Famished and dehydrated, I sought sustenance for my hungover ass at this wonderful little sandwich shop. Clearly, the word is now out on this place, because merely a week ago there was no line at all. And certainly not this massive claustrophobia-inducing clusterfuck.
Packed in like those millions of poor Perdue chickens awaiting mass genocide at the slaughter plant in Food, Inc., it was every man for himself. My elbow rest on an obese African-American woman's FUPA; my left buttcheek swears this Caucasian granny's right breast was brushing up against it. (Yes, they were hangin' pretty low.)
All this to order my turkey'n'avocado on ciabatta?? That is love.
I could hear nothing but inexplicable noise. It was just like bees buzzing around a hive. All those nasty earthy women smelling of patchouli and sweat with no bras on....unpolished toes peaking out of their vile Crocs. Their litters of children running around screaming in their tie-dyed shirts.....mouths encircled with Toffuti fudgesickle juice.
I could feel myself getting smaller in this sea of hornets. Sweating like a philandering politician on Maury Povich for the 498th installment of "Paternity Tests Revealed," Were was my motherfucking sandwich? The exit? "DOES ANYBODY HAVE A KLONOPIN?!," my mind and facial expressions screamed. "Of course not! This is the 'natural' crowd," I reasoned in between horrible thoughts.
I was about to lose it Julia Sugarbaker-style! (You know.....when she lost it on the "traveling public" in her house for a historic homes tour?)
'Turkey and Avocado Ciabatta for Phil?" I hear over the sea of funk.
FINALLY!
I grabbed that sammy, and shoved people out of the way like my own bitchy version of a football player to get to the wedge-capped lilliputian cashier. Just as I was upon her she said it:
"WHAT did you just say?!," I yelped in my poseur-Julia tone.
"Don't answer," I rapidly snapped. "I heard you the first time. I assume you are bitching about that whitehead burgeoning from the cleft in your chin. Those two horrendous words should NEVER be put together. EVER. Especially in an establishment that serves food. I sat here for thirty fucking minutes right on top of everyone....with their clogged pores in my face. I watched mayonnaise being squeezed from squeezy-bottles onto white bread, for Chris'sakes. And now I get to hear about your acne condition? I want to slap that zit beard off of your face, but I see you have been punished enough. Get some Accutane. I did....TWICE. It may have made me insane, but it served its purpose. .....And as for your burgeoning chin friend, we all get those. We just don't talk about it. And we CERTAINLY do not apply the word 'FRESH' as an adjective to describe it."
This image is legit. It is Livin' La Vida Lohan's current Twitter pic I pulled so that y'all could snort like this 'ol hyena has for the past few minutes.
When this gutter whore piece of garbage was chosen to play the fantastic Liz Taylorin a Lifetime biopic of Taylor's life, I was extremely curious to see what "they" could possibly do to make Lohan even begin to pass a resemblance to the late celebrated screen goddess and über-humanitarian.
A rat's-nest brunette wig covering Lohan's trailer-park-yella' rat's nest? Sharpied-in ginger brows? Thick concealer from head-to-toe for existing sores, freckles, and heroin tracks? New teeth? I guess this really is the best they could do. #WhatAFuckingDisaster!!
You can''t conceal those genes, that's for sure!
Liz deserves MUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHbetter. And I hope she gets it for the big screen sometime soon!
I, for one, will definitely be tuning into this #HotLifetimeMess!
I have sort-of fallen in love with you all over again (like I did in '03/'04). You have been adorable on your Fashion Star talk show couch circuit. Just take the following advice...
Your doctors clearly don't want to relieve you of your excess baggage. Please eat some fiber, and shit that iPhone-wielding 9-year-old out already.
I suggest a mixture of flax seed and psyllium husks in orange juice....followed by a half-gallon of water.
That--plus a 6-month starvation plan--should have you looking like this again in no time:
Whitney in the video to her second number one pop smash, "How Will I Know."
Enter a new day! I am sick of everybody talking about Houston's negative aspects. She was (and always will be) a groundbreaking artist. I have never been so affected by the death of someone I didn't personally know. My oldest memories of top-40 radio all involve Whitney Houston. Her voice made me feel I knew her. And in an odd way, I consider her a good personal friend.
Famed mix-master Joshu-Ra leaves us with a mash-up of Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know" and Rihanna (featuring Calvin Harris)'s "We Found Love." They blend seamlessly!!
Rihanna and Scottish DJ/singer Calvin Harris recently collaborated in Rihanna's "We Found Love."
Download the fantastic new remix, "How Will I Know If We Found Love" HERE immediately!
(And while you're at it, listen to Whitney recording "How Will I Know" in the studio a capella right HERE!)
DAMN, THERE WILL NEVER AGAIN BE ANYONE LIKE WHITNEY!!
It is fairly obvious at this point that I have no qualms about admitting to some pretty tawdry stuff. However, I confess. I have no fucking clue what The Hunger Games is.
HUH?!?!
It's been on the covers of my entertainment magazines for awhile. And I have not cracked the binding on a'one of 'em.
[image via a friend. I have no idea who originally took this shit, but if this 'ol bag has a computer to locate this blog, she can feel free to sue me for use of her image.]
Everyone has a different approach to handling their pooch's poo: They either handle it...or they don't.
Some folks are adamant in their quest to do their personal part in making sure lawns and sidewalks the world over are navigable. They live by the old adage, "Integrity is doing the right thing, even if nobody is watching." I would love to say I am one of these people, but I am more of the selfish and Obsessive-Compulsive variety. I believe in dog shit karma.
I wipe down gym equipment more vigilantly than Jack Nicholson's "Melvin Udall" from As Good As It Gets because human beings are fuck*ng disgusting. I try to always find an appropriate receptacle for my bubble gum because I just know it will end up on the bottom of my feet at some point. Or on some sweet little old lady's orthotic boot.
Above all, I am typically unfailing in my quest to remove every little Tootsie Roll that Frisco leaves for his pup buddies. I just know that some other dog's fecal matter is going to fall from the sky onto my face as I sleep....or at least wiggle it's way into every little crevice of my tennis shoes...if I do not discard of Frisco's bid'ness in accordance with the law.
Once, I even picked up my love nugget's poo nuggets with my bare hands because I could not find a plastic bag anywhere. Clearly, that was a bit much. And I do not plan on doing that again. [But...well....you know how gas isn't as bad if it's your own. And a booger is not gross unless it is someone else's. Well, I hastily reasoned that if it's MY dog's shit....it's fine if you have to pick it up once in awhile. Nope. Not the case. Not the case at all.]
Frisco and I were on a walk late yesterday afternoon. Daylight's Savings Time is FINALLY here, so we were absolutely going to enjoy the pretty afternoon. I had walked him several miles, picked up a coffee, and we were both squirm-WhiteBoy-dancing around like our coffee had kicked in.
Well, he went. On someone else's lawn right by the walkway. Just like I needed to do. There were no plastic baggie dispensers anywhere in sight....and I myself was in a hurry to get back home. Things slid out smoothly for angel baby....so there was no possibility of a "swiftly kick it into the shrubbery" motion.
I just had to scurry along, and was terrified of what the divine beings had in store for me for being so horrible and thoughtless. The thing is....I was really trying to be selfless. I mean, aren't I always?? "I'll just come back in my car with a grocery bag," I reasoned as if that was perfectly normal to do in someone's front yard 3 miles from my house. Dusk was approaching.
It is all I could think about on the way home. I need to get a life. Or become more of a thoughtless prick. They always win anyways. "Yes! I'll be an asshole from now on!" I thought.
Once home, I completely forgot about my pledge to go pick up the dung. I showered, cooked dinner, watched Bravo. Later, I went to the balcony to have my after-dinner drink. I heard a woman completely losing her shit (pun very much intended) because she had just stepped in a pile of gooey poo while walking her dog. "F*CK EVERYONE IN THIS BUILDING!!!!" she wailed as if someone had just attempted rape on her.
"Oh, no!" I said. "I have got to go back and get that doggie dung, or I am next!"
I got in my car with a Best Buy bag, and drove over to that house a few miles away. It is on kind of a busy street, so I thought I'd pull into the driveway with my headlights off to get the stuff without being detected by the homeowners.
"Oh, no! It is too dark," I thought as I pulled up. "Why on Earth is their yard so poorly lit?"
I turned the flash on my phone's camera on, and tried to find the goods as my car ran in the driveway with headlights turned off. I was kneeling on the ground frantically searching as I came across the front of a fully grown man's tapping shoe. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" I screamed still on my hands and knees.
"What the fuck are you doing in my yard at night creeping around like that?" the man sternly asked.
