Darlene Cavalier is an ex-professional cheerleader who's now using her site, Science Cheerleader, to rally the troops of 'citizen scientists' - average peeps like you and me - to engage more with science efforts in their community.
This video teams REAL LIFE CHEERLEADERS with REAL LIFE SCIENCE FACTS, and is part of her Brain Makeover programme:
At least it does for the 23 models at ModelFeed, "an international collaborative blog sharing the real lives of models as they do their thing".
ModelFeed's tagline is "not made up", and it's really not - models from all across the globe post photos, videos and text about their adventures, passions and food (yes, food!).
Very little of the Next Top Model-style snarking is evident here, although some models are a little more fond of themselves than others (but that's just as common amongst bloggers who aren't a million feet tall and fill a minus-value dress size).
Come over the jump to read more about about the blogger who's pledged to NOT buy any clothes for a full year....
There are few things that I like better in life than going to the pub with my friends and drinking whiskey whilst putting the world to rights. Indeed, I think the right to go to the pub is one of those things which should be enshrined in every country's constitution.
Last month, the Sri Ram Sena (Army of Lord Ram) group attacked women in Magalore in Southern India who they saw out drinking, and who they deemed to be acting disgracefully. The attack was filmed, was filmed and then broadcast on national television, showing men chasing and beating up panicking women. Some of the women, who tripped and fell, were kicked viciously by the men. Because, you know, beating the living shit out a woman daring to express her individuality by living her life the way she chooses to is a really good way to win people over to your cause.
The group are also planning to protest against Valentines Day this Saturday, believing that a harmless commercial celebration of hearts and flowers will slowly erode away moral dignity and the fabric of society.
I love Black Metal. At least in idea, if not in actual practice. As amusing comedy musical genres go, it's the tops. What's not to love about a load of men indulging in sweaty homoerotic past times involving goats blood, sacrificial virgins and more make up than a branch of Superdrug?
As you also may have gathered, I also have a bit of a soft spot for domesticity. Please bear in mind that an appreciation of domesticity doesn't mean that I'm particularly great at it. The current state of the attic room I live in is testament to that. I can't sew, knitting appears to be a task beyond the limitations of my motor skills, and, I'll let you into a secret here. I can't iron to save my life.
If, like my good self, your forté lies more in the baking side of affairs, then any sweet toothed appreciator of Thrash will appreciate The Black Oven, a blog dedicated to how to make Immaculate confections succumbed to northern darkness
The Black Oven is a work of wonder. Not only are the recipes so damn tasty, you'll be sacrificing the first of each batch to Odin, the cooking methods show that the production of fine confectionary is a dark art indeed. Somehow I can't imagine that you ever find Jamie Oliver telling Channel 4 viewers that their Les Petit Gateau de Légions-Noires are best enjoyed with a clenched hand to the heart in coronary distress.
So-this could be genius, or it could be madness (it all depends on how much wine I drink whilst I'm doing it), but (by popular demand) I shall be liveblogging the Thursday extended episode of Masterchef this evening.
According to the BBC's website, tonight is the final Quarter-Final which means this is the last time we're going to be able to see rank amateurs attempt to poison top chef and restaurateur John Torode, and vegetable guru Gregg Wallace with a raw chicken and quinoa surprise.
So, if you're up for it, join me here at 8pm tonight, where I shall be shivering under a blanket in my living room with the telly on, praying that my internet connection doesn't conk out on me again. I'll also be posting my thoughts on Twitter if you fancy something more immediate.
So, who do you think will get through from the quarter-finals, Dollymixers? The crying miner bloke from Monday, or the polenta-obsessed Norwegian supermodel we saw last night? PLACE YOUR BETS NOW!
Anyone who spends any amount of time with me will know that there is a little space in my heart that will always be reserved for a good notebook.
Perhaps it is because I'm an old romantic at heart, or perhaps it's because me and Microsoft Word have a...strained relationship at best, but I've always found that I manage to put down all the stuff and nonsense I carry around in my head best when I have pen and paper to hand.
I'm not particularly fussy, either. I love the glittery spiral-bound notebook I bought at a car boot sale when I was twelve just as much as the fancy-pants Moleskine journal I cart around nowadays. And don't even get me started on typewriters. My Dad had to ban me from buying the things from junk shops and jumble sales when I was a Jack Kerouac-obsessed teenager because I kept messing up my bedroom carpet with the ink from the ribbons.
So, its not all that surprising that I've fallen in love with the rather wonderful blog Strikethru.
Oooh crikey, is this thing on? Ahoy there chaps! My name is Christina (aka Miss Cay) and I shall be manning the helm of the Good Ship Dollymix for the next fortnight from my evil-genius-esque fortress located deep in the heart of the (currently) frozen North.
By "evil-genius-esque fortress" I mean "an attic across the road from a large Morrisons in South Manchester", of course.
By day I'm a full time International Business Journalist (which, I can assure you, is not as interesting or as glamorous as it sounds. Well, unless you like writing about really big buildings in Dubai, that is), and part-time blogger-slash-chronic-Twitterer. Meanwhile, by night I write about music and all manner of entertainment-based things for Virgin Media, Orange, and The Quietus amongst others.
Oh, and naturally I'm dead clever and smell really nice and am proper glamorous and all that stuff an editor of a ladies' website is meant to be.
I think Belle de Jour is great. And not just because she included a dedication to me in a book (although that kind of thing does warm the cockles of a girl's heart).
She's funny, literary, independent, intrepid. She's also kinda cheeky - she clearly appreciates and exploits the value of titillation, and isn't afraid of courting controversy.
Long ago, before the TV series, before the book deal and before even the Guardian weblog award, BdJ and I were blogging contemporaries. So I've been reading her for almost five years. And the more I read her, the more I like her.
And I liked her quite a lot in the first place. If you'll follow me over the jump I'll tell you why.