[ * Attack of the 50-Foot Blog Women

It seems that boys are not the only idiots who write nonsense on the Internet. No, there are many wondeful women who are producing some top-notch stuff out there. Y.P.R. recommends its readers spend some quality time with each of these fine blogs (or, at least, bloggish things) that belong to some ladies who've captured Y.P.R.'s collective heart. (And, hey, send an e-mail to let Y.P.R. know who/what else is out there.) To start, there's 30onething-chick Ari's slighly embellished Ari Goes Down; also, lovable Lisa Grover's I Love Lisa; America's Sw**th**rt Lindsay Robertson's brand-spankin'-new Lindsayism; zulktastic Claire Zulkey's Zulkey.com; and lastly, but not leastly, Teresa DiFalco's obtusely named site, Teresa DiFalco.

You'll thank us for introducing you to these lovely ladies.

You're welcome. Enjoy. * ]

E X C E R P T   F R O M   T H E   B E S T H A R L E Q U I N   R O M A N C E E V E R BY DAVID SILVERMAN "Those are some big earrings you have," I said but I wasn't looking at her ears. "Yes, they are." "Also, breasts." She slapped me, hard, and my face stung and I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong. Her breasts were big. "You are such a dick." Her shirt was tight, which made her breasts look even bigger. I rubbed my cheek to take some of the sting out. But all the rubbing in the world wouldn't take the sting away from the inside. "I am hurt," I said, "but my cheek will heal. Your words have stung me down to my very soul. I am a kind and gentle man. I mean you no harm. Come here and give me a hug." She looked at me warily. After a moment's hesitation, she took a cautious step forward and wrapped her arms around me. I could smell her hair. It was nice. Suddenly, she stepped back and slapped me again. "You undid my bra, you jerk." I did. I couldn't help myself. My arms were wrapped around her back. Call it instinct. Call it my natural tendency. If being who you are is being a jerk, then I guess I'm the biggest jerk in the world. I can't help but be myself. This is who I am. "This is who I am," I said. "You must accept me for who I am. How can we have a candid interpersonal relationship if I cannot be myself around you? Now come over here." She eyed me warily again, but again took one cautious step forward. I took her hand. "Please understand. I don't do anything with overt sexuality. Everything that I do is out of genuine care for everyone in the world. How I behave here with you is how I behave with everyone." She slapped me again. "You put my hand on your genitals." She was right. I had. This is how I get close to people. If people want to truly know me, they must touch my genitals. It is the only way. "Darling, I must go. Will you be here when I get back?" She turned her back to me but I knew she'd be there when I returned. The huge wooden doors in front of me swung open to reveal a large gathering of people. A man to my left screamed. "LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES." More wonderful DAILY PIECES