Plant or Daltrey?

Part of this blog post was because I can't mercifully shake that performance of One Direction on SNL last week out of my head no matter how hard I try, and it's crap that this is what we consider 'sex symbols' in music today. First of all, they are children, second of all, their music is just dogshit, third of all, I usually don't have a problem with skinny jeans but come on! 

Excuse me for getting all old school but I'm watching one of those awful arbitrary countdown on VH1 which they clearly just raffled rather than judged based on actual merit because The Sex Pistols were higher up than Queen and Miley Cyrus was on the list of 100 Greatest Artist of All Time. Anyway, it's at #3 right now and that spot went to Led Zeppelin, which I consider a fabulous band don't get me wrong, but I wouldn't put it above The Who or The Stones...or The Stooges for that matter. 

And then I remembered how when I was younger and listening to 70's rock because it was cool back in the 90's when there was that whole neo-hippie movement, remember that? Woodstock '94, black lights, and ecstasy? Good times. Anyway! To me, it wasn't really about the music, it was who looked better in those crazy low-rider bell-bottoms, who had the bigger white-guy fro, and who wore those fringe vests just the right way. Was it Robert Plant the squealing sexual institution that had an orgasm every time he sang 'Whole Lotta Love'? Or was it wash-port abs, curly angelic locks, and pale baby blue eyes otherwise known as Roger Daltrey. The ultimate battle between British rock band frontmen golden gods. 

I would say that the who wore their pants tighter and lower clearly goes to Plant. I mean, I did not have to read 'I'm With the Band' to realize he wasn't circumcised and just exactly how big his dong was (10 inches by the way). As to who has the better chest/midsection, no contest, the abs of steel on Roger Daltry take the gold medal. Now, who has better androgynous Rapunzel locks is a tie, because sometimes you want the perfectly quaffed blonde bush of cherubic curls that Daltrey sported, but sometimes you want that crazy-messy sex-hair of Robert Plant, though it looks like it would smell like pubes and could have used some Head 'N Shoulders. 

Ironically I don't think either of the men were crazed sex pots with an endless stream of teenage groupies waltzing around naked in their dressing rooms lighting their joints and taking care of their morning boners, just kidding. This question has bothered me literally since adolescents; who was better in bed. I'd love to call it a draw but for my taste, I'm going to say that Plant wins this round as well...hypothetically of course. He seems like the more unbridled one. And I mean the less British one, you know, not as inhibited. Daltry for all of his rockstar glory still seems like he does it with the lights off. But who's to know for sure? So I guess what I'm saying is; Plant and Daltrey, if you are reading this, please feel free to prove me wrong by showing me. For the love of god. 

Watch the videos below and come to your own consensus. 

Seductress Pick: Krysten Ritter

Don't Trust the B____ in Apartment 23 might be the most asinine title for a television show in the history of asinine titles of television shows, but I have to admit it has potential. I'm glad they gave the superbitch junkie that eventually chokes on her own vomit and ruins Jesse in the head forever from Breaking Bad her own show, because she's pretty badass. 

With her Bettie Page bangs, pouty lips, and penchant for tight black dresses, Krysten Ritter looks like a revamped smut version of Ingrid Bergman, and I mean that in the best way possible. She's kink on crack, and she's not a bad actress either. She speaks to the inner badass in all of us, that always wanted to order drinks and then not pay for them, wear mini-skirts with platform pumps and not be called a slut, and not have to purse our lips. We needed someone to fill that neo-goth ice princess pasty-skinned vixen void after Kristen Stewart started getting on our nerves with her not-so-adorable awkwardness which comes off as unbridled arrogance, and Krysten is doing it beautifully. 

She's just the right amount of rebellious without being irritatingly gimmicky, even though her name is spelled with an unnecessary 'y'. She has a unique look in a muted aesthetic world of baby-faced ingenues and buxom sexpots. I'm glad being an unapologetic cunt is becoming en vogue right now. We don't need many more field mice and frustrated housewives cluttering up our primetime line up. 

Season premieres April 11th. The Beeks will be on it. What more do you need?

Free Associating with Ryan Gosling!

This is taken verbatim from my conversation with a friend over this recent momentous Gosling news. I can be very random, but I'm completely enjoying all of the insane places my mind has been going to since this incident. Trashy fan fiction here I come!

Just imagine you're walking into traffic listening to your headphones, blasting the Ke$ha without a care in the world just walking right into traffic...and then suddenly a warm large hand grabs you by the arm and yanks you to the curb...

its comforting...

its exciting...
you don't even understand what just happened and all you see is...

a face looks up at you...
breathing heavily, kind of scared himself
with those ridiculous blue doe eyes...

and says 'hey, easy there'

try and not to have a full on party in your lady parts...

if he did that to me, it would be in vain because i would faint and hit my head on the curb and die anyway...
but it's nice to have the fantasy... 

The only man better than Ryan Gosling was Paul Newman...Ryan Gosling is the new Paul Newman...Ryan Gosling should PLAY Paul Newman in the movie about his life...I'd watch the shit out of that...
i bet his breath smells like roses...

and his hands are like super soft...

not women's hands soft just that right kind of manly soft...
This would make for a great porn premise ...
But I think Gosling would fight that...
If he ever did porn I'd lose respect for him...
But i'd still watch it, are you kidding me?

 Is Ryan Gosling still Mormon...because i'm pretty sure he's Jesus.
I'm telling you he's Jesus...
..would that make him mormon Jesus...
Then his name would be Ryan Godling...
I'm sure I'm the first one to come up with that...

To be continued...

Oh and just for shits and giggles i'm posting some stuff from Gosling's early years. I'm not even going to front, I totally used to record Young Hercules on VHS back in the day. I never missed an episode.

Hey Everybody It's Ok to Make Fun of Fat People Again!

The new Betty Draper which launched a million OMFG's

Against my wishes, they decided to thrust Betty Draper back into our faces, fat first. I don't know if you've noticed or anything but she's kind of put on some weight since last we saw her. And apparently, we as the public cannot get enough of making fun of it, myself included. In this day and age where rapid escalation in bullying has become a serious life-threatening issue, it's nice that we can still sit anonymously behind our computers and ridicule chunky people in the media with impunity. 

Now I'm sure that when we all tuned into the second episode of the 5th season of Mad Men (2007 - present) we were all 'how did Paula Deen finagle her way to AMC?'
You see what I did there? I'm speaking out against internet ridicule and simultaneously engaging in it. That makes me a very special type of hypocrite.

It probably has a lot to do with the fact that none of us really like Betty Draper, in fact she's one of those women we love to hate. My office was agog with comments around the water cooler about how gross she looked. When honestly, it's about time that girl put on a few. We as the public love to see seemingly flawless people be given their comeuppance for being so apologetically hot and better than the rest of us, so when they're taken down a few pegs (i.e. fat-suit and body double) then there's no better schadenfreude.

We can all sleep soundly knowing that even Betty porcelain-doll Draper is not above getting old and getting fat like the rest of us. 

Excuuuuuuuuuse me for having tits. J-Law's new spread in Glamour magazine. Take that skinny bitches!

This is coming off the heels of internet outrage about Jennifer Lawrence being too 'supple' to play a starving teenager in The Hunger Games (2012), which basically translates into people thinking she's a fatty just because she has a normal female form and her rib cage isn't protruding out of her chest. I thought we were over the whole women have to look like they're in the terminal stages of heroin addiction a long time ago, and all of a sudden we can't embrace a full-bodied figure because we all want to fit into Ellen Page's jeans? Um, I'll call BS. 

Remember when heroin chic was a thing? I blame all of my body issues on it to this day. 

Spotlight On: Fifty Shades of Grey

Every once in a while I make an exception around here and talk about politics, or music, or in this case, the greatest American novel since 'The Grapes of Wrath'. Of course I'm talking about the book that has taken this nation by storm in a sweep of controversy that was originally based on Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series called 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. Two volumes have followed, the last installment of which was just published in January of this year and just a few weeks ago topped, that's right, topped the New York Times Bestseller List. 

Collectively we as a nation kind of went 'oh yeah, books, you mean we can read these? words that make pictures in your head? will it fit on my iphone?' and then we got wind of what it was about and everyone was in faux shock and awe. Like we've never knew that such things as erotic S&M novels even existed much less become the viral juggernaut of erotic fan fiction.  

I've been writing erotic fan fiction for years, what's so new around here? Granted, I never based it off 'Twilight', it was more like 'Lord of the Rings'. Merry and Pippin were secret lovers, Merry was pushed into an arranged hobbit marriage with some frumpy jolly girl and would engage in kinky rendezvous with Pippin underneath the moonlight behind the hobbit bridge...did I just share too much? 

I think what the general public has the biggest problem with is that the author is female. Like women don't fantasize about BDSM activity in the extremities and get off on it, wake up America. 

In this day and age, it still had major publishing restrictions, but thanks to the internet has become a viral sensation due to blog word-of-mouth, and it's virtually unstoppable. Focus Features just optioned the rights on the 26th, and casting is in the works. 

It is a no-holds-barred sexual fantasy about a college student and a stubborn billionaire who fall in love and engage in anal bead and handcuff play...among other things. This girl E.L. James is no Mark Twain, but it's an amazing read. Something you do with the door closed and the phone off with the roommate out for the night. Boys, it's not really for you, I hope this makes everyone realize that what we as women perceive as erotica and are aroused by is rudimentarily different. It's rather empowering actually. It's taking the BDSM subtext of 'Twilight' and making it ecstatically blatant. Put down 'The Hunger Games' and indulge yourself. You know you want it.

For some reason, I can't post this video directly to my blog, so check it out here: It's everything you need to know.

Fifty Shades of Grey on CBS - March 26, 2012

Still from The Story of O (1975) based on the iconic BDSM novel of the same name originally published in 1954.

For more guilty and subversive pleasure Netflix is streaming The Story of O, a 1975 film based on the seminal (perhaps bad choice of words) erotic BDSM novel about a Parisian fashion photographer who signs a contract to be a mysterious millionaire's submissive and gets thrusted (again wrong choice of words) into an elite club of sorts of rich gentlemen who keep her and others as their consensual sex slaves. It's a very '70's' movie I'll just tell you that right now, where the actors' lower body doesn't move, but they convulse they're heads around like they're in the middle of a major seizure. It's very glossy, surreal, and over-the-top. It's fantastic. It's kind of like that high-class British porn that people make fun of, ironically the film is French with English dubs. 


Or, you can be old-school and read the works of The Marqius de Sade, particularly 'Justine' which is my favorite. 

How Big of a Let Down is Anne Hathaway's Catwoman Suit?

I had to turn off the Animal Planet before I completely lost my shit on how cute newborn golden retriever puppies were and channel surfed until I came upon Current TV who was showing arguably the best Batman film that exists, Tim Burton's second in the franchise, Batman Returns (1992) with Michael Keaton as the titular character, Danny DeVito as the most complex and three-dimentional comic book inspired villain, Penguin, and the unforgettable Michelle Pfeiffer as the sexual icon Selina Kyle/Catwoman.

Now, strictly aesthetically speaking, because the Nolan films are a mainstream reboot of an otherwise cult horror tradition, I was expecting Anne Hathaway's Catwoman get-up to blow apart every incarnation that came before it. I thought it would be S&M on meth, with lots of pad locks, zippers, and leather embellishments. I thought it would be avant-garde and modern, yet harkened to a campy 50's style, exaggerated and fabulous. I wanted to get a headache from the bling, jealous from the cleavage, and finally enjoy Anne Hathaway, but how much was I disappointed when I remembered just how boring it's actually going to be? 

It looks like a wet suit you wear to go surfing with a fanny pack around it and cheap costume store kitty ears that set you back 5.99$ on Halloween. What a major fake orgasm, or more appropriately build up to an orgasm that never happens, either way, it's trag-fest. 

With all do respect to Julie Newmar, Michelle Pfeiffer was the greatest Catwoman, and with all do respect to Michelle Pfeiffer, her performance would have been nil without that suit. It is an instance where you have to really look the part to embody it, and when they put her in those Bettie Paige stilettos, and pleather body stocking that literally had to be sewn unto her, it was a definitive moment in our pop-culture history. 

'Ahhh, there's my favorite pussy' -The Penguin

This goes without saying that Tim Burton has always been an aesthetic genius, and for a franchise like Batman, aesthetics are of immeasurable importance, you can't just throw someone into a cheap plastic costume and headband ears. Catwoman might be the most outwardly sexual superhero that was ever created by the minds of Marvel comics, and she's written to be deliberately over-the-top in her prowess (no pun intended). With the release date quickly approaching and anticipation brewing all over the place, it looks to me like The Dark Knight Rises (2012) dropped the ball on Catwoman.
I'm speaking strictly visually of course, but I don't think you have to sacrifice spectacle for the sake of character study. Perhaps everyone's playing it safe after the hyper-sexualized overtly ridiculous leather-clad Halle Berry version of Catwoman tanked like a fat kid in the deep end, but I for one am pretty disappointed that they've turned everyone's favorite horny femme fatale into a bad girl even grandma can get on board with. 

