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Who the hell thinks its okay for a tabloid rag to speculate on the chromosomal condition of toddlers–in any case, but especially based on a few grainy photos?
For the record, Star, Down Sydrome isn’t “drama.”
Seriously. This magazine marks a new cultural low. AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING.
KAT VON D: This is really great.
JESSE JAMES: Yep, great.
KAT VON D: You look so good, baby.
JESSE JAMES: Good, baby.
KAT VON D: I can’t believe how much I love you.
JESSE JAMES: Um, you’re great.
Filed under: Bad Husbands, Discovery, Gross, Jesse James, Jesse James Cheats On Sandra Bullock, Kat Von D, Kat Von D In Love With Jesse James, LA Ink, Monster Garage, Moving On Quickly, Reality Stars, Reality TV, Sandra Bullock, Shameless, Shameless Couples, Shameless Photo Ops, Sleeves, Tattoos, That Was Fast
I remember when bunches of my friends started going to raves. They’d get tricked out in giant JNCO jeans and fluorescent, furry vests, with pacifiers lassoed around their torsos and candy necklaces tightly wound against their struggling tracheae. Suddenly, everyone was getting pierced to shit. Giant bones through the septum. Silver balls poking out of the cheeks. Clear tongue rings. Pierced beauty marks. Giant, jillion-gauge, coke-can-sized rings inflating the soft flesh of the ears.
Everybody that delves in body mod is making a statement, whether that statement is “I actually want to look like a lizard” or “I dig tribal shit/love dancing to Kylie Minogue” or “It’s time for me to come out of my shell” or “I give great head” or “My parents didn’t love me enough.” And that kind of vociferation I totally respect.
But this not-even-really-new trend that’s apparently picking up steam in Japan (according to Bizarre Mag), which involves sculpting saline injections in the body for one-night’s worth of looking super kri-zazy…
Filed under: Bagelheads, Bizarre Trends, Body Modificasian, Getting Attention, Gross, Ick, Looking Wack On Purpose, Pleas for Help, Saline Injections, Weird Japanese Behavior, When Piercing and Tats Aren't Enough
Some dude on “China’s eBay,” Taobao.com, was apparently banned from selling his product: a tonic composed of saliva taken from pretty girls, after complaints from Taobao users caught the attention of the site’s higher-ups.
Listen, we don’t have any issues with pretty girls (um, my caveat list for the preceding statement is too long to include here), but c’mon, creepos, spit is fucking disgweesting. We don’t want a drop of it landing on our nose when somebody’s talking to us, a big wad of it on the ground when we walk through the park, or a gloopy mess of it in our entree because our dinner mate insulted our waitress. Fuck spit. Fuck it.
But that isn’t what bothers us so much. The thought of somebody ordering a bottle of that bodily ick, paying the shipping and handling, sending over the PayPal amount, anxiously waiting days by the mailbox for the package to arrive, and then opening that package OF SPIT… that makes us sad.
Like, really, really, really, really sad.
Thank bejeezus nobody bought one.
My friend Chris, a brilliant comfort food chef (he once served a magnificent nine dinner courses of bacon–a life-changing, so-worth-it event that my arteries may never forgive me for) told me about a very special bread chef from Thailand this morning.
I was so intrigued by the gastronomic innovasian that I wrote a poem to describe my reaction:
This Thailand Bread
Looks like people so dead
A treat that does faze us
Is that a heart?
Baker says that it’s art
But I’d rather see canvas
Than floured forearms and bare ass
It’s awfully gruesome
Like friendship with Gavin Newsom,
Like chlamydia prick
The scene makes me sick
Still, the baker, he sifts
Making these unique gifts
So that folks that bring bread
Can give wonderful head.
Here’s what I’m talkin’ about, Willis:
Thank you x2, Chris!!
Well, it’s settled. “¿Ud. a visto una china gorda?” (The gist: Have you ever seen a fat chinese chick?) is, without question, the most disgusting line every used to peddle diet tea to Spanish speakers [Ad via Advertising Age].
We’ve got a tip for Nutri-Pharmaceuticals, who are trying to make a buck off of this ad, with the contact number 1-877-CHINITO (little Chinese): DO BETTER.
And our answer to their question, which is:
Yes, we have. And she is always the hottest, baddest bitch in the room, just like every single one of our Chinese sistas. ¡Paz!
The wait service in Los Angeles is notoriously bad–this, however, takes “bad” to a whole new level.
A pair of shorts, darlin’? Is that too much to ASSk?
I spent quite a lot of time yesterday looking for tchotchkes to document my visit to the DNC, and between the McCain flip-flops and Obama plushies, there certainly was a lot of worthless shit!
Today, though, my goal was to get a sighting of the infamous “crap cannon,” a tool that local police apparently have on deck to shoot at protesters (Has tazing already gone out of style? When did that happen?) to stop them in their peace-disturbing tracks.
The crap cannon holds an almost mystical quality out there in the ether. Nobody really seems to know what it looks like, or, for that matter if it truly exists. But I believe it does exist. And I want to see it.
Ergo, in pursuit of the cannon I’ve lingered (perhaps suspiciously) past all of the many, many, many police officers trolling the streets of downtown Denver, eying their fancy accoutrement (which include large, plastic gadgets that look like a hybrid of handcuffs and a twist-tie, as well as those out-of-style tazers, and some unidentified black objects that look they could be crap cannons, but y’know, I just can’t be sure) as they eye me for bombs.
