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JEN: Attention, Ebates shoppers…
DIANA: (channeling Bono) “Uno, Dos, Tres… Catorce! (14?) Hallo… hallo…”
DIANA: My parents used to tell me that they got me as a baby at a Blue Light Special.
JEN: That reminds me…did you hear about the meth heads who tried to sell their baby outside a Wal-Mart? Too bad your parents weren’t there, cuz the baby was a bargain, only $25! And Ebates has a 1% cash back deal with Wal-Mart, so…
DIANA: They also could’ve put it on eBay, which has a 1-3% Ebate.
JEN: The meth really clouded their judgment.
DIANA: Hear that, kids? Just say NO.
JEN: Enough about discount babies, what did you buy using our Ebates cashola?
DIANA: Well…first, I had to get a replacement foundation for the one I lost in Oklahoma last month. Sigh. Somewhere in the rural backwoods of Tulsa, some hotel employee is walking around with a really dewy, smooth, flawless complexion. Bitch! It’s the Chanel Vitalumière in 41, Natural Beige. SPF 15, so I don’t get too tan in the face and look, as my Hardass Asian Grandma would say, “like a worker.”
JEN: You are naturally tan in the face though!
DIANA: Yeah. My grandma always frowned and made the clucking sound: “Ohhhh… you Continue reading Diana and Jen’s Excellent Ebates Shopping Adventure [Sponsored]
Filed under: Asians Love Discounts, Chanel, Clogs, Costco, Earwax, Ebates, Exes Suck, Hardass Asian Moms, Hygiene, IKEA, Madewell, Magazines, Masochism, Nordstrom, Real Doll, Sephora, Twilight, U2, ValueMags, Yoga
A 21 year-old girl in China is getting plastic surgery to look like Jessica Alba.
Now Jess is really, really hot. Damn near perfect, if there is such a thing. Worse, she’s only better in person.
But why would anyone want to look like some actress instead of like themselves?
Why, for love.
You see, Xiaoqing (future patient) was dating some cheesedick for a year and a half that was so obsessed with Alba that it consumed him entirely (read: he is a freakish stalker gnome), and eventually she had to bail. Post facto, instead of thanking bejeezus that she got away from that sick, sad, reality-challenged nerdbomber, Xiaoqing began to regret the split and brainstormed ways to get him back. The result of all that thinking was the choice to alter her appearance and become, as Erasure may have put it, Alba-esque.
Filed under: Actresses, Awful, Chinese Woman Plastic Surgery To Look Like Jessica Alba, Donasians That Suck, Douchebags, Everyone Involved Has Major Issues, Exes Suck, Fantastic Four, Ick, Jessica Alba, Movie Stars, Nerd Crushes, Obsessions, Plastic Surgery, Sad, Self-Esteem, Weird Chinese Behavior
Wong Fu Productions has debuted a new video–the first (?) of “Rick’s Man Tutorials”–and it’s a satirical guide to gettin’ fresh for an evening out (We also like to think of it as a proper pre-cursor to sealing the deal at the end of the night).
But let’s talk about “Rick” for a second.
Rick wears muscle tees.
Rick talks about his slutty ex.
Rick sprays himself with Febreze and lotions his face with saliva.
He owns hair gel.
I can’t deal with that guy. But I also… kind of… love him. Maybe because he looks like Phil Wang?
Oh ick, muscle tees.
Filed under: Angry Asian Man, Angry Asian Man's 30 Under 30, Cleaning Up, Exes Suck, Getting Laid, Going Out, Hair Gel, Lame Dudes, Muscle Tees, Phil Wang, Philip Wang, Primping, Production Companies, Rick's Man Tutorials, Ted Fu, The Importance of Cleanliness, Tutorials, Wesley Chan, Wong Fu Production
Hi! How’s it going? Typing this note on my trusty MacBook, as always.
So I was hanging with my dude this week, playing around on his awesome new iPhone 3GS. Holy moly, is that a fun little machine. I foresee us taking many videos of babies, editing them instantly, and sending them to friends. Neat.
I’ve just got one little gripe to make. It’s the Voice Control feature. I think it’s racist. Don’t tell me technology can’t be racist. Trust me, it can. See, Voice Control loves the name “Willis Bullard.” It could call Willis all day long. “G Scott Barrett,” easy as pie.
