Friday, September 28, 2007

There Will Be No Posts

Not until I’ve overcome this horrible barking seal cough I’ve been fighting for three and a half weeks. My doctor has prescribed me a new medicine that she calls “the machine gun of antibiotics” so here’s hoping that Levaquin tommygun cuts down the infection in cold blood.

PS: Only I would stay home sick from work only to turn on Oprah and have the topic be “Sick in America: It Can Happen To You.”

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Actually, It Kind Of Does

Us Online comment of the day courtesy of the post about Milla Jovovich gaining over 70 pounds during her pregnancy:

3:57 PM Anonymous Says:
Her belly looks like a butt.

Friday, September 21, 2007

And the Lord Said, "Let There Be Celebrity Bloggers!"

This is my work ID card. I purposefully cropped out the top of the card lest any terrorists see it and create a fake ID, wander into Us Weekly Online headquarters and try to win again.

It’s hard to tell from the photo resolution but the picture was taken on Ash Wednesday so there’s a sizeable black cross emblazoned across that prodigious forehead. I was also really bloated so I look like one of those obese people that go on Montel and have to conduct the interview via satellite because they can’t leave their home without the assistance of a crane. (Whenever I’m telling this story, this is the part where the other person interrupts and says, “Your face could never look fat!” Then I show them the ID and they pause and say, “Well, you don’t look like that in REAL LIFE. At least your hair looks nice!” Anyways.)

The ID guy said that I had to take the photo that very day, no exceptions.

“What about the cross?” I asked.
“Rub it off,” he suggested.

I didn't; it felt like a test of some sort. The day was only half over and I wasn't taking any chances. Find someone else to split the difference on Hell, friend, but this ain't my first rodeo.

So now every time I enter my office building, I’m reminded of who I am, a fat-headed follower of Christ. And I flash my ID proudly because I know that I’m doing God’s work, one post about Sean Federline’s messed up grill at a time.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I Was Lovin' It

*I don't know why I didn't think to take a picture of the aftermath, which left the McD's kitchen floor looking like a Jackson Pollack painting. Alas, this Flickr McFlurry will have to suffice.

I'm not ashamed to admit that the highlight of my day was standing in line at McDonald's when the container holding the McFlurry toppings suddenly came loose and shattered to the floor, and the machine began maniacally pouring soft serve onto the ground, causing the counter guy to scream, "What the FUCK?!" which caused the toddler behind me to start crying hysterically, which caused me to start laughing hysterically. Fortunately, no hollow McSpoons were harmed in the incident.*

Saturday, September 15, 2007

A Chair Only A Freud Could Love

I was at a party in a shoe store over the weekend and came across what can only be described as a vagina chair. It was supposed to be a rose. But it was a vagina. So I took a picture because that is the only recourse when one comes across a piece of furniture that looks like someone's lady treasure.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

On The Matter Of Burger King's "Chicken Fries"

When I was little, they came out with these hot dog wieners that had the chili and cheese already inside the wiener. Somebody actually came up with the idea of hollowing out the frank’s meaty core and injecting it with meat sauce and the best Velveeta has to offer. At the time I thought it was awesome and it still might be. But back then I couldn’t figure out why my mother was so repulsed and refused to buy them. Until I went to Burger King the other day and became aware of the fact that there exists something called “chicken fries.”

Besides proving that, indeed, everything does have its own Wikipedia page, chicken fries embody everything that’s wrong with American culture. If you don’t believe me, just watch the commercials.

The first one opens with a chicken standing on some stairs with a gang of French fries. Another group of chickens approaches and begins pressuring the chicken to stop being friends with the fries.

“Hey Chicken, you got a lot of nerve hanging around with those French fries, man!” a member of the group taunts. “Maybe you want to be a French fry, huh?”

After you come to terms with the fact that someone was paid to concoct this scenario, chew on this: In an added element of racial stereotyping, this entire exchange takes place on the street, some of the chickens have blackccents and the ones that don't have Latino accents (because you know how susceptible those Mexicans are to peer pressure! Always following the pack. Coming across the border in DROVES, they are!)

But Thug Chicken is not to be hoodwinked. “Maybe I do!” he answers defiantly.

Then the announcer’s voice booms: “BK Chicken Fries: All white meat with the courage to be French fries.” Nevermind that I’m pretty sure that the one on the left was a rooster. And don’t make me take issue with the decision to use white meat instead of dark meat. I was an American Studies major. I could go on for hours.