The Shahs of Sunset: Just Another Drop in the Bucket

Oh how we were all saying to ourselves, I can't wait until there's a shameless clone of an already painful-to-watch franchise like Real Housewives for me to look down upon and ridicule. Don't worry people, Bravo was listening and this month it premiered something that was half Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, half Keeping Up with the Kardashians, and all-around disgusting titled The Shahs of Sunset (premiere on March 11th). It focuses on a group of Iranian-Americans who are just as shallow, obnoxious, and classless as regular Americans and just like shows like this do, already sparked an enormous cluster-fuck of controversy. 

If there's a group of people I truly despise in all of this, I would have to say it's not the executives at Bravo, it's not the fame-whores of Shahs of Sunset, but it's the 'outraged' viewers of whichever socioeconomic culture group that predictably takes active measures against the other two groups. Seriously viewers? Are you that surprised that a network like Bravo was going to exploit and skew a culture portraying it in a superficial light? Like they don't do that with every single walk of life? And did you not pay attention back in 2009 when Jersey Shore first premiered and the Italian American community flooded the halls of MTV Networks with lawsuits and sanctimonious hate-mail? Don't you know that resistance is futile and you're fighting a losing battle over the greatest trend in pop-culture today which is being shamelessly idiotic?

People like me with an esteemed education and reputable collection of pretentious books will tune in every week and then blog about it and soon enough, 'the Shahs' will end up on Anderson Cooper 360 where even serious hot-guy news journalist Anderson Cooper will have to pay attention to them. When Bravo shoves something down your throat you swallow it and say 'thank you sir, may I have another?'

Yes, it's racist, yes it's culture-skewing, yes it's deplorable, inaccurate, crass, demeaning, offensive, disrespectful, stereotypical, and consequential, and that is exactly why it's on TV. Don't get me wrong I don't expect this to have a long run, the Shahs will be back to doing whatever it is that they do in less than a season. I give it another two episode before Bravo pulls the plug because it's just too redundant, and neither my criticism nor anyone else's is going to get it off the show any quicker, in fact, it will probably draw people to it at alarming rates. 

My real complaint with it is that it's nothing new, and just pandering to a demographic that is becoming a dying art; we all enjoy people being awful on national television because we all want to feel better about ourselves, and then fact that we watch shows like Jersey Shore, Real Housewives of... and now The Shahs of Sunset ironically only perpetuates this. It was once our greatest TV pleasure, but this show proves that blatant stupidity is only fun in moderate doses, and it's about to overdose. You'll see, we're all getting to the point where we put down the remote and pick up the Dostoyevsky. Just kidding. See you at The Pauly D Project viewing party!

Here's a promo.  

Indie Film's War on Sex

 I don't get it indie directors, are your skinny jeans so tight that they've cut off circulation to your private area? What is it about sex and being naked that is so repulsive to you that you always have to paint it in a bad light, literally. In every indie film I've seen recently either someone is portrayed full frontal nude because they're taking a long reflexive prison shower, or there's a painfully graphic sex scene between them and someone they don't like and are likely to shoot over tears later. Before you get all pissy and disagreeable yes, Blue Valentine (2010) is an exception. Moving on.

Sorry I'm going to be late. I have to existentially stare into the sunset and ponder the horrible decisions I made due to lack of options for someone in my current economic position before I go have weak and disconnecting sex with my semi-hot girlfriend. Still from Booster (2012) opened at SXSW in March.

Wait a minute...is sex only bad when you're poor and have to do it on a sleeping bag in the corner? Why is it the uptight clean shiny rich people only get to bust a nut romantically on Egyptian cotton while the breeze flutters the candlelight? Why is Ryan Gosling's bod a million times more appealing when he's in The Notebook (2006) but NOT in Half Nelson (2008), good to go in The Ides of March (2011) but not in Drive (2011). Do indie films try to sell the idea of sex being subversive and cruel? Is that they're point 90% of the time? Unless it's an indie comedy of course. But who cares about them when you can tell endless and monotonous stories involving inner-city youths struggling with the decisions to commit wildly audacious crimes and/or becoming drug dealers, all while having improbable awkward simulated sex with an actress who is always way hotter than they are.

