Don’t Be Sad, Owen! Your Face Loves Itself

After being inspired by this portrait of Dubya, I thought I would do a literal rendition of how I think Owen Wilson’s face is basically having sex with itself. Cheer up, Owen; you’re uniquely handsome and, after all, love is staring you in the face.
**Disclaimer! These ‘naughty bits’ are PROSTHETICS!**

Read Full Post »

Like Easter, but every 2-4 weeks!

The system will keep finding ways to keep women too distracted and preoccupied with the way they look to amount to much more than an overly-decorated Easter Egg with a short shelf-life: dyed, stenciled, painted, put in a basket for all to see, and then cracked open and tossed out with the scraps, never getting the chance to grow past the yolkie chick stage into a mature hen:

So, considering the “Naughty” category of “pubic hair art” has been flooded by the market by companies like Nads, I’ve come up with a few more suggestions that I think fulfill the under-represented “Nice” category:

“SEXY” is NOT A RIGHT….


MILF CULTURE MUST DIE.

Read Full Post »

Resorting to Their Level: Joe Francis

After hearing a gossip piece on how Joe Francis is upset that Hugh Heffner did not come to his defense (as he claimed Hugh went through ‘similar’ persecution for similar things…um..ok…) I got that rage bubble again. And as his face keeps showing itself like a pesky cockroach in the kitchen, the bubble grows and grows. I don’t enjoy feeling like I have to punch someone…so I’ll vent here instead in a three-pronged prayer to any pagan goddess with a black cat and cauldron:

A) I hope his jailmates forced him to sign ‘waivers’ while he was fucked on H
B) I hope his ass is perpetually bleeding and oozing shit from all the ‘consensual’ prison sex
C) I hope his Acromegaly progresses to the point where his tongue swells up big enough to feel like a giant dick is perpetually poking his gag reflex.*

Read Full Post »

Hipsteritis is an STD

Classic Myspace shot with onset of tousled hair

I found this in the most recent edition of Canadian Journal of Medicine:

Hipsteritis
Hipsteritis is transmitted sexually, so to speak, qualifying it as an STD. It strikes those who have no cultural taste of their own but badly want to be cool and are hungry for a sex-appeal that will set them apart. Its early symptoms include the compulsive taking of ‘myspace’ photos of oneself, often with cleavage or bare leg visible in the shot suggesting an early onslaught of extreme notions of grandeur; the compulsion to juxtapose footwear with their outfit; the tendency to pose with minor/quasi celebrities at parties and insipient jabbering on about ‘doing blow’. Nothing exists outside of their world, and the tightly framed photos literally suggest this grave and progressive mental state. Their blogs are almost always about themselves and their other infected friends. As the disease spreads, the victim’s hair becomes increasingly tousled and dissheveled–a trait that is commonly mistaken for ‘rock and roll’ hair. Sufferers of hipsteritis are easily irritated, paranoid and often feel threatened by people who are different than they are. In the later stages of the disease, a drone-like mentality completely takes over and the victim loses any faculties of discretion and decision-making and is known to attack with hipster-venom anyone outside their immediate hive in order to prove to their fellow drones their loyalty to the Kingdom of Cool. Ultimately, the hipster is on constant guard, sometimes preemptively striking a wrong target in sad attempts to claim territory or, ‘turf’.

It is too early to know whether hipsteritis has a cure, but I’m living for the day when the alleyway drinking parties lose their irony and the incessant taking of ‘myspace’ pics becomes the hallmark of old-age and the sign that death’s release is close at hand.

The disease is not always terminal. You can read one person’s account of having overcome it here.

THERE IS HOPE… GET HELP SOON!!

Below are some pictures of infected people , along with a sample of the kind of antagonism they tend to spout. Should this venom be turned on you, stay calm and remember that they can’t help it–it’s the disease talking.

As disease progresses, desire to photograph one’s entire body increases exponentially

Unconscious posing with minor/quasi-celebrity

Alleyway drinking party. Man in green tights in very late stages of the disease.

As youth an irony fades, the disease becomes more apparent

And here is a sample letter containing the kind of venom and vengeance common to those in the late stages of the disease. Letter written based on paranoia and hearsay some 10 years after the alleged incident. Please note the obsession with body image and identity:

“i saw you the other nite at my friend’s store
i was going to say something but was too incensed with rage i didn’t want to make a scene

dugan told me many moons ago you said that i was a walking std, scott would not grant me your phone number to call your parents and tell them their failure of a daughter is a rug-munching dyke troll

you talk shit about other girls cos you are insecure and hate yourself

enjoy your life, ugly.

love lauren white

ps. lose some weight
pps. metal sucks “

The fact that her blog has won awards suggests an epidemic of hipsteritis has hit Toronto with a force greater than the SARS of 2003.

Read Full Post »

Jessica Biel’s face frightens me, body okay.

I must be the only one who is frightened by jessica biel’s nose-lip combo and extreme bone structure. From 3/4 view she’s pretty, but in those straight-on views she looks like a pile of rocks with a wig on it, even in soft-focus.

Read Full Post »

Reclaiming bits of hotness

 I used to have a big crush on Jude Law, but his dalliances with bubble-heads like Sienna Miller crushed any butterflies that dared to dance in my stomach when Jude was on the screen.  Not sure whether this chick’s a bubble-head too, but she’s ‘out there’ enough to bring back some of the mysterious hotness Jude lost from being addicted to Barbie-blondes.  Reminds me of the wonder and amazement I felt when I saw Anthony Kiedis’ girlfriend: pretty but unprocessed, “funky” without hollywood-trendy.  My mind still conjures Pamela “Hep-Cat” Anderson and Heather Locklear when I think of Rockstar girlfriends.  I know.  I’m stuck in 1993.

Read Full Post »

Results: Holly Hallstrom beats out Holly Madison

So there wasn’t a huge response to my post “Good Ol’ Fashioned ‘Beauty-Off’, but the clicker counts on my blog stats page show that Hallstrom is definitely getting more click, while Madison’s prolly only getting old dick. Congrats Holly H. You light up my life.

Pics from THIS fansite.

Read Full Post »

Gay Bomb?

This is old news, but news to me.

CBS Headline: Pentagon Confirms It Sought To Build A ‘Gay Bomb’
(CBS 5) BERKELEY A Berkeley watchdog organization that tracks military spending said it uncovered a strange U.S. military proposal to create a hormone bomb that could purportedly turn enemy soldiers into homosexuals and make them more interested in sex than fighting.

Gay community leaders in California said Friday that they found the notion of a “gay bomb” both offensive and almost laughable at the same time.

[...]

“Throughout history we have had so many brave men and women who are gay and lesbian serving the military with distinction,” said Geoff Kors of Equality California. “So, it’s just offensive that they think by turning people gay that the other military would be incapable of doing their job. And its absurd because there’s so much medical data that shows that sexual orientation is immutable and cannot be changed.”

Read the rest HERE!

I’m not so sure Geoff Kors is right about sexual orientation being immutable…I think it’s as fluid as the bowels of a vegan. Otherwise, why would hetero men be so squeamish at seeing homo-sexual affection or gay porn? Just like towel-snapping, trigger-pulling and football, it gives their willies a tingle they’d only dream of indulging.

So, was the motion inspired by R.E.M.’s release of their single “Sex Bomb” in 1994 (same year the gay bomb idea was drafted)???

Read Full Post »

Just wash your peen!

Read Full Post »

Mariah Carey and The Cowardly Lion from “The Wizard of Oz”

+

EQUALS…

Read Full Post »

De-Evolution of Retro Style

Retro is always in. But in the past year, it’s been in in a very particular way. Doo-wop and 50s girls style defines musicians like Amy Winehouse (signature beehive) and the Pipettes (another female-fronted band); Christina Aguilera goes further, evoking the Company B style of the WWII era. I can’t help but feel, however, that in this era of Googlism, and complete lack of historical contexts off which to play, the irony of retro is now lost. Just because Winehouse says ‘fuck’ in her best Nina Simone impersonation, or just because the Pipettes look like they’re sassy chicks who say the other ‘f’ word (feminism), doesn’t make the parody subversive (not that they’re necessarily setting out to do so). In fact, I feel like this fake nostalgia we all have for poodle skirts and red lipstick is part of a seething, bubbling fascism that is a ‘no-no’ to discuss in the enlightened West… Thus I present my De-Evolution of Retro Style: A Descent into Fascism, Racism and Mysogyny, Again.

So the following are lyrics from Doris Day, Amy Winehouse and The Pipettes. They all confirm that notion that “boys will be boys” and, well…can’t live with them, can’t live without them…tee hee!

Read the lyrics to “A Guy is a Guy” by Doris Day (1951)

I walked down the street like a good girl should
He followed me down the street like I knew he would
Because a guy is a guy wherever he may be
So listen and I’ll tell you what this fella did to me

I walked to my house like a good girl should
He followed me to my house like I knew he would
Because a guy is a guy wherever he may be
So listen while I tell you what this fella did to me

I never saw the boy before
So nothin’ could be sillier
At closer range his face was strange
But his manner was familiar

So I walked up the stairs like a good girl should
He followed me up the stairs like I knew he would
Because a guy is a guy wherever he may be
So listen and I’ll tell you what this fella did to me

I stepped to my door like a good girl should
He stopped at my door like I knew he would
Because a guy is a guy wherever he may be
So listen while I tell you what this fella did to me

He asked me for a good-night kiss
I said, “It’s still good day”
I would have told him more except
His lips got in the way

So I talked to my ma like a good girl should
And Ma talked to Pa like I knew she would
And they all agreed on a married life for me
The guy is my guy wherever he may be

So I walked down the aisle like a good girl should
He followed me down the aisle like I knew he would
Because a guy is a guy wherever he may be
And now you’ve heard the story of what someone did to me

And that’s what he did to me

Amy Winehouse’s

“What It Is About Men”

Understand once he was a family man
so surely I would never, ever go through it first hand
Emulate all the shit my mother hated
I can’t help but demostrate my Freudian fate
My alibi for taking your guy
history repeats itself, it fails to die
and animal agression is my downfall
I don’t care ’bout what you got I wanted all

It’s bricked up in my head, it’s shoved under my bed
and I question myself again: what is it ’bout men?
My destructive side has grown a mile wide
and I question myself again: what is it ’bout men?

I’m nurturing, I just wanna do my thing
and I’ll take the wrong man as naturally as I sing
and I’ll save my tears for uncovering my fears
for behavioural patters that stick over the years

It’s bricked up in my head, it’s shoved under my bed
and I question myself again: what is it ’bout men?
My destructive side has grown a mile wide
and I question myself again: what is it ’bout men?

Feminist Complaints, The Pipettes

Broke my heart, what a shame
Played the field, but all game
Your hands lingered for too long
Teasing touch was very strong

That night you left with her in tow
Contributing to my feminist woes

Feminist woe, feminist woe
For feminist cunts, feminist cunts, feminist cunts
Oh, oh, oh

Broke my heart, what a shame
Played away, but all game
That night you left with her in tow
Contributing to my feminist woes

Feminist woe, feminist woe
For feminist cunts, feminist cunts, feminist cunts
Oh, oh, oh

That night I knew that you had been untrue
So what? What? What can I do?

Broke my heart, what a shame
Played the field, but all game

He broke her heart

COPYCATS!

Read Full Post »

But, they’re still in their unmentionables…

I know this ad is old, but it never gets old for me. I love that women being “revolutionary” means appearing in front of a camera in plain, white underwear. Way to challenge the patriarchy. Along with this pathetic statement, is the inherent contradiction in the message: you’re perfect the way you are, so you need to buy our product to enhance that perfection. It’s not surprising then, that Dove’s “Campaign for Real Beauty” is hocking another body enhancement product: good-old self-tanner.

Just stands to reason that an ad that still relies on women hanging out in their unmentionables, plastered with fake and desperate smiles really isn’t real at all. Let me in front of the Dove cameraman after a long, razorless winter. I’ll end this society’s superficial obsession with ‘reality’ in a split second.

Read Full Post »

This Date in 1975: Sony Introduces Betamax for Public Consumption

I miss the modern era.

Read Full Post »

Good Ol’ Fashioned “Beauty-Off”: Holly v. Holly

In honour of 70s porn and game shows stuck in the 70s, I bring to the table a question of great importance. Who’s hotter: Holly Hallstrom, classic Barker Beauty, or Holly Madison, Hef’s main lady? Personally, Madison will never hold a candle to Hallstrom. Holly Hallstrom is pure glamour, sex, money, blow, glitz, chintz, enchantment-American-style.

OR

Read Full Post »

Bob Barker’s (a.k.a., Daytime Hefner) Last Dance with the Mic.

Bob Barker’s stint as host for the daytime, gameshow version of the Playboy Mansion is over. 35 years of desperate female (and sometimes male) contestants trying to make out with him, fellate his microphone, get the numbers of his Beauties and rub themselves with cash or tacky furniture inspired me, turned me on to the world of 70s porn-palaces without once explicitly referencing them. You know what the set was used for after the sun went down, don’t you?

What do you think Barker’s done with that mic?

Read Full Post »