WWLR (What Would Lindsay Read).

Here are a former prison librarian's suggestions for what Lindsay Lohan should read while she serves her sentence.

Lindsay Lohan is supposed to do some jail time. But with celebrities, jail "time" is relative to their money and fame and gender and race. So do the math, and Lindsay will get very little "jail" with her time. She'll do about 14 of her 90 days and be away from the general population, so any "Caged Heat" fantasies I imagine are purely my own invention, as usual.

Hmmmm....

[begin fantasy]

Lindsay Lohan sits cross-legged on her D. Porthault voile linen sheets she had smuggled into jail when she requested the kosher meal. A single strap of her Guia La Bruna silk chemise dangles from her creamy shoulder and rests just above her perfect breast as she reads aloud from Don Juan in the Village to her secret fellow inmates she cannot see beyond the walls that guarantee her solitude.

But moments later, after Lindsay runs into a word she doesn't understand, she stops reading, and an autographed photo from Mean Girls and a pack of Marlboro 100's work to bribe the guard to unlock her cage and set her free. Silently, catlike, she steps out to meet the other prison girls. One is from Trinidad and Lindsay loves her accent. One is Japanese and Lindsay loves her silky black hair. And one is kinda dim and says her favorite movie is Herbie Fully Loaded, but Lindsay says it's her favorite, too. And later, they vajazzle each other.

[end fantasy]

So yeah, I don't give a crap what Lindsay reads during her 14-day, taxpayer funded vacation. Because with her fame and money, she's still going to be living better than me.

Oh crap, my generic, no-name brand Spaghetti-O-like pasta product is burning on the fire I made from discarded library romance paperbacks to cook my food. Again!

Are Librarians Too Sexy?

From many of the comments on the previous post, you think they are. Some of you either see yourselves as too sexy or find your coworkers to be too sexy.

I was hoping someone would declare a Sexy Librarian Day. I don't know what day. Maybe you could pick the birthday of an actor or actress who played a sexy librarian in a movie, like Rene Russo, Rachel Weisz or Noah Wyle, or use Dewey number for sex, so 3-06? And then tweet it or Facebook it or something. It's not like you have jobs.

But clearly, many of you got sex on the noggin. Is this what you think all day?

She holds that No. 2 pencil gingerly between her slender fingers. The eraser enters her mouth past her full lips while she absentmindedly nibbles on the soft pink tip. She glances up from her retro tortoise shell eyeglasses, her green eyes gaze cat-like as if she looks right through me. I feel a stiffening in my body as she draws in that deep breath which raises the swelling of her chest past the top of her open blouse. She slides the pencil out of her mouth very slowly, as if it aches to remove it. "I'm so sorry, that's out, but.." and she smiles as she says this, "I can hold it for you. I can hold it wherever you want to get it."

I can't believe that's what you think about all day. You people are sick. Get your mind out of the gutter and go weed the 005s.

MEDIA RELEASE. The Results of the Most Complete and Authoritative Library Sex Poll EVER.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE.

Researchers at the.effing.librarian have completed an international survey which studied the sexual habits of library users. The survey did not limit the survey to librarians as that would just depress us all, but opened to responses up to everyone who has ever visited a library. Particularly those few who continue to grind their frustrated groins against my ripe backside as I bend for a book on the lower shelves when we all know there is more than enough room in that aisle for both of us. Not that your eagerness isn't appreciated. FYI, I'm usually at the Reference desk from 2-4.

And through the Twitter "retweets" and Facebook messages, over 85,000 respondents told the truth about what you, the English-reading people of Earth, do, hopefully with another person, in the aisles and under the tables and in the study rooms at the local library.

And you are a filthy lot. Just filthy. You all should be ashamed.

The 85,000 individuals, give or take, responded to this question:

Sex in the Library Poll. Choose one answer for the farthest you've ever gone in the library. Any library. And if you've ever visited the Clinton Presidential Library and Museum to reenact a moment from history, we can assume that means "3rd Base."

The choices for responses were:

• 1st Base: kissing.
• 2nd Base: touching. Usually over the clothes touching.
• 3rd Base: kissing and touching that requires some extra cleaning up after.
  Or not. Oh, you're bad. I mean good. Very good.
• Home Run: you'd know it if you did it. You'd definitely felt guilt or
  embarrassment later.

The purpose of the survey was to determine how sexy people find the environment of the library, how comfortable people find the furniture in the library, and indirectly, how my butt looks in these pants.