Ooooh yeah, I'd give up my inheritance and family name for you, depression-era guy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Sorry, I don't date meth-heads...or do I?

Is this some kind of socioeconomic plucky satire you're trying to sell which states that independently funded films can only be about people in the same class diaspora? and why are they all miserable and living in the filthiest shit ever? I used to live in shitty apartments too but I at least spruced them up to seem lovely with all kinds stuff that created the illusion that I wasn't completely starving and miserable. You don't have to throw a dishrag full of holes over the window a as a curtain and put cracks in every single floor board. We get the point indie film, quit beating us over the head with it.

One example that keeps coming up is poor Melissa Leo, who is just inundated with playing these types of roles. She's poor, or just out of prison, or white trash, or something that will eventually force her to stand around naked (not a pretty picture) for long periods of quiet time, pondering the bullshit that is her life. Why is it that only poor people seem to have these instances when they're naked and troubled and not the wealthy, glowing, and groomed folks? 

Melissa Leo euthanizes dogs, cries about stuff, and walks around naked in Francine (2012), opened in SXSW in March.

I've seen a lot of these types of non-plot 'character pieces' drift through lately, and this is the trend I picked up on. Ironically, when an industry film with substantial financial backing comes out where the main characters are from unfortunate circumstances, sex is approached as a means or enlightenment and redemption.

I don't understand what is it about your place in the world in terms of the class system forces you to approach sexuality with such impunity and resentment, you would think that its the sublimest escape, but apparently it makes everything just spiral downwards uncontrollably until the protagonist kills him or herself, which is always a huge inevitability, or for the most part ends up staring into space again until it fades to black.

I Saw Breaking Dawn Part I, and I Liked It.

Goes without saying that I took my dear sweet time in subjecting myself to this film. It was released in November and armed with a pint of my favorite coffee ice cream and glass of wine, I relented yesterday. I felt like I needed to clear my mind before I had to focus on the premier of Mad Men with something relatively mindless, little did I know I would find it freakin' awesome pants.

Here's a brief history of my experience with the Twilight Saga films.

1. Saw the first one by Catherine Hardwicke, loved it, thought it was great as a cult-horror reboot for a new generation. Have it on DVD, and as a VLC file on my computer in case I lose the former. The only other film that I can say that about is Gone with the Wind (1939)

2. New Moon: Saw it when it first came out, matinee at the Lincoln Center. I was that kind of special hung over that you don't want to do anything, but you don't want to be home, so you take a cab 5 blocks that you just don't feel like walking and indulge in something completely awful. I left midway through.

3. Eclipse: I couldn't be bothered.

Jacob Black: No. I'm sorry, I'm just trying to appreciate your last night as a human.
Bella Swan: Well, it's not my last night.
Jacob Black: I thought you?
Bella Swan: I didn't really want to spend my honeymoon writhing in pain.

So that brings us up to date me thinks. Now, I've never bothered to read Stephenie Meyer's opus, though I did pick it up once while at Strand and promptly put it back down and walked away shaking my head, so there's really nothing in it for me that's too particularly serious. I'm just looking at it in terms of cinematic and filth value, and I'm happy to say that I was quite fulfilled with this latest installment.

Both Parts I & II are directed by Bill Condon who understands the value of camp redemption, and does not hold back with the outlandish nature of the story. He makes it more vapid, violent, and cornball. That after all, is the essence of this saga.

For instance, I found it highly amusing and not at all offensive that Bella (Kristen Stewart) has to literally beg Edward (Robert Pattinson) to fuck her, and seems to enjoy the ensuing rough-play that inevitably occurs considering Edward is unable to get excited without breaking something.

I'm not sure if they mean to signify sex as death or sex as rebirth, either way, apparently it's highly painful and yet fabulously sublime. It's definitely other-worldly let's put it that way.

I loved how little finesse was applied to Jacob worrying that Edward would kill Bella with his crazy powerful vampire cock asking her frankly; 'are you stupid? you'll die'. Subtext, sex with me wouldn't be half as painful, although I do shed and slobber, but I'm hypoallergenic.

If camp is categorized by it's 'deliberate ridiculousness' then this film is a camp treasure, and really wonderfully executed. I could have done without all of the silly time-passage montages sent to hipster shuffle picks, but that's about the only complaint I have.

