“Sometimes people get engaged. Sometimes these are people that you’d considered to be “special” throughout high school. Sometimes their engagement rings are huge and beautiful. Sometimes you say to your sad, single, self, in a tiny voice, “F.M.L.”
THE BEST THINGS HAVE THE LONGEST ACRONYMS
I want to formally propose American Idol: New York City Subway Edition.
The entire show would just be the audition part (I mean, this isn’t going anywhere besides New Lots Avenue) because that is the only part I watch of regular American Idol.
And also, you don’t win anything…because this is not about cultivating talent…AI: NYCSE is about “the art”….and generating revenue from ad deals based on epic you-tube hits.
Here are my top five suggestions for the first day of competition:
1. Latina Woman singing “My Heart Will Go On”
She has an amazing voice, and for a second I kind of thought “If I had a dollar I would totally give it to you.” But I didn’t have a dollar. And anyways - it became clear that the real cause to support was the teenage sister who is stuck entertaining the baby while Selena Dion walks up and down the B train with her arms out. My sympathy will go on (and on) for THAT girl. SHE deserves my dollar.
2. Woman Shouting Scripture
Not so much a songbird…and more of a vocal projectionist, but a subway performer nonetheless. She has a heart of gold and the eyes of lindsay lohan’s parole officer after the ankle bracelet alarm goes off.
3. Mariachi Band
They are more dressed up than I get on a good date. If Ryan Gosling asked me to have dinner with him I would probably ask myself, “what would those mariachi guys wear?” I hope he’s into fringe and groomed facial hair.
4. Creepy Magic Guy w/ Trunk
Did I say magic? because i meant, tomfoolery. He waltzes up and down the car trying to get people to participate in his “tricks”, which generally turn into “flirting that borders on emotional rape”.
5. Electric Violinist (union square)
I just need someone else to validate that this guy is annoying. I would rather listen to that goofy saw music while undergoing chinese water torture than watch this long haired muppet try to make a classical instrument “cool”. He would also qualify for my list of “Top Five Worst Musical Sounds”….right behind Nickelback (nothing is worse than Nickelback).
The contest rules will be posted shortly, followed by a list of approved songs (we don’t have to pay for the rights if we call this “art”, right?)
[video]
Deena from Jersey Shore. It’s too easy.
Okay, I admit it, LeAnn Rimes and I have more in common than our lack of career, inappropriate taste in men, and dismal prospects for the future: we both want to look like skeletons. I understand the desire to have jutting hip bones, a visible rib cage, and thighs so thin they look make you look bow-legged. Really, I do. But I also understand that no amount of starvation can compensate for a jacked-up face, even if you do have two silicone-filled water balloons hanging just underneath each armpit. To use the medical term, Butter Face (from the Latin But Her Face) seems to be one of starvations only negative side effects (the positive side effects being popularity, acceptance, lack of menstruation, excess body hair, etc.) And unfortunately for LeAnn, she is most certainly suffering from it. You can tell by these obvious symptoms:
1. eye sockets seem to have been replaced by crudely cut slits.
2. nose, which, as a part of the body that doesn’t shrink with weight loss, looks huge in comparison to the rest of the starving face.
3. mouth seems to now be too small to cover Hillary Duff-style oversized cap teeth.
These symptoms are all compelling reasons to convince LeAnn to stop starving herself, if only to be able to fully close her mouth once again. Get your grill in order, LeAnn, even if that means shoving a cupcake down your gullet for the sake of overcoming Butterface. Get it in order.
LEFT: Kanye West in “Monster” / RIGHT: Ricky Martin in “She Bangs”
EXTREME BONE MAKEOVER: ALASKA EDITION
So, Bristol Palin got jowl jaw surgery.
Yeah, and sometimes I just bleed from my ears uncontrollably. Maybe I should get a boob job to try to stop that from happening. OH NO WAIT, those have nothing to do with each other.
Why are the headlines saying, “Bristol Palin, plastic surgery?” ….with a question mark, as if to ACTUALLY PONDER if her jaw was reconstructed OR she just has new lipstick on.