Here’s a name it hates. Diana Nguyen. And what I really think it hates is the NGUYEN. That is bullshit, Apple! It’s bullshit!
Okay fine, I understand that there are a lot of fuckin’ consonants in that there Vietnamese name, but trust that it was said “en-goo-yen” “ung-yoo-en” “win” “noo-win” “noo-yen” “gnu-yeen”–Egh. I won’t continue. But there have been many permutations attempted. When “Diana Nguyen” is spoken into Voice Control, who does the iPhone want to call? Lots of different white folks. Not me, not the seven people in my family that share my surname and also occupy space in the address book. It totally sucks!
Is there any possible way to fix this, any formula we can apply to get around it? Hey–I’m just trying to help. I’m asking for all of the Nguyens in the world!!
Y’know what? Fuck it. I’ll get real with you. We’re just talking about me here. And it’s a very gentle request. All I’m asking is that iPhone’s Voice Control function gets an update soon that accounts for the last name Nguyen, so that when my boyfriend speaks my name into his phone to call me he doesn’t DIAL HIS EX-GIRLFRIEND FIVE TIMES IN A ROW, WITH THAT CHARMING VOICE COMMAND READING HER NAME–WHICH IS IN NO WAY SIMILAR TO MINE–ALOUD OVER AND OVER, ANNOYING ME MORE AND MORE EACH TIME, MAKING ME WANT TO STAB HIS NEW IPHONE IN ITS MOTHERFUCKING FACE UNTIL IT’S DEAD, MOTHERFUCKING DEAD.
Okay? Okay, cool.
Talk to you soon! Feel free to send me a free MacBook Air or whatever.
First, Just Jared posts pictures of you on a bright summer jaunt, wheeling around like a cute little farm girl on this bitchin’ Hello Kitty beach cruiser…
…and then it occurs to me that you’re actually hanging out on bikes with your fiancé Stephen Moyer’s hot ex, Lorien Haynes, accompanied by their daughter. You seem as comfortable with this woman’s past and mile-long legs as you are with Bryan Singer or that quirky little gap between your front teeth! It’s freakin’ amazing!
Lady, this is a display of maturity, coolness and personal security that I could never in my wildest dreams duplicate, ashamed as I am to admit it. Hell fucking no way I could do such a thing. Helllllll. Fuuuucking. Noooooooo. Waaaaaaaayyyy.
[via Just Jared]
Leighton Meester is the most recent celebrity to find herself embroiled in a juicy sex tape scandal (As if nude photos of Rihanna weren’t enough to tide all you dirty voyeurs for the summer!)–oh, the gossip storm!
With the Season 3 premiere of Gossip Girl nearly three months away, the surfacing of the tape seems ill-timed for an intended publicity stunt, convincing me that Meester had no role in the video going public; she simply has a dick ex-boyfriend looking to make a quick buck off of the fact that he once tapped a young actress’s arse.
And so my heart breaks a little for the poor girl–although not because she got busted screwing on camera (which is pretty much her own irresponsible, 21st century problem).
But I can appreciate how much of a fucking bummer for her it is that she will heretoforth and forever (at least by modern standards) be regarded as a “footjob” queen. FOOTJOB!? What a mortifying way to make a porno debut.
[via The Hollywood Gossip]
Who was neither a fauna, nor flora
She modeled a tad,
Did a Benetton ad,
And wed a guy she did adore-a. Her hubby was mega-ton rich
And he didn’t mind she was a bitch
He said, “You mogul too!”
“I’m just older than you!”
And she built her own brand, stitch-by-stitch.
Now this is where things move off course
Because one day,the two would divorce
But before these guys did
they had two hapa kids!
And lived fabulously with no remorse.
But years as a fabulous wife
Had K used to spectacular life
Evian for her hair
And a penchant for causing much strife.
But without the old man at her side
She started to feel empty, and cried
Found hot Mr. Honsou
(More delish than ponzu)
And said, “I’ll take green diamonds in stride!”
Djimon liked this big, spicy lady
And helped her to make a new baby
It popped out of her womb,
Just before it was June,
And it didn’t cry once! Or, well, maybe.
