Let's Feel Up Our Own Boobies - Here's the Technique

Hey Blog Sisters,

Last night I attended a Breast Cancer Awareness event at the Hue Man Bookstore in Harlem, NY thrown by The Lit Leaders Rosalind Mclymont, Linda A. Duggins, Esther Armah and Renee Daniel Flagler. I learned so much and was completely inspired to come home and feel up my boobs on camera just for you. There's a song and everything.

Whoo Hoo! I am willing to completely embarrass myself to save your life. Oh, and for post menopausal women, disregard the period part of the technique.

xo,
Abiola Abrams

We Don't Need No Re Run

The weird slo-mo rerun of Diana’s demise is begun. From this, the anniversary of her birth, until the commemoration of her death, the self-coronated Queen of Hearts will be killed a thousand times.
For now, expect enough weepy telemovies to furnish the needs of an above-average menopause.
For fans, such as I, of the Made for TV genre, great news is at hand. The Murder of Princess Diana is almost in the can. Made by the former partners of Working Title films, this screen excellence will no doubt have the American upscale, homosexual aesthetic of great telemovies like Mommie Dearest. While retaining the British upscale, homosexual aesthetic of great rom-coms like Four Weddings and a Funeral.
For those who prefer their People’s Princess with a side order of counterfeit integrity, the BBC will doubtless offer a dozen documentaries. These will range in matter from sophisticated conspiracy theory to cheesy cultural studies assay.
Speaking of the latter, let us not underestimate exactly how much poop newspapers are currently honing for Op Ed. I imagine cleverness written by academics called things like Diana: Femininity, Image and Resonance will be upchucked like so many cosmopolitan cocktails in coming weeks.
And, of course, the chic gossip Tina Brown is at it adding her expensive whiff to the conversation. Former VF editor TB has just unleashed The Diana Chronicles.
Of course, it all started hours ago at Wembley Arena. Along with many television viewers, I can barely wait for tonight to savour this wonderfully inappropriate spectacle.
From a dash to you tube to a Google news search, it seems as though this is even better than we’d hoped. Duran Duran performed, as expected. As did seedy troll Tom Jones. But, in between the singing of blue silver and the hurling of underpants, DENNIS HOPPER appeared.
Doubtless, the former HRH was a very great fan of Easy Rider and expressionist painting and would often ask Dodi to don an oxygen mask while shrieking, “Baby wants to f*ck! Baby wants to f*ck Blue Velvet!”.
I mean, really. What were Harry and William thinking?
Since her first appearance as a blush and unspoiled hottie in 1980, Diana always provided the stuff of well-paced screenplay. Just as she threatened to become unspeakably dull (as, between you and I, she probably was) another plot point was written. Despair, redemption and bouts of mild bulimia always emerged as needed.
Again, in an act of consummate script writing, Diana has left just enough time between her 46th birthday and the tenth anniversary of her glamorous death to allow media providers to spend themselves silly.
Tissues at the ready. It will end, gentle reader, on August 31.

