Dear Readers, this 'live blogging' thing has suddenly come to my attention. Would you be interested in a regular Manola show? Twat would it be about? And what time of the day? Please leave comments below, but make sure they are not below the belt. I would be happy to entertain this possibility ... Already one of my loyal fans suggested a Dr. Annie Steelclit bulletin board, but I think we can take it next level, especially with other blogger guests. Remember, it's a little me, a little Miami Beach ... and maybe, a little you.
Just wanted to say thank you to SO MANY people who have made a difference in my life this year. I will list none here, because there are so many and I would hate to leave anyone out. What is this, an Oscar's acceptance speech? Alright, already! You know who you are and I heart you! Wishing my readers, clients and friends much love, health and prosperity now and in the year to come.
She was no ordinary succubus. Late into the night Through cold, electric clouds She flew with broken wings On currents kindled by his dreams. And finally, descending upon His yearning body, she whispered: “I’m late, my love, but tender is the morning.”
A possible alternative to the traditional chef uniform at Manola's restaurant.
I want to open a restaurant on South Beach called Manola's Meatballs. If I did, would you come and eat? All this talk about about food got me thinking that Jeffrey Chowderhead of Vagina Grill Management should consider investing in this deep-fried golden opportunity.
Hmm, I'm trying to think of a place with Paula Deen hospitality minus a Jerry Springer brawl. Good gourmet food that doesn't require a bank loan to afford, yet would appeal to the palate of Mario Batali. I'd love the hostess to be Anthony Bourdain in drag and I'd want Andrew Zimmerman to be the sommelier of offal. A place where a red carpet bouncer doesn't let anyone in with a BMI under 18 yet doesn't feed Mr. Creosote his last wafer-thin mint. A restaurant where cornstarch and lard are used in moderation. A hot spot that's not so hot -- kind of like McBarton G -- fast food with a xanax edge, the kind of thing Paris Hilton would eat in prison, if she were incarcerated for not buying enough art work at Art Basel. In short, a festive gathering place in between my Cuban mother's hospitality and the slickness of the Ritz, where "shut up and eat" is the motto and most importantly, no pretentious bullshit. Everybody's a celebrity at Manola's Meatballs -- we'll even say that with a hot-red neon sign!
Oh, I exaggerate! What would us regular schmucks love in a South Beach restaurant, besides meatballs? I'm serious! Leave comments.
Why is this woman smiling? Satisfied from an incredible meal, meeting groovy people AND having her photo taken by the fabulous Miami Fever!
Last Sunday, Gus and Michelle from Miami Beach 411 generously a hosted a dinner for 18 local bloggers, as well as contributors, staff members, forum participants and business associates of 411. The soiree was held at the Tuscan Steak on Washington Avenue just South of 5th. I wanted to write some comments about the food being orgasmic, but charming Verticus, whom I had the pleasure of meeting that night, beat me to it! Let me delight you with some choice quotes here.
"The food will make an athiest cry and thank God for the opportunity to eat such food as this."
"Then comes the three mushroom risotto (yes, we're gluttons and it will only get worse). It's finished with white truffle oil and shaved parmesan reggiano and it's like having sex in public without getting arrested."
Oh, it did get worse for us gluttons, but Verticus' food porn only gets better -- foreplay included! Please stop by Miamivisionblogorama and treat yourself to a hilarious and sexy restaurant review. You may even get all hot and bothered! You'll definitely salivate.
I'm sure that anyone who has tried the food at Tuscan Steak would agree that in some cases, some things are definitely better than sex. Dinner was two days ago but I still feel satisfied, evening though I'm fantasizing about the next time I may have that melt-in-your-mouth mushroom risotto and tender T-bone steak. Oh, baby!
The decor is elegant and the lighting is just subdued enough to feel quite cozy -- in short a great place for a hot date. Be prepared to fall hard for the food, if not your dinner companion. Prices are a little steep but worth every penny on a special occasion.
If you decide to go to Tuscan Steak make sure you mention Miami Beach 411. You can also stop by 411 to read more user reviews or conveniently make an online reservation (scroll down to the end of the page to fill out a form).
Everyone knows I hate driving ... so that explains why I missed the Miami Beach parking fake receipt website scandal! Oh nose! Scott has links galore to my Manola mafia bloggers who've covered the topic. It's kind of dumb, yes, but I couldn't resist! Do you think the meter maid will notice any discrepancy?
PS ... city of Miami Beach, I love you so much ... but I preferred the old meters, where I could easily insert my parking card, conveniently purchased at at the George Jetson Publix by Purdy Avenue, where shopping is such a pleasure, I have multiple orgasms just going down the carbohydrates aisle. Anyway, you don't give money back with the new system, which sucks, ok? The whole point of buying the card was that you could basically park and go, stress-free.
Plus, it's so much easier to have a card rather than having to scrounge for change. Such an issue to save quarters for the laundry, already! And then sometimes the machines don't accept plastic. What a pain in the ass, even! I think I should talk to our new mayor Matti Bower about this. How about an item on the next commission meeting?
In the "no shit, Sherlock" school of science and philosophy, Reuters reports that people who have sex might have more sex and because they're actually doing things that involve sex, there may be problems associated with sexual activity. Look it, I took chemistry in high school. I also may have swapped spit with my high school sweetheart. There were chemical reactions ... I get it!
OK, I'm dripping with facetiousness, but factor in there a drop of truth, buddy. Sex is a normal, human thing. Abstinence-only sex education is like telling a dog to get all soy on you all of a sudden. Realistic? Tell a barking quadruped to not eat sirloin or chew on a T-bone and what do you expect? Wise up and make it real!
More Oy ...
Pittsburgh attorney Todd Hollis is sick and tired of all the bitching over at dontdatehimgirl.com, owned by South Florida local Tasha Cunningham. He couldn't get justice in Pennsylvania because of a jurisdiction issue, but is hoping that reviving the lawsuit in Miami will deliver $75,000 in damages.
Oy vay, this makes me crazy!
So, call me crazy. Playing devil's advocate here.
OK, the guy is pissed off because some women have said stupid shit about him, but it is what it is. Women gossiping about their asshole ex-boyfriends are going to rip them a new one. Obviously, you weren't labeled Prince Charming for a reason. But ...
Call me even crazier -- despite the web site's claim that it's supposed to empower women, a cause I support, of course -- ". . . build your self-esteem, find true love and empower yourself to become the powerful woman you really are!" -- I would never in a million years base my opinion of a human being on what someone I don't know or trust said online. On the innernets, who can you really trust? No matter how you slice it, dating is a crap shoot, ladies and gents. Roll with the punches and act like civilized human beings.
Finally, a nice reprieve from Oy ...
On a lighter note, Raina Mcleod from New Times got her tata autographed by Ron Jeremy! Gives whole new meaning to "brush with celebrity."
You know what, with so much OY! I think I'm going to Greece!
Would you drive a guy away who is willing to eat your hooha all night? I mean, this inspired me to song. Rogers and Hammerstein, I didn't mean to bastardize South Pacific or Some Enchanted Evening or Some Erectile Dysfunction or whatever.
PS ... we realize that ED is a serious condition. We do not mean to make fun of those who are genuinely suffering.
BREAKING NEWS!!! The reason why King Arthur worked for the Romans and defeated the Saxons is because Clive Owen is really hot and the ladies waxed their pussy hair! And you thought Magna Carta was all about democracy! Little did you know ...
"I believe that Condoleeza Rice does not shave, but I believe that Hillary will."
"Cleopatra slept with the entire Roman Legion but at least one of them looked like Russel Crowe!"
"My vagina is the size of a football field. Trim one hair at a time, honey."
OK, seriously, I am talking to my friend DearYvette on the phone right now about the virtues and vices of excessive (or as I would say -- "natural" --) pubic hair growth. Apparently, I am a total barbarian, because I believe in the beauty of the bush. And a handful of fellas whom have woken up this sleeping beauty through the thicket, may have agreed -- although no third parties are willing to corroborate.
Even though DearYvette says that the fur bikini is a thing of the past, I must say that when we come into the next ice age, this is what will keep my hoochie and progeny warm. You waxed up girl, yes you: you will be using the wax from that candle just to keep the water coming in from the damn. (Because we're all going to die from global warming, don't ya know?)
You see? Maybe the reason why the planet is warming is because all these hair-fearing women are creating excessive heat from burning wax to shave their pussies! Think about it: there are like hundreds of bazillion active pussies in the world right now!!! You are creating major carbon points just to keep the lawn trimmed!!! Al Gore, hello? This is clear as mud! Why don't you see the pussy from the bush?
Have you shaved the kitty lately? Have you cut the rug? Come on, admit it. I have always thought that a perfectly glammed-up vagina looks like a pre-pubescent plucked chicken. Troy and Christian from Nip/Tuck, what do you think about that?
It is well known in the universe of Manola's garden that a smooth green lawn in a lovely British cottage with tea is a nice, but however, an overgrown tropical rainforest is always out of control. I'm all for a life of moderation ... tucked away, but a little plush.
Award-Winning Freelance Writer and Multimedia Storyteller. Travel, Food, Spirits, Blogging, Social Media, Sex, Fishing, Nature, Culture, Pirates, Humor, Yoga, Kitchen Sink. Whatever tickles my fancy and other parts. I tell like it is. Learn more at Linkedin.
All posts under the Manola Blablablanik series, this blog's original nom de plume, are semi-fictional.
I had the honor of being nominated in three categories! Best Twitter @vicequeenmaria, Best Miami and Best Art/Culture Blog. I won the former. Thanks to everyone who voted!
"The enthusiasm that SatB exudes when writing about her home is palpable and it's hard not to feel the same way after reading some of her commentary on Miami's history and modern life in South Florida."
I am a professional lifestyle, travel journalist and publish this blog out of pure love. Sometimes I get goods and services for free, which is standard industry practice for most journalists these days. Sex and the Beach is a non-commercial entity. There is no advertising and anything I link to or support comes purely from my heartfelt interest and curiosity. I do not sell text links, sponsored posts or affiliate programs, so don't bother asking. Any project in-kind support for my lifestyle/travel stories is carefully chosen with mutual, organic collaboration. No cash is ever exchanged here. If I write about it, it's because I genuinely like it and I've researched it with much fact checking. I never have or ever will knowingly mislead my readers. Thank you.