By the time you read this, I'll already be there.

In 2008, I went with some BFFs on an annual October trip to Key West, Florida. You can read about that and my childhood (and continuing) love for a Bertie Higgins song by clicking HERE.

We had plans to do many things on the trip, meeting up with Irish Peter being at the top of the list. (In 2007, the girls made fast friends with Irish Peter--a nickname they bestowed upon him because his name is Peter and he is, in fact, Irish. He is also funny, charming, hot, a good time, has an accent and did I mention that he's hot?--who at the time was working as the bartender on the booze cruise they were boozin' it up on.) We went to a bar he was working at and all of the boxes on the list of reasons men make my heart race were checked off. We had a great time, and at some point in the night we were in the parking lot behind the bar so he could record my outgoing voicemail greeting. This greeting has confused and possibly irritated every straight guy who has ever called me, because the combination of Irish Peter's accent and the speed at which he's talking makes it difficult for people to understand. Every female and gay guy who has ever called me has given it RAVE reviews, though. They usually say that they can't understand a thing he says but the accent makes it sexy anyway. You should give it a listen:

My outgoing voicemail greeting: Irish Peter by HouseofJules

"How's it goin'? Jules isn't here right now; she's out in Key West picking some spuds and lookin' for me Lucky Charms. If you can leave a message, she'll be glad to get back to you as soon as she can. I'll be talkin' to ya and have a wonderful day!"


Friends have called me multiple times in a day just to hear that voicemail greeting.


I wasn't able to go on the trip with the girls this year, but my BFF Jen let Irish Peter use her phone because he was missing me (duh) and he also wanted to hear himself as my voicemail greeting. I had to switch it out for a generic greeting recently because I'm looking for a new job and don't want potential employers to hear him and assume they've gotten the wrong number! The message he left me is one for the books:

He REALLY is a gift by HouseofJules

"Jules, I'm kinda sad. I was expecting to hear myself in your phone! We're calling you here from Key West; you might recognize my voice! Happy birthday! Apparently, we have your birthday present here. I'm wrapped up in a bow; you've gotta come down and get me..."

(It's so funny hearing my girls "Oh my God!"-ing as he hands Jen's phone back to her. So. Funny.)

I made the mistake of listening to that message at work, and then I listened to it again. And again (and again). Wrapped in a bow? Come down and get you? YES, PLEASE.


Then, I switched from the generic outgoing greeting I was using to the one he recorded with me, just so he could call back and hear it. This is his reaction:

Rosetta Stone by HouseofJules

"You need to put subtitles on your message, 'cause I can't even understand that and I actually said it! I need to get Rosetta Stone and get my english a little better there. I'm having technical difficulties! Thanks for putting it back on, you're the best!"


Funny, charming, hot, a good time, hot, has an accent, is wrapped in a bow for my birthday and all I have to do is go get him? Twist my arm.

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

****

Putting the Hump in Humpday: Yiddish Edish

Ryan Gosling is everything*. Need I say more? I think not.

But, I will anyway.

You either very much agree with me that he is everything or you don't**. I'm not going to sit here and try to sell you on Ryan Gosling. In his latest movie, "Crazy, Stupid, Love" (or as I call it, "Crazy, Stupid, Hot Ass Love"), he uses a certain Yiddish word several times. Each time, it sounds natural, as if it's part of his everyday vocabulary. He totally pulls it off. You can trust me on this because I've seen the movie twice already (and I did it FOR MY COUNTRY***).

Related:





*Not EVERYTHING-everything. Just everything. You know what I'm saying.

**Admittedly, Ryan Gosling isn't for everyone:

***Please, please click that hotlink. You won't be sorry.

To read previous Putting the Hump in Humpday posts, click HERE. Do it for your country.

Here's the "Crazy, Stupid, Hot Ass Love" trailer in case you've been living under a rock:


****

Outlawfully wed

Ladies (and some of you men out there):

I give* you Jesse James.

Would I like to gnaw on his biceps for a couple of hours? Yes, please.


He cleans up nicely, too. Rawr!



Click here to follow me on Twitter!


*It's more like I'm dangling him in front of you. You're welcome.

****

All I need now is my Official Fangbanger Membership Card*

...and so it begins:


"Eric Northman is now following your tweets on Twitter"

After this, I'm sure he'll be chasing me into my bedroom.


*IfYouKnowWhatI'mSayin'AndIThinkYouDo

Being "a little bit" obsessed is like being "a little bit" pregnant. I'm only one of those 2 things.

