Extremely Perishable

God, I hope nobody I know reads this. Of course, the decision to publicize embarrassing personal information is up to my descretion, so I can only blame myself. But, right now, despite my better judgment, I'll go ahead and be my own worst enemy: It is just simply too tragicly funny that I haven't had an orgasm during sex. On top of that, I haven't had sex in so long that I can't even bring myself to write down when the last time was. It's gonna hurt my eyes too much to see it.

So let's get this straight: I've had orgasms. Never with anyone else helping. Haven't been with anyone else in ... a while.

Despite what many people think, not everyone derives body-trembling, glass-breaking pleasure from stimulating the clitoris. (I will so regret this post later.) I myself need serious pressure on my G-spot. This was THE most awesome discovery of my teenage years. I found my G-spot when I was around 18 years old (not for lack of trying). And I've been able to use that knowledge to somewhat great effect since then. Notice I said "somewhat." This is because one thing I've realised is that masturbation is no substitute for a man who really knows what he's doing. But more than that - a guy who you want to stick around after all is said and done and the macking is over.

I haven't been with either type of guy.

This kind of sucks because every time I fall back, breathless, ALONE, I end up thinking about how maybe someone else could've done it better, when I should be enjoying the radical orgasm I just gave myself. And, for the record, it's a lot of work hitting the spot from that angle.

I'm thinking of making this a monthly or even weekly event here, at Extremely Perishable. Cause, quite frankly, there are a lot of people who make me hot as hell - in a bad way.

Is it just me or is Tom Cruise an asshole who needs to get the crap kicked out of him?

Right you are. Asshole. Crap. Kicked out of him.

I love how we're always on the same page.

On Sunday I had the pleasure and pain of participating in New york City's 20th Aids Walk. I signed up a week and a half in advance, raised $200 and walked the damn thing - 10K ... approximately 6 miles.

It was a great event. I recommend it to everyone. when else will you be forced to walk the length of Central park and then some? Tried to get my mother to go, but you know she wasn't into that much exercise. So it was just me and another 45,000 strangers beating the pavement. I'm sure a few of my friends were there but I only bumped into one acquaintance ... Tabitha, a girl I had known in high school. She's about to graduate and our conversation ended with me smiling knowingly and whispering, "service hours?" She chuckled nervously.

"Yup."

I did find some New York school grad students, as well as a couple of undergrads, and I interviewed them for an insane freelance piece I'm doing. But I lost them in order to head over to the main stage that they set up every year, next to Central Park's Sheep Meadow, where the celebrity guests and event planners talk about AIDs and civic responsibility and other great stuff that makes you feel energized, even if only for a moment.

So we walked and we raised 5.8 million. Cool, but not yet enough. I think 2006 will top it.

Legs fucking killed, the next day.

But things got good around 7 PM when I saw Katherine Heigl standing on the curb at Columbus Circle. I walked right up to her (buzzed, just from seeing her) and we chatted for about 30 seconds before the light changed.

That woman is just beautiful.

She doesn't make the list, but she still warrants fangirlish swooning. I'm telling you - she has these little freckles on her nose ... too kawaii for words.

As part of my continuing effort to avoid studying for finals, let me just say that I cannot wait for the next Hayao Miyazaki film to come out:

Hauru no Ugoku Shiro, also known as ...

Howl's Moving Castle

Yeah. Disney appropriated this Studio Ghibli production, once again. I hope they don't fuck up the english language dubbing like they did with Spirited Away.

(Not that I will ever watch the dubbed version of a foreign language film, when subtitles are available - but it's the principle.)

And, once again ... the Japanese site is 10 times better than the US one. I remember a similar thing happening with Kill Bill.

I should just go live in Japan already. I guess Tokyo is the closest thing to New York.

Don't get me wrong; my personal life is still as fucked as all hell. But, thinking journalistically, it's better to stick with the more newsworthy stuff, right now ... the stuff that really isn't fit to print but, nonetheless, makes Janice Min lightheaded. Jake Gyllenhaal, in fact, can make any girl lightheaded. This is a first-hand account, people. I speak from experience.

I saw him, about an hour ago, while cruising the streets of SoHo ... which is funny because I have a running joke with a few of my friends that one of us will eventually bump into him outside of the Apple Store. Somewhat mundane and whimsical events conspired to result in me being in SoHo, however. I was not in front of the Apple Store, at the time. Jake Gyllenhaal, iPods and blog entries were very far from my fucking mind. (I shouldn't even be doing this right now.) So there.

I was coming up Greene from late-nite grocery shopping at the Natural Deli and I was waiting at the corner, on Houston, for the light to change. One block over, I see a group of random people, fucking around. One guy (yeah, it was Jake), in a blue hoodie darts out into the street, leaving his buddies behind and starts laughing. They're all weirded out on the curb - they didn't want to cross until the light changed, despite the fact that no cars were coming. Jake, still alive, proved his point. Pedestrians rule this town.

3 seconds later, the others followed him.

I had already hit the middle of Houston around the same time he did and still didn't know who was lurking under that blue hood.

Then we all got to the other side of the street, directly in front of the Angelika. I started to head east on Houston, while Jake and his crew started to head west and, for two seconds, the boy is right up on me.

Someone over at Gawker once described Jake as "dripping hottitude." This is a disgusting understatement.

He is fucking sex on legs.

And guess what ... I checked out who he was with, before they legged it over to the West Village, and Kirsten Dunst was nowhere in sight.

It's open season, girls.