Responses broke down into these percentages, in order of popularity:

2nd Base: 32%
Home Run: 25%
1st Base: 23%
3rd Base: 17%

This shows that 55% of you, the 1st and 2nd basers, are respectful of the learning environment that libraries provide. Until some line from Dickinson gets you all hot and bothered enough to act. But still, you're pussies because you stop before you get to the really good stuff. Grow a pair, you embarrass yourselves.

And as for you Home Runners; whereas I might feel tempted to call you all liars... LIARS... a look around the library at all the used condoms seems to support your braggadocio. Braggadocio? Oh yes, I could have said "cockiness." But I think you've had enough of that already.

The 3rd basers fell into the minority. The researchers felt that they would like to conduct some additional testing with this group. In the back seat of my 1972 Ford Galaxie. Yes, this is for science.

Comments, we get comments, part 2.

It was interesting how my comment about comments drew so many comments.

And yes, I agree, commenting is a pain in the ass. Comments are like mini-opinions, little bits our ourselves scattered around the internet. It's a test of my ability to be clever on the spot, a pop-quiz of pithiness. You think, oh, now *my* wit is being challenged. Fuck that. Even as an anonymous post, it's a mini-burden.

What I want is a dummy "Like" button that is basically a counter. I Hate that most tools like this need the person to be logged into some service before they can function. Like with the Facebook "Like" button that you can add to your blog, I "Hate" that the button requires the clicker to have a signed-in Facebook account before it does anything. It was the same with when I had the Digg and Stumbleupon buttons on this blog a while back.

So, yes, I appreciate comments, but I don't want anyone to feel obligated. I'll take it for granted that you all love me.

And speaking of love, I have a sex poll that you can answer. It's actually to collect statistics for a grant I'm seeking to place hand sanitizer stations in our libraries. If I can discover just how many of you are grabbing and rubbing each other in the Nation's libraries, I think I can squeeze some money out of Uncle Sam to a least purchase a roll of Bounty. It's the quicker picker-upper!

Okay, I agree with this one:

Woman wants sex book banned from Pataskala library. The book is, Mastering Multiple Position Sex: Mind-Blowing Lovemaking Techniques That Create Unforgettable Orgasms.

Written by this guy:


Eric Marlowe Garrison, MAEd, MSc, DLSHTM.

Or written by some really ugly guy who got that photo out of a new wallet.

"[Marti] Shrigley took her campaign to Matt Nojonen, director of the public library, and appealed to the library's board of trustees. The board, however, voted unanimously in November to maintain the book in the library's collection."

"Nojonen selected the book, and he said he was swayed by Garrison's credentials -- as a sexuality and relationship educator, Garrison has made presentations to hospitals, universities, medical schools and fraternities and athletic teams..."

Swayed only by his credentials?? Not by those hypnotically blue, bedroom eyes. Methinks Matt isn't being too honest. To his credit, the author's bio says he "earned the Diploma of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine... and holds lifetime membership in the American College of Sexologists." I was going to say that the Hygiene and Tropical Medicine degree sounds a little sketch, but, holy crap! a lifetime member of the American College of Sexologists sounds a thousand times better on a resume then "library school."

In Shrigley's corner, I can find no published reviews for this book. And WorldCat shows only 5 locations holding it, with two of those being book sellers, and of course the LOC. So I'm not sure how the library even found the title to purchase it.

I tried to access the publisher's website, Quiver Books, but our filter blocks access to it. Okay, fine, I bypassed the filter in the name of librarianship. And, hotchee-motchee, this site is smoking! There's this flash animation with couples boning in all sorts of locations. And boobies! Male and female boobies! Wait, what the hell is she doing with that?! Does that really fit in there? Without butter?

The Quiver page says, "Quiver Books, books and kits for couples wanting to take their sex lives to the next level. Books feature sex positions, techniques, erotic stories, color photography, kama sutra, and tantra. Celebrate erotic pleasure and intimacy through beautiful, sophisticated photography and inspiring text."

So, what do you think, kids? Does this book go too far? Is the library right to keep it on the shelf? And how many of you are adding this title to your Christmas list? Especially if you've been naughty this year and you want next year to be a lot naughtier.

Sex! Sex! Sex is good for libraries.

You've heard the news: Libraries suck.

Libraries aren't being built, or when they are, they don't get stocked with books. We could argue the value of a library without books or the wisdom of providing food and drink in a room filled with paper goods and/or electronics, but no intellectual discourse would steer me away from shouting directly into your face that these futuristic visions of the library are "FUCKING FAILURES."

They are not failures in the sense that no one will visit them; they are failures in that these libraries are only disguised as research facilities.  Everyone knows that the secret purpose of libraries (well, one of the secret purposes, since there are many... yes, I'm talking about you, Freemasons) is a place where you can make-out or have an orgasm and no one will bother you.  I, the.effing.librarian, can even admit that an old girlfriend once flashed me in the library when she was out wearing only a long coat and boots.  Okay, it wasn't my girlfriend, it was my roommate Tim.  But that still counts, doesn't it?

