Subway Monday

I should just only fucking talk about the subway since that is where all the bad shit in THE WORLD HAPPENS.  I don't even want to read the news anymore because the only thing worse than warring nations is warring NYC commuters in the morning.

Today's mishap: A hasidic (spelling?) Jew with a four inch long skin tag on his neck decides to be that very last person that slips into the L train doors at the Bedford Avenue stop.  In order to accomplish this task he grabs the man's shoulder next to me to wedge his mammoth body into the chamber and into my cock.  Rather than shuffling himself in the center of the door with his back against it, which most humans prefer to do since it not only gives you a little room but also allows other people to not fall victim to your hot breath, he decides to fall on me for most of the trip to 1st Avenue.  As most of you know, this sojourn through the dark tunnel is not a quick and easy feat.  

In great frustration, I shove my Jack Spade between my cock and the Rabbi whilst rolling my eyes and acting super faggy as a sort of "fuck you"to the great Torah.  With crazy batty eyes and another skin tag flapping along his eyelid, Rabbi starts muttering to me in Yiddish.  As if.

At Union Square when I think I am finally going to be free, mother fucker decides to block the entire door so that I basically am unable to move.  I am shoved, cursed at and spit on by the people trying to get out.  Rabbi seems to blame me for this idiocy.  After the crowd clears and I avoid stoning, I sit down.  For the entire next stop I'm afraid to make eye contact with the crazy dreidel because I thought he was going to knife me for shoving my Jack Spade into his fat rotunudo abdomen.  He also picked his nose (openly I may add graciously) the entire trek from US to 6th.  I made it though.  Mazel Tov to me.

Union Square update:Did anyonse see the freak who looked like a fairy tale witch and had numerous face piercings squeezing the plastic shark (that squeaked) into the faces of alarmed passers-by on this evening's commute home?  I hated her too.

 

Isn't She Lovely? Isn't She a Pearl?

Subway Report. Last evening. I'm sweating I just left the gym and I look completely heinous and unfit to be classified as human being. I sit and I read On Beauty by the delectable Zadie Smith. In walks a foreign object with bright pink hair. She smells like sour onions and the air directs cheeks to spontaneously sag in disgust. Pink is accompanied by an albino male with long white hair and another girl who may be a lesbian but isn't nearly as grotesque as the other two. The discussion commences:

Less Hideous Girl: So I used to have all these piercings on my face and my dad paid me money to have them in less visual places.

Albino: Slides greasy hand on bar above my head and grunts

Pink: (in husky voice) How much?

Less Hideous Girl: Enough

Pink: (really smelling like onions now) My body piercings make me giggle when I'm on hallucinogenics.

Less Hideous Girl: (you can tell she wants to bite her own nipples off and make an O face)

Pink: I mean as an unemployed bartender I don't really give a fuck what I look like and I don't think people do either.

Albino: (lost in a Dr. Zizmor ad to the disappointment of his lady loves)

Pink: (trying to sound impressive) Yeah I had a mohawk when I was 13

Less Hideous Girl: (seat is dripping) wow

Pink: Yeah then I had dreadlocks all through high school

Less Hideous Girl: I always wanted dreadlocks you know that started with cornrows and then just like flowed out - but my job would like totally kill me.

Pink: I dig that

Albino: (re-reading the number to Dr. Zizmor) he grunts.

Pink: Hey! have you seen the ad for pubic hair dye? They have a color that is exactly my hair and it's called "fun." So I'm like fun (cough).

Albino: OMG that's so cool!

Pink: (Top of her lungs) - Too bad I don't have a carpet to match the draped. I should grow out my carpet.

Ikea a la Hook de Rojo

Well it's been entirely too long hasn't it? Who am I kidding? No one is reading this.  I've been spending way too much time complaining about all my corporate urban woes and the new pair of jeans I can't afford because I booked too many vacations this year.

After having several glasses of Pinot Grigio and arguing with myself for far too long about where my new step shelf should be in my far too tiny apartment, I decided there was no better time than to reconnect with my peers.

Ikea. Say it with me. I-KEEEE-Ah.  It ends with relief. Or so that is the allusion that somehow permeates all of our minds right before we decide to take the annoying voyage to one of their may locations.  Let's be honest - no one lives near an IKEA.  They were brilliant enough to put them in several remote locations so the sheer act of traveling to one builds more anticipation than an adolescent game of seven minutes in heaven.

I fell victim to their game today.  Oh yes. On the advice of my friend who is trying to refurbish his lovely studio (I still share an apartment because I'm into 'saving' - or because I'm a drunk and have to feed my habits, one no more valid than the other).  So I log onto IKEA's website and or course it makes it sound so easy to get to each and every one of their locations.  My friend and I decide that we will try the new hot location in Red Hook because there are like thirty five ways to get there and we were already in Brooklyn so how hard could it REALLY be, right?  

I suggest the M train.  M FOR MISTAKE of course.  That shit don't run nowhere fast on the weekends.  But then God came down and told us to try the water taxi downtown which happened to be the utter highlight of my day - I got to see Lady Liberty and sit with fat people for fifteen minutes each way which is a helluva lot more convenient than taking a shuttle from the Trash Authority to the Elizabeth location.  

Anyway I'm all orgasmic at the thought of walking into this amusement park of a monstrosity and then once I walk in it hits me like a tons of bricks. I remember all about what Ikea's really like.

Ikea is sort of like the line to get to America from an obscure border.  Everyone is shuffling around a bunch of junk and not sure where it ends.  And everything is in Spanish which really adds a bit of foreign flare in a Scandinavian landscape. I go salon to salon only to realize that I am surrounded by trash.  I hit the bedding section and feel like I just fucked someone with cheetos breath and tapered jeans.  I go into the kitchen section and pick up forks that bend when I bite on them too hard.  I pass the cafeteria and imagine the diarreah that will strike if I shove a slovic meatball into my gullet.

And so I walk and I walk and I walk, carrying this queer plastic yellow bag stuffed with a $2.49 scented candle and my bottled water, the previous of which I felt obligated to buy until I got to the fake plants with not-a-one thing in my goddamn bag.  

To make matters worse, the person your with always finds something.  So then you wait in line for six hours.  And in my case run back to get beige curtains and trip over a two by four next to a bunk bed on the way (love ya b).

I fucking hate Ikea and there is a reason it sounds like an STD.  The burning feeling before and after just ain't worth it son.

Ghonorkea.

Off to God's Country

Well as you may have guessed, I am incredibly in touch with Mother Earth.  I just bought Tom's All Natural Deodorant.  I felt particularly orgasmic when I disposed of all my carcinogenic home cleaning products and replaced them with Seventh Generation, a company that through either genuine humility, sheer manipulation or a tricky combination of marketing genius, has convinced me that I am saving the planet with each seven dollar product I consume.  I even now wipe my ass with recycled paper, which is apparently better for the pipes and the people that have to clean them.

Today, I even acquired a very fashionable Target tote to get my groceries instead of using plastic.  OH, I even fucking brought a CNN mug to work at the risk of looking like an out version of Anderson Cooper.  I mean, GOD I'm fucking GREEN.

To keep the momentum going, this weekend I embark on my fourth annual "camping" trip with my friends from high school, which in reality entails me sleeping in a garage with a goose down sleeping bag.  Let's be fucking honest, no one is into having rocks between their discs or smelling like a piece of wood.  Well, maybe some people are.  I'm more of a concrete and lemonade kinda fella with manicured hands.

That said, I actually just got excited as I was packing up my Brooklyn Industries style pack. Why? Well, I guess there is something to be said for resigning one's self to sitting in the middle of nowhere at the base of a mountain, at the risk of being attacked by the cast of the Strangers or a bear. Shit, I might even drink a beer instead of a Pinot Grigio.  What's more, I'll get to ride a QUAD.

Ahhhhh, I'm chewing on a piece of bark now.

Hopefully I'll return so I can continue to talk bullshit.

Goodbye.

And Down She Goes

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Bald and the Beautiful

Nothing tugs at my heart strings as heavily as the plight of a balding woman.  Let's call our prototype Betty.

Female Pattern Baldness is one of the greater tragedies mankind has ever seen and a situation that I for one, feel severely compassionate toward.  Why? Well for starters, Balding Betty's male counterpart is much, much sexier than she, and can rock a Bic'd head any day of the week (and still make the people swoon).  Coupled with some fatigues that hug nicely around Bobby's Bob, an American Apparel T and a jazzy sneaker, we've got ourselves a winner in Balding Bob. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that Bob has it all over Ugly Betty, wouldn't you? Good. Now dry off your stool and keep reading.