“I am absolutely thrilled with the results. I look older, more mature and don’t have as much of a chubby little baby face. I wouldn’t get plastic surgery unless I got in an accident or something terrible and got disfigured.”
Well Bristol, something terrible DID HAPPEN. and it happened to your face.
Two nights ago I had the displeasure of running on a treadmill. I say “displeasure” because I hate doing it. But I must. I’m about 3 and a half feet tall (on a good day) and the grilled cheeses I am constantly throwing back are really starting to stack up - now, especially, thanks to my advanced age. So I drag my old, short ass down to the gym every once in a while. I am a member of Planet Fitness. You’ve probably seen the commercials about it being the “Judgement Free Zone”. It has to be the “Judgement Free Zone” because it is workout-home to the biggest group of rag-tag weirdos you could ever imagine. I love the fact that because I work out with Connecticut’s adult version of the Bad News Bears, no matter where I’m standing in the gym I am more than likely the youngest and fittest person in the surrounding area. In any other gym I would have been relegated to some sort of blocked off midget’s corner or maybe enrolled in an aerobics class for the elderly. We all need our confidence boosts.
Back to two nights ago on the treadmill. I’m running, minding my own business, casually judging people in the zone, when I look up and have my eyeballs visually assautled. This college-age (alright, so maybe I wasn’t the youngest person in the area that night) broad in front of me is wearing see-thru pants as she hoofs it, walking slightly uphill.
Above: Christina Aguilera demonstrates the dangers of having too much junk in a stretchy, too-small, see-thru, trunk.
I understand that stretchy pants can be confusing for some dummies. So I’ll just clarify:
Just because pants are stretchy doesn’t mean that they’re one size fits all.
Just because you can squeeze yourself into said pants, doesn’t mean you should wear them.
Just because they look like gym pants doesn’t mean they ARE gym pants.
And just because you wear a thong with your see-thru non-gym-pants pants doesn’t make them any more acceptable. In fact, it does the opposite. Because instead of seeing your granny panties, I’m instead hypnotized by your dimpled butt. And if you don’t think you have a dimpled butt, then obviously you’ve never been standing behind yourself as you walk quickly at an incline.
From one bad news bear to another: Take the ten dollars a month you saved on joining the cheap gym and spend it on a pair of opaque gym pants and a Monistat 1 kit ‘cause I know jogging in a thong ‘aint right.
I may hear the “Lunk Alarm” siren sound when I walk in to the gym tonight and one of the mute teenagers who works behind the desk may finally speak enough words to inform me that I’ve forfeited my membership card for the serious amount of judging that took place today, but it was worth it if I save even one dumb broad the unknown embarrassment of a dimpled butt.
Prince Harry’s girlfriend, Chelsy Davy, “arrived at the ceremony in an off-the-shoulder jacket and matching aqua shift dress - one of two Alberta Ferretti outfits she had made for her by the Italian design house for the day. Matched with a gray lace Victoria Grant hat and nude patent-leather pumps, Davy looked smashing!”
Jigga what? Jigga who? Is this writer blind? Is Alberta Ferretti blind? Is Chelsy Davy blind and also hung-over? If I were her and I knew what Kate Middleton looked like I would have treated the wedding as a special occasion and hoofed it over to the face-transplant center, the hairdresser, the matching skirt and jacket clothing store, and then taken a nap because I look TIRED AS SHIT. C’mon Chelsy, c’mon.
Bridgeport, Connecticut has a AA baseball team called the Bridgeport Bluefish. After living in the area for nearly 10 years now, this is what I knew about them:
1. They exist.
What I now know about them after being handed this 2011 season schedule:
1. They still exist.
2. They love to give each other blow jobs.
The player in the white jersey is literally being lifted off the ground by the orgasmic pleasure being given to him by his teammate in the warm-up jacket. Hands on the hips, eyes closed, mouth gaping open, and freakin’ fireworks going off in the background?!? This is not the baseball I remember from my youth … it’s much much better.