TASSELS!

Hi, Anonymous! Thanks for all the rad comments yesterday. I see you're quite productive during the work day. As requested, a post.

Nearly a month later, we at Naked Cupcakes (just me, really) are still enjoying the death of Kim Jong Il.

Many people were talking about the death of Kim Jong-il on Twitter, but a lot of people thought Lil Kim died.

Kim Jong-il = sociopathic dictator who let his people starve.
Lil Kim = Only female hip hop artist other than Missy Elliot to have three platinum records, also rapper of "How Many Licks," featuring Sisqo.


The best tweet about the confusion was #4 on Buzzfeed's list of 25 people who made the mistake.

4.

For a limited time only, Naked Cupcakes is offering Kim Jong-il Titty Stickers just for that special someone who has an amazing life. For the woman who has everything! Or for, like, your Dad, because you never know what to get him, and why is it so hard to buy for men anyway? There are only so many Christmases you can shove new drill bits and a JFK book under his nose, under the guise that you put a lot of thought into this Christmas. I'm just waiting for my parents to get a BluRay, so I have another chance to give my Dad another updated copy of PBS's man-gift of last milenium, "The Civil War."

But this year, for Valentine's Day, I'm making titty stickers for everyone - PHubby, Dad, Mom, my BFF, the pitbull nursing puppies next door, and the trash guys I forgot to tip for Christmas. It's perfect for everyone on my list.

Art.

But then I was thinking it might not be demure enough for everyone on my list. Some of my friends are classy, or at least classics, and the Kim Jong Il-inspired Titty Stickers might be better for them -  more of a representation of Kim Jong Il, without banging you over the head with it.

But you still get some nip with this one. Nicely framed.

Some of you might want something more exciting, something a little sexy for Valentine's Day. Although it suited KJI, the ever-trendy, sumptuous, collarless greige button-down isn't provocative enough for some V-days. So, ladies, if you're searching for sexy, for wild, for "wow," do a little prep work and surprise your lover with ...

The North Korean.

(with labels for those who can't appreciate fine art and understand what those lines are)

Ask for it next time you're at the salon getting your nips waxed.

Why I blog.

Around this time of year, bloggers get nostalgic, thinking of their ten most poignant moments of last year, writing about the joy, the immense clarity and amazing community they get from blogging. What they get from blogging is so much more than they give.

I probably would do that too, if I were poignant. Or if my readers weren't also emotionally stunted adults obsessed with all things genitalia and laser pointers. (Genitalia and laser pointers: the original chocolate and peanut butter, friends.)

Blogging does fill a crucial need in my life, and not blogging is no longer an option. New Year's Eve was an opportunity to see old friends. A good friend was having a party, and PHubby and I would see people we haven't seen in years. Fun, right!?

Until I opened conversation by asking if it was too early to tell everyone about the time I tried to make PHubby look like an ass sex fiend in front of the surgeon who was about to give me a colonoscopy (cute anecdote), and then went right into the Dr. TwoFingers story. That's when my cheeks burned and I backed myself into the corner next to the bar and drank a full cup of beer before engaging more than one person at a time in conversation.

The next morning, driving home, PHubby and I were talking about how great it was to see everyone and how we should see these people more often. I told him how I'd embarrassed myself and how, if I had been blogging, I would have gotten all impropriety out pre-party, so as not to spark a night of conversation with details about my birth canal and asshole.

PHubby said he came up with a great new sex move no one had ever heard of -- and when he had the idea, he couldn't express it well enough in person. It needed a blog post. "Oh, yeah? Let's hear it," I said, and rolled my eyes, bracing myself for another generic football-testicle-man-humor joke every man thinks is original and that has never once made someone laugh.

"OK," he said. "You know the Dirty Sanchez?"

"Of course," I replied, because I have self respect.

"How about the Amish Sanchez?"

"Ummm, no."

"Right. So. It's like a Dirty Sanchez, but instead of drawing a mustache, you run your dirty dick along the length of the jaw line."

And with that one sentence, he both reaffirmed my love for him and drove me into the arms of Naked Cupcakes.

New Year's Resolution: return to the blog.