Betty, are you all right honey?

Sure, Betty - your Theory dresses and your Christian Louboutin's might make you feel better temporarily, but at your core you continue to feel bitter, useless and depressed, as you should!  

Nothing makes me sadder than the idea of you looking disappointedly at your reflection night after night, swollen eyed and solemn. I FEEL FOR YOU B.

When you flip your five strands of used-to-be luscious locks from side to side to catch the wind of yesteryear, what you're really catching is "poor-unfortunate-soul" looks from passers-by, who don't even care about your fat, disproportionate ass anymore.  Boo. It used to look so good with hair I bet.

As you age Balding Betty and spend more and more time at your office, you'll realize that the little life you did have before your noggin needed SPF has dissipated into thin air, or into clumps on your designer pillowcase. Tear.

As you attempt and fail again to hang onto the remaining follicles of grease that lazily cling to your mal-shaped head in order to counterbalance your pock-marked skin, listen up.  ALL HOPE IS NOT LOST.  

There are a few options to brighten your day - not your sphere - your DAY! Get a hold of yourself - not your hair.  Ok, enough with the stab em while they're down one liners.

a) You could employ the assistance of a lady wig  - shit Beyonce rocks those better than 

     anybody don't she?

b) You could rock a GI JANE throwback (dyketastic), then you'll surely get railed by all the 

     boys you keep batting your eyelashes at like you're still nineteen and failing out of a college 

     far away from your sad suburban roots.

c) Or you can ROGAINE it. I know! I know it's so depressing.  It just sounds so COARSE. 

    Think about it though.  Nothing would make you happier than watching that hair sprout back     at Chia Pet speed I bet.

So you see Betty, everything is going to be fine!  You can still hang out with C list celebrities. You can still pretend that you have anything to offer the world at large. You can still resemble a woman even with your A cup ninnies and the imaginary pole lodged in your rectum!  

So go out there, and shake what your Momma gave ya because you ARE YOU and Mommy always told us that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Go get em' girl!

Xoxo.

The Subway Dancer

Today a little local girl no older than nine decided to dance on the subway pole like a stripper. And the weirdest part about it was that she knew.   She kept slapping her breastless chest and saying "look at my stuff."

At the risk of sounding like an unfortunate sicko, I'll stop here.  I just really can't help but think that she "knew" a little too much about dancing, like maybe her mommy was a dancer with really saggy girls and bologna curtains for weeks. 

Wait - now Tony from Dancing with the Stars is wearing Satin pajamas.  Did they have a shortage in costuming this week?

Anyway, I wish they would hire local subway dancers to be on this show.  This girl was good a la the cross eyed little girl in Union Square.  You know the one.  Her parents beat those buckets whilst she just shakes her shimmy and crosses her eyes.  She's a sight.

Ugly Mother Fucker of the Week

Well I had to choose a pussy this time. I'm sick of people telling me that Olivia looks like a burn victim from Hurricane Katrina.  She is much, MUCH more beautiful than this unfortunate.

Herbert

I named today's template after the late Uncle Herb.

HERBERT.

I love talking SHIT.

It is clear that I enjoy roasting on the couch after a long day at the office and watching horrible primetime television.  It is during these times that I so often ponder the life of the mediocre, and imagine all of the great creative things I should be doing.

I say this as I watch Kristi Yama-something spin around wearing a yellow pom pom on her head on Dancing with the Stars while her partner dances next to her in red satin pajamas.

That said, my new favorite horribly bad show is Gossip Girl.  Especially tonight's episode. 

I love that Blair is a huge raging vagina and that Penn Badgley's sister "J" was dating a homo who also happened to be dating Blake Lively's Brother "Faggot."

I mean. It was just classic.  And I love how liberal everyone was when "Faggot"came in and announced that he liked the carrot.  People barely even gasped.  If that momo had done that in my high school, he would have been knifed in his scrotum.  I'm just jealous.  Anyway, it was nice to see someone ugly with a bad sidepart get outed in like the worst way.

And what up with Serena killing someone? I mean the writing couldn't get any worse/PHENOMENAL.

xoxo,

The Cheap Imitation

Pro Ana Mia

This is so sick I can't help but post it.

