Sunday, September 24, 2006

Exclusive! America's Hottest Mom Auditions!

miami beach hottest mom audition

Hot mom or ho on the street corner? You decide. Manola 180's stealthy paparazzi team captured this potential candidate leaving the Byron Carlyle Theater this afternoon.


We must applaud the sensitive creators of this reality TV series for bringing the forgotten plight of this special needs population to light. Recent studies by progressive, impartial think tank Girls Next Door, funded by a cabal of America's intelligentsia, have shown that for women to be considered physically beautiful and sexually desirable by mainstream media after doing what they are equipped to do -- mainly pushing a watermelon-sized human out of their vaginas -- is practically impossible.

Think tank leader Bridget Bleachbrain expresses concern about the widespread incidence of ugly mothers. "zOMG! For every like, 1 billion moms, like only one stays hot!"

A chilling statistic makes clear that in fact -- these women who make up most of the population, inside whom all of us have spent the first part of our lives and without whom we would not be alive -- are considered handicapped by fugliness.

"This is why we are praising America's hottest moms" explains reality tv show producer, James Jackass. "Those women who overcome this insurmountable limitation deserve very special treatment as MILFs."


byron carlyle miami beach hot mom audition

Manola asked James Jackass why the audition took place at the Byron Carlyle in North Beach instead of America's hottest playground, HoBe. But the erudite brainchild of such fine productions as Bulimia Boulevard and Alexia's Last Laxative appeared surpised.

"Manola, are you serious? There aren't any MILFs in South Beach. Shoving a gerbil up your ass or a baseball bat-sized vibrator up your cunt is NOT the same as pushing out ... you know ... what are they called ... babies? HELLO? HoBe doesn't even have a fucking maternity ward! The only hospital down here was torn down by a condo developer! Get your facts straight, bitch."

"By the way," concluded James Jackass, pointing and twirling his finger at my rack, "you're a little too fat for us, but would you like to ... ?"

Sensing his discomfort in being questioned by a woman with brains and a rack, Manola concluded the interview with one simple question: "America's Hottest Mom is a shoe-in reality TV hit. Being a broadcast visionary with a commitment to enriching humanity with culture, what's next?"

"Easy," replied James Jackass. "What could be better than America's Hottest Geezer? Just think about it. Carrying the cane, but still wearing a wife beater. We're interested in representing all of America's disadvantaged communities, including aging metrosexuals."

old geezer miami beach


A Blog, A Mom and a Life In-Between
Stuck on the Palmetto
Florida Masochist

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Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Planet Manola: Back Fat Mountain

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

In the inaugural issue of Planet Manola, we paid homage to various acts of public indecency, such as tucking your junk and taking a poop.

This week's edition offers a variation on the theme, as we come to the conclusion that half-naked men, provided they are working for the benefit of society, can do no harm.


Imagine a fine September Miami morn. The parrots are squawkin', fish are jumpin' and the thunderstorm still several hours away when suddenly BOOM!

My heart leaps out of my body as I run from my bed to see if I had died and gone to war, but instead I pull the curtains aside and I see THIS and realize that THIS is looking at me and my boobs and that THIS knows that my boobs and me know that THIS is looking at me and my boobs!

construction worker outside Manola's apartment


Matters were a little clearer after coffee. Sure, the reinforcement of a crumbling sea wall was underway a mere hog's spit from my terrace, but I wondered: why waste that amazing multi-purpose erector-set on concrete?

Such a tool, let me tell you! It puts wee Mr. Crabby to shame. Not only does it possess longitude, latitude, fortitude and attitude, it also swivels on an axis and slides up and down at variable speeds! It stays stiff even when folded! For the love of God, it takes an entire 200 pound buttcrack model to operate! Oy Dios mio, I could use it to pound 20 mammoth tostones by the minute, not to mention buckets of hummus, even!


Now THIS, I thought, was a sign from God. Could this be, finally, the Hurricane Season Boyfriend my tender loins longed for? My heart raced as I imagined myself Lady Chatterly and he my sweaty, laboring lover. Me, with all my pent-up passion, chest heaving in anticipation, my languid eyes just beaming in adoration over that buttcrack, handing him a cold cerveza while he bangs the sh ... but wait, Manola!

Hurricane season is over in a couple of months, which means he'd be about as practical and useful as buying plywood in January. And being a true local, you would NEVER buy plywood in January, would you? Besides, who needs plywood, when you have to -- out of moral obligation -- put all those spare batteries to good use? Sorry, Mr. Crabby. No time off for you, my little friend!


And so once again, another Miami Beach meaningless sexual encounter between one horny woman and a sweaty, shirtless stranger is averted, even though it took place in the capitol of porn and sweatcrotch himself, Brandon Davis, was spotted far away in the other La La Land.

But I still appreciate -- from the safe distance of my window -- the men who break their backs to make our beautiful island city a safer place. Praise be to the real men of Miami Beach, who show their buttcracks for all the right reasons, every season, rain or shine!

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Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Is Sperm Vegan?

Please give a warm welcome to my guest blogger Inga who shares some very healthy advice about sex and food! After leaving Inga a delicious comment, stop by Fanless, where you'll read my exclusive interview of South Beach's sexiest Mexican!

Commercial Break – TRANSCRIPT OF THE Vegan Sex Psychologist Radio Show

Inga: “Hi there Sex on the Beach Miamians .. allow me to introduce myself. My name is I. Ambrosia (aka Inga) from Miami Vegan. A blog where I try to educate and convert the omnivores of the world while entertaining them with fun facts and photography.

Occasionally, I rant about animal rights and the weather. Today, I will be guest blogging for the special ‘Miami Cross Blogination’ event city-wide in S. Florida.

“Now to the “meat” of the matter. I would like to now answer a few questions via phone regarding veganism and your favorite topic -- sex. It looks like we have our first caller.

“Hello caller, you’re on the air with I. Ambrosia.”

Caller (a.k.a. Loose-inda): “Hi, I. Ambrosia. I’m an avid Sex Miamian and big fan of Manola but glad to have you here. So you are vegan right? My boyfriend wants me to ask you if sperm is vegan? I’m vegetarian and am thinking of switching over to veganism and need to know before tonight.

Inga: “Hello Loose-inda, welcome to the program. Well, that is a very interesting question you’ve got there. Can’t say I’ve ever been asked that before. First of all, is your boyfriend a vegan?”

Caller: “No, he is a bodybuilder and eats lots of red meat and animal proteins.”

Inga: “Then no his sperm is not vegan and should be removed from your diet. However, if he eats a vegan diet for 48 hours you can then partake of the special sauce. Do you think he can do it?”

Caller: “Um .. he is throwing out the frozen meats in the ice box as we speak.”

Inga: “Excellent. Another happy customer.”

Caller: “Thank you so much I. Ambrosia. You’ve saved my relationship.”

Inga: “Oh .. didn’t realize it was that serious. Good luck then, Loose. So, next on the line we have Victor.”

Caller (a.k.a. Victor): “Hi, I. Ambrosia. I heard you just talking about sperm and I have a question along the same lines.”

Inga: “Sure, shoot Victor.”

Caller: “(Laughs) This is embarrassing but my girlfriend wants to know if my sperm can make her boobs bigger? (Coughs)”

Inga: “(Coughs) Well, Victor .. are you wanting her ‘boobs’ bigger or is she?”

Caller: “I like her breasts but she thinks I look at other girls with bigger breasts.”

Inga: “I see. Much of what makes breasts bigger is fat tissue so if you yourself are eating a high fat diet, you will be able to ‘transfer’ some of that fat to her.”

Caller: “Wait. I don’t want her to get too big .. other guys might like them.”

Inga: “Guess you’d better think about that before you turn on the tap. Alright, Victor that’s all the time we have for today. I’d like to thank Manola for letting me slip around in her sheets for the day. Thanks to all of our callers for the very interesting questions. I would like to leave you with a deliciously yummy chocolate recipe to slip and slide around in for all you lovers out there. Happy healthy sexing.”


200 ml./1 cup of unscented bubble bath (as sold by Meadowsweet, Dolma and Honesty)
75 ml./third of a cup of unsweetened soya milk
70g./3 oz. of dark chocolate
optional - add some cinnamon or ginger for a stimulating bath

Heat the soya milk and add in the chopped chocolate, stir well until melted. Do not boil. Allow cooling down. Mix with the bubble bath and pour into your bath and enjoy...

To lighten up the mood with a little humor also check out this interesting chocolate candy bar commercial from Chile ..

