i just want to conquer people and their souls

I like a beard on a man. I am also a big supporter of the burgeoning Menaissance movement, and its resulting "retrosexuals", because it tends to squick me out when men spend too much time on personal grooming. However, that being said, some beards are cause for concern. Like the "molester beard": Or the equally sketchy "Youth Minister Beard": And, of course the age-old adage "never trust a man with a soul patch" is one of my Montebellucci cardinal rules of thumb. Thank you to rapper "Pitbull" for modeling exactly what I speak of: But how is one to tell a good, friendly beard from a sinister one? Easy! I found this handy guide which outlines everything you need to know about beards, and the men who sport them. You're welcome. (click to make it bigger) Link

Readers, this Rave is very close to my heart. I speak of my ancestral homeland, a place of lochs, badass militia men and windswept moors. I speak, of course, of Scotland. While my name suggests that I am perhaps Italian, it is not so [that is a whole other side of the family]; my forebears hailed mostly from the most rocking country in the Northern Hemisphere. I mentioned a while ago that even my map-of-the-world shower curtain doesn't give Scotland any respect, let alone the rest of the world. I hope that this exhaustive discussion of fair Alba will persuade you that I am indeed sprung from the loins of greatness. So, without further ado, I present: Reasons why Scotland is Awesome. 1. I am from there. 2. If one is from Scotland, one gets their own tartan and motto That's right. On my fridge right now is a sweet magnet which contains my clan's tartan (a beguiling mix of green, grey, orange and brown -aww yeah!) and our motto which I will keep to myself for fear of...

This guy is my hero, or perhaps my id. As anyone who has seen my karaoke performance of "Alone" by Heart knows, lurking within me lies a performer waiting to be unleashed. I start soft, lulling you into a false sense of security, then open up full throttle culminating in an ungodly wail that brings me to my knees. Then, I bask in the adoring gasps of my new fans. In this video, keep your eyes on the "tiger" on the left hand side. He represents everything I never knew I wanted to do, in dance form. In fact, he reminds me of the time when I was 6 and my school put on its annual nativity play. It was the highlight of the season and I knew I had what it took to be Mary, Mother of Jesus. I felt I could bring a renewed sense of wonder to this integral member of the Bible. When the time came, it turned out some other stupid girl got the part and I was stuck being "Sheep #3" in the rousing musical number "Busy in Bethlehem". Had I seen this video...

Here at ijustwanttoconquerpeopleandtheirsouls I often discuss my dear husband, the Resident Manimal. One reason I enjoy our betrothal more than anything is observing his random obsessions. Avid readers of this blog (I am flattering myself here) will remember his Wunderkammer , but there are so many more things which intrigue the beast-man. The RM is sort of like a human magpie, accumulating shiny new things for his mental "nest". Recently, his obsessions have ranged from UFOs, pitbulls and painting to home wart removal, baseball gloves and treating leather with Mink oil. Usually, the warning signs of a Manimal obsession begin with copious amounts of internet research and then a trip to Barnes and Noble . This ritualistic approach to learning prompted the idea for this very post: A Book Club. Whereas I usually try to work my way through the back of a cereal box, or one free subway newspaper per week, the Manimal is a voracious reader. He is always jumping around ...

When I first began this blog, I mentioned how under my stoic antipodean exterior lies a ball of sentimental goo waiting to be prodded. While I may not reveal my true emotions very often, there are some things that get me every time, namely in the form of cheesy movie scenes. When I had the inspiration for this post, we were in the midst of the Winter Olympics. Ergo, the instance of "stuff that will make me misty" was at code orange. In fact, it was this very commercial which galvanized me into writing: What?? Are you serious? His daughter... Jane . That. is. too.much. Morgan Freeman, you should hang your head, sir. Using that voice for such shameless tear-jerking. Go World, indeed. Go to Hell World, for using a man's personal tragedy to sell me a Visa card is more like it. More often than not, scenes which make me teary have one of the following elements: a slow clap, the Olympics, an underdog, a family reunion or a parent being proud of their child. Take away from that...

Maybe it's because I am a loser who can't drive at the age of 30, or maybe because my inner bogan needs feeding, but I love a good parking stunt. This kid is already a better driver than me and he's about one fifth of my age.

Although some condom ads make you misty , and others make you scared, there are very few that make you want to get up and shake your junk. Sometimes, the only way to encourage the use of prophylactics is with a good old fashioned Bollywood song and dance routine. What do we get in the U!S!A!? A buch of wack-ass penguins telling us to stay in school. This PSA just makes me want to go and get my hands on some Bob Hope and drop out.

In my line of work, having a business card would be scoffed at; I'd be better served spending my money on a bunch of 'ludes. However, in the future, I would certainly like to have some of these bad boys. Although, I would not have such an aggressively quirky outfit on: If things really were to go my way and I become a boss, I'd definitely force everyone in my employ to get these Lego beauties: