Hot Chick Janiece was searching for a blog topic earlier, and settled on the always fascinating celebrity seraglio. So, without further ado, here’s mine, because I know that if these wonderful men of achievement and industry only knew I existed they’d be all over me.

Dr. Brian Cox, OBE, is a particle physicist on the large hadron collider project and a popular science television and academic/popular media presenter.

Richard Branson is a bajillionaire entrepreneur of Virgin holdings fame, as well as a noted adventurer and media star. He is at the forefront of privatizing space travel and believes in business making a difference in our world.

Laird Hamilton is an athlete and eco-activist, a big-wave surfer who lives in Hawaii and is married to pro-beach volleyball player Gabrielle Reece. If she ever gets tired of him, I’ll take a number.

Trent Reznor is a talented musician, one-man genius behind Nine Inch Nails. He’s a tortured poet and an outspoken advocate of DRM-free media.

Number one on my list, Liam Neeson, is a fairly private but well-respected Irish actor whose work in film and theatre spans decades. He too, supports many charities assisting children, the poor and the AIDS-stricken.

My honorable mention? Minor celebrity Evan Newkirk, beloved by UCF trollops across North America, is a tireless public servant, brilliant writer/blogger, and apologist for pygmy marmosets everywhere.

Please feel free to add your comments on the subject – pertinent, salacious, or off-the-rails.

Last week, after several Lemon Drop martinis and giant beers, we talked Janiece’s Smart Man into giving us a pedicure. He liked the numbers: four hot chicks and two smart men, one of whom would simply be an amused spectator, so agreed to try.

He had some conditions, though. First, he had us buy more beer. Second, he got to pick his methods. And third, he wanted us wearing t-shirts. Just in case wet t-shirts accidentally became involved.

We settled in back at the Big Yellow House, and he selected his tools for the job:

• Pressure washer

• Belt sander
• File and rasp
• Dremel cutting blade
• Masking tape and compressor sprayer
• Turtle wax and dremel buffer
• Vaseline intensive care
• Styptic powder

OK, a little unconventional, but we could live with that.

First, he put down a couple of plastic sheet drop cloths in the family room while he had us select our nail polish color. I say color, because he only wanted to load the sprayer once. Cleaning the nozzle can be a pain, so we all had to go with the same color.

The pressure washer didn’t work out so well. It was hard to aim, a little painful, and it broke one of Janiece’s side table lamps. Note to self: not intended for indoor use. Boogie went downstairs to hide at this point, but the rest of us simply had another beer.

The Smart Man could have been a bit more gentle with the belt sander and rasp, but we did have styptic powder on hand. And I guess the drop cloths were a good idea, after all.

After another round of beer, we decided that we’d give each other footrubs, round robin style, and let the Smart Man watch. He liked that. I think. He was kind of buzy futzing with the paint sprayer.

Unfortunately, the sprayer lacked fine control for polish application. The Smart Man’s stereo receiver and home theatre system will never be the same, it’s now covered with a fine coat of grape-colored purple lacquer. Still, he did a nice job of masking our toes (where the tape gripped and we weren’t bleeding) and the paint job looked fabulous.

One final drink, and we tackled the cleanup job. I think we’ll need to replace the paint sprayer, and I hope Janiece can get the spots of blood off her ceiling. (Anne should be just fine, we applied direct pressure.)

Next time, I think we’ll go to the nail salon. We like the massage chairs.

Note: None of this actually happened. At least I think it didn’t. But I do have a fresh pedicure.

I finally ordered myself a t-shirt I’ve been meaning to get for some time, since the UCF got one for amazon warrior woman Tania for her birthday earlier this year.

T-shirt available at ThinkGeek.

Last week I tweeted a facetious novel writing suggestion, the first one in the list below, and it made me think: how many ill-advised ways can I come up with to write a 50,000 word novel?

1. Write a 50,000 word MS project plan.

2. Write a 50,000 word novel in Morse code.
3. Write a 50,000 word novel consisting entirely of limericks.
4. Write a 50,000 word comedic romance novel in Klingon.
5. Write a 50,000 word vampire novel with a fountain pen. In your own blood.
6. Write a 50,000 word literary novel in the bathroom, on toilet paper.
7. Write and illustrate a 50,000 word serial graphic novel. In full color.
8. Write a 50,000 word murder mystery on post-it-notes. Scramble them, then transcribe.
9. Write a 50,000 word novel in sharpie (or tattoo!) on your own skin. And that of your family, if your handwriting isn’t small. Preserve via digicam.
10. Write a 50,000 word novel in less than 30 days, while working full time, sleeping too little and drinking too much caffeine. Oh, wait, that’s NaNoWriMo!

Any really bad writing ideas you can come up with?

Tomorrow, I’m taking off at oh-dark-thirty for the great white north and a spot of on-site project work. I’m staying with the awesome, ever-hospitable Barb & Bill, and Pippin-psycho-kitten is in charge in my absence. (He just nipped my thumb to make me type that.)

Posting may be a bit light because things are always a bit of a madhouse in Anchorage, plus the travel hours are insane. Here, have some Bob and Doug Mackenzie to tide you over. “Alaska is like Hawaii.” ::snort::