eye bleach, i beg you

what a dirty week. just... ew.

john edwards' mistress rielle hunter has a spread in esquire. ahem. yes, i said spread. the pix are mostly of her in a man's shirt, a pearl necklace (uh-huh) and no pants. come hither stare and such. including the just totally icky one of her on the blackmail baby's bed with stuffed barney (is he still a thing?) and dora the explorer dolls. she still with no pants. who does this? who poses on their infant's bed with a fuck-me face in a national magazine? to rehab their reputation, no less?

i have no idea what the interview has to say cuz i don't care. i find it staggering that this woman wants to be in the public eye after what she has done and with whom. nary a care for the little who that once grown will click a mouse and see all this garbage, nor the much bigger who's living with their dying mother who see this garbage now.

another of the tiger woods harem has come forward this week with tawdry bits. 4 months after the elin beat-down a porn star with balloon boobs named joslyn james published over 100 dirty tiger sexts. we'll cruise on the fact that by profession a porn actress has no shame and at best a fluid sense of boundaries. other people's dirty talk is always just kinda sad -sounding, i guess, but he wants to slap her, call her dirty names, admits he'd have stage fright for a golden shower (giving, not receiving; tiger has a shy bladder? c'mon, right? his father never made him pee in the bushes rather than lose course time?) and order a turkey club. not all at the same time.

weirdly, the transcript is all just him. she has a way better cell-plan than i do since mine only saves about 20 texts, clean or dirty. much like the blue lewinksy dress it will bring her 15 seconds of mainstream media attention, but then what? again, his kids will get to click and get sick in just a few years. regardless of how nice or not-nice is tiger's wife, she is freshly humiliated. james' family must be thrilled how all those ballet lessons panned out.

then lastly, a nice girl indeed finishes, if not last, than in the mud. sandra bullock, 8 days after her oscar win, got faced with front page frontals of the tattoo model named "bombshell" mcgee, who claims to have been having a year-long affair with bullock's husband, jesse james. james has been married 3 times, and is a cult reality tv guy, who pimps out hogs or some such. i'd read his name, that he essentially pretended to be a descendant of the outlaw, but this whole story makes me yearn for that "coward robert ford" to rise from the dead and come a slingin' with a six-shooter.

somehow bullock went from a joke (miss congeniality) to an oscar winner/powah-playah, with staggeringly profitable movies under her belt. a broad who won a razzie AND an oscar within weeks of each other and showed up to accept each award graciously has become america's real sweetheart. in her oscar speech, and other interviews, she thanked james for "always having her back." that it was the first time in her life she'd had that, and how profound and wonderful it was. she'd used her money and muscle to help james get custody of his kids.

tits mcgee got $30k from a rag for lots of dirty j.j texts. sexts from james for the year they were banging, and including some just days after the oscars. she calls him "vanilla gorilla" saying he has a ginormous dick. (even though gorillas typically have small penises relative to other hominids, but i think she skipped that class in bio.) other stuff has piddled out about her supposed neo-nazi sympathies (and tangentially that james' 2nd wife, a porn star, is married to a felonious neo-nazi), and generally unsavory associates and demeanor.

like tiger's porn actress, mcgee has different boundaries (and they both have sex-cam websites!) than your average jane. all that's swell and i'm not here to throw stones at mistresses, nor the husbands who keep them. my glass shatters too easily. what does make me sick is the lack of regard for collateral damage. the kids. the families, the wives.

just like the man keeping a mistress, there used to be a code of conduct for the girlie. first rule? shut up. be discreet. it blows my mind that these women out themselves. that botoxed conga line of chicks who sucked tiger off? they came out for what ? a chance to be on howard stern? is that the highlight? an asterisk in tiger's wiki about being no.6, no. 16, or no. 696?

jiz-bum james and inky mcgee already dwelled on the seamy side as far as careers and associates.

hunter (her third known name) ran with dark shadows chasing her for all her adult life. she came from money in florida and was a competitive equestrian. her lawyer-father died of cancer while under fbi covert investigation for very likely culpability in a show-horse-electrocution-for-insurance-money-scam.

she then ran hard and fast with that nyc brat pack crowd and was the basis for a jay mcinerny character in his 1988 novel, "my so-called life". "allison poole" was pathologically sexual, riddled with std's and conned her b/f for money for an abortion she never had/needed. by most accounts, hunter was not embarrassed, but rather relished being the source for allison.

she met edwards in a bar.

i have had sex with married men. i have had affairs with married men. i always justified it in my head putting it all on the guy. *I* wasn't doing anything to the wife or the kids. it was all his choice. i just happened to be available and attracted. if the guy made noises about leaving the wife he got dropped like a hot rock. that was never gonna be on me.

i kept myself sufficiently removed that it never went beyond a fling with those guys.

except when it did.

and she found out.

she wrote to me.

she demanded to see my correspondence with him.

trumped, destroyed, by my own hubris, there was no way i would pour gasoline on the flames. to what end? it would only feed her self-flagellation and in no way could help him or salve any of my pain.

i felt ashamed.

i cannot, cannot, cannot, comprehend these women all falling over themselves, pushing their push-up bras in the faces of the paparazzi, to publish sexts and tapes and voice-mails and stuff about socks (eliot spitzer's ashley dupree... oh, so long ago, in a more innocent time).

"hell hath no fury blah-blah" goes back to zeus and hera. (although she frequently lashed out by punishing his bastard offspring, like driving hercules mad so that he'd kill his own wife and children.) yet no matter how many times i witness the scorched earth policy of somebody like mcgee or james, i am dumbfounded. they become emotional agent orange. why intentionally hurt the wife? the fucking kids? what have they done to be a party in your greek tragedy?

they don't get the guy back. they don't look smart or powerful or sexy. they look like cheap discarded toys. they don't even get rich! snaggle-crotch mcgee got like minimum wage for her junk. how does any of this make them feel better? most of america writes them off as money-grubbing whores.

as for hunter, she is a whole other vile species. trying to become some sort of media celebrity while appearing as nothing more than a circling vulture.

they all make me embarrassed by women.