You Rock My Face Off!

I have a confession: I love myspace. I don't mean love like it's kinda a good way to pass idle time. I mean love like inhaling the scent of your newborn baby love. That's right, bitches, I just compared a tacky online social network to the moment I first held by babies in my arms. What I can say, I really, really love it.
Now, the reasons for my undying affection are as vast as the catty bickering or sexy photos posted through the site. It's like an alternative universe. Ex-girlfriends talk shit to new girlfriends. It's Maury Show awesome and I can't get enough.
Although the viciousness of myspace does put a smile on my face, I'd be lying if I said the ability to keep up with old friends doesn't make me log on, like, a million times a day. It helps if they call their ex-husband/ex-wife a series of names that would make any sailor proud, but even if they appear all chemically-balanced, it's cool to keep in touch with the click of a mouse.
When I log on and see the red letters on the right, "New Message," I'm as giddy as a frat boy in a strip club. Who's it from? The fact that it could be anyone, literally, anyone makes opening the message as suspenseful as which chick on Rock of Love 3 will show her tatas first. Like I said, could be anyone.
Oh, did you know there's going to be a Rock of Love 3? I'm sure you as shocked as I am that Bret's love affair with Ambre didn't pan out.
Anyways, you can imagine my utter delight when I logged on yesterday to see I had not only a message from my old friend Dustin, but that subject for the message was "mommalittle."
The note was short and sweet and totally made my heart go pitter-patter. In case any of your boys are currently hatching plans to steal me away from Rowdy, let me make things easier for you. There's no need to call me pretty. I know I'm not and I wouldn't believe you if you said it. Plus, it's not nearly as effective as calling me brilliant or funny. My loyalty can be easily swayed if you throw those bitches out, particularly if you join 'em together. Hell, I might even get your name tattooed on my arm.
Dustin wrote,

i love reading your blogs!!! you rock my face off.

I'm not 100% sure what "rock my face off" means, but I know I love it like Kathy Griffin loves the "F" word, which is exactly how I love the "F" word, by the way. Now, Dustin's a little freaky-deek. His long-time nickname is Cochino, which apparently means nasty in Spanish. I'm taking his and the hundreds of folks who call him that at their word. My second language is Pig Latin, so I call him asty-nay. Dustin wears Cochino like a badge of honor, so I'm a bit nervous about the origin of this statement.
Whatever it means, this ranks up there with this hand-written Mother's Day card Rowdy penned for me the year after Ridge was born. In fact, I'm going to print off Dustin's message and paste it next to the hand-written card in my scrapbook.
Can't you just totally see the boys flipping through that keepsake in 20 years with their future brides?

Girl: Ummm....why did your mom print out this 2 sentence email that said she rocks this dudes face off?

Son (all embarrassed): I don't know.

Girl (confused, shaking her head): Ummm..... you aren't going to let her give a toast at the wedding, are you?

Son: No.

Thanks to Dustin for the sunshiny note. We've known each other our whole lives, although we don't get to see each other often these days. He's a city slicker these days. He recently had his right kidney removed and I quite thankful he's well enough to have his face rocked off, by me or anyone.

Ashley Dupre: The Dr. Phil of High-Priced Hookers?

I stirred a little slowly from my slumber this morning. Although I'd been awake for a few hours, when The View came on at 10 am, I was still moving at a snail's pace. Breakfast was on the table, but that was really the extent of my productivity thus far.
Just as I was sipping coffee from my favorite mug, wishing a bolt of electric energy would uproot my weighted ass, a discussion between Whoopi, Barbara, Joy and Elisabeth shocked me right out of semi-comatose state.
I'm sure you all recall the March, 2008, hooker fiasco that left the formerly high-powered Governor of New York Elliot Spitzer out of a job, out of dignity and nearly out of a wife, to say the least. As a Democrat, I've always been completely amazed by our uncanny ability to throw a monkey wrench in what would otherwise be a glide to victory, but even I was shocked by the rat-faced, alien-eared Spitzer's involvement with hookers that pricey. I mean, he is Jewish, right? I don't think they have coupons in the Yellow Book for that, do they? (Calm down, I'm only joking.) For the first couple of months following the high end prostitution ring, laughably the "Emperors Club," was busted, Spiter's girl Ashley Dupre aka Kristen sprinkled the gossip magazines and late night talk shows as though she was Britney Spears in a barber shop. First she was publicly offered a hefty check to be in one of the Girls Gone Wild videos, but then Joesph Francis, the class act who started up that national embarrassment, realized, you guessed it, he'd already filmed Ashley when she was still an up-and-coming high-priced hooker. Even Joe was surprised that he hit the proverbial jack pot. He already had her on tape showing off those million dollar goodies, so he tore up whatever check he was planning on sending Ashley. Just imagine the profit margins on that little gem!
As if the whole fake-named hooker with the beady-eyed gnome wasn't funny enough the first time around, apparently the veteran reality television show producer David Knieff believes there is still plenty of ridicules profitability left to be made. You know funny, ridicules and, of course, sex are the three most important elements of a successful reality show. What other explanations would there be for the upcoming THIRD season of Rock of Love with Bret Michaels, which is, by the way, totally freakin' awesome! It's like The Bachelor with crack 'hos! Love it!
So, Knieff has offered Ashley $2 million for the full rights to her story, which will include a show and possibly a book. The best part is he plans to cast her as "a kind of Dr. Phil."
I can totally see the similarities: they are both media whores, they've both broken up a few marriages and neither one is a bit scared to drop their ethics like panties in a frat house for a good pay day. I know this girl has been to college once or twice, but does this mean she will be interviewing guests and giving them advice that can be applied to the general population. On Dr. Phil this afternoon, a wife sought counsel from the good doctor on coping with her unfaithful, porn-addicted husband who periodically frequents the service of call girls. What do you suspect would be Ashley's guidance in such a situation?
Of course, Krieff and Ashley's publicist (Yes, the hooker now has a publicist) both gave statements claiming that Ashely is seeking "a show to clean up her image."
Meanwhile, some poor schmuck from New Jersey, Thomas "TJ" Earle is joining Elliot Spitzer in cleaning up his life after admitting last Friday to purchasing a little love time with Asley. I think it is interesting that in their secret business transactions and now the subsequent fallout from them, Elliot and TJ got screwed and Ashley, well, she got paid.


***Just for your entertainment, I'm going to post a few excerpts from the Emperors Club wegpage. I mean, holy shit, that's the name of your hooker ring and then you create a website that all put spells out, "Yes, we are peddling ass, very tight, top-of-the-line ass," and you are somehow mystified when the authorities catch on. Apparently, once you become a "VIP," which only means that you have LOTS of money and aren't scared to spend it, you can go to the site and check on the "merchandise." Naturally, the page has come down since the media firestorm broke out last Spring, but just for you, my beloved readers, I have saved them. You will notice that on the individual girl's profile, her attributes are advertised or "pimped," as it would be called if they on the corner instead of the computer. Now, on top of the descriptions, they are rated with diamonds. It is basically the same set-up as book reviews in People magazine, except the diamonds represent not only quality, but cost. If you got a five carat call girl in mind, let's just hope your stocks have been rising like these prices or, well, you know. I would write more funny stuff, but there is really no way I can stop this shit.



Looked at all her diamonds!



She's good, but clearly, no Maya! And finally, the "estimates" for what a day and/or night with these world class call girls might run a "VIP." I know Elliot Spitzer comes from a little money, but Jesus, how was he paying for these rendezous without his wife Silda sniffing out the perfumed trail? He has, after all, been on government pay for several years now.