Parsley Porn

In a ceremony long on sequins and short on edible canapés, the American group PETA has again anointed its King and Queen. Every year at around this time, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals takes pause from its important work of saving Our Broken Earth to recognise The World’s Sexiest Vegetarians.
Every year at around this time, I take pause from the important work of blaspheming on a personal weblog to recognise The World’s Most Pointless Activists.
Having received its annual Vitamin B 12 shot, an organisation that regularly relieves me of any lingering omnivore guilt named two marginal television personalities as its Sexiest. These are Carrie Underwood, a country-lite blonde singer from Oklahoma and Kevin Eubanks, a guy who plays in Jay Leno’s Tonight Show Band.
I have squandered the better part of a morning looking at pictures and moving images of these two putative celebrities and trying to work up some lust. I can report, neither of them is particularly “Sexy”. And, ask any leftover from my Salad Days, my standards are pretty generous.
Kevin, frankly, just looks like a nice Dad type in clumpy shoes and American catalogue-wear. I tried to imagine him pulling my hair and calling me his beyatch. No. By eleven, all that had occurred was an elaborate and unsexy fantasy which ended with him usefully painting my cornices. By which I mean: he usefully painted my cornices.
Two time title holder Underwood, although physically lovely, is every bit as sexy as the typewriter for which she was named. In fact, I decided this long ago as she reprised Love Is a Battlefield during the ’04 season of American Idol. Those of a certain vintage will recall the AWESOME boozy jiggle enacted by Pat Benatar in the original version of this powerful tune. Miss Underwood, sadly, drained a massively sexy song of all its sex.
Jus as PETA continues to drain real activism of any actual might.
For years now, this organisation has colluded with famous idiots. Using the vacant mechanism of celebrity, it has attempted to jam the machine of animal slaughter. It has asked Naomi Campbell (still an unapologetic fur-wearer and Very Hot Criminal) to pose nude for its anti-fur campaign. It has lured vegan Playboy models into its employ and draped them publicly in lettuce leaves. Yes, girls, it’s apparently fine to inject poison into your tits to uphold the phallic standard and show your arse-hole to Hef and the world for money. But eating little lambies is Just Not Cool.
Amid all of this hypocrisy and shallow, selective World Saving, PETA never misplaced my interest so utterly as when they named Mr Paltrow, AKA Chris Martin of Coldplay, as 2005’s Mister Herbilicious.
Coldplay? Sexy? !? He contains all the strapping sexual protein of char-grilled eggplant and I shan’t be eating a slice of him any time soon.
If PETA wishes to engage the attention of myself and other potentially principled foodies, they might start by engaging our intellect rather than libido. Cos, try as I might, I’m just not seeing Caz, Kev and I in a Jacuzzi.

Laughter and Chocolate

This picture makes me smile so much! It's my young son - laughing and covered in chocolate on holiday in Southern Spain.

I am pretty new to the world of blogging and this site.

I live in a small and beautiful village in England, and I think a few other countries like the U.S., Canada, France and Australia seem much more comfortable with this medium. I have been finding my way around, and trying to make sense of the links and blogrolls and all that la-di-da - what has intrigued me is the way women are linking up and talking about really important and personal issues. I guess that's no surprise, we're pretty fantastic at that, huh? - but what an amazing idea, that we can do that globally and easily without the barriers of distance, nationality, colour, race or cultures.

I'm married to an American, who wandered across to Europe for the obligatory trip in his twenties, and stayed 15 years! In 2003, I was a single Mum to a 3 year old boy , working full-time as a Director of HR for an animal welfare charity. I found the love of my life on the internet! We flew to meet each other after 17 days of emailing, and in 36 hours knew we had found our respective soul mate and decided to change our whole lives around to be together. It was at this point the irony of life kicked in ,and the company he was working for in Europe posted him back to the U.S. for 14 months... West Coast at that... It was mad, but fairy-tale stuff - all-day flights to get to Las Vegas for 30 hours to see each other and then fly back to take my son to school... and I HATE flying... and leaving my son! Luckily I had moved to my parent's village, so he was quite happy that I take off occasionally - time to be spoilt at the Grandparents!!

Now we're trying IVF, and I'm deep in injections and hormone hell.

There must be so many of you out there, thousands of miles away, juggling the same challenges that I am (and many of you juggling much, much more)...Sliding into work wondering if you remembered to put your child's spelling book in his bag whilst rushing off the next meeting....Fitting the weekly shopping around lunch breaks and trying to fit in a million priorities... Flopping down on a Friday night having "survived" another week!! Great that those moments can be shared in this way - some of the blogs I've stumbled across have been fantastic - funny, heart-wrenching, witty, sad, optimistic - sometimes all in the same blog!

So I wish you a day like the photo of my son - laughing and with plenty of chocolate!!

http://thechallengeoflife.blogspot.com