I know. I’ve talked this topic to death. I have brought shame to a few of you bloggie friends. I have embarrassed the hell out of myself. I have scorned my “good” name forever. And I am apparently not done yet.

I’m not supposed to post this until tomorrow, but I have 3 hours left in the day and I’m going to assume I won’t be ruffling many feathers. If you haven’t heard, it is the 20SB Vlog Day 2: Show Us What You Love.

At first I couldn’t figure out what to vlog about. My mom? My brother? My shot glass collection? My computer? The car?!

The list just kept growing and growing until the lovely Maxie suggested that – duh – I should vlog about my one true and unadulterated love.

Bingo!

Except there’s a slight problem. To show you every scrap of material I have that’s dedicated to What I Love, I would have to dig through about 6 boxes of varying sizes from random areas, like the garage. And I’m lazy.

So, I’ll give you the next best thing. A list. Followed by video footage of me taken by the Today Show studios.

The Shit I Own Because of My Love:
- a tattoo
- 27 recorded VHS tapes
- 27 concert ticket stubs, maybe 28
- a cruise ticket stub
- a 10′ banner from the Burger King Promotion
- cups, place holders, and fry containers from the same promotion
- 11 action figures – also from the BK promotion
- Christmas ornaments
- 100+ teeny bopper magazines
- 1,000+ posters
- 3 official VHS tapes
- 5 books
- 50+ CDs
- 12 autographs, which I acquired myself
- a 5×5′ window display for the 2000 Calendar
- 3 lunch boxes
- 7 calendars, sometimes double of the same
- birthday cards
- a gargantuan Valentine’s day card
- 20 German teeny bopper magazines
- stationary and pens
- stickers
- 2 full photocard albums
- jewelry
- pillows
- a license plate, which stayed on my car for 8 years
- and more…

As you can see, my obsession love for the Backstreet Boys ran deep. I’ve only mentioned it here, here and here. There are a few other places I brought them up, but I’ll spare you the details. Except not really, thanks to my fantastical list.

In 2005 they were in NYC promoting their Never Gone album. So like diligent little fans, all us crazies congregated in The Big City and lined up well in advance. Their first stop was the Today Show and because I drove a Geo Metro from Blacksburg (read: 4 hours south of DC) it took me longer than I would have liked to get there. Plus, there may have been a 6-car pile up that I narrowly missed until someone smacked into my bumper and spun me into oncoming traffic, right into the path of a big rig. Thankfully I had my priorities straight and fled the scene in my haste to get to NYC. A group of friends was holding a spot for me after all.

Or so I thought.

By the time we were allowed to walk into the holding area the next morning, these two psycho bitches freaked the fuck out about my lateness. In their infinite wisdom, they ran straight to the Today Show production team and cried bloody murder. My friend Kat and I got booted from the line just as we were about to enter causing me to almost shit a brick.

But this particular day would work out after all because Marshmallow, whose real name is Marcus, was kind enough to threaten the bejeezus out of the Today Show for not letting us in. And luck would have it that this meant we got VIP access instead of crappy stand-in-line-for-24-hours access. Marcus was the head of Backstreet security and he didn’t take too kindly to folks messin’ with us. You should’ve seen his face when the Today Show dude actually put his hands on me. I sure as shit wouldn’t want to piss off a burly 6′ man.

Below is the video of me having the best damn time in the absolute front row right by my honey bun, Kevin. I wish he was still in the group because holy hell that man can make me cream my pants like nobody else. Do you have any idea what kind of things I’d do to him if given the chance?

Just guess. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably spot on.

I know I’m technically “cheating” by posting this video, but it does show what I love. You can catch me in a grey hoodie at exactly 23 seconds into the video.

Y’know, if you haven’t run screaming yet.

When I  still lived in Germany, we were endlessly going on roadtrips. For the most part, these were 3-hour time periods in which we’d end up at our grandparent’s place. I didn’t usually care that we were on the road because I had long figured out it meant we’d wind up somewhere fantastic. The only real problem seemed to be that my dad always  played the same album on repeat. And back in the 80s? That meant 3 hours of Cameo.

Does that not ring a bell? He’s that black dude with the box haircut who wore a bright red athletic cup over black spandex.

His horrible fashion statement is pretty much on par with how annoying it was to hear his CD played. It made me want to rip my brains out through my ears.

Conversations with my dad usually went something like this:
Me: Can we listen to something else?
Dad: No! We  are not listening to Milli Vanilli!
Me: But you don’t know that’s who I was going to pick!
Dad: It doesn’t matter. Driver picks the music.

Just for the record, I was going to pick Milli Vanilli. The point was that he didn’t know I was and he always said that to “assume” makes an” ass of you and me.”

Hypocrite.

To keep from yelling bloody murder, it was at this point in the roadtrip that I would zone out and watch the stars go by. I couldn’t quite understood how they moved so slowly when we were driving so quickly.

Ah. To be young and full of wonder again.

There was one distinct pattern that I always seemed to come across. One star shone bright at one end and three other stars, which looked equally apart in distance, were lit at the other.

I dubbed it my Rocket Ship. That’s what it looked like when I played connect-the-dots.

I’d imagine flying in it as an escape any time I was forced to listen to Cameo or Smooth Jazz, both of which drove me nuts at the time. I was about 9 years old when I moved back to the U.S.A. All I really understood of the country was yellow school buses and individual lockers in school halls.