The second promo finds the chicken fries on the Nascar race track being passed through the window to a hungry driver. The pit stop crew is reminiscing about the days before chicken fries when there would be 20-car pileups while drivers tried to eat drumsticks, chicken sandwiches, and full-on Rotisserie birds during the race. Chicken fries, it seems, provide easy consumption.

Of course, the elephant in the room here is that maybe if we Americans weren’t such gluttons, we could actually put food down while operating an automobile at high rates of speed. But if you’re having difficulty with that leap of faith, I probably lost you back at the chicken/fry turf war.

“You have to feed the need for chicken fries,” the old man and moral center of the commercial reasons.

Is there really an overwhelming demand for a potato-poultry hybrid? And is this really a time issue, as they suggest? Because I want to meet the person who is either too lazy or too busy to handle the chicken and the fries separately. “I just don’t have time to eat all of these French fries AND chicken strips! It’s too much pressure! Too much sauce-dipping! Too much surface area!”

Chicken fries are just a by-product of America's culture of consumerism and convenience, a society obsessed with time-saving techniques which rarely, in fact, save time. If we turn back now, we can save our children from the deleterious effects of chicken fry consumption and find cost-efficient edible alternatives with the added benefit of energy conservation. So are you with me, America???

Fine. Have it your way.

I'm Just Going To Say It

Mary-Kate is cuter than Ashley.

(Don't you love Bob De Niro looking like the handsy father they never wanted?)

Sunday, September 09, 2007

The Worst Shoes You Will Ever See

I don't really know what's going on here with these shoes, which were on the feet of a woman standing next to me on a subway platform in Union Square on Saturday. Are they supposed to be fall transition footwear? The demon leather lovechild of a thong sandal and an ankle booty? They're like the shoe equivalent of the cop from The Village People.

I think they should not be worn by the cankle-afflicted; and I know they should not be worn by someone wearing Daisy Dukes with no back pockets, like this chick was. And, really, what is the point of Daisy Dukes with no back pockets? Where does the Skoal go?

Friday, September 07, 2007

The First Few Lines From Press Releases Sent to Me This Week: More People Should Be Named "Joannifer"

E! Online's television guru Kristin Veitch has learned exclusively that Rebecca Romijn will be visiting her husband Jerry O'Connell on the set of his new series "Carpoolers," but this time as his ex-wife! Inside sources tell Kristin that Rebecca will guest star on the series as Jerry's ex-wife named "Joannifer."

Hi Noelle,
The Microsoft Home Office Makeover has come to a close, and Crile Carvey of Wheatland, Wyoming is working away in a redesigned home office after being named the winner of the contest! HGTV’s Vern Yip spent time over the last couple of weeks putting the final touches on Crile’s new office that now includes Microsoft Office 2007, HP technology, and a backdrop of tan and orange that accents the rest of his home.

The Los Angeles Times and Fox Walden today announced that the paper will feature the first ever ad using scented ink to uniquely tout the 20th Century Fox release of a Walden Media and Mandate Film, “Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium” opening nationwide on November 16th.

If you’re anything like us, we like to sit down with a great glass of wine and watch the Emmy’s to find out who is wearing the best (and worst!) in red carpet couture. In fact, according to a new survey of women nationwide, tuning into an award show is their equivalent to watching the Super Bowl!

Hi Noelle,, the Internet's largest and longest running urban/hip-hop community with over 4,500,000 visitors each month, exclusively broke the news on 50 Cent’s new infamous challenge to fellow A-list rapper, Kanye West: “If Kanye West sells more records than 50 Cent on September 11, I'll no longer write music.”

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA – (September 6, 2007) --Taking your hair health seriously is an important part of maintaining your follicles, especially if you do have a genetic predisposition to thinning or balding.


Here’s an exclusive photo and heads-up for some exclusive 50 Cent footage we shot when he dropped into MySpace Towers! 5 videos, each 10 minutes – 50 with fiddy (genius huh?!!).

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Is It Douchey In Here Or Is It Justin Timberlake?

Nothing's douchier than indoor sunglasses and finger guns.

All right, I want to preface this post by saying that I actually really like Justin Timberlake. He's an incredible performer and any phoenix that can rise up from the ashes of tooldom the way he did (two words: denim tuxedo) deserves our utmost respect.
But he does have douchebag tendencies which is why I'm loving this genius compilation of JT's d'bag moments from his recent HBO FutureSex/LoveShow concert.