If you want to check this out, do so at your own risk. It is quite disturbing.

http://www.proanamia.com/

Here is a "poem" from the website:

Ana's Last Night
Lying here hungry ...My whole body in pain ...Should probably eat something ...But I feel to ashamed ...Starting to shiver now ...Beginning to shake ...God how I love this ...How my body just aches ...Got up for some cold water ...Then to take a cold shower ...Remind myself that soon ...I'll be a delicate flower ...Did 3 hours exercise ...But I must do some more ...Still got one pound to loose ...Like the pound I lost before ...Whoa, got a dizzy head rush ...Colors dancing all around me ...Like little tiny faerie angels ...Wanting to set me free ...Oh wow, I'm floating with them ...Going high up in the sky ...I finally made it! ...To the thinness that is I ...

The site also offers tips on how you too can neutralize your breath after vomiting and how best to covertly adjust your diet to be a successful diseased waif.

Thoughts?

Is it me or is the Food Network depressing?

I just don't get it. I'm not a food nazi. Sure, I have read parts of Skinny Bitch and I am now quite familiar with the Pro Ana Mia movement which we'll discuss in a bit but I do like a nice greasy carbohydrate-tastic meal. I really do. I like burgers, fries and the occasional McFlurry. It's true, I may starve myself during the week to maintain the allusion of a perfect genetic hand-me-down but my family looks like every other suburban family. American, if you will and I too am only three pies away from looking sub-par. In my mind I'm actually a celebrity and paparazzo may take pictures of me on South Beach over the summer.

Despite my mouth which is usually salivating for SOMETHING, I just can't seem to get into the Food Network. Even running into Giada at Nobu 57 with her faux Italian accent used on words like Pinot Greeg-chio can't swerve my netherregions to a more peaceful place. I can't hold the Food Network anywhere near my heart.

In fact, I absolutely hate it- I hate all the shows on it. I don't think it's interesting to watch orange creme drip into a bowl whilst some overweight woman stirs it and tells me how unhealthy it is. I don't think it's enjoyable when someone yells about food, and exclaims odd things while slamming baking trays into an oven. I most certainly don't like watching someone else fucking eat when I'm hungry. I also don't like someone enjoying a cocktail when I am just waking up with a twisted liver and a mouth drier than a thug post dutchman.

What is it about these people that is so alluring?

I woke up this morning and my mother was watching it. Again. Maybe because it's Sunday it really rubs me the wrong way. But EVERY time I watch it I have to fight the sensation of wanting to fill up the tub with boiling water and submersing myself until I'm forced to inhale the agua and burn out my lungs.

Why don't people just go into their kitchens and have a good old fashioned food fight?

Step it up and Don't

Well I finally decided to watch Elizabeth Berkley in her first gig since Showgirls where she shaved her chocha for all to see and bumped lines of coke with Kyle McLachlan. I have to say, there is part of me that likes ol' Lizzie - I think she probably secured a place in my heart when she first performed her "I'm so excited" soliloquoy on Saved by the Bell when I was a youngster.

Some skin grafting and eye lid pulls later, she appears on Bravo as a Xanax-serene angel nymph hosting an odd menagerie of wannabe dancers as they twist and turn through the "audition" process.

The show is poorly produced and it is the first dance show in the history of dance shows that I actually don't like. I'd rather listen to the announcer on Dancing with the Stars say "Carrie Ann Inaba" in that scary voice a trillion times before I'd watch another second of this pathetic installation.

The sad part is, Bravo weakly used all the right elements from its amazing programs like Make me a Supermodel and Runway but this one just doesn't cut it for me.

Also, there is a gay porn star dancer in it which makes the whole thing a bit funnier - considering that the host used to dance at the Cheetah.

Dayum Z

From Bricks and Stones gossip:

But it’s little Zahara, 3, who really rules the roost! “She screams and shouts at the boys when she doesn’t get her way,” says the source. Not even Shiloh, 22 months, is safe — and the toddler has the battle scars to prove it. “Z is always pushing or scratching her.”

Zahara’s picking on Shiloh is usually motivated by snacks. “Z once clawed Shiloh’s cheek after she tried to take her cookie,” says an insider who witnessed one incident. “She’s always pulling on Shiloh’s hair so she can steal her food.”
And little Shiloh has more than her hair to worry about! Recently while Shiloh’s three older siblings roughhoused, she got knocked down and chipped a tooth! “Angie gets worried when Shi plays with them,” says the insider. “She always comes back with a scraped knee or a fat lip!”