I've been a little bit obsessed with Ricky Gervais since seeing the original version of The Office in 2003. I can't help but love everything he does. When I heard he was doing podcasts, I couldn't get on board fast enough. I'm sure it's because he makes me laugh so much I cry, and for so long that eventually no sound comes out of my mouth like a movie scene in which I'm playing the mime-- sans beret and imaginary glass box. Whatever he does, I want to experience because laughing is one of my very favorite things to do, and I try to get as much of it worked into the hours of the day as possible.

In 2007, I watched the last episode of the 2nd season of his show Extras on DVD. Approximately one minute into this scene with David Bowie, I laughed so hard I spit out my wine. Seriously.

Double-click on either 'play' arrow if you have trouble viewing video


"Little fat man who sold his soul, little fat man who sold his dream..."

Even though Ricky Gervais wrote the lyrics to this song in the script, Davie Bowie has a history doing this sort of thing with the new people he meets. After all, he did write that song about Blue Jean. You know, the girl with a camouflaged face and no money. But never mind her. Back to the subject at hand.

When I saw this clip of Ricky on one of my other favorite BBC shows (The F Word; the "F" stands for FOOD!), with one of my other favorite British men (Gordon Ramsey), it was all I could do to not crawl into the screen and join them. Unfortunately I can't embed the clip, so to see another side of Gordon Ramsey than the cranky one you see on Kitchen Nightmares, you should click HERE to check it out. Go on, do it! They're so good together, especially starting at 1:55 into the clip when Gordon asks Ricky how he would market some oddly-named products. Two words: Sexy Rabbit. Two more words: Black Spunk. If that doesn't get you to click on the link, I don't know what will.

Now that you've experienced some of what I enjoy about RG, I give you the following outtakes from an AP interview promoting Ricky Gervais' upcoming appearance on Sesame Street. Maybe you can see why, when I watched this eleventy-hundred times in a row yesterday, I actually proclaimed it to be the best thing I've ever seen in my entire life:


"Elmo wants this tape!"

I don't know whose laugh makes me laugh harder, Gervais or Elmo. I love them so much I want to marry them. Hopefully Jeremy won't mind sharing me with a brilliant Brit, a muppet and sometimes Gordon Ramsey. Well, would you look at that! It seems that I'm not nearly as picky as my mom thinks I am. 

It would've been the best 20 minutes of his life (and by "his life", I mean mine).

You already know how deep my love is for Javier Bardem, so I was bummed that I missed seeing Vicky Cristina Barcelona before it left the theaters. Even though it also starred my nemesis Fishface, any opportunity to see Javier on the big screen is an opportunity I try to take advantage of.

A friend of mine works in PR, handling publicity and promotions for big-time events that deal with music and movie glitterati: Film festivals, movie openings, interviews... that kind of thing. She sent me this email at the end of July, just before VCB was released:

Just had to share this e-mail with you Jules, as a fellow Javier worshipper:

Let your imagination run wild regarding what you might do in 20 minutes with Javier Bardem. Remember that game we used to play in the basement called “7 minutes in heaven”?

My response:

Her reply:

I wasn't the only one upset that Javi & I weren't able to spend 20 minutes together. His reaction says it all for both of us:



The anguish! The tears! That hair! Those eyes! Those lips! His ENTIRE mouth! The beard burn I'd happily endure.... wait a second, I've gotten away from our mutual sadness and gone right back to letting my imagination run wild. I need a moment, or maybe 20.


Photo source

Putting the Hump in Humpday: Parallel, perpendicular or diagonal hardly matters if I'm enveloped in that wing span

His body is ridiculous.

My oldest friend is my oldest friend for many reasons, one being that when she can't think of the exact word for something, even when the word she uses in place of the exact word should easily lead her to the exact word but doesn't, we laugh about it together. Another reason is because she humors my related, but beside-the-point thoughts that I enjoy discussing simultaneously*. A parallel conversation if you will:

Charissa: "Did you see the men's gymnastics last night?"

Me: "Only because I had to watch something when Michael Phelps wasn't shattering world records with his 6'7" wing span, size 14 feet and double-jointed knees. Or when I was text messaging people about his insane musculature, and the crime that was committed by the inventor of those high tech swimsuits that cover most of his sinewy body when he's cutting through the water."

Charissa: "Interesting. So, did you see when the gymnasts were on those side-by-side bars?"

Me: "I'm sorry, what? I'm still stuck on the measurements of Michael Phelps. The commentators said something about his ankles, too... but I'm still trying to figure out how his double-jointed knees could come in handy. Oh wait, I just pictured it, and I'll now refer to the worldwide competition he's in as the Big 'O'-lympics."

Charissa: "Anyway, did you see the men's gymnastic routines they did on those side-by-side bars or what? I don't know what they're actually called, but you know what I mean, right?"

Me: "The parallel bars?"

Charissa: "Yeah, parallel. That sounds about right."




*Not all the time, just when someone like Michael Phelps is on the brain. Really, I blame Bob Costas for spewing out all the stats about Phelps' body irresponsibly and haphazardly, like it was the last thing he had to confess before being shoved into a volcano. It was such a clustered flurry of sport porn that I could only commit 3 to memory. In the meantime I'm going to just focus on what wins him the gold... his stroke. (RIMSHOT!)


Click HERE to read previous Humpday posts.

*HOLLYWUD CONNECSHUNZ... I HAZ THEM!!!* (UPDATED!)

(*In case you didn't already know, that headline is LOLcat speak!)

Can you guess what movie star I got some exclusive photos of based on this cropped shot featuring his flair for accessorizing?

No, it's not my husband Jeremy Piven!

There are no prizes involved besides bragging rights, which to some of us is actually better than a prize anyway. Leave your guesses in the comments.

...

UPDATEZ! I HAZ THEM!

WOW, those were some really good guesses, you guys! The most absurd interesting guess didn't even make it into the comments. A certain man said with all the confidence in the world (he was SO sure that he was correct that he seemed utterly BORED by the guessing-game), "It's obviously Ian Astbury!". (If you aren't up on the post-punk brit rock from the early 90's, he was the lead singer of The Cult. This assertion made me laugh so hard and for so long that it turned into one of those silent laughs, in which you at some point decide to either somehow STOP laughing or you just go ahead and stop breathing. Obviously Ian Astbury! That. Is. Hilarious.)


So, it's Johnny Depp, which most of you guessed from his vast array of neck-wear. He has been shooting around the midwest for a couple of weeks and recently he was in one of my favorite small towns, Darlington, Wisconsin. One of my good friends from college has a long family history in Darlington, and she is now raising HER children there. It's such a close-knit community that several years ago when I called the local florist to order Danielle some flowers, I gave her name and then started giving the delivery address. The florist cut me off and said, "I know where Danielle lives!" Tiny town, big heart! Anyway, I knew my good friend would have the scoop for me (and for YOU!), word and sound travels fast in Darlington.


Whaaat? JD in D-ton? Time to call my remote correspondent, Danielle. She'll have all the gossip for me!


Saying that Danielle was less-than-impressed to have a movie star in her hometown is overplaying her emotions. When I excitedly called her, I could FEEL her rolling her eyes at me. She was basically the only one in town not hyped, though. Her friends and family either watched some of the filming at the courthouse, were extras, and one even got the incredible photos I'm about to share with you. Danielle was so bored with all the Hollywood commotion that when she sent me the photos, she made sure to tell me that she was sleeping soundly at the time they were taken. Her Aunt Suzi even got to present Johnny with the key to the city, as you'll see in that last photo. At least SOMEBODY in the family was showing him some respect!


©House of Jules. I had to put my big HOJ stamp across the photos so nobody stole them. I'M TALKING TO YOU, PEREZ HILTON!

He was down to earth, gracious and especially kind to the kids, asking if they liked Captain Jack without the beard. I'm glad I wasn't there, I probably would have knocked the adorable children over to get that kind of attention from Don Juan DeMarco.

Now this is a tour I'd take any day of the week!

People (or, more specifically, the straight guys I hang out with who have to find something wrong with the men their lady-friends swoon over) make such a big deal about David Beckham having a less than manly voice. To that I say the octave of his voice doesn't bother me at all, because I'm too busy drooling over his looks to hear any of the crap that comes out of his mouth.


If you want to torture yourself by attempting to take the tour by licking your screen, I'm certainly not gonna judge you; but don't torture yourself trying to watch the video by clicking on this photo. See link below. You know, after you're done licking your screen.

Undeniably great-looking soccer star David Beckham, on the subject of his 15 body tattoos: "I think everybody's got a way of expressing their feelings, and mine is through my tattoos."

Undeniably great-looking news star Anderson Cooper: "I will now express my feelings for David Beckham by licking his tattoos."


Ok, AC didn't actually SAY that, but I know he was totally thinking it... and FYI, I'd "tour" either of these men. Click HERE to watch the video.

I wish he'd let me comfort him.