So far, I’ve been too nervous to ask anybody: “Hey, do you have a crap cannon? Can I take a picture of it for my blog?” Even more so after witnessing one of the single most frightening visions I’ve ever seen this afternoon:
Ignore the rad biker; that’s my new pal Brian. But next to the black Camry you’ll see the DNC’s flack jacketed brigade, which travels along the streets on the exterior of a fast-moving SUV–like puppies hanging off a bitch’s teat–all day long.
I’m pretty sure the SUV doesn’t have people inside.
I’m pretty sure that inside is a crap cannon.
THE SEARCH CONTINUES. I’M SCARED BUT WILL NOT REST UNTIL I FIND THAT PIECE OF CRAP CANNON.
Filed under: Brown Note, Cool Useless Shit, Crap, Crap Cannon, Democratic National Convention, Denver, DNC, Don't Taze Me Bro, Gross, Police Brigade, Police Brutality, Protests, Threats to My Intestines
Hot damn, nothing, and I mean NOTHING must be going on in the world today (What’s a war? And a food crisis? And an imminent depression cycle?) for this to be headline news in the celebrity blogosphere:
I mean, jeezus, I’m a big proponent of personal hygiene, and find any waxy buildup on anything to be absolutely repugnant–but I really just don’t want to spend one single moment of the day looking into anyone’s orifices (whether they’re cake farting (NSFW) or just getting into their Porsche). Not even on the Interwebs.
For the record, I’ve given the earwax evidence photo one good, long look, and I just don’t see the wax. Maybe I don’t have my glasses on, or maybe the search is just too banal, but I really just don’t see it… Ok, ack, maybe I do see it. EWW. How wet and waxy!
Keanu is one of those fun, purty, mixed-race pups–a charming combination of mostly English, with Hawaiian, Chinese, Irish, and Portuguese. Inside I’ve always wondered which “part” of him dominated– is he basically a Euro-Canadian dipped gently into Polynesian and East Asian flavorings, like a Dairy Queen cone (In other words: Dude’s mostly white, but it’s the Asian parts that make him yummy)? Or is he really a yellow man at his core, with a slight penchant for Jack Johnson and the word “brah”?
Of late, I’ve kind of assumed he was leaning more towards his yellow side. Heck, he dates a woman named China, for chrissake. At least, we think he does…
But remember the NYT story from a few years back? How Japanese scientists identified an earwax gene that identified Euro/Afro earwax as wet-waxy, and East Asian earwax as dry? Well, if that’s the case, I guess our man cannot physically deny that he is mostly wet and waxy, and therefore a Dairy Queen cone.
THE EARWAX HAS HELPED ME FIGURE HIM OUT!
Wow, if ever a massive cultural low could be accomplished by just one person, one lone Asian blogger with a foggy brain and a slight lingering crush on Keanu (from the Speed days, of course), it just happened.
Toyo Shigeta, the head of the Japanese ad agency responsible for Maria Sharapova’s sizzling Canon Powershot ad in 2005, is now the target of a federal lawsuit–he apparently snapped upskirt photos of the tennis vixen to satisfy his icky fetish for crotch snapshots.
Jeez. You’d think with all the options…
…he wouldn’t have to waste any time taking any of those pervy-ass photos himself.
Instead, he chose to violate the princess of Tennis (which our friend at Racqonteur will not be happy about), and we hope he ends up with a racquet up his anus.
Wanna see the photo? Click here, pervs!
UPDATE: Click here to see why there will be no Sharapova crotch shots at the 2008 Wimbledon.
I regretfully admit that I’ve suffered through four full episodes of CBS’ Kid Nation–a clumsy, abhorrent reality mindfuck dripping with heavy-handed producing, “preditorial” cobbling of thin storylines, forced moral dilemmas, hackneyed challenges, and cheesy emotional final acts. I HATE this show–something I’m not inclined to say about any program on television (having myself slaved to make ‘em for years)–it’s cruel (40 days out on the prairie? We could have broken them down in 14), abusive (freezing cold temperatures and no visible chapstick), prosaic (I’ve seen plenty of Jeff Probst imitations in my day, but this is ridiculous), and likely to scar the cast members who are actually “kids” (they range from way-too-young 8 to old-ass 15 in age) for life.
There is, however, a sick and twisted part of me that watches the show every week, if only to wonder and wonder and wonder what kind of parents signed their offspring up for this horribly executed social experiment. If you look closely, you can see and hear them pretty clearly:
’cause you’re pretty. Let all them poor and ugly folk take care of that nonsense.
You protect yer face. If they don’t like it they can DEAL WITH IT!”
This most recent episode, titled “Bless Us and Keep Us Safe,” centered around the heavy-handed and divisive topic of religion, which made me cringe at every step–from one kid not seeing the big deal about oils and candles and Hanukkah, to the feel-good prize of various Holy Books that the kids were guilted into choosing.
But again, I found myself watching the whole thing, dreaming about the parents that were responsible for the tiny voices and words coming out of these characters. And for the first time all season, some of these kids were Asian.
And little 9-year old Alex, the cherub with the one big tooth, finally got to speak after being rendered mute in 3 previous episodes. When he did, he made an incredibly articulate speech to the group about finding religious similarities– before collecting data detailing on the groups various religions and sub-religions. He’s obviously been doing his homework. If his Mom and Dad are anything like them, I totally wanna hang.
That said, who the hell signs their 9-year old to be on this damn show?!?!?