Joss Stone is an idiot. Attractive. But an idiot. Recently she claimed, quite arrogantly, that the Brits are more healthy than Americans because they "smoke hand-rolled cigarettes", also known as "rollies". These smokes, she claims, are far less dangerous than their commercial counterparts. Which is just about as accurate as that commercial, years back, where that teen rolls five cigarettes into one giant cigarette while the announcer proclaims that one gram of marijuana contains the same amount of cancer-causing material as five cigarettes. That is to say, not at all.
The fact of the matter is this: "rollies" are actually far, far more dangerous than commercial cigarettes, and are the rough equivilant to chain smoking three Lucky Strikes back-to-back-to-back. But here is a more obvious fact: who cares?! If you are a smoker, and I am, you've rationalized your habit with your startling lack of self-preservation a long time ago. And if you are going to be that guy that answers an invitation to step outside for a smoke by breaking out a vertiable duffle bag of tools just to construct your ornate nicotine device, why don't you just kill yourself already? Besides, pretty soon you're going to have to excuse yourself to the surface of the Moon just to have a smoke legally. I don't know about you, but I'm strongly considering going back to crack cocaine. You know, for health reasons.
Jessica Simpson, who shows her love for me by not only having a huge rack (crass) but also by depriving the city of Dallas of the will to live (class), is rumored to be in talks for a new reality show, much in the vein of her previous MTV hit, Newlyweds. The show is supposed to be headed for CMT, and from her incestous father's press release will probably try to play Jessica off as a country music songstress.
So, uh.. yeah. Well, that acting career seemed to have run its course. Now its time to run home to your most profitable medium: reality television. And when that runs its course, on comes the softcore pornography... the first in Cinemax history to be accompanied by a music video and album release.
In other Simpson news, Ashlee is still enjoying her lesbian relationship with Pete Wentz. That guy makes Avril Lavigne sound like Slayer.
The contestants for next season's Dancing With The Stars have been announced, breathing life into the near-forgotten careers of several of its c-list celebrity hopefuls. Although I thought this program had already served its purpose by promoting the inherent hotness of Stacy Keibler beyond the sphere of sweaty 13-year olds watching Monday Night Raw; I applaud its charitable attempt to revive the forgotten Shannon Elizabeth, thereby freeing her from the sphere of sweaty 13-year olds clumsily masturbating to an old VHS of American Pie that they found in their brother's room. But lets take a look at some of her "what-the-fuck" competition. Penn? As in from Penn & Teller?! Um... ok, I guess. I mean, everyone loves a magician who is constantly kind-of a dick. But in a funny way. But Adam Carolla?! How much did you have to pay Jimmy Kimmel to unlock his storage locker and lend him to you for a few weeks? And Jason Taylor?! Unless they mean the 30-ft British robot version of him from the NYG-Miami game in London, I'm not interested (side note: if they ARE talking about that robot, why even have the contest? Just film it laying havoc to downtown Newark or something and split it up into 18 or so, hour-long episodes) And Steve Guttenberg?! Guttes! Don't do it, Mahoney! Did you see what your co-star, Priscilla Presley, looks like now? When did "unholy ghoul" become a fashionable look?
And yes, I made it through this entire post without making a Monica Seles stab-joke. Wait. Whoops.
Sincemy gay-homo of a blogging partner fails to realize that there are men out there who prefer an actual picture of a woman, I have to "double-post" Scarlett Johansson. Don't get me wrong, Natalie (ha, she wants me to call her by her first name, take that Keinada) is a lovely specimen. But her boyish figure is run of the mill. I have bigger breasts than she does, however, mine are indeed made out of Taco Bell Crunch Wrap Supremes. I apologize for the sure to be series of sighs from my blogging counterpart, but you must appeal to the masses and not just your own taste. Now if you will excuse me I must go exfoliate my gorgeous face and have some pigs in a blanket. Afterwards I will "watch an excercise video" and vomit said pigs.
-Cambodian Monk-
Update by Keinada: Your logic is as flawed as your ability to properly format a post. We shall settle this dispute like men (fat, lonely, heavily-breathing men)... and hurl accusations at each other's sexuality until a winner is crowned, and a loser must have a very awkward conversation with his parents! And now, the game is afoot! (Oh, and I believe the posting of that third picture of Scarlett marks the 100th time it has appeared on this blog! Your prize? That picture is prize enough, you greedy prick.)
Elizabeth Hurley is catching flak in the media today for apparent stinginess. According to some sources, Hurley and her new husband never paid their promised donation to the church in which they were wed, and have been paying their maid $2.50/hour. Now, I know I haven't seen Ms. Hurley in many movies lately, but I doubt a woman such as her has ever wanted for money. So I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that Liz Hurley takes perverse, sadistic pleasure from lording herself over local clergy and migrant workers. Then again, I'd clean her house for free. With my tongue. So I guess what I'm saying is that Elizabeth Hurley must be paying her maid in sexual favors. Although, I'm not sure how sexy "si" and "que" and "I need more lemon Pledge" can be. Or if her maid in any way resembles a cast member of 8th Street Latinas.com like she does in my mind.
I don't know about you, but I could really get used to this whole Natalie Portman-Scarlett Johansson press tour duo thing. So much so that I'm going to make a motion to the Screen Actor's Guild that these two actresses are now obligated to only be movies wherein the other is already cast. This is like the Dream Team of celebrity worship. I mean, I'm sure Scarlett isn't used to being the "second hottest" girl in the room, but I'm sure we can resolve that debate with a healthy round of shy flirting leading to a few Smirnoff Ices and some good ol' fashion sorority-style "exploration".
Seriously. That pillow fight could end war in our lifetime. Just put it on a loop, construct ten-story tall jumbotrons in every major city, and watch strife and bloodshed grind to a halt forever. Along with the world economy. But hey, if you want a lesbian omelete, you gotta break some socio-political eggs*.
Guess what? Britney Spears had breast implants back when she was still a teenager. Which is news, I guess... if you didn't have working eyes or a deductive mind back in 1998. Apparently, Spears was encouraged to get the implants by her Mother-of-the-Year candidate, Lynn Spears, and they were later removed after Britney's chest started to naturally develop.
My question is this: did those "breast implants" also serve a slow-release system for Lithium, or some other anti-psychotic? Or maybe just a lojack of some kind so her managers could keep constant track of her whereabouts and activities? Either way, and this is probably the first time I've ever said this, get them sacks o' saline back in there, people! Sure, the damage might already have become irreversable, but if there is a chance... just a small chance that I can be bombarded with endless Britney gossip without accompanying images that make me throw up in my mouth just a bit. Please. After thirteen minutes of Entertainment Tonight, my teeth have already had the enamel stripped completely off.
Apparently, Paris Hilton was recently in Boston, and treated the locals to her award-winning karaoke and nipple-slip dinner show. After rolling around on a few couches, and warbling some ballad in a buzzing, nasal, insect-like drone, her dress decided to take mercy* on the crowd, and tried to whip the twins out as compensation.
Man, it sucks to be in and/or from Boston these days, huh? Your Golden Age of Sports, which was the subject of almost a century of expectation (and probably a fair number of occult rituals) before it finally came about around 2002, is coming to an end after less than a decade. And your consolation prize is a near-nude visit from Paris Hilton?! Thats the "pity sex" of celebrity nudity... in that it sure would a pity for your genitals if you choose to have sex with her. Then again, syphillis can treated with medication. Losing the Superbowl to the Giants lasts a lifetime.
Its like the entire city that was built on an Indian burial ground. My advice, Boston, is to just for a clean slate. Raze your city to the ground, and then start over a few miles away. But you might want to stop swearing in your Mayor on the Necronomicon, too, just to be safe. And maybe think about ditching those accents. They might be offending God.
* - "Mercy" is apparently a concept not well understood by Versace dresses.
Heidi Montag's new single* is being praised... not quite by fans, who have universally panned the YouTube video as one of the worst pop-music efforts in our generation... but by its creators... namely Heidi Montag and her "boyfriend"/overcompensating-closet-case, Spencer Pratt. Pratt was recently quoted as saying that he expected Montag's forthcoming debut album to go "diamond", exceeding ten-million records sold.
Because, of course, Heidi Montag is like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin all rolled into one, suspiciously Real Doll-looking spoiled blond girl. You know, except for the whole "musical talent" thing. And the ability to spell "cat" without using a "K" thing.
