Zergnet: Simply Irresistible
My boyfriend has been a teacher for about four years after going back to school and changing careers. He’s almost 31, but a young 31, and is widely known on campus for being one of the more relatable teachers. We’ve been together for almost two years, and have now lived together for one year, and something about his contact with former students is starting to nag at me more and more. He has a rule that he will not become Facebook friends with any of his current students; however, once the last day of school passes, they all start adding him. I think it’s great that they all like him as much as they do, and I know he’s effective and successful at his job, but I find it strange that he communicates with a lot of the 14- and 15-year-olds on a regular basis. Most of it is harmless, such as talking about sports or encouraging them to do well in their high school courses, but there is one former student in particular that is starting to get to me.
At the late fashion designer Alexander McQueen‘s memorial service on Monday, Bjork sang a moving rendition of Billie Holiday’s “Gloomy Sunday” for the glamorous gathered to mourn at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. For her performance, she wore a pair of “angel wings” created by McQueen, who took his life earlier this year on the day before his mother’s funeral. You can see a close-up of the singer’s wings here. Keep reading »
When Snooki hooked up with Vinny on “Jersey Shore,” she let us know that he is packing some heat below the belt. To be specific, she said that smushing with him was like “putting a watermelon in a pinhole.” Apparently, Playgirl was listening because they’ve offered Vinny Guadagnino $30,000 to pose nude for their magazine. Apparently, Clone-a-Willy.com—which is owned by Playgirl—has also offered to make a replica of his nether regions. [NY Daily News]
Sure, $30K sounds like a lot of money, but how does this stack up to offers other famous folks have gotten? Keep reading »
Darkness overwhelmed me as
I’ve long suspected that I haven’t been using Max to his full potential after seeing the loads of adoration he gets while on our daily walks through the ‘hood … He was a man magnet.
Sleep was impossible, so I fumbled to the desk and fired up my laptop. I squinted at the neon glow of the screen and opened an email that had been sent a few minutes before.
I have a date with your hot neighbor from across the street. He loves Max.
My friend Jenni was staying at my apartment and watching my French bulldog while I was on the other side of the world on a business trip. It was 3 p.m. in New York and I imagined she and Max just came back from an afternoon walk, where they must have run into said hottie. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “What hot neighbor? I don’t have any hot neighbors?”
I said this out loud as if someone were going to affirm that Jenni was crazy. I had lived on the Lower East Side for two years among the creative hipster, Latin Cholo, and Euro metrosexual communities and although there are hot guys aplenty, none of them lived on my street. Or so I thought. I texted her immediately; roaming charges be damned!
Me: Got your email! How’d you meet him?
Jen: On the block. He stopped me to pet Max.
Me: So you just bumped into him?
I scout my ‘hood for men all the time. And although I’m smart, funny, and have been told I’m attractive, I can’t seem to find someone to last more than a month or two. I’ve had my share of disaster dates, beer-goggled hookups, and I’m over my loner, “there is dignity in being single” phase (thank you “Singles,” the movie). Every time I am out in my hood, my eyes are peeled, but Jen is in my apartment for four days and conjures up a man? What the hell?
A few days later another email came through:
He took me to Sixth Ward and then we went back to his place. His apartment is sick … the sex was great.
I bristled at my computer screen. That’s MY block, MY dog … that should be MY great sex!
I’ve long suspected that I haven’t been using Max to his full potential after seeing the loads of adoration he gets while on our daily walks through the ‘hood. I’ve witnessed the biggest tattooed tough guys crack their angry façade to bend over and play kissy face with him. He was a man magnet.
I slapped my laptop closed. That was it. I was putting that dog to work the minute I got home!
Sunday morning bath time was extra long so Max’s black coat and white tuxedo markings were shining. The both of us smelling fresh and lookin’ fly, we stepped out for our morning walk, which ended at the local coffee spot. All the other dogs were tied up and relaxing, sniffing each other’s butts, while their owners sat lined up on the benches. I tied up Max, found a spot on the bench, and let him do his thing.
“Is this your son? He’s a cute little guy.” One of the old toothless regulars I’d seen here before put his hand out for Max to sniff and lick. I smiled, knowing Max’s charms were starting to work.
I sat and read while couples brought their kids over to play with Max, other dog owners grilled me on his age and breeding, and the coffee lovers that milled in and out of the store told me how adorable he was. So far it was a good morning.
“What’s his name?” I heard behind me and turned to see dark eyes, dark hair, and muscular arms embracing Max. Caught — hook, line, and sinker! I put on my best smile and tried to reel this one in.
We talked about our mutual love for Frenchies — he had two — while Max hopped on his back legs for attention.
“Sit!” I stood and barked at Max. Chill, son, your work is done!
“Thanks.” I moved closer.
“You live around here?” he asked. He checked me out for a split second.
“No, I’m closer to Delancey Street, but this is a nice walk in the morning. You?”
“I’m up the street.” He pointed with his coffee cup in hand.
Our conversation switched to the lure of the coffee spot, the welcomed arrival of fall — its been too hot — and my recent trip to Asia, about which he seemed genuinely interested.
“I should get moving. Maybe I’ll see you here again?” he said with a smile and what sounded like a little hope in his voice.
I nodded. “Yeah, maybe,” I said with more nonchalance than I felt.
He gave Max a pat and waved as he took off down the street.
I bent down and gave Max a pat and a scratch behind the ears.
“Good boy, Max. Good boy!”
We’re not big fans of diamonds — too conflict-y and we tend to lose anything nice we have. That’s why we love these Cool Jewels Ice Cube Trays. The trays make jewel-shaped ice cubes that sparkle and shine and melt away in your drink. Plus, at under 10 bucks a pop, you can buy a forklift full of Cool Jewels trays for what it would cost to purchase real bling.