But these new "libraries" only offer Internet.  Yes, you can download econtent, but who the hell is going to do that?  What visitors are going to do, based on what I see in my library, is watch hentai animation clips on the computer and then pretend to take their phones out of their pockets 150 times over and over and over until they rub themselves into bliss.

Maxim magazine has a cheerful illustration explaining the intended use versus the real use of library spaces at every university, and other than misdirecting their punchline (they put "Masturbating" somewhere in the middle of the list when it should clearly, for the sake of comedy, be placed last), it seems pretty accurate.

So when these new libraries open without books, they flaunt the oldest library secret: libraries are places for learning about sex.  But historically, sex has been confined to dirty books.  But no longer.

I used to think that having perverts watching porn on library computers was a violation of the noble purpose of the library until I had the revelation that it isn't.  What I mean is, libraries should be for research and education, but SECRETLY for enjoying porn.  Whatever became of texts like, Fanny Hill? Or teens sneaking a peek at Tropic of Cancer? Every naked body or sexual depiction should be a secret pleasure earned by the seeker through a diligent pursuit, or by having an older brother who shows it to him, not by simply googling it. (note: everything I know about Fanny Hill or Tropic of Cancer I learned from Potsie and Ralph on Happy Days.)

But the Internet exposed the secret.  And so the library lost its power.  Porn is available to everyone through the Internet.  Except for the secret stash at The Vatican.  And the only way you'll ever get to see that treasure of porn is if you can get your hands on the Pope's library card.  I hear that's what Dan Brown's next book is about: The Pope's Overdues.

And for a while I was angered by those opposing porn filtering.  But now I understand.  They know that the secret has been lost.  I first thought they wanted Internet porn in libraries based on some interpretation of free will where people should have the ability to pursue their interests, no matter how base of vile. 

But now I know the truth. They only want the best for libraries. So when they say they don't support Internet filtering in libraries, they understand that unfiltered, porn-loaded, donkey-mounted, scat-sandwiched, golden-showered, bukakied, hairy-assed, wet, sloppy sex is what the public wants.  And it's not just what the public wants; it's what libraries have always given them, but which was shrouded within aisles of arcanely labeled books.

So access to sexual material is the library's legacy.  People have always wanted sex from libraries.  The Internet is just the latest porn delivery system.  Come into our library any day and see dozens of people viewing porn on our Internet computers.  If you're lucky, you might catch one kid peeking between the covers of The Lesbian Sex Book.  Dirty books don"t have the pull they once had.  And so free access to online sex will probably prove to be the salvation of libraries. 

Inappropriately Sexy Daddy

I was just about to send this to Maughta at Judge a Book by its Cover, but then I remembered that I'm lazy and posting it here would solve the problem of my not wanting to make something up just to keep you entertained.

[...and maybe you want to Click this link to visit Maughta's artsy-fartsy shop to purchase rendered coolness?]

Anyway, I was watching Jay Leno tonight when he showed a copy of One Sexy Daddy by Vivian Lieber with its questionable cover of, I'm guessing, the sexy daddy with the object of his desire on his knee (see image).

I don't know what the editorial department at Harlequin was thinking when they selected the cover illustration to go with that title because I'm not sure whether the One Sexy Daddy is a meaningless superlative like World's Greatest Boss, or if that little girl is supposed to be thinking it. Because, and you can disagree if you want to sound like a very sick person, I don't think that little girls are supposed to think of any grown man as sexy until they're at least old enough to stop carrying a teddy bear with them everywhere they go.

So I was just going to email this to Judgeabook when I scrolled down to read the Most Helpful Customer Review, which says,

"As entertaining as it is educational, Daddy grabs you from the get-go with its description of Adam Tyler, a charismatic architect, who zooms into our lives in
his tomato-red beamer, fresh from three months in the Amazon where he built both
a hospital for the poor and his smooth caramel chest."

and

"Can a big-city swinger survive in a generic small town? Will spending time with his daughter bring Adam down to Earth? Why does Whoopi Goldberg have a career?
Two of these questions will be answered by the novel's gripping climax."

What? You mean someone is using Amazon's review system to make jokes? And I immediately thought how little I would have to make up after I copied and pasted some of the review into this blog post here.

So here there it was, with as little input from me as possible. Sorry, Maughta.

This customer review also reminds me of a story I read the other day, "Amazon hijacked: 10 funniest review threads," but those weren't all that funny, so don't bother clicking over to it.