Laters .. ;-)

Miami Cross Blogination Hub

Miami Cross Blogination Press Release

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Thursday, September 14, 2006

Land of the Ectomorphs

ectomorph sex and the beach cartoon south beach condominiums

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Sexy Threesome Plus More!

miami cross blogination on sex and the beach

Coming soon to a computer screen near you: a sexy girl-on-girl with man!

On September 19, luscious Inga from Miami Vegan will be tickling my tootsies and I'm sure that whatever she serves will be fresh and wholesome. I'm hoping for a very informative article on the alternative uses of cylindrical-shaped vegetables and tubers, or something terribly awful about 'eating meat' in the sexual sense, but I'm leaving the bed sheets bare for her to play with Sex and the Beach in whatever way she likes.

What's more, I'll be having sex blog with South Beach's favorite hot pepper, Fanless. Oh, come on, don't you just want to pinch those pink and green cheeks?

Self-described as a "fat, lazy Mexican," Fanless often takes a Seinfeld much-ado-about-nothing approach to his posts, but don't be dissuaded.

zOMG! This boy is really hawt and worth a good stalk, which is why, on September 19, Manola will slober all over Fanless with the same relish as she would over a good, hard and spicy burrito.

Don't for a moment think I'm being sarcastic. I love me a good, hard and spicy burrito, so we'll see how we can manage this cluster blogster fuck between a Vegan, a Mexican and a Manola all rolled into one fresh-baked tortilla!

My, it's getting hot in here, isn't it?

You bet it is. Miami will be buzzing like a thousand dildos charged with fresh batteries on September 19 -- look it, I've got a surplus!

We're not the only three blogerati getting it on that day! The whole Miami blogosphere promises to ooh and ahh in the pleasures of the pen, giving a whole new meaning to Miami vice!

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boner gossip

Sources tell us that part of the threesome may be featured on the alley sex cam, which is quite the rage among some Arabic-speaking Google hounds!

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Planet Manola: Don't Do This in Public

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

cheap shoes south beach manolo blahniks
Shoe store on Washington Avenue, South Beach. $19.99 Made in China plastic high heels have the life expectancy of a fruit fly. Pick up a pair on your way to the club and toss them out later with the condoms!

In this edition, we pay tribute to unbecoming public behavior and homage to a rising star in the limelight of English grammar!


The young man who decided to tuck his junk into his pants while standing under the bright lights of the ATM machine on a busy intersection just off the Julia Tuttle Causeway. He unbuckled his pants, pulled them halfway down his thighs and then proceeded to shove it all in. Too bad I wasn't standing in line behind him! Maybe I could've swiped my debit card down his crack for cash, but this doesn't shock me, because ...


... when you gotta go, you gotta go! Earlier last week, in my perfectly respectable upper-middle class neighborhood, an older gentleman parked his car in a lot adjacent to a canal, opened the passenger side doors of his car, stepped in between both doors, pulled his pants and underwear down, squatted and then proceeded to defecate, thinking that no one could see him and not realizing that those of us who live on the other side of the canal had a full view of the ceremonious bowel movement! This is the sort of behavior you expect from a vagabond, but ...


... even the female bum who has been living on the same block as The Forge for donkey's ages would never stoop so low. Walking back and forth mumbling to yourself around the corner of the parking lot in the dark is no way to live life, honey. I know you never beg, but with all the money being pilfered away at that swanky gin joint, couldn't someone buy you a cheeseburger?


Speaking of cheeseburgers, last week heiress Parrot Hilton proved to the world once and for all that money can't buy you brains. The active party girl avoided the clink by a narrow margin, detained after driving under the influence on empty stomach. Supposably, her publicist could remind the 115-pound blonde to chow down on an In-and-Out Burger before drinking tequila?


Yes, supposably is a word!

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Sunday, September 10, 2006

Oregano Man

Oregano Man Miami Beach Pizza


My ex-boyfriend, Mr. Thinks He’s Huge, either smelled like ass, vodka or any combination thereof. I must admit, however, that as a member of this relationship I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome and that on those days in which he redeemed himself and convinced my then puerile mind that he was worthy of my love, his scent was intoxicating.

