South Beach Halloween Costume Made Easy

Halloween is easy on sexy Slut Beach! Just add a garter or some handcuffs to your usual hobag outfit!



Image courtesy of Incredibly Smooth Blondie, South Beach photographer extraordinaire!

south beach, costume, halloween, slut, sex

Meat Me in Miami Beach

Dear Manola 180,OMG! Is it true? Reuters reports that Maxim, the magazine known for featuring twats and tits meat and potatoes on its cover, may open a steakhouse in Miami. How much do you want to bet that this restaurant will be located on South Beach? We need another high-falutin' meat market on this island like we need yet another hole in our ass! OK, look it, why don't we just call a steak a steak and change our name to Meat Beach?

Yours truly,

Chica Churrasco

Dear Chica Churrasco,

Yes it's true, and as far as a bet, I wouldn't kick Matthew McConaughey out of your bed just yet! Our West Coast informant, Back in Skinny Jeans, first took a stab at the controversial issue.

"In an effort to boost their bottom line, Maxim magazine has decided to open.....drum roll.....a chain of steakhouses. That's right people. A magazine that portrays women like pieces of meat is now giving you the chance to literally take a bite of some of that meat, steak that is."

As you know, Manola 180 represents fair, balanced and unbiased journalism. We take no sides of beef, so we sliced through the gristle only to conclude that it's a bloody mess.

Stephen Coleslaw, CEO of Dennis the Menace Publishing, admits that Maxim's steakhouse isn't just another Hooters -- it's a bleedin' CASH COW. The concept is simple:

"It's not a matter of just sitting there, having your meal and then going home and flopping into bed because you've overeaten. It will not be about overeating, it will be about being the social experience of dining." [sic, emphasis Manola's]

OMG, that's fucking brilliant! Until now, no one had ever thought of dining out as a social experience! Stephen Coleslaw is clearly a genius -- the much awaited messiah of meatloaf! Who else brought finesse to our race of overeating troglodyte, Wal-Mart shopping, supersizing Cro-Magnons! This isn't just a new restaurant, it's a paradigm shift for the human race, which would still be dining at home, charring a leg of T-Rex over a bonfire, if it were not for this new revolutionary concept!

But cavemeat emptor: Maxim's steakhouse will appeal only to evolved members of humanity that will pay suck dick high prices for frou-frou.

"In terms of the atmosphere, in terms of the design and also in terms of the food, (the steakhouses) will cater to women as much as men," [sic] Coleslaw told Manola 180 as he sampled one of the signature dishes, grilled prairie oyster in a reduction sauce of dingleberry truffle.

So, in other words, if you are an epicurean, well-to-do grown-up whose sole purpose for going out is dining and/or a high school student with a 10 PM curfew and/or a convict with strict house arrest rules and/or a member of Overeater's Anonymous, and/or a disgusting couch potato wearing a stained wifebeater, Maxim's steakhouse is not for you.



WHEN IN ROME ...

It's not about the food, it's about the experience. Jeffrey Chowderhead, restaurateur and financier of Vagina Grill Management, is spearheading the project.

A very well-researched marketing campaign targets sugar daddies and finicky bulimics who want to see and be seen NOT eating. "We want you to puke that over-priced, thinly-sliced steak tartare before you head out to the club and burn more calories," explains Chowderhead. "We're very innovative. Currently, at China Grill on 5th Street, we already blare loud music causing hearing loss in many of our customers."

Chowderhead is ever the humanitarian."Our most popular menu item -- HOUSE SALAD -- is laced with beta blockers just to make sure our starved, anorexic clients prevent heart attacks but still look like cadavers before pretending to swallow our low-carb spermburgers!"

At the new Maxim's steakhouse, Vagina Grill Management intends to take customer service to the next level. Included among dining amenities are barf bags so that ladies will not have to deal with the emotional guilt trip tipping the poverty-stricken Haitian bathroom attendant who supports five children by providing shallow and ignorant patrons with hairspray.

As a beacon of enlightened civilization, Vagina Grill Management gets its inspiration from bacchanalian orgies. "If you can burp politely in Muslim culture, why not vomit publicly in South Beach?" asks Chowderhead. "What's more, waiters won't just clear the table of the breadcrumbs you pecked at discreetly like a vicious crow, they'll also wipe your seat with Clorox so your vagina can leak confidently!"

NOT-eating NEVER tasted so good!

More sexy informants:

Miami Beach 411

Scene in the Tropics



miami beach, restaurant, maxim, south beach, steak

SOUTH BEACH MINISKIRT CRISIS!

TINKLE, TINKLE LITTLE SLUT

Hey, modern girl: do you squat at the toilet and practice safe sex with condoms? Well, guess what? That's not enough to stay healthy. Micro miniskirts, aka microminis, are the next chick flu vector according to Manola 180 health correspondent Dr. Suck Mygupta.

"Manola, the potential for epidemic is severe. Even if you wear a thong, don't be fooled! You might as well be going commando. A thong is useless against your vagina's natural cleansing mechanism. As you paint the town red, you're also turning the beach into one giant pantyliner!"

So in spite of having teflon nipples and non-stick personalities, women sporting the offending skirts are infecting our community with offensive bodily fluids. Hazmat clean-up crews are powerless in keeping up with municipalities in dire need of disinfection.



"It's easier to wipe gum off the sidewalk," explains Dr. Suck Mygupta. "And there just aren't enough stray dogs to do the job!"

The sexy Hindi is careful to emphasize that there's nothing morally wrong with the fashion -- it's public health consequences that raise a stiffer concern. The bottom slime: women who wear twat-exposing clothes in public distribute their vaginal, anal and urinary tract excretions all over our city.

"If you want to hose down a five-alarm Viagra-motivated priapic erection with your passion juices while you make consensual adult love behind closed doors, go crazy. But become a Front Door Bamby, and we're suddenly dealing with a Daisy Dukes of Health Hazard infestation!"

The issue, then, isn't about being pervy, it's about wearing clothes in public that make you an oozing bacteria-laden Typhoid Mary!



Although the Center for Disease Control refuses to leak any information about the gravity of this health crisis, we managed to milk the following statement out of researcher Dr. Candida Albicans: "Our team researches and analyzes ways to prevent the spread of germs that occur through stupid harebrained fashion trends. We've ruled out extraterrestial influence and quite frankly I'm very worried about the impact that human morons the fashion industry will have on widespread mental health."

SHOW SKIN, NOT SIN

Could this be irresponsible fashion gone wild and will it affect the snowbirds who spend millions of dollars each year in supporting our tourism industry?

Mr. Scum Foley, an unsuspecting tourist from Bumfuck, North Dakota, has gone into therapy since his first visit to Miami Beach last year.

His heartfelt letter finally reached us via the Woolly Mammoth Express. Foley describes how his life changed when, after having lunch at Bollo Tropical on Alton Road, he hailed a cab and started fantasizing about women who look like plucked poultry.

"The fantasy eventually became a nightmare. I mean, her skirt was so short, I don't even know if it was a skirt, shorts or what. Skorts, maybe? But it was more like gaucho pants meets the application instruction on a box of Monistat! Unable to deal with the trauma, I focused on the childhood memory of going into a sauna with a Catholic priest scapegoat and eating fried yuca from Bollo Tropical with a Spork. You see? Sporks and skorts, congressional pages, sweaty priests and grilled chicken with mojo ... Oh my lord! I am so confused, but I can assure you I'm not gay. I may be grilled and totally gross, but I'm not gay!"

This young man's dream of a career in obstetrics and gynecology was cut short by this traumatic experience -- all because he became delusional after seeing a micromini so short, he could peer inside the woman's ovaries and diagnose her yeast infection from several yards away, which even Superman never managed, in spite of the x-ray properties of kryptonite!

We are sad to report that instead of swearing the Hippocratic oath, this fella is now interested in becoming a politician and spending the rest of his life sucking ass, the juices of which we know are hardly savory and will never be the secret ingredient at Iron Chef.

COP A FEEL

This fashion trend may be a nightmare for health professionals trying to protect the general public from the spread of general ick, but it does represent a boon for a CSI trace lab swabbing its way to justice!

Horatio Cane, director of Miami-Dade Photoshop Enforcement Department, believes the epidemic could be easily contained.



We attempted to contact the calm, cool and collected H for comment, but his secretary informed us that he was still pausing before his next line, placing his sunglasses in slow-motion over his nasal bridge.

Finally, after holding our breaths for a million-dollar tv advertising second, Horatio promised to keep us safe. "We'll swab every barstool in Miami, Manola. Whatever it takes. Next time you see my pasty face and stare deeply into my compassionate gaze, you'll be able to sit your big Cuban ass down without fear of mortal contagion."

SHOW SOME CLASS, HIDE YOUR ASS

We love to trust us some H, but in the meantime, I'll use one of those toilet seat covers on a barstool at The Delanus Hotel. Or better yet: Tanqueray at 80 proof would make an excellent disinfectant. Looks like that girl's can of mace should include a sidekick of gin spritzer.

tags: miami beach, sex, foley, miniskirt, parody, humor, vagina, yeast infection, catholic priest, satire, ass, sexual health, miami csi

Cultural Debriefing

In this bellicose world of internecine strife, at least Jewish and Cuban grandmothers can agree about one thing ... clean panties and husband-finding!



tags: miami beach, jewish, cuban, thong, panties, underwear, parody, cartoon, humor

Foreplay on the Beach

The grass is always greener, unless the grass is sand ...

tags: sex, miami beach, kissing, thong bikini, ass, foreplay, lovers

Why Fashion Models Are Dumb

tags: cartoon, kate moss, parody, cocaine, cosmetics

First Year Anniversary

I TOLD YOU SO!

Boozing, smoking, whoring and -- God forbid -- gourmet cooking on a cast iron griddle as you reside on Miami Beach is your road to perdition, child! Not going to get you anywhere, unless you put it down on paper, impudent hellion!

Roused by this sage advice, one year ago today, Manola Blablablanik was born! She peeped out like a tiny flea about to be sqwashed by four-inch fetish clear platform heels to tell it like is and then some! She's covered every angle -- from a sheepish freakishly obsessive admiration of Colin Farrell's really not that impressive penis to a candid discussion of monster clitoris and everything in between -- love, heartbreak, heels, Irish cheddar, celebrity pubic lice and thongs -- topics without which no single woman on South Beach would survive!

Her publicist, Elliot Stinkz, was quoted in a recent interview: "She might've deleted her own blog in a moment of youthful sturm und drang but she's still making it work, damn it. No other woman on the planet has made single life more appealing! She put the YES in single and is living more chronically than ever!"

A MESSAGE FROM MANOLA

Memory marred by too many hangovers? No worries, maybe it was Manola's intoxicating mojo. Here's the nonsense that became Manola's MO.

Faithful visitors, I only have one thing to say to you: XOXO and keep speaking your ...



miami beach, sex, singles lifestyle

Manola's Sexy Bloomers

Stricken with a painful ear infection since last week, I haven't been paying much mind to sex, much less to writing about sex or even -- heaven forbid! -- having sex, but that's just as well, because my orchids have been getting more action than a Republican congressman!

So instead of reading any of Manola's thoughts on the state of sex and other matters on Miami Beach, please take a moment from your busy day to relax in my lush tropical garden and enjoy my latest bloomer.

There's a story behind this prodigious bloom. Sir Fish A Lot, my second boyfriend, gave me this orchid in lieu of an engagement ring on Valentine's Day 1998, just a few months before we would separate.

This gorgeous oncidium has not bloomed in eight years!



One scientific theory attributes this sudden blossoming to all the pent-up sexual energy beaming from this blog, which if properly harnessed and distributed, could help light the city of Miami after a hurricane! Manola's theory, on the other hand, believes this blooming is just like love: something had to happen at the right place at the right time to create a thing of beauty. Or maybe, just maybe, it's simply another much-anticipated episode of plant porn ...

tags: orchid, sex, propagation, miami beach