Added note: I posted this late last night and already got many, many hits from people googling this book (so I wish I'd posted it earlier).


And look how much Google loves me... look where this blog appears when someone searches it... I still believe that Google is screwing with me, but this isn't really proof, is it?

Text and the Single Girl.

MSNBC has a story on one women who was horrified to see her date text someone during dinner:

Megan Brinkman was initially psyched to (finally) be going on a formal date with a guy who politely asked her out. So during dinner, her jaw dropped when he began texting wildly.

[By Jasmin Aline Persch, Tues., Nov. 11, 2008]

Come on, this has been going on forever. On my first date with "Tom," a handsome Virginian and author of the Declaration of Independence, I recall that this happened, as I recorded it in my journal:

He retrieved a fresh quill from his coat and fashioned a nib with his penknife. Spots of ink appeared on the table as he removed the stopper from the inkwell which was also pulled from a coat pocket.
As he unrolled the fresh parchment to cover a substantial area of the dinner table, I began to feel a tremendous sense of foreboding as to how the evening might play out. Was that a shadow or a turn of his lip that altered his smile into that cruel appearance? Was he texting another?
Was it about me?

So since before the 1770's when I was a girl and up till now, men have always behaved rudely toward women. The only solution I can recommend is for revenge: if the relationship advances to the point where you become intimate ("shtupping"); when he is deeply involved in the moment, take out a book and begin to read. If he complains, just tell him, "Sorry, but this is a really good part. You just go ahead; you're not interrupting me."

But I have a note from my doctor

Librarian: Sir, you can't do that in the library.
Man: But it's for my enlarged prostate. If I don't do it, I could die. Besides, I have a note from my doctor.
[The librarian thinks about it.]
Librarian: Okay, but I'm going to have to make a copy of that note. And file it. Somewhere.

There were some recent news stories ("Study: Frequent Masturbation May Prevent Prostate Cancer" -- yes, that's a Fox News headline) claiming that men who masturbate, suffer from fewer prostate problems.

I remember a movie (just searched Charles Grodin and prostate and found a clip) where Charles Grodin is told by his doctor to release the tension that's causing pain in his prostate and to masturbate if he isn't having "relations" with his wife. Watch the clip if you think Grodin's reactions are funny, which I sometimes do, so maybe that's why I remember this scene after so many years. Surely, it's not because I thought the doctor's advice might come in handy (excuse the pun).

So if a bad movie (Movers & Shakers) from 1985 knew about the link between masturbation and prostate health, I wonder what happened that it suddenly made news again. Was some scientist caught with his pants down and then remembered that info?

No, apparently it's just Fox News rehashing old stories: here is U.S. News stating that the original story is garbage.

Either way, I'm telling all of our male patrons to hold on to those notes.

Will you sleep with a robot?

Other than how I might prepare for the zombie apocalypse (fyi: I'll live up in the mountains), there is no question more intriguing to me than whether or not humans will have sex with machines. And I'm disappointed by any fictional vision of a future that includes robots, but doesn't consider the idea that all of civilization might come to a crashing halt while people are busy screwing their machines. A lot of stories are concerned with robot rights in a human world, but very few deal with humans unpacking their robot and immediately looking for the button that will get it down on all fours (unless there's a whole area of robot erotica I haven't heard about).

My theory is, the more machines do for us that people once did, the more likely it is that you will screw a machine.
If you say to your robot, "You're right. The figures for the Holmstedt account are due tomorrow. You saved my life."
You're screwing a machine.
Or if you say to your robot, "Oh, you remembered my birthday!"
You're screwing a machine.

And more importantly, the more a machine is made to appear human, with representative sex parts or even a head, the more likely it will be for people to screw a machine.

I believe that when Isaac Asimov created the Three Laws of Robotics,

A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

he omitted the fourth and most important one:
None of the three laws can be used to persuade a robot to go down on you.

I take back everything bad I ever said about Second Life.

I've heard tales of the huge throbbing sex trade in Second Life, but I've never looked for it. Being a librarian, I just stick with the spanking parties we have after our selection meetings where we roll up our copies of Booklist, turn off the lights and smack each other's bottoms till they're rosy red like the cheeks of English schoolgirls. Every other Thursday from 3:15 to 3:45.

But today I was watching the scrolling list of freshly updated Blogger pages and I saw this:
The Secret Bitches of Second Life , and naturally I had to click.

I'm not really sure what's going on, but it seems to be transcripts of sexy times. Check out at your own risk.

So Second Life, I forgive you for your vast empty fields and desolate streets because now I know the truth. And as soon as I've waxed my virtual form to Olympic swimmer smoothness, I will be back.