I was stoked. The only thing that frightened me was the idea that I’d never find the Rocket Ship again. When I finally realized I could see it from here too, I damn near jumped out of my skin.

But I was totally pissed off when I later found out it was part of Orion’s Belt.

Yes, those kind of facials.

It’s no big secret that I love porn. I especially enjoy talking about it because inevitably somebody pipes up in agreement. And who the hell doesn’t like to talk about sex?

If you still live in the dark ages, porn is when 1 dude screws the hell out of 2 or more chicks. He’ll stick his junk in her face, in her cootch or up her ass. Frankly, porn is boring without the latter. Other kinds of porn involve chicks and only chicks. Those are great until they start introducing strap ons.

There’s just no point to watching chicks diddle each other if they’re pretending to be a dude anyway. Just add a real damn dick!

While others will argue with you that there are many other varieties of pornographic material, I will emphatically state that they are wrong. All that other stuff is just garbage, not real porn. One on one? Boring. Two many dicks*? Gross. Lots of heated girl on girl action? Fantastic.

Due to my love for this particular type of cinema I posted “porn is awesome” as my tag line in Gchat. Like a domino affect, this brought about quite an interesting conversation with a man I used to work with.

A very, very hot man.

A man that was in a relationship so I stayed far, far away. Although, there were always these weird undertones and let me just state for the record,  I HATE THAT SHIT. Believe me, I’ve been “the other chick” on more than one occasion and that is neither acceptable nor doese it bring the warm and fuzzies. At the end of the day it just made me feel like a fucking douche nozzle.

Perhaps my own history has made me hypersensitive, but dammit I don’t like weird undertones.

Ok.

Back to the point.

So it seems he was quite intrigued by my one liner because he has sent two seperate messages since it went up – and we really never Gchat.

Then he goes, “Hey B. Ok, I gotta ask… facials – demoralizing or hot?”

To which I responded as follows, “In porn – hot. At home – only hot if the dude is, like, grade-a awesome outside of the bedroom.”

He made a smooth rebutal which left me thinking, “this dude has to be single now” and went on his merry way.

But more importantly – take note: if you are a super stellar human being, you can get away with a whole lot more in the bedroom with your significant other. There’s a fine line between kinky and demoralizing, and it all depends on how you act outside of the bedroom.

At least for this chick.

______
* I’d like to note that if I were a homosexual male I would probably ONLY watch dick on dick action and love every moment of it. Just sayin.

______
In completely unrelated news: stay tuned for a Giveaway curtosy of BOCA! I will get into details on Monday.

Banana flavor makes me happy. I’ll squeal in delight or jump for joy or smile like a damn buffoon when I get my little fingers on it. It can be in the form of a milkshake, piece of candy, pancake, muffin, bread or pretty much anything.

I’ve been chowing down on Necco Sweethearts and of course I just realized that the yellow ones are the best. They taste like candied bananas.

The thing that strikes me as odd is that I don’t really enjoy fresh bananas ad nauseum. I’ll get a craving for them every once and again, but if I eat them too often I get all wigged out by the mere idea of stuffing another one in my face.

My body just doesn’t want to deal with all that potassium. And I like to listen.

One fun thing about bananas – they make for really neat phallic symbols.

But that’s another story for another day.

This stuff right here?
It basically defined my childhood. If you can’t read the German, it’s banana flavored powder for your milk. The best is when I mix it with some chocolate powder to make Chocolate-Banana Milk.

I know you love my fancy name for that drink. I just made it up right there on the spot.

I’m that smart.

Now here comes the bullshit. They fucking discontinued my powdery goodness! Can you effin’ believe that?! Who told them that was the way to go?! Nobody. And if a Deutlich wants some banana powder, they’d better get off their asses and provide it.

I know I sound incredibly menacing right there. Give it five more seconds and someone will ship me a box with an apology letter.

I’m sure of it.

You know what I can’t stand, though.

No? Because you’re not a mind reader? Excuse me, what?

Uhm… obviously y’all need to get with the program. I hear Miss Cleo’s offering up her services to learn you right.

Any which way.

Grape flavored anything makes me want to gag up my intestinal tract. I’m not sure who decided that flavoring food like Dimetapp would be a great idea, but they should be hung by their toes and flogged.

No? Too harsh?

Should I stop putting sixty kabillion question marks after sentences? Have I completely veered topics? Does it really matter?

Can I be honest with you for a moment?

I am really fucking scared of this Economic Stimulus package being hawked. I want to believe it’ll do a lot of good, but I fear that local and state governments will just screw it all up. I mean, how do we ensure they use the funds exactly as they are supposed to?

I get the feeling that we can’t.

For a while there I really thought it might help. I figured that the big wigs have to know what they’re talking about.

Right?

And then Obama got on the TV and was all, “you should do this because of that and blah blah blah.”

I loathe that sort of politicking.

I don’t doubt that he meant well, and that he truly believes in this package. But it wasn’t that long ago when former President Bush did the same damn thing and led us into a war with Iraq. Something that should never have begun.

It makes me queazy.

This is not the sort of thing where we should  let the government spoon feed us what we should believe. None of us should really be sitting by idly. But I guess that’s just sort’ve how we roll as Americans. We vote for whom we like, and then let them figure it out.

Sometimes, getting in contact with our Congress people is more necessary than usual. And it’s not hard to do.

I’m not really trying to come off preachy. I don’t even fully know what the hell I should think about the whole situation either. So I’m basically in the same boat.

Maybe I’m trying to motivate myself?