I actually have a bet going with one of my friends as to who can make it all the way through without being reduced to giggles. So far we've watched it 5 times and neither of us has even come close. I actually manage to hold it together until the part where he's doing the "sideways piano." Then a few seconds later he forgets himself, inexplicably lashes out at the guy in the befeathered fedora and it’s all over. (“Get that out my face!” he snaps.)

From the doofy expressions, to the self-congratulations, to the impaling of an innocent backup dancer, to the final curtsy (that’s right, curtsy), it's fun for the whole family. Go on, I dare you. If you can make it past the pantomime handjob 1:08 seconds in, you’re my personal hero.

Well, YEAH

Courtesy of The Onion:

Woman Overjoyed By Giant Uterine Parasite

Oh wait, nevermind. I actually thought this read “Woman Overjoyed By Giant Intestinal Parasite.” Now, that’s something I could get behind.

And is it just me or is that flatworm packing some major heat south of the border?

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

No More Taxies

New York City taxi drivers are on strike today meaning that the cabs that are operating have had to carry multiple passengers at a time to pick up the slack. Which is how I randomly ended up sharing a taxi this morning with Soledad O’Brien, who actually does talk in the newscaster voice in real life, too (I’d always wondered).

The night before the strike, I was on my way home from a party and found myself in a cab with one of those TV sets installed in the backseat. Thus prompting the following drunken one-sided text exchange between me and my friend, Jessica:

Me (11:52 p.m.): Omg, I’m in a cab and there’s a TV in the back and it’s showing a special on local OTB restaurants!

Jessica: SILENCE

Me (11:53 p.m.): Like, a whole ASSEMBLAGE of eateries that offer Off Track Betting!

Jessica: SILENCE

Me (11:57 p.m.): We need to go. Immediately.

Jessica: SILENCE

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Adventures on the F Train: Feces Edition

You know when the subway comes and the car is empty and you think to yourself, "Great! The whole subway car to myself!" Then you step in, inhale, and smell something so foul that your nose hairs just shrivel up and die inside your nasal cavities without even putting up a fight?

Well, my nose is pretty much just a decorative piece now, like a cartilage throw pillow. It happened last year when I was coming home from a Ryan Adams concert. I stepped on to a suspicously empty F train and something launched a preemptive strike on my olfactory system.

Sometimes the source of the smell is a homeless person or a bag of trash. This time it was feces. HUMAN feces (you wouldn't think you could tell the difference between human and canine feces – you can), and it wasn't just on one seat. Someone had gone to the trouble to smear it on TEN SEATS of the subway car. I immediately moved to the opposite end of the car where the other passengers were huddled in the no-smell zone

Then an unbelievably drunk couple in formalwear stumbled onto the train. Our group was riveted. We all knew what was about to happen. The man and woman went to sit down. At the last second, someone screamed out, "NOOOOOOO!!!!" It was straight out of a war movie when a soldier sees his buddy about to step on a land mine.


They plopped down and slurred, "Whaaat? Wasss going on?"

Well, as you can imagine, our half of the train erupted. "Oh Jesus!" someone crowed. One African-American kid yelled, "Damn nigga! You done sat in some SHIT!" Not really understanding what was happening, the intoxicated couple stood up and changed seats only to sit in two MORE seats covered in poo. We roared. Still confused, they got up and moved across the aisle into two MORE seats covered in crap.

By now we were out of control. I had a stitch in my side from laughing so hard and a guy across the way was doubled over gasp-howling, "Ohmigod, I can't breathe!" while a friend slapped him on the back.

This went on for a few stops. At one point, the couple ambled towards us and some passengers actually fled to the next subway car. Finally the unawares got off and walked blissfully into the night.

Eventually we passengers all got off on our own stops and the bond was broken. But for a moment, an entire train of New Yorkers had been completely bonded in schadenfreude, and it was the shit.

The Three-Quarter Eclipse of Michelle Williams

As you may have heard, Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams have amicably split after three long years together.

I pointed out in March 2006 that we lost one-fourth of Michelle’s face after these two got together and she took on a second career of gazing adoringly at her man. (See the couple above in happier, more Michelle-repressed times.) So I'm excited about finally being able to view her without the aid of a pinhole camera. Here’s looking forward (omg, see what I did there?! I hate myself) to seeing Michelle’s face straight on for the first time since 2004.