"Sir, I am so sorry. I am just trying to find my dog's shit from earlier today. I felt guilty for letting him shit in your yard, and I just wanted to come make up for it."
"When I saw you doing something on my property, I called the cops. But you clearly need to get your head checked, so why don't you wait around for them."
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed again as I shot up, ran back to my car, and sped off.
I simply could not be known as "The Shit Bandit" to Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern's "Wet Bandits" in Home Alone.
Get a sense of humor, people! The show is HYSTERICAL! And also brilliantly realistic in many ways.
TV THAT MOCKS THE CHARICATURES:
I do not know where all of you grew up, but based on my experience....well...GCB hits the nail on the head like nobody's bid'ness!
What turns so many off about Christianity (and many other organized religions) are those loud little few who saturate beautiful messages with their own pungent dimestore-perfume version of religion. These are the people who seem to try to justify just a tiny bit too much bad behavior with the Bible. The ones who just love feeling like the big fish in their tiny little minnow-filled pond.
The Lay-deez!
C'mon!.. You know that girl! We'll call her Guinevere Doe. The closet slut. Just a little too staunch in her worship at the altar of materialism and a wee bit too saccharine to actually be real. She drives a Jag (or just insists she will soon have one)...wears her religion on her feet with another type of Christian (Louboutin, natch).....spends everything she's got to look good at the local social-hour-masked-as-merely-being-Bible-study. Miss Doe marries a guy for obvious reasons after years of promiscuity. She snorts lines at Christmas parties. But she is all effervescent sunshine and roses for church on Sundays. And she's decked out in her perfect set of pearls and new fur vest for Bible study on Wednesdays.
Guinevere gossips as if every day is her last, excludes the less glamorous, asks "What sorority were you in?" as her first judgment-masked-as-query to someone who just told her where she went to school. She floats past you in the grocery like Nicole Kidman in The StepfordWives with a "Sooooooo nice to seeeee you!" effortlessly flowing through her faux smile more cloyingly sweet than Splenda. (All the while pretending not to remember that you--and everybody else, for that matter-- saw her giving some guy a blowjob on the back of the bus taking everyone home from a debutante party a decade before. Well, that "some guy" was married to "some other girl" from soon after college graduation until two years ago, and Guinevere's Loubs were behind her head with heated determination to make that man hers. It worked! He divorced "some other girl" for Guinevere's carnal cookie jar......and "some other girl" is now cast far, far away. Guinevere now hosts Bible study at her house. And she just insists you all forget about the fact that she is a first-tier hussy as soon as possible. She has now found the LAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWDDDD! And JESUS is her savior! You can't just think it. You must be as public with your "beliefs" as possible. Forget your wise mother's advice that religion is private and personal. You must insert "I pray for you." into as many sentences in a day as possible now to hang with her. Put that Parliament Light out immediately, too. Suddenly, it's just so.....so.....trashy to her! Don't forget: This is GUINEVERE'S town now! And in Guinevere's mecca, adultery is faaaaaaaaar more palpable than a smoke.)
If you actually spend time taking care of the poor and disenfranchised without much lip service to your wonderful deeds (but may be in desperate need of a 6-month course of Accutane), Miss Guinevere Doe won't notice you. But....if you fit Hitler's blonde-and-blue definition of perfection...... and/or your daddy owns 48 car dealerships to get her a deal on her next automobile she could be simply pretending to afford, you're her girl! Yes, YOU, my dear. Well...you are INVITED to Guinevere's Bible study!
(You can also be invited for doing a swell pose job, by the way. Wink!)
You, my friend, must now play by Guinevere's rules. Have a blast!
The Gents!
I am by NO MEANS trying to sound sexist, but the ladies who fit the mold are so much more fun to describe. The guys are not quite as cookie-cutter, but you know some of 'em! Some are genuine.... some dragged by their ears when 'ol wifey makes them go to Bible study because "EVERYONE will be their tonight."
A few of them try hard. SO, SO VERY HARD. They are the most comical to me. Their voices are a tad artificially bass. They talk about the pigskin and last month's deep sea fishing trip a little bit too much. They are no stranger to using the "f-bomb" ('f' in this case referring to the derogatory term for male homosexuals that rhymes with "maggot") to belittle someone who may seem a bit light on their feet.
Well....meet Butch Doe. Butch drinks cold beer from his kegerator, serves up BBQ on the pig-cooker, tries so hard to be his daddy's pride and joy. But Butch has a secret. He takes it in the butt when nobody's looking. Usually when the 'ol ball-and-chain is out for the evening. He'll never tell you his little secret. Some days he may try to "pray the gay away"....others he may not feel guilt at all. As long as he is not caught. Deep down...with soul searching......he knows he was born that way.
Above all, however, Masta' Doe keeps his laptop's History tab as clean as a whistle!
~~~~
SHUT UP, CRITICS!!: Guinevere and Butch Doe are the ones GCB is mocking. Not Christianity itself. There are tons of quiet soldiers out there. They are busy DOING good for others. Not wasting time talking about their deeds and judging others. They are the ones who make the world a better place. THEY are the ones who deserve respect. NOT the Doe clan!
~~~~
THE DOE FAMILY COMES TO LIFE ON GCB!:
"Amanda Vaughn is a recently widowed mother of two who, to get a fresh start, moves back to the affluent Dallas neighborhood where she grew up to find herself in the whirling midst of salacious gossip, Botox, and fraud." --IMDB
In my mind, Amanda Vaughan (played by Leslie Bibb) represents the fickle and enlightened population not buying into the company that the "God's Little Hypocrites" set is trying to take public. She was the "cool girl" in school....the queen bee who took great pleasure in the defeat of others. But...she has seen enough of the world outside her hometown bubble to realize that her adolescent tactics were abominable.
Kristin Chenoweth is THAT GIRL from your hometown. She plays Carlene Cockburn (name pun intended, I am sure!) And Chenoweth plays her flawlessly. Carlene is not the most quality human being beneath the shimmery veneer. But she justifies eeeeeeev'ry little thang she can with Biblical scripture. It is Carlene's goal in life to make Amanda feel as uncomfortable as possible. The fact that Amanda was not the nicest girl to Carlene in high school will not soon be forgotten.
The rest of the cast is rounded out with Carlene's posse of followers (Jennifer Aspen's "Sharon Peacham" and Miriam Shore's "Cricket Caruth-Reilly"), the girl who knows deep-down that Carlene is full of horseshit...and that Amanda is in the right (Marisol Nichols' "Heather Cruz"), Cricket's closeted homosexual husband (Mark Deklin's "Blake Reilly"), and.......BEST OF ALL!.......none other than...
(Sidenote: I saw Annie Potts onThe Viewthis morning, and she said that the late Dixie Carter is her inspiration for Gigi's wit and sense of decorum every day. Naturally, I cried.)
WHAT IS GOING ON WITH RELIGION?:
When I was taught etiquette, I was taught that the way you make others feel is much more important than the specific details. Just like those with the best manners make people feel comfortable rather than use the specifics as a litmus test to squash others and elevate themselves, those with the best morals let their actions speak for themselves.
Why do some people have to attempt a PR sales job on how "good" they are? These people just need to let their actions for themselves. I mean....it sure worked for Mother Theresa, and we all remember her!
EDITOR'S NOTE:
~~~
Dear Anyone Who Wants To Waste Their Time Criticizing Either GCB Or My Own Use Of It As A Metaphor For Real Life:
Rethink what you are about to do. First off, both the show and myself are mocking the CHARACTERS that harm the perception of the religion to so many people. NOT faith itself.
I make no claim to be an expert on religion. However, it is my understanding that Jesus teaches tolerance above all else, and that God is the only one who can judge.
We all have choices. If you don't want to watch GCB, just change channel.
P
~~~
Watch GCB on ABC. (Or don't. ..If you are a fool.) Sunday nights. 10/9 Central.
Rick Santorum has already won several states in the Republican Primary. Which should be embarrassing to all Americans. Republicans and Democrats need to unite so that the object of these country-fried sisters' affections does not even get to the Republican National Convention.
Do we really need to go back to the Pleistocene Era?
Oklahoma's Camille (left, age 20) and Haley Harris (right, age 18) aka "The Santorum Girls."
I realize that giving these so-called "Santorum Girls" even more YouTube viewers than they already have could be reasoned by some as spreading Santorum's greasy l'il messages. However, anyone who reads what I write knows to immediately fall to the floor with snot-bubbling witch cackles when this song is played.
Not all attention is good attention. Just ask Livin' La Vida Lohan about that one.
The "Santorum Girls" clearly have a knack for festering gooey nastiness in both their sexual fantasies and their candidates. With Rick Santorum, I guess they get it all at once. Don't let the Little-Orphan-Annie-meets-Laura-Ingalls-Wilder look fool you.