Finally, it was time for a name
And it couldn’t be like all the same
They donned it lil’ Kenzo
With a car seat in the Benzo
Fit for life filled with fashion and fame!
The first time I saw this picture of The Fucking Lovely Salon, which sits in Itaewon district of Seoul, and was featured on Buzzfeed today, I thought: “How sweet!”
Because every person wants to look or feel at least a little bit lovely–lovely like arranged flowers, or a spring day, or the scent of a Sarah Jessica Parker perfume. Why not step that up a bit, and feel really fucking lovely? Sounds awesome!
But then I started to think about the times I’ve used the phrase “fucking lovely”–and I can’t say it’s ever been for anything good, pretty, scented, or sweet. In fact, it usually slips out of my mouth like this: “Oh! Well isn’t that fucking lovely?!”–accompanied by a scowl and an abrupt hand motion towards the fucking lovely thing in question–when something really crappy is happening:
Like when I see a parking ticket on my car.
Or an ex at a party.
Or dog shit on the sidewalk in front of my house.
Or two really hideous teenagers dry humping in the park.
Or a girl’s ass cheeks hanging out of the back of her skirt as she’s sitting down to dinner in an otherwise civilized restaurant.
Or some small-dicked asshole blowing through a stop sign when a little old Asian lady with a shopping cart is puttering across a crosswalk.
So maybe the cuts at The Fucking Lovely Salon aren’t that great. Unless dog shit on the sidewalk has changed.
If I read another boo-hoo out of you (“Vogue, I can’t buh-lieve what uncool Angelina said in another magazine!” “EW, I can’t buh-lieve Vogue printed what I said about Angelina! It’s not like everybody’s slobbering in wait for me to breathe the word Ang–” “I’m the victim here!”) I promise that I will send each one of my overbearing, stubborn, outspoken aunts out to your house to hunt you down and give you a good old-fashioned Hardass Asian talking to.
Y’know. Like the kind you get when you’re getting divorced and they explain to you that you’ve suddenly made it everyone’s dishonor problem.
Y’know. Like when they tell you that your career goals of becoming an engineer are stupid and worthless, and that if you loved anybody but yourself, you would just go to medical school like your mother wanted you to.
Y’know. Like when they say that you should exercise more. Because you look fat.
They’re mean as hell. But they’re honest.
Trust me, at the end, you won’t feel pretty, you won’t feel cool, you won’t feel good about the fact that you’re still dating that cooz John Mayer–but you will understand (hopefully) that there’s no pride in airing your relationship dirty laundry through PR channels over the course of five years. That in order to maintain your dignity you’ve can’t cry out loud–just keep it inside, and hold your head up high, and make a goddamn good movie for Chrissake.
Please. Have a little pride.
Great news, everyone! E! Online announced Monday that George Clooney is “still single.” E! also reported that Sarah Larson, Clooney’s last girlfriend, is “still that still-single guy’s ex-nobody what’sherface.”
Breakups are brutal. They are life-sucking, undignified, whirlpools of emotional defeat that are almost sickening to endure. I’ve spent the aftermath of a big split crying for two weeks in the shower, only leaving the house to feel like I was being punched every time I looked at (or slept with) another male human, picking up the guitar with only one purpose: to write sad songs, slashing my hair, blowing obscene amounts of money on new clothes, drinking obscene amounts of alcohol. You feel disgusting, you look disgusting, you might even smell disgusting. No person should go through this painful period in public. It’s not right! It’s not fair.
Worse, no girl should have to follow up an unceremonious dumping by reading the play-by-play in the news. Breakups are not news. Breakups are bullshit.
So let’s agree to go easy on poor, newly-single Sarah Larson. Let’s be on her team. This is the kind of public shame that no one should have to go through alone.
Occupation: Cartoonist and author
Known for: One very lovely Filipina blood quarter, a dark-yet-elementary illustrasian technique, an arsenal of published books, famously slamming her ex Ira Glass in a comic story: “Head Lice and My Worst Boyfriend” (something Little Miss Bradshaw should have done to Mr. Big well before the SATC feature film).
Barry’s new book, What It Is, which explains her methodology of creating stories and drawings, is newly available for purchase. Save some gas money and buy it online.