Moving on to Bella's death scene (sorry if I ruined it for you, but if you don't know that that happens eventually then I feel truly sorry for your thick self). She's having a 'demon-baby' one that is quickly sucking the life blood and just regular blood from ailing Bella who develops maternal feeling for the thing and refuses to abort it. The baby (which ends up being a precious cute-as-balls little girl) tears her body apart trying to get out, and Edward finally relents to having to 'change' her. i.e. fiercely biting into her every orifice with his sharpened fangs; the sound effects of which being so over the top it would have been strangely romantic if it weren't so delightfully disgusting.

Twilight drops some science on us. 

Dr. Carlisle Cullen: The fetus isn't compatible with your body. It's too strong. It won't allow you to get the nutrition you need. It's starving you by the hour. I can't stop it and I can't slow it down. At this rate, your heart will give out before you can deliver.
Bella Swan: Then I'll hold on as long as I can and then.

Long story short, it eventually works and as we close in on her newly youthful and glowing face, her eyes open to reveal pupils blood red. She's now no longer loser can't-walk-in-heels, clumsily awkward, lip-biting, hair-playing, eats all the carbs she wants and never gains weight whiny Bella, she's Camp Queen Bella, the Vampire Goddess. Let's cover her in blood and give her lots of clever puns on death in her dialogue. That's my hope for Breaking Dawn Part II.

The highly awaited teaser came out today. Here it is.

Zou Bisou, Bisou

Guess what everyone? there's a new person to hate on Mad Men, Don Draper's new wife, former secretary and all around horse face, Megan. She does everything wrong; unwittingly usurps some of Peggy's responsibility, sleeps in the buff when Don's kids are around, throws him lavish surprise parties that everyone in the office makes fun of the day after, unleashes some world class sex-as-a-weapon tricks on her husband that make us all question her motives.

That aside, the show has definitely mellowed out the role of the woman; Peggy is her fussy usual self and begins to fall neatly into the role of subservient girlfriend to her new preachy and self-richeous left-wing boyfriend. Joan is coping with the beyond universally difficult role of single motherhood as well as her own mother gets on everyone's last nerve, Jane (remember her? the 6-year-old Roger married in Season 2) acts bitchy and jealous, and Betty is no where to be found. All in all, without her the show's narrative has a much better cohesive flow, and her incorrigible character is not missed from the new storyline of everyone moving on with their lives. 

Ironically could be the most iconic moment in Mad Men history heretofore; Don's blushing bride puts on some kitten heels and a mod dress and sings to an ever-growing chagrined crowd a hilariously repetitive song called 'Zou Bisou Bisou' which ended up trending on twitter within 5 minutes. Shocked? nope.

Life at Sterling Cooper Draper Price is as Ken puts it 'stable' which is as Pete erroneously describes as 'that level right before failure'. He's a new parent as well, though we never see baby Tammy, just Trudy walking around with post-baby fat still making her more attractive than most. Ken has a fiance, and if you're a child of the 90's you remember actress Larisa Oleynick from The Secret World of Alex Mack, she seems pretty open minded and closes a blind eye to Ken's inevitable philandering.

Layne, still upset from his inability to stand up to his father and marry the Playboy bunny he was so passionately taken with has decided to 'work' on his marriage, meaning ignore it for the most part, and bring his boner-killer of a wife over to the states for good. He entertains the idea of hooking up with a very very very young looking girl who's picture he'd discovered in a wallet that was left in the same cab he was taking, but it seems like he'll have to be sexually frustrated for quite some time more.  

It seems like this season everyone is settling into their domestic roles which leads to a sedation over the sexual subtext of Mad Men at least for now. The most sexual apparatus of the show save for Don Draper is Joan Harris, who was kept in bathrobes and pajamas patiently rocking her new baby to sleep until of course she realizes that she might be replaced at any minute and arrives to the office wearing a gaudy hot-pink plunging neck line number all with baby in tow. 

Stan Rizzo, art director and loose cannon at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, keeps trying to nail Peggy to no avail.

A new character that Mad Men is starting to utilize better is Stan the man Rizzo. A feisty and blunt hunk of guy who's at it with whomever talks longer than 3 seconds to him. He's got biceps, tight pants, and a fantastic arrogance that though might not drive the girls from the secretarial pool to his office, but at least gets us viewers interested. His boyish charm and rugged physical construct, coupled with a twisted and yet sardonic sense of humor is a refreshing new angle to explore. Hopefully soon he will be promoted to principal cast, but we'll just have to wait and see. Great job Mad Men, seriously, I'm glad you're back. Keep it up.