I never bothered to look at the label on the bottle, but the scent evoked a cross between Drakkar and K├Âlnisch Wasser – an enticing, masculine mixture of armpit, men’s locker room, concentrated sweat from pro-football linebacker crotch, day-old semen on Monica Lewinksy’s dress, corked Merlot and stagnant swamp -- all blended beautifully with a hint of citrus.

As I recoil from the scent of a man I now consider to be a living, breathing ambulatory rectum, I am also drawn – by random association of the olfactory sense -- to a distant memory lodged somewhere between the archives of “prom” and “frat party” in my limbic brain: OREGANO MAN!


Oregano Man was the owner of a now-defunct pizza joint that thrived circa 1985 on some non-descript corner of Washington Avenue. Long before the days of Pizza Rustica – yes, back in the day when you could saunter about with teased hair in hot pink Candies and not be treated like a ho – I spent many an evening under the fluorescent lights of the pizza joint with friends, waiting for our friend, Temporary Cocaine Addict -- who was also the delivery girl -- to get off work.

Since we weren’t old enough to drink, we shied away from Club Deuce and scored free Diet Coke from the cashier. She was a lovely, plump Venezuelan gal who had once been a model and now suffered the ignominy of selling pizzas. Miss Venezuela proudly showed us the one portfolio photograph in which she proved that she was far too healthy-looking to model.

Had she looked like a Guantanamo Bay prisoner, Miss Venezuela might’ve had better luck at Irene Marie around the corner on Geezer Drive. Oh yes, Ocean Drive as we know it today did not come to be until all the old farts died and the greedy vultures swooped in, turning empty rooms into swanky hotel suites, NFA -- no farting allowed – of, course.

I believe Oregano Man kept Miss Venezuela as the cashier because she had a bosom that inspired envy from bovines, not to mention nipples that would pierce through metal even in hot, humid weather. And since she was so concerned about her encroaching weight, she adopted the Jiggle Wiggle Diet, which required her -- according to her keen understanding of thermodynamic law – to constantly get jiggy wid it while she was standing. Had she not been so lovely, customers might’ve mistaken her for an Alzheimer’s victim turned rap stripper.

But I digress. What about Oregano Man?

Oregano Man looked like the love child of Brandon Davis and Tony Montana in a threesome with Frida Kahlo. Burly and sweaty, he possessed an active mono-brow that was always in the state of mid-plucking – your average Sicilian Chia Pet. Although he wasn’t old, he had a peculiar set of wrinkles that came from saying “fuck” and “bafanculo” over and over again while he tossed and twirled a pie over his head.

Eventually, the expression carved itself permanently into his mug, so that just by looking at him, you could see in his eyes that the first words to come out of his mouth, no matter what the circumstances -- even when baptisizing his the latest member of his brood -- would be prefaced with “Fuck! Bafanculo! Forgive me father for I have ..."

As many who work in the restaurant business know, it’s easier to clean up your act and your foul-mouthed speech rather than your own body. You come to smell like the food you cook, no matter how much you scrub your flesh. Oregano Man scrubbed, to be sure. Scrubbed, mixed, tossed, lived, breathed, and fucked pizza, so you could smell him a mile – if not a clavicle’s length – away.

And so we whiled the nights away at the pizza joint until Temporary Cocaine Addict hit rock bottom. No one talked about it; no one did anything about it; it was what it was. We couldn’t drink, but back in the 1980s it was easier for my friend to score blow than it was to buy pastel-colored linen jackets.

In high school, she had been the Overweight Popular Underdog, but she was still the quintessential Blonde American Pie, Goody Two Shoes, Most Likely To Succeed, Yearbook Headliner our Senior Year. After graduation when reality struck hard, she acted strangely for a while under the guise of the snort, until, thankfully, she got the labels – and the powder -- out of her life.

I stuck by her side through it all.


On one of those nights, Temporary Cocaine Addict, Some Joe, Oregano Man and I closed shop. After tossing back a few beers at the South Pointe jetty, the four of us walked back to my friend’s apartment and I ended up sitting next to Oregano Man on the couch while the other two enjoyed a noisy romp in the bedroom.

Oregano Man lay back on the couch with his legs spread, exhausted. I sat tightly on the edge as we looked askance at each other while the other pair of ships that had crossed in the night screeched like pigs at slaughter.

After an awkward exchange of words, I offered to grab us a round of beers, but instead he grabbed my hand and lunged toward me. Next thing I know, he’s stuffing my face into his hairy chest and all I can smell is tomato sauce, paprika, salami and that God damn oregano!

