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A casting call has gone out on Craigslist: LA looking for “interesting, attractive, colorful Asian-Americans” to star in a reality show in the style of Jersey Shore and The Real World. Tyrese is allegedly producing.
The notice sez:
We need attractive Asian-Americans with lively, strong, and unique personalities between the ages of 18 to 30 with equally interesting life stories and perspectives to share, especially individuals who know about and/or experienced the Koreatown life.
Personally I think this idea’s genius, and I’d like Diana to audition for the show–I’m too old, which, for once, I think, is a good thing–mostly so she could fuck some bitches up, because that’s what they do on reality TV, right? That and get arrested? Plus, she has access to a Bumpit–her sister’s–plus, she loves the Koreatown life, particularly the Koreatown restaurants. (I actually had to look up what a Bumpit was, which, also, I think, is a good thing?)
The show is even looking for non-Asians to round out the cast.
If you are not Asian but are obsessed with Asian culture or people in some way, email us and please explain.
Yes, yes, and while you’re at it–you who are obsessed with Asian culture or people in some way (um, I think you know what they’re talkin about)–why don’t you email us and explain, too, you horny freak you.
Want to get a cute Asian Girl inside your pants, but have no game, no life, and, really, no reason for living?
Have no fear…the Cute Asian Girls iPhone app is here!
Behold its description:
If you have yellow fever, this app is the cure!
Cute Asian Girls gives you HUNDREDs of photos of the most beautiful asian girls you have ever seen. Whether you’re looking for asian girls with weapons, or girls in maid uniforms, or even just the casual girl in a summer dress, we have them all! Our photo collection is growing by the day and will continue growing by the truckload. Every day will introduce new photos for your viewing pleasure.
And for a limited time only, the app is being offered for the low, low price of .99 cents! So why wait? Get a Cute Asian Girl inside your pants today!!!
And then go kill yourself. In a slow, painful, drawn-out way. Thanks.
[via Angry Asian Man]
Intern Jasmine tells me that, according to some highly reliable sources, the First Lady has infected our favorite tarty celebrities with an epidemic of YELLOW FEVER!!!
And here I thought the only people at risk were skinny indie rock guys, media moguls, ballers, icky MySpace sploogers, DISGRASIAN stalkers, and Nic Cage.
Hey y’all! For the next three weeks, I’ll be checking in a little less because I’m off to Africa. I’m going on safari in Kenya, visiting a friend in Rwanda who’s helping to create stability and infrastructure there, and hitting the beach in Zanzibar.
Everyone keeps asking me if it’s safe in Rwanda, fourteen years after the genocide, and I want to assure you that it is. So don’t worry! Besides, I have all of my vaccinasians, just in case I get attacked by a swarm of virus-laden mosquitoes or accidentally step on a rusty elephant tusk. Most importantly, I’ve received the Yellow Fever vaccine, so there’s little chance I’ll wind up like this:
The medical authorities at Nine West have announced a frightening new epidemic:
Oh no! Stock up on Purell, my friends! Otherwise, be prepared for an epidemic of I Am Legend proportions–except instead of the undead chasing you in the dark of night, be prepared for anytime attacks of gangly, awkward, indie, sensitive-type dudes who studied abroad in China and/or Japan and say things like, “I don’t have a fetish. I just dated a Korean girl all through high school. And some more in college. And my last girlfriend was half-Thai, and the girlfriend before that was Cambodian…”
Thanks AGAIN, Jasmine!
I remember the first time I came face-to-face with Rivers Cuomo.
A friend had dragged me out under the pretense that we were going to see some live bands; at around midnight I found myself at an 18-and-over Brit Pop dance club off Hollywood Boulevard, sipping on a weak cocktail in a plastic cup, “Bizarre Love Triangle” blaring into my left ear and some obnoxious poser skank’s elbow digging into my right side. Kristin, who had been lurk-dancing with a guy too young for her on the main floor, suddenly materialized from the side of the crowd. She pointed out Cuomo sitting on the dance floor edge with his eyes glazed over, numb to the words his buddy was shouting into his ear.
Cuomo had just famously emerged from a yearlong hermetic hiatus spent in a shit apartment under a Los Angeles overpass, which came after a surprise exit from rock stardom at the height of touring season to study English at Harvard, which had followed the loud tanking of Weezer’s sophomore effort Pinkerton (a panoply of Cuomo’s innermost secrets that was lauded by critics and universally loved by emo kids), which all came after “Buddy Holly” was the biggest skater hit in the world once upon a time.
I watched him from across the room, delighted at the anthropological discovery. Battling for attention were Cuomo’s lyrics in my head– “Goddamn you half Japanese girls/Do it to me every time/Oh, the redhead said you shred the cello/And I’m Jell-O, baby”–which had famously marked him as a yellow fever victim, something I had long refused to believe because I found it pretty gross. He continued to skulk in the corner for awhile, stopping only to sip his drink, or frown when his eyes fell upon… an Asian girl. I saw him scoot with his shoulders slumped over to one, two, three… six Asian girls in a row, making awkward conversation, even more awkwardly collecting phone numbers.
Suddenly he was leaving. I didn’t feel myself back up against the bar to make myself look invisible. It didn’t work. I suddenly saw his eyes on me, looking directly into my eyes. They were cool and lifeless, like a target on a missle. He was walking fast. His hand was suddenly on my arm, his lips were suddenly on my ear, and he breathed words with hot breath that made no sense to me. And then he walked away.
I had one thought: Ewwwwwwww!!!
Today, Gawker reported that Cuomo’s lit agent David Vigliano has decided to start hawking the songwriter’s old journals, which they fear might be as creeptastic as the archives of his Harvard writing (“I didn’t touch her down there, but I ran my hand up and down her arm, feeling her muscles tense up and twitch as she worked herself more and more furiously. She kept going until finally she let out a big moan and relaxed. I looked down on her, whimpered, and then fell over onto my back and stared at the ceiling, fire-like sensations bursting from every cell in my body”). What’s the deal, did that 2005 shitpile Make Believe not pull in enough dough?
Regardless, I’m not buying. I can only assume that those pages are just filled with more: Ewwwwwwww!!!
Dear John, author of the blog Got Rice?:
Jen and I were so excited when we saw that there was a website called “Got Rice?”… quite frankly, the answer was and is YES. We were like, “Woohoo! Is it crispy rice? Is it short grain? Is it brown?” We love it all. Mmm. So we checked you out.
First off, your logline kinda sucks: “Not your mama’s expat?” Oof. That doesn”t make any sense– but whatever, a logline is hard to come up with (and not everybody can use “You’re a Disgrace. To the Race.”). Regardless, Got Rice? has promise.
Wow… about you? You have the sentence structure of a second grader. You sound like a nerd. Please let “Asian female form ” refer to porcelain statues of female Chinese warriors from the early 20th century. Please…
Oh my GOD! You didn’t mean porcelain statues of female Chinese warriors from the early 20th century!!! You have a RUNNING LIST OF HALF NAKED “ASIAN BEAUTIES” ON YOUR BORING-ASS BLOG. You have moved to China to trick some sad, unassuming woman with no grasp of English to give you your first hand job, hoping she won’t notice that your sad, shriveled boyhood is no bigger than a Sharpie. Ugh! You BLOW. You’re BORING. You’re LAME.
Good gracious, John. The next time you promise “rice” and don’t deliver, you’re gonna get a little something from me, and it’s gonna taste like knuckle sandwich.
Talk soon! K.I.T.
T&A blogs are not typically known for their high-class content, commitment to truth, or class. Still, I went asnarl when I came across trash site “The Grumpiest” (no link provided–I’m not giving this DISGRASIAN any free traffic) which features this little weekly gem:
While this grumpy boob-ogler does know how to pick a beautiful girl, why seperate the golden girls from the rest?
a) pandering to those of the yellow-feverish persuasian. What a great demo. “Oh, yeah… I’ve dated seven Korean girls. I love how submissive they are.”
b) affirmative action. The almond-eyed obviously can’t compete with rest. Best to just give them their own category, in which “innocent pout” and “bony bowl-legs” are “hot.”
Here’s a hint: It’s C!
Yesterday, at the crazy-hyped game between the Boston Red Sox (aka Daisuke Matsuzaka) and the Seattle Mariners (aka Ichiro), Felix Hernandez, 21, pitcher for Seattle, stole the show. The Venezuelan Hernandez, who some people are already talking Cy Young about, allowed only one hit and zero runs, beating Boston, 3-0.
Sir Dice-A-Lot did get Ichiro out each of the four times he faced the mono-appellationed star. The much-anticipated meeting between the two brought every Asian person in New England out to Sir Dice-A-Lot’s Fenway debut: