Snark Week

"Sometimes people get engaged. Sometimes these are people that you’d considered to be..."

Mon, 10 Oct 2011 22:04:29 -0400

“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...

Sun, 11 Sep 2011 15:59:41 -0400

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?)

Those that know me, love me. And those that love me know that I...

Sat, 10 Sep 2011 19:21:35 -0400

Those that know me, love me. And those that love me know that I am a pop culture fanatic. I shove my mind spaces full of as much reality television, bad movies, and pop music as possible. Those that know me also know that I love to be disagreeable. In particular, I love to disagree with my best man friend, Carl. I think of it as a hobby that doesn’t cost me any money … or maybe its like a sport that I can practice any time I want … either way, I’m good at disagreeing.

Carl recently described a song on the radio that he’d heard and was now counting as the worst song in the world. He actually tried to sing me the chorus, something about “there’s a lot of pretty girls in this city. Gotta pic the right one. Gotta pic the right one. Gotta pic the right now.” He emphasized the fact that it was insanely repeatative. Now naturally, since I disagree with almost all of what comes out of Carl’s mouth, I took this information with a grain of salt and prepared myself to fall in love with this instant pop classic.

I was wrong. This is the worst song ever. Even with my deep appreciation for all things tacky and tasteless, I can’t get behind this one. It sounds like an ADHD middle-schooler wrote the lyrics and then they hired Travie McCoy to sing on it, like he would give the song some credit. Sorry Travie, fame doesn’t work like an STD, just because you were banging Katy Perry before she was famous, doesn’t mean you “have it” now too. Though, I gotta say, after I watched this shitty video for this shitty song, I realized that Travie, with his glorious Jesus hair and earrings, is in fact, the prettiest girl in this city.

Deena from Jersey Shore. It’s too easy.

Tue, 05 Jul 2011 16:28:00 -0400

Deena from Jersey Shore. It’s too easy.

Okay, I admit it, LeAnn Rimes and I have more in common than our...

Wed, 22 Jun 2011 10:28:00 -0400

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...

Sun, 05 Jun 2011 22:38:38 -0400

LEFT: Kanye West in “Monster” / RIGHT: Ricky Martin in “She Bangs”

EXTREME BONE MAKEOVER: ALASKA EDITION So, Bristol Palin got jowl...

Thu, 12 May 2011 23:44:00 -0400

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.

Public Service Announcement: I CAN SEE YOUR ASS.

Fri, 06 May 2011 12:49:41 -0400

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...

Fri, 29 Apr 2011 20:42:00 -0400

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...

Fri, 29 Apr 2011 20:08:48 -0400

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.

SNOW WIFE (photo dina goldstein)

Wed, 20 Apr 2011 21:07:24 -0400

SNOW WIFE

(photo dina goldstein)

I KNOW WHAT I'M NOT BUYING WITH MY TAX RETURN

Wed, 13 Apr 2011 21:50:00 -0400

I didn’t think anything could top “tie-belt”, but I was obviously wrong.

ANIMAL SNUGGIE
Because sitting alone eating popcorn on a friday night and watching a “House Hunters” marathon….in a REGULAR snuggie….isn’t humiliating enough.

WEEK CLOCK
If I walked into a room looking for the time and saw this on the wall I would shoot someone. “Oh great. It’s mon-thirty. Oh wait NO, I forgot MONDAY isn’t a numerical value.”

HOLDING HANDS GLOVE
I guess this comes in handy if you can’t find the handcuff key.

WALL MOUNTED EAGLE
Why would I buy a ceramic eagle that is empty handed? They could have put anything in those talons. Seriously….anything. A water balloon….laser pointer. ….jump rope…..doughnuts. anything.

ANCESTRY CERTIFICATE
“A simple swab of your inner-cheek is all it takes to gain a better understanding of your lineage. Your ancestry will also be confirmed with a beautiful full-color certificate, styled in either Modern or Traditional, with your name and information about your ancestors garnered from worldwide scientific papers and reports.”