“Oh baby,” he said as he climbed on top of me like mozzarella melting on rising dough!

Hey, I love me some pie, but having some greasy pussy-pouncer slobber all over your milky-white breasts is not exactly Betty Crocker porn!

“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled as I pushed him off.

“But Manola!”

I grabbed his left hand and pointed to the ring.

"Manola, my ass! Go fuck your wife, asshole. And take a fucking shower, for Pete’s sake!”


In the days, months, years to come, I developed a benign repugnance to the scent of oregano. I say benign because I have nothing against the noble herb. To this day, whenever I cook any of my favorite dishes that require oregano -- mostly Greek -- I buy it fresh, pinch a few leaves here and there, toss the rest and have myself a good laugh.

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Saturday, September 09, 2006

Manola on 25 Peeps

[sorry, but Manola is no longer on peeps ...]

BREAKING NEWS! Manola is finally a contender on 25 Peeps! Click here to keep the smile you all know and love forever popular! If you do, I promise to post a picture of my boobies!

Monday, September 04, 2006


miami bloggers cross-blogination anderson cooper panderson pooper


Want to wear Manola's shoes for a day? Are you a double-wide? Size 8 shoe, that is? Female, cross-dresser or transvestite? Bunion sufferer? Do corns get you down and pedicures make you high?

None of the above? All of the above? Regardless, no matter! As long as you're a Miami blogger, you're eligible to cross-bloginate with Manola and others in a veritable wordsmithing orgy!

The CDC (Center for Dick Control) and the WHO (World Ho Organization) were, up until this announcement, mainly concerned with the spread of Bitch Flu.

Blog Flu, however, poses an imminent and far more creative threat. There is a marked concern that these casual blog encounters might prove fatally humorous, not to mention incredibly entertaining!

According to our medical expert, Doctor Suck MyGupta, precaution is necessary because there is no protection against mental stimulation.

"Although Miami bloggers represent a rare case of high-risk contagion in a quarantine situation, the general public may actually be threatened if the cerebral cortices of the uninfected, by way of eyeballs, come in contact with any random Miami blogger's mental excretions."

Sexy Hindi medical correspondent that he is, Doctor Suck MyGupta manages to find the compassion necessary to freely offer additional advice, instead of selfishly servicing his own Manola's sexual fantasies with Manola, of course:

"Always get tested before writing on someone else's blog and by all means, ask the new Miami blogger you're humping reading if they are negative for BTDs."

Miami bloggers, however, seem poised like a group of stubborn libertines to spread the virus of joyous writing far and wide.

But according to Janet ReHo, the apparent threat of biological terror is no more dangerous than a member of The Mile High Club sneaking a tube of Astroglide aboard a Virgin Atlantic flight.

In fact, the enterprise is actually quite wholesome. "It's not an attempt to create freaky hybrid blogs," yells the former attorney general over the phone. "It's not even the bare-blogging spread of blogearal diseases! Damn it, don't interrupt my beauty sleep unless there's a compound of freaks to blow up!"


Two brainy, creative beauties are behind the innocent shenanigans. Tere -- fabulously mommy -- provided the term in a flash of copywriting genius for Rebecca Carter -- fabulously environment -- who originally suggested the brilliant idea!

In Rebecca's own words:

On September 19, several Miami bloggers will do a bit of a switcharoo. Each blog will feature a post written by another blogger in the group. The post will be related to the blog on which it will be featured. It's basically going to be a fun, silly day in which we can use our blogs to create a bit of confusion, mischief, or maybe just great new content by a guest blogger!

Who wants to swap spit so far? Warning: some of these blogs might be Rated G!

Critical Miami
Miami Vegan
Stuck on the Palmetto
A Mom, A Blog, and a Life in Between
Transit Miami
"Klotz" as in "Blood"
26th Parallel
Urban Paradise
Hidden City
Freckle Face Girl
Miami Beach 411
Sex and the Beach

If you are a Miami-based blogger and are interested in participating, please comment here to put your name on the list on or before Sunday, September 10, 2006.

So come on, don't be shy! Cross-blogination, like a black-market diet pill, is perfectly safe and stimulating! And if you happen to wear Manola's shoes for a day, you can leave your hat on!