And I, for one, am not a huge fan thereof.  In fact, were it not for her superstructure, I’d find Carol Vorderman quite unappealing.

But hey, as the man said:  “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.”

Within the bell curve, however, something that would occur more towards the middle — such as that as shown by Diogenes in her weekly series — is far more appealing:

What I also find unattractive, by the way, are those who inhabit the left-hand  side of the same bell curve:  the snake-hipped, flat-buttocked women of the runway model kind (which may also explain my disdain for the average Chinese or Japanese woman, few of whom seem to have any buttocks at all).

As with all things, sufficiency  is what we strive for.

Except when it comes to boobage.  Even I have my limits.

This Is A Test

Here’s a simple one to test your eyesight, alertness and social awareness.  Your task is quite simple:  in each pic, identify which of the four girls is the most popular.

I know;  it’s a tough one for a Sunday.

Here are the answers, from a woman’s perspective:

Pic #1, the second girl from the left, because you can see her eyes, and
Pic #2, the second from the right, because she has the prettiest shoes.

And a bonus question:  without scrolling back up, in which picture could you see an alligator?