First off, I have to confess that my self-professed "Bravo Cleanse" went horribly awry. It was just too much to handle. So, unfortunately, I am now even watching The Real Housewives of Orange County. (Though my heart still truly belongs to the Atlanta and Beverly Hills franchises.) But I do watch it On Demand, so as not to infect TiVo. Okay...enough excuses.
This year, there is a new cast member named Heather Dubrow. The minute I saw this chick on season previews, I thought, "AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! I know this girl!"
Then, it showed a reel of her boasting to the other girls that she is a "good actress." Pan to several of the others chuckling and making catty comments like, "Ummmm....excuse me. Never heard of her. Now, Angelina Jolie. SHE is an actress!"
But....make fun of her all you want, lay-deez of the OC. I watched her ass on the short-lived and highly underrated 1997 Jenny McCarthy sitcom, Jenny!
I must have been one of very few people who were watching Jenny, because said sitcom only lasted 17 episodes. Woops!
The Real Housewives of Orange County's Heather Dubrow [nee Heather Paige Kent] with Jenny McCarthy in an advertisement for 1997's Jenny.
The premise was pretty fun...in the off-chance you recall. Jenny McMillan (McCarthy) and her best friend (Dubrow) left their crappy jobs in a small New York State town after Jenny inherited a house in Hollywood, California. The ladies rented the guest house to 2 fledgling filmmakers as Jenny set out to find her B-movie actor father (George Hamilton) whom she had never met.
So there, you catty cloned vixens of Orange County. Your new lone brunette is legit!
So why the prying eyes of reality televison?:
I assume homegirl Heather missed cameras in her face after several high-profile television series failed to last. (Dubrow--then known as Heather Paige Kent--also starred in Stark Raving Madwith Neil Patrick Harris and Tony Shalhoub...and That's Life with Paul Sorvino and Ellen Burstyn!)
Sorry, honey. I assume you can do better than dodging flying glasses of wine and bragging about your plastic surgeon husband in California's nauseatingly cookie-cutter Orange County. You have starred with Burstyn and Sorvino. With YOUR NAME AHEAD OF THEIRS in the credits. No way you need attention this badly! That's just my two cents.
~~~
Dear Heather:
Gurrl. Go to the 3:30 mark in the above That's Life pilot. Maybe that'll spark a change!
(2) I didn't know pregnant chicks got their bodies Photoshopped. (Gurrl. We've seen you prego. It looks like you're trying to top the Octomom. The "real Jessica" looks like she ate this one for an appetizer.)
(3) Why waste another opportunity for shameless self-promotion?
(ie: Even though I am SUUUUURE that ring comes from your eponymous costume jewelry line, just where ARE those hooker heels, honey?! Full body shot complete with heels at the bottom of your stumpy l'il Vienna sausage legs is only natural.)
Where yo' Jessicas be at, gurrrrrrrl?
PS: I would say, "You are not Demi, honey!" But these days, that is mosdef a compliment. I assume you do not own a nitrous tank?
PPS: Just like she got the bronze medal (after Spears' gold and Aguilera's silver) at the late-'90s-to-early'00s Teen Pop Olympics, Simpson is also the last of the trio to tempt pregnancy fetishists from American newsstand shelves.
Spears showed err'body her bid'ness for the August 2006 Harper's Bazaar.
Aguilera looked significantly skinner than she does now [unpreggers] on January 2008's Marie Claire cover.
Don't you dare sob for Simp. Just 'cause she came in last in popdom does not mean she loses the financial war. Two-Ton Tilly's staggeringly successful hooker heel line has enabled her to run financial circles around #HotTrannyMess Aguilera. And in a few years, she will likely be able to outbid Spears for Downton Abbey. (Or some self-named American McMansion more befitting of their tastes.)
I think it is fabulous that Ke$ha is all about helping baby seals. Look at her doing her thing for the Humane Society of the United States.
Ke$ha gurrl is all about self-preservation, I guess. I thought she WAS a baby seal. Hopefully the fact that she looks and sounds like an animal being clubbed to death won't undercut her message.
In all seriousness, though: Good luck, K-Money! Those baby seals need you. Gurl.
****
To hopefully leave you a little less depressed [because nothing is more upsetting than thinking about baby seals being beaten to Ke$ha music]:
