You are currently browsing posts tagged with Thunder Thighs

A Donut Awaysian

July 7th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana


I actually thought this picture of my 58-year old Aunt Tracy–who is currently enjoying her second marriage/big house/new penchant for “trendy haircuts”–was pretty good, until I realized that it wasn’t her.

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Suckdance

January 21st, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Jen


Dear Paris,

Perhaps we’ve misjudged you and we have more in common with you than we’d previously imagined. Seeing you shred that Gibson Les Paul Guitar Hero controller at Sundance, we thought we could bury the hatchet by extending an offer to all play together. We’re thinking Face-Off or Battle mode in Expert would be sporting; you bring your own ax. We’ll let you pick the songs, although Diana’s partial to Stevie Ray Vaughn’s Pride and Joy and I’m kinda fond of Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast or that noodlefest Cliffs of Dover. Anything with tons of hammer-ons, impossible chords, and weird rhythms. The place is Jen’s house. You say when you want your ass handed to you.

hearts,
DISGRASIAN

And in other Suckdance news–Sandra Oh, one of the festival’s jurors–turned up to a Park City Event ready to go…bowling!?

Sandy, I know we said we would leave you alone for a while because you stood up for the writers and you just seem like a coolass chick. But what is up with those jeans, gurl? They give you thunder thighs, and I know you ain’t got thunder thighs. And..oh shit…what was I saying? I think I’m having a bad acidwash flashback. Did some of that Rit dye travel up your pants to your hair, too? Are those strike streaks? What would you call them, lowlights or highlights? I’m thinking lowlights. Very low. lights. If you turned them down just a hair (yuk yuk) or twenty, I think they would be perfect.

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Prayer Hands Ain’t Gonna Save Ya Now

December 17th, 2007 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

Oh Britney, Britney, Britney. I just got ready to watch your new video for “Piece of Me” and it got me all nostalgic, reminding me of the olden days when I worked out at the gym to the tune of “Oops!” and “I’m a Slave 4 U.” How I used to envy the shadowy sinews of your svelte seventeen-year old frame! How I admired your success at hiding a distinct inability to sing or speak in proper English. How I desperately wanted to move like you, ’cause GIRL, could you DANCE. You had MOVES!!!

What the fuzz has happened to your ability to hip shake? Seriously, I know you’re crazy, and your face is all toreUP, and you’ve got thighs like Thor, but none of those things should have an affect on your ability to move yo’ body. WHY CAN’T YOU DANCE ANYMORE? WHY ARE YOU JUST LAZILY SHUFFLING AROUND THE DANCE FLOOR? My grandma has a saying that goes something like, “if you aren’t going to be the best, kill yourself.” I’m not saying that you should kill yourself, ’cause that’s wrong or whatever, but I am calling you out on your half-assed two step. This shit is not gonna fly.

Listen to my grandma, Brit Brit, and next time you shoot a comeback video, show up for your choreography rehearsals.

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It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superdouche!

August 10th, 2007 | 0 comments | Posted by Jen

It’s a street hustler! It’s a street hustler with mutant thighs! Oh wait…

…it’s JackoffzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzZzzzzzzzzzZzzzZzZzzzzZZzzz

Source: People

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