Nothing says “legit” quite like the words “worldwide scientific papers and reports.” You can add this to my future “what I’m not buying” lists in both the Christmas and birthday categories.

Tips for a Healthy Life

Tue, 22 Mar 2011 00:12:10 -0400

I manage a tiny Mexican food restaurant. I have a customer, and I use that term very loosely, who comes into the restaurant maybe once a week. He has unruly dreadlocks, a faux-Gucci zip up jacket (duh), a questionable dental situation, and no manners to speak of. We refer to him as “Maria’s Boyfriend” since we don’t know his name and like to zing Maria by suggesting she’d take up with a character like him. He likes to sit at our tiny, badly-stocked bar and drink Coronas with lime. He sits there for hours. This is the usual schedule we like to follow:

1. Maria’s Boyfriend sits at the bar.

2. Maria’s Boyfriend pretends to look at the menu and then feigns resignation and orders a Corona. He drinks half a Corona and pays (leaving no tip) and walks out the door.

4. We take his half empty bottle and throw it away. We are revitalized by the knowledge that he is gone. High-fives all around.

5. Half an hour goes by.

6. <Reenter Maria’s Boyfriend followed again by grunts and shoving>

7. Repeat steps 2 - 6 … three more times.

All of this, our little dance we do, I can handle. He really seems harmless though it is tiring to attend to someone who is clearly up to some shady shit. The constant side-eye can be exhausting.

But last week Maria’s Boyfriend took it to a whole new level. First of all, he threw me off by coming into the restaurant in the middle of the afternoon. Up until that point I had assumed he was some sort of badly-dressed, socially-awkward vampire. THEN he orders food “To Go”. Like all the sudden he’s too good to sit at the bar and creep me out for an hour. He’s actually going to eat somewhere else. There will be no half-Coronas involved. THEN when I’m ringing him up he fiddles around in his empty pockets and then realizes, “Hey! I forgot! I put all my cash in my sock!” and he pays me with feet-bills. And finally, and most unsettlingly, was the tip he left me. Two whole, wrapped, Fiber One cereal bars, a hair clip, and a screw.

I almost wonder if maybe Maria’s Boyfriend is some sort of mystic who, instead of tipping mere dollar bills, has given me little tools I may one day need. Fiber? Absolutely. A hair clip? We all have those days. A screw? DEFINITELY.

DISPATCHES FROM AN AIRPORT SHUTTLE VAN

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 21:10:16 -0400

My flight was delayed two days in a row because fog decided to hang out like a drunken in-law on Christmas. So the fine people at Sacramento Airport decided to put a few of us in a minivan (which might as well have been a jelly bean on wheels) instead of flying us to San Francisco. Like anyone else, I made the most of my two hour journey….by sitting in the back silently and observing my travel companions.

Oh hey fellow passengers. Sure I’ll sit in the back. Thanks for volunteering me. I know it must be difficult for you to maneuver such a maze of seats
…all two of them.

I like the performance fleece jacket you have there. Did you actually buy that or did it come free with the blue tooth headset and unnecessarily bulky laptop case?

The driver has turned on a portable DVD player that is the size of a large peanut. I can’t really see….so….we are either watching “Armageddon” or “Save The Last Dance”.

Why yes, New York is a busy city that smells. I’m sorry you hate it so much. Please tell me what else you hate about my life decisions. This is, after all, a shuttle van. It’s not the destination that counts, it’s about trapping people in a van and pretending everyone wants to hear what you have to say.

I am 89% sure someone had Doritos for breakfast.

I still have no idea what is going on in this movie. Either Ben Affleck is singing “on a jet plane” or Julia Stiles is crimping her hair before she goes to the club.

I am so glad the air conditioning vents are on full blast right over my head. I have always wanted frozen bangs.

I am going to need 99 bottles of ACTUAL beer to get through this.

Is there some kind of passenger code of law in here? Like a declaration of “Let’s not put on deodorant in a moving van while on your cell phone”?

If I ever get out of this I am going to write the screenplay for Dance-mageddon.