Just look at that picture there - I can just hear her:

Eat this fuckin ricey bitch. We'll see who gets in trouble for having more diarreah then!

The Real Anne Boleyn was a Bad Bitch

Ok so you know I just read the book and was mildly obsessed with it and mildly wish I was Anne or George Boleyn because they were actually smart and sinful and would have been coke heads in the early 80s had they been part of the Manhattan court. BUT, they were ugly as is the theme of most people's lives (I'm coming to discover). This in combination with their likely odor underneath all those petticoats is enough to just throw me overboard with delight.

Music Throwback of the Week

What ever happened to this man? Does no one like him? He's boring in concert but he is THE SHIT.

I feel like he should be inducted to some great hall for his voice alone.

http://www.raylamontagne.com/

Does this look like the face of someone who likes Friday Night Smackdown?

Well - though the above may look like a glamour shot from 1990, it's actually the one and only Shama Patel. You can see her in a midriff baring T on Friday Night Smackdown this Friday at 8pm on USA. No folks, she's not a ring girl - she's a fucking fan.

She was quoted today as saying: Some of the men are hot.

Um....exhibit A.

Let's chart a love connection for her. Here's my pick!


She's PURDDDDDDY. And I bet she has a small penis!

A Planet of Ugly - Boys Interrupted

There are times when I fear that I will have nothing else to discuss when everyone on the planet is nipped and tucked and pulled and dyed. We're all so gross. But there are always, ALWAYS, going to be ugly people walking around this city.

Let's review:



Give me my fucking colace Lisa!
My Dad got me an apartment with an eat-in chicken. You mean kitchen? That's what I said, ASSHOLE.
Pretty Kitty.

Someone thinks he is THE shit

Good thing his family and friends hate him and let him know how terrible he is. Special shout out to UVegas groupie Tara for the classic EASTER footage. Go Christ!

Don't make me take away your biscuits!

I will DO IT.

She might be writing a book y'all

Once upon a time there was a grumpy hard ass woman. She married a dude after they had iced cream on the curb. They had two kids. She dances to signed sealed delivered at political rallies whilst raising the roof.

No one cares.

The end.

She is fucking ugly

I don't get it. I really really don't get it. She looks like her mother was addicted to heroin and only quit a minute before she was born. The makeup sucks the personality sucks her taste in men sucks and NOW we give a shit because she got naked?

More males around me have commented on how hot she is in the last week and I have to tell you, I cannot disagree more. Just because you're a skank and living in Hollywood and got coked up and had your naked pics taken doesn't mean YOU'RE FLY.

Obsessed with Boleyn

I am not a Tudors fan but I have been trying to be. And now that I realized like an idiot a year too late that the Boleyn's were involved, I will be watching season two. Here is why. Have you read The Other Boleyn Girl?

I know I never would have given a shit if there wasn't a movie about it six months ago, but my roomate who is a princess in his own right read the actual book and told me that it was so good and such a hoot and a real page turner and blah blah blah. Being a snob and a jerk, I originally scoffed at the idea of reading it. But then I did -

I have to tell you, it is one of the BEST BOOKS I HAVE EVER READ. I'm not even fucking done. If you've ever vied for power/hurt other's feelings/wanted to be a Royal (or my whole life in a nutshell), then you will most DEFINITELY ENJOY.

Off with her head!

Stick a Magic Wand in your....

According to CNN.com, universities like Yale are using the Harry Potter series as the subject of entire theology courses. Apparently the subject matter draws large crowds and makes the usually boring topic of theology come to life.

Um....is it me or is this a load of complete horse shit? Harry Potter is certainly entertaining but I wouldn't be so quick to say that there is any real literary value to the books above and beyond me having a wet dream about flying around on a broomstick and casting spells on fat people.

I haven't read the books in the series but have seen the films and can say fairly confidently that there is no theological relevance to any of it. It's a nice story that draws on religious themes - but to design a course around it and suggest that students at Yale are going to learn anything that they can apply to a future endeavor is absolutely LUDE-ICROUS.

Fucked Up E-Cards Galore

This is by far my favorite F-ed up cards site.

Check it:

http://www.gbehh.com/cards/index_cards.html

Movie of the Week

Elizabeth: The Golden Age

Miss Lizzie is indeed a fierce little bitch and I like when she overcomes her cunthood to accept her 1st maid's quasi bastid kid.

More seriously, the costumes and cinematography in this film alone are enough to make it worthwhile but Blanchett's performance is awesome.

So what if I'm behind schedule?

I'm also trying to convince my roommate to wear his hair like that on Halloween just for shits, if I promise to be Mamma Obama.

Oregon Trail

Louisiana tour officials have announced a 26 stop trail to highlight certain moments throughout African American history such as slave details, plantation owners and the like.  Soon to follow, a Handicapped tour, a Jewish tour, and a Cuban Tour.  Those are just the trails in the next three months.

I want to see an Oregon Trail.  I want to travel with someone named Rudy and get dysentary when I don't kill enough squirrels to eat.

Tapper we goin?

A New Leg for the Whole Fam!

Miss Heather got herself 50 Mil today.

The thought of all that money makes me a little saturated. Truth.

In Memoriam

I wasn't aware of this story until this morning because I was taking a media hiatus this morning.

Very sorry for all those involved.

Dancing with the Stars - Yeehaw

I am so pleased Dancing with the Stars is back on.  Even though I hate the hosts and fast forward through most of the program (except when the host says 'Carrie Ann Inaba' in that creepy voice during the judging), there is something about it that draws me in every season.

I think the professional dancers are really good and also think it's sad that they have to dance with typically overweight Clist celebs.

That said, my favorite C list celeb is on the cast this year.  MONICA SELES.  I grew up watching her grunt and squeal like a farm hog on the clay courts, and I pray to all the Gods that she lets out a similar odd non human noise during one of her routines this year. 

Tag Team Back Again

From ABC News and the NY Post today:

A former aid to ex mo governor Jim McGreevey claims he had sex with McGreevey and now ex-wife when they were dating back in the day. SAY WHAT?

If this is true I am going to be so fucking pissed.  Here is why.  Well, I had to listen to this bitch sit on Oprah for a full hour and make me feel bad for her why they painted McGreevey (as idiotic as he may be) as this monster who destroyed her life while so selfishly had affairs with various "dawgs" in his cabinet.

Let me tell you something.  If this bitch not only knew that her boyfriend at the time was a nifkin sniffer, but fucking allowed him to salivate all over someone's pie whistle whilst she sat there like a bafoon hoping one day he would get through his little "phase" than she should be put into some sort of Mo 101/insane asylum.  

I find it very hard to believe that if your "boyfriend" cannot handle getting intimate without the cameo or recurring role of El Sausage Capitan, then it is pretty goddamn clear that he ain't EVA GONNA DEAL WIT YO POONTANG solo.

I mean, if you're a victim, fine.  I feel bad.  If you're a dumb asshole, you unfortunately deserve it.

Don't Drink and Stink

It's a fuzzy day.

FUZZ.

Panties.

I hate Mariah Carey? Why? Because I know that when she isn't flailing her arms around and wasting her wonderful voice on stupid hip hop songs because she wants to be "down wid it" she is just a big piece of shit. I can just SEE it in her eyes.

Also her clothes are always hideous.  It wasn't cute to be able to see her panties while she was tweeting.

The TARGET skit and the SNL short with Andy Samberg's dad (was that really him?) were pretty spectac.

Ball Bussin -Asshole of the week Award

I don't get why most moral authorities usually wind up doing crystal meth with South American drug lords like three days after they lynch a "criminal."

It's just aggravating.

Also, big ups to his wife for standing there with that dumb look on her face.  You know she wants to beat the fuck out of that Awad.

Well hello!

So sorry for the unfortunate delay in posts.  It's been a crazy week.

Let's get started.  

Last weekend, my train got struck by lightning in New Jersey and then when I returned to NYC THREE "audacity of hope" readin' hours later, I learned that I could not get on the L train because someone decided to lay down on the tracks at Graham Avenue and wouldn't get up.

So of course, I had to waste another 20 bucks getting into a fucking taxi.  And of course, the fucking taxi driver was a fucking psychopath named OLEG.  Please see above sign.

This loon proceeded to scream at me the whole way back to Brooklyn about what a genius he was and how if I didn't want to pay for his service I was a big ass.  Then he hijacked me for a higher tip and told me that I was a rich white man who liked the IRS.

