If it weren't for the next blog button, we might never have the pleasure of knowing that fine young men like Manjul are out there, loving their mummies.

I think we can all learn a little something from Manjul. Click here to visit his blog.

New blind item via eonline's Ted Casablanca, just in time for the weekend. God love that fabulous fagula for sharing One Rattling Blind Vice:

Oh, Hussy Purr, every day I come a wee bit closer to understanding why you change moods more often than hairstyles.

Sometimes, a story unfolds slowly. What we know is Hussy and her onetime perma-man-candy, Drinkel Manslut, may be no longer. And zillions of theories abound, citing everything from HP's unconventional love life to Drink's roving eyes, hands, etc.

Alas, while I'm sure neither Hussy nor Drinkel deserves to be canonized anytime soon, I've learned from excellent sources that it was her misbehavior that put them into "get away from me once and for all" land. And to top it off, I'm told Hussy put her man into a hissy overdrive with an announcement that's straight out of Jerry Springer: I'm pregnant. And you ain't the daddy.

I'm sure she put it more gently, of course, but whatev.

Not that Hussy ever seemed much of a conniver, mind you. Were she not so famous, none of this scandalicious horror would seem so shocking.

But Hussy is. And so is the father. So, don't expect to see any pics of her preggers in the tabs anytime soon. 'Cause you won't. Any guesses why?

Thanks Teddy!

If you haven't caught them yet, check out the new Volkswagen commercials starring Peter Stormare of Fargo and Big Lebowski fame. Oh Schnap. German engineering in da house!



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Just finished The Effect of Living Backwards. I do love me some Heidi Julavits!

Her smart and ambitious second novel relates the story of two sisters whose flight to Melilla is hijacked by a blind guy named Bruno. The novel effectively showcases her wit and creativity and makes a challenging and engaging read. Vague allusions to "The Big Terrible" are just one example of how "The Effect of Living Backwards" boldly confronts post-9/11 paranoia with a skillful balance of irreverence and absurdity.

I do think the novel has issues -- sequencing choices and attempts to preserve ambiguity occasionally compromise narrative impact -- but the book is great even so. I could barely put it down. That was an unexpected and very welcome surprise.

For a more astute review of the book see The New York Times

For more about Heidi Julavits, check out her magazine The Believer online.

Lest the three people that visit this site are confused, I wanted to formally acknowledge our recent makeover. If you ask me, Smug Nugget's looking gooooooooood!

If you care to comment on the new design, I welcome feedback.

I've never had the pleasure of trying Ambien, but I have had it recommended to me for sleepless nights and/or intercontinental plane rides. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I stumbled upon an article from ABC News this evening that suggested the popular sleeping pill may have some unpleasant side effects, which include BINGEING AND PURGING in your sleep.

"My husband would sometimes find me laying in bed with my mouth stuffed with food, and he'd have to shovel it out," according to one 55 year old woman, whose nighttime binge eating catapulted her from a size 1 to a size 12. "A lot of times after returning to bed," she added, "I'd wake up vomiting because I had so much food in my stomach."

But really, what reasonable 55 year old is still wearing a size one??? Sounds to me like bitch has bulimia.

But the fun doesn't stop there.

"We've had people eat buttered cigarettes. We've had people make salt sandwiches," said Dr. Mark Mahowald from the Minnesota Regional Sleep Disorders Center. "It's a release of two innate behaviors, namely sleep and eating and they're both released at the same time by the sleeping medication."

I am not a medical professional, but I do love butter and cigarettes. Never tried them together, I admit, but who is to say that the combination isn't magically delicious?

So, imagine you're a guy who decides to donate his sperm to a cryogenic bank for a few bucks and/or a genetic legacy, which you may or may not have an opportunity to establish on your own. You walk out of the clinic with a modest profit and the tacit understanding that you will not have to think about it again.

Or so you thought.

I really feel for Donor 401. Though he remains anonymous to the vast majority of us, his offspring (and consequently his likeness) are all over the news after a gaggle of women got together online and started an impromptu family of which Donor 401 is the unsuspecting patriarch.

His story and identity (sans name, but with many personal details) have been revealed in various publications nationwide, for example this excerpted article from The Washington Post (read the full article here):

Some women have their book clubs, and others belong to professional groups. Some connect in therapy and others through sororities. But here is a relatively new connection: a group of 11 sharp, educated and independent women brought together on the Internet by one man's sperm.

Not one of them has met the donor -- his identity is kept secret by Fairfax Cryobank in Virginia. Known only as donor 401, he has fathered all of their children -- 11 so far, and Leann Mischel, 41, a Pennsylvania college professor, has a second child by way of his sperm on the way.

As best can be determined by the birth dates of the 11 babies, the donor got into the baby business at Fairfax Cryobank about six years ago, and what a popular fellow he turned out to be. Here's what is known about him: There is a good chance he lives in the Washington metropolitan area; he is 6 foot 4, of German heritage, has a master's degree, is athletic and is very close to his mother. "A ray of light," he called her in his personal essay.

Around the time that 401 was getting into the donating business, a woman who had no connection to donor 401 developed a Web site at www.donorsiblingregistry.com, which now has more than 6,000 members. In addition to the moms connected to donor 401 who met on the site, an additional 22 women connected to another single donor also found one another.

The 401 mothers are in touch by phone and e-mail and hope to have a grand reunion someday with all the siblings. They post baby pictures on a private message board and recently have begun posting health developments and histories of the kids for reference.

They also want to make it very clear that in signing up on the site, they were not looking for a husband or a relationship, and they are not romanticizing about the donor. "Some doors are better left closed," said Louisa Weix, 43, who has twin girls by 401.

Ummm, no shit. Like the kind of doors that lead into a virtual ballroom full of women you've impregnanted and never expected to hear from again?

To see how freakishly strong the resemblance is between all bizillion of his children (in spite of their different mothers) check out a video at CNN.com.

Five adult siblings who can walk only on all fours have been found in Turkey, researchers say. These human quadrupeds may provide clues to how humans evolved to stand on two feet.

Discovered in a remote area of southern Turkey last summer, the family of ethnic Kurds has sparked a scientific debate, which will be covered in a BBC television documentary that is set to air on March 17 in the United Kingdom. The family's exact location and last name have not been disclosed.

Born with a genetic brain abnormality, two of the sisters and one of the brothers are thought to have only walked on all fours their entire lives. The two other siblings can walk upright for short distances.

The siblings' parents are closely related and have had 19 children in all.

This bizarre case is not a hoax, according to experts who have studied the family.

via National Geographic News online

Forgive me for being banal, but I really desperately hate Sunday. Sunday means work tomorrow; it means facing the real world and all the responsibilities it brings. I have projects and meetings this week, which won't go as planned; I will have dirty dishes and laundry, which will pile up and haunt me throughout the week.

Expectation has never been a friend of mine, and Sunday is loaded with expectation. It promises only tremendous pressure to function within a set of parameters that I don't feel are natural: get up at sunrise; select a mature and professional outfit; be at the office on time with a smile; work hard without complaint; return home and prepare dinner; watch your fat, calories, and sodium; do your dishes; pay your bills; squeeze in some cardio; don't watch too much television; go to bed at a reasonable hour; and do it all again tomorrow.

I spent my childhood anticipating the escape of this kind of monotony and routine, only to find that it is inescapable. More appropriately, it is inevitable, and it totally blows.