Some of my male friends were horrified at what they referred to as the 'Feminization of Bond' (just because this one showed a little sensitivity! I mean, did you SEE that shower scene where he just held his frightened Bond girl? And they were fully dressed? It was hot, for real. HEY-OH!!!), but Daniel Craig's interpretation made me want to see every single Bond movie ever made. I can't wait for the next one to open, no matter how unfortunate the title, Quantum of Solace, may seem.


Now we know where he gets his motivation!

He's not the most vulnerable Bond for nothing, you know. The man cries over suits.

He’s very good at his job, which is all about selling people what they'll like by using imagery they can understand

Recently I had a really bad day (nothing to be *alarmed* about, just a bad day!) and some of my friends checked in to see how I was doing. They knew to do so not only because they're an intuitive lot, my group of peeps, but also because I sent out a mass e-mail to everyone, which may or may not have included the following:

If I get through this day, it will be an actual miracle that I will credit it to any and all of the tipples I've been....tippling. If there is any love in your heart for me, you will think of something supportive, something kind, something witty, or simply something that doesn't sound like a critique on the way I have glasses arranged in my kitchen cabinets; and you'll leave this gem of positivity on my voicemail or in my inbox. Then I'll have more people besides the Robert Mondavi Winery to send thank you notes to next week.


I got plenty of amazingly supportive responses, and I appreciated them all because they were as varied as the personalities of the people I surround myself with. One of these responses made me laugh so hard, though, that I had to share it with you.

What you need to know as background information is that this person makes their living educating people on pairing wine with food (or in my case, wine with whining). This was his response:

Get away from Mondavi and branch out to Argentina's Gascon Malbec 2006. Same idea, better state of mind (think Javier Bardem in leather and smoke with a whole lot of berries). You will not be disappointed.


This is a person who KNOWS exactly how to describe wine in terms I can understand and appreciate. Telling me that a certain wine tastes like Javier Bardem looks in leather? Suddenly I felt MUCH better.

The crashing of the surf, like the beating of our hearts, drowned out the sounds of the paparazzi

It has been so cold here in Chicago that Jeremy decided to whisk me off to the beach. We both needed to shake off some of these wintertime blues! Even with the pesky paparazzi, it was a lovely getaway. You can tell in the photo on the right that I hardly had a concern in the world beyond making sure my legs got tan.


Pivs & I, soaking up the heat of the sun, which is different than the heat of our love only in that the sun eventually sets, taking it's heat with it. Our love is on, 24/7, baby.


I wouldn't have known anything about our uninvited guests had Jen not sent me the link! Thanks, Jen!

Now with twice the music, twice the entendre

Every year for the past ten, I've made an official Valentine's Day mix to send out to all of my loved ones. Every year except for that one February when I was totally disgusted with showing affection to anyone; but it was for the best, trust me.

This year I've taken a page from one of my best friends (she may or may not choose to "out" herself in the comments), who upon hearing a song with a particularly sexified beat or super-hot lyrics, will turn to me and say, "Oooh, this one is going on the 'BANG' cd!". The first time she said it, approximately 100 years ago, we were in a loud bar and I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. She assured me that she did in fact say what I though she said, and that she does in fact have a cd specifically designated as "BANG" music. By the way, that is HER vulgar term, not mine. I would never say something like that because I'm a lady.

What? Don't you believe me?

Regardless, this V-day mix is a tip of my proverbial hat in her direction, as I've come up with a playlist worthy of my own Bang CD. I also took eleventy-hundred hours and uploaded it all so that you can enjoy it too! It should come as no surprise to you that some lyrics are not appropriate for young ears (or old ears, if you're at work and your boss is nearby).


It's all there... the beginning make-out songs, to the well, the OTHER music, and it'll take you all the way through your Love Hangover. You're welcome.


I cannot be held responsible for the effect this music has on you, but I will take all the credit!

So, whether you're spending Valentine's Day (night, whatever) alone or with one or more loved ones, enjoy this mix... and by ENJOY I mean, well, you know what I mean. I won't spell it out for you because I'm a lady.

Seriously, why doesn't ANYONE believe me when I say that? ;)

Walking on moonbeams and staring out to sea

I have had the heart-shatteringly beautiful soundtrack for this movie on constant rotation for months and have had the movie itself in my Netflix queue for just as long. I got some exciting news yesterday, though:


I just know it's going to be worth the wait, but the anticipation has nearly killed me.

So if I don't respond to your e-mails, phone calls--or your advances for that matter--tonight, that's why. Oh, who am I kidding; I'll always respond to your advances.

You won't find it in your grocery store dairy section

I went to visit my old friends Scooter, Todd and my favorite twins this weekend, and after driving for 2.5 hours in traffic & snow to get there, trust me when I tell you I was happy to arrive. Shortly after taking off my coat & boots and giving hugs all around, Scooter asked me the funniest question: "Can I interest you in a chocolate peppermint martini?"

That question is funny because, hello? I just drove 2.5 hours in traffic & snow to get there, of course you can interest me in a chocolate peppermint martini... and if you're my neighbor, and I merely walk over to your house; you can also interest me in one. Why would I ever I turn that down?

When she brought it over to me in a huge wine glass, she said, "Oh, I don't serve this drink in a martini glass because they're not big enough."

...and fade to black


Just kidding. We didn't go THAT crazy, but they were really good. So good, in fact, that I asked her for the recipe, which she wrote out for me at the end of the night, after having a few. I'm posting it here not only so you can try these yourself, but also because you can see that on paper--as in real life-- my friends are hilarious.


"Half -n-Falf"?

One way or another, I'm gonna find ya. I'm gonna getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha.

Last night, Deborah Harry's tour bus. It was a glorious shade of Blond, I kid you not. Unfortunately a camera phone doesn't do much on a rainy night besides take sucky photos with an all-over green-ish color, so I had to pretty them up in Photoshop.



Here's a very blurry Chris Botti (!) (purrrrr), with a very blurry birthday girl! Happy birthday, J.J.! Hope your boyfriend gets you a new camera phone!

I'm one of the people the reviewer is writing about if you replace Courtney Love with Javier Bardem. I'd like to know all-things-obscene about him.

Especially since every single salacious thing about Courtney Love has already been exposed. Yes, I would be the first in line to buy a book filled with all the dirty little (and big) secrets of Javier Bardem; oh, and also a book filled with maps of every subway/tube system in the world! What took so long for the latter to happen, and how long must I wait for the former? Somebody please get to work on that! I'm salivating already.

But in the meantime...


Drool.

Subway Hounds Rejoice: New Book Provides Every Transit Map in the World
by Marty Jerome

Believe it or not, there are people who will sink into this book as if it were a salacious biography of Courtney Love (Javier Bardem!). Mark Ovenden has pulled together both historic and current maps of every rapid-transit system in the world. The maps cover more than 200 megacities as well as smaller urban areas, including Bilbao, Bucharest, Oslo, Toronto and Vienna. It includes maps for cities that use light rail systems, monorail services and hybrid tram-trains. And oddly, they're beautiful. Even the casual browser who hates mass transit will find the graphics, symbols and colors of these maps to be engrossing.

Transit Maps of the World is the first and only comprehensive collection of historic and current maps of every rapid-transit system on earth. Using glorious, colorful graphics, Ovenden traces the history of mass transit-including rare and historic maps, diagrams, and photographs, some available for the first time since their original publication. Transit Maps is the graphic designer’s new bible, the transport enthusiast’s dream collection, and a coffee-table essential for everyone who’s ever traveled in a city.

OK, you caught me! Javier Bardem doesn't have much to do with this particular post, really. But I AM working on one for another night that is more involved and has everything to do with him (swoon!), so I suppose he was just on the brain. However, he does in fact make me drool, and the Transit Maps of the World book makes me drool a little, though admittedly for different reasons. But again, that has nothing to do with this particular post.


Double drool. By the way, I can already hear my friends laughing because he is SO obviously my type (Tall? check! Dark? check! Hot? check! English-as-a-second-language? check!) that it seems almost silly to dedicate not only one blog post but another one (upcoming) to him in the same week. In my defense, a man this hot bears repeating y usted sabe que tengo razón (and you know I'm right)!

HEY STUPID, you're missing the whole point. He doesn't have to know how to SAY it!

It's just one little word, but the amount of trouble this spanish italian yummy guy has with it is adorable and the energy he's putting towards trying to get it juuuust right is so endearing that I want to pull him to me and uh, well... reassure him that it doesn't matter whether or not he can pronounce it correctly. Ahem.

Also, the fraternity-like whooping cheer that goes up in the room when he finally gets it after all that off-camera syllabic coaching is inspiring. It's a true show of some serious testosterone-driven Bear Bryant halftime pep-talking, pat-your-teammates-on-the-ass kind of stuff, people; and I want to be let into that huddle.


Warning: Even though it's only one word, don't hit "play" if you're at work or around the kids. That is, unless you want to have a talk with your children (or your boss!) that you might not be prepared for. I'm just sayin'.

No matter what this commercial is even for, my involuntary consumer response is, "Yes, please."