Listen Ukranian fuck brain.  Just because Svetlana is sucking dick for bread in Moscow doesn't mean you have the right to try to bamboozle me into your sub par service.  I don't give a fuck what day I was born.  Danke.

American Idol

Did anyone catch Chekezie's mother praising Jesus when he didn't get kicked off last night?

http://youtube.com/watch?v=9zYj7rzyexI

Scroll to minute 1:25

Congo Bongo Trongo Dongo

All Hail Mamma Obama. I am about to start speaking in tongues I'm so excited.

Untruths are told that don't have anything to do with what Barack is about," she said in the local Luo language, her gray hair smoothed neatly under a headwrap. "I am very against it."

Luo wha?

Match Game:

Let me say something about each picture and then you match it up to the correct one. Ready? Go!





a) What the fuck is that Stars and Stripes headwrap doin on a fucking pole? Gimme dat shit back.
b) Obama yo dick ain't dat big
c) That bitch is not sleeping in my fucking house. She got fleas boo.
d) I just had me a nice little child's ear. My stomach be full.

Project Runwizzle

I am very happy to say that Christian Siriano is the winner of Project Runway.  He most definitely deserved it, and his pieces were the strongest of all of them.  I kind of wish Jillian broke down a little bit more, but you just know she was backstage threatening an embargo on blowjobs from her jewance for an infinite amount of time.

I was also sort of touched that he's not just a nelly queen and he really does appreciate his victory.

Sorry but there will never be a better one

In a world of great mugshots, I just wanted to take this time to remind you that one of all of them, will never be surpassed in greatness.  If you would, please take a few moments to really examine the joys of this singular photograph.  The hair, the expression, and the dingy bathrobe are enough to make me feel a little liquefied, even all these years later.

I'm a little wet.

Soiled. Saturated. Moist. Unencumbered.

Go Hil-Spot. I knew Texas was worth something.

Believe it or not, I'm friends with this idiot

Please enjoy a serenade by obnoxious publicist, Zlata Faerman. She cannot even get the words right to your favorite classics, but you just can't find a medley of this caliber nowadays.

If you'd like to send her hate mail, please send to:

zfaerman@gmail.com


She likes being beaten into submission.

Slore Strikes Again

So remember when I told you about my pathetic friend that boned that girl in Murray Hill?

Look what he received in the mail yesterday morning - this time the note said: Have you forgotten about me?

No one knows this bitch's last name, but she needs to be arrested.

Can anyone find her on myspace? Let's send her hate mail!

Mighty Aphrodite

So I was eating at the downtown Houston's location on Park Avenue yesterday during lunch and I just wanted to make a brief complaint (surprise) about the A-hole who was hosting.

It wasn't that she was unpleasant or rude or even that ugly. Well, ok she was ugly but it was because she had her hair (which was dyed black and showed a moderate gray root) in FUCKING PIGTAILS.

I hereby proclaim that anyone ever wearing pigtails outside the context of Halloween or a sex costume should be shot.

The worst part of all was her name tag. Her name was APHRODITE.

I don't believe her. She was lying because ugly people lie.

Donate

Now you know I love O-diddy despite her recent political endorsements.  Despite what you may or may not think of her, she gives a great deal to those who are in more unfortunate situations.

Since I am such a loser, and openly DVR Momma O every day - I thought I would share that I was quite moved by Drew Barrymore's appearance on the show - and even more moved by her 1 million dollar donation to wfp.org - the World Food Programme.  The WFP is a UN funded organization that helps stop world hunger.

Donate today - for less than 50 bucks a year you can see that 93% of your donation goes directly into the hands of those who are hungry.  

Get into it.

Get your Prayer Beads!

Let's say a big Primary prayer for Miss Hil as the results pour in tomorrow.

Hail Mary girl.

You're Always Being Judged

very demon of the underworld.

He sounds more and more like a woman scorned.

Four Nobusian Leechy Martinis Later

The Subway Chronicles

All I ever do is talk about the L train - but it's so FUCKING gross that I just can't help myself.

This morning some French woman - not the one who played Edith Piaf - decided not to worry about my hand that was right in front of her face whilst she spoke at full volume to the even uglier French woman behind me about their unshaven snatches.

Their conversation included phlegm and lots of hot breath that made the tops of my hands burn under her mouth. I rushed to the kitchen sink today to wash her Parisian bacteria off of me as quickly as possible.

Yum.