Alecia Moore, better known as "Pink", and her husband, Carey Hart, are filing for divorce. The paperwork isn't out in the public eye yet, but I'd love to see how you word "discovered unexpected penis" in official court documents.
I'm curious, why is Pink still famous? Haven't all the depressed, tasteless High School fat girls that made up her fanbase all entered college by this point? Shouldn't they be satisfied by all the standard-less frat boy attention as the bar clears out by now? Or at least moved on to become a "Wicca" or something?
And, I know what your thinking by looking at the picture to the left. But remember, children: having breasts and long hair does not compensate for still having a penis. If that were the case, fat Metallica fans would be on the school cheerleading squad.
Emma Watson, prolonged exposure to whom seems to manifest impure, just-a-shade-short-of-illegal, thoughts, is rumored to have rebounded off of her short-lived relationship with the 27-yr old, heroin-addicted frontman of the British group, Razorlight, by finding solace in the arms of her Potter castmate, Daniel Radcliffe. The two were seen canoodling* at a pub recently, shortly after the aforemetioned "near-pedophilia" was ended by Watson's parents apparent complaints on the issue.
Well, I guess this makes sense. After all, these two were already doomed to spend their autumn years waving sticks around and shouting "Career-Resusitorum!" whilst point at their blank resumes. And I suppose dating a guy who poses naked with horses is a step-up** from a drug-addict pedophile***.
But on a more important note, is anybody else noticing that attractive British actresses and/or models seem to have no quarrel with their respective boyfriends doing heroin, while remaining fairly clean themselves? You see that, honey! THAT'S real love! If you really cared for me, you'd accept that my fix is worth more than your television. So give that shit up real smooth, baby! Daddy needs his medicine.
* - Simultaneously, my most favorite and least favorite word of all time. ** - 2 The Streets! Biaotch! *** - How old is 17... really?
Jessica Simpson is being sued by Speedfit for $10 million claiming breach of contract. She supposedly agreed to make an excercise video, but *pulled out at the last minute. The company is also suing dad, Joe, as well. "They are hurting millions of fat people in America", claims Speedfit.
Don't get me wrong, Jessica should not agree and then agree to disagree on anything that she does. Does that make sense? Wait, nothing has made sense since the supposed greatest team in NFL history, the New England Patriots, lost on the biggest sports stage ever, the Super Bowl, to a team everyone thought wouldn't make it to the playoffs, the New York Football Giants, in one of the greatest Super Bowls ever played, which included the greatest play in Super Bowl history, the Giants were the first No. 5 seed to win the Super Bowl and Eil Manning won the MVP, which proves he is equal to Peyton, the Giants won 11 straight road games.**. But do you seriously think that millions of people would have bought this video? And even if it hit a million sold, don't you think that I would have bought all 1 million copies for myself? I think that if she put out a video, millions of fat nerds would have bought it and not actually worked out watching it. Unless you call "level-grinding"sessions to be "watching an excercise video". Yea, that's what I'm going to call masturbation from now on, "watching an excercise video". I love Jessica Simpson. I am now going to "watch an excercise video".
*I would never pull out if I was inside of her. She would undoubtedly get pregnant from my titanium sperm, and have to spend the rest of her life with me.
**No, it is not a run on sentence. When using enough commas, no sentence is a run on. Plus, Mercury Morris instituted a new rule: When speaking of about Super Bowl XLII, it encouraged to place commas in the sentence as much as possible. The more commas, the more it adds to the excitement regarding the biggest collapse in sports history. And you must put "and" in the middle of the sentence.
OK, you choose. On the left, you have Paris Hilton. Undeniable porn-star skills, but assured penile eroding acidic disease (commonly known as P.E.A.D*). On the right, Christine Lakin**, J-list celebrity status (defined as requiring more than a three sentence explanation as to who she actually is when bragging later to your friends***), but superiorly desirable, suprisingly so, body.
Guess what? Either way, you lose. Or at least thats the way America sees it, as the Oscar-hyped**** The Hottie and the Nottie, starring the aforementioned pair,has already firmly established itself as the frontrunner for "bomb of the year" by scoring an astounding 29 viewers-per-theater...total... for an entire three-day weekend. One would surely ponder why the latter actress was forced to play the disgusting-girl role... slut+hot girl made up to look ugly= success?... but I'll skip the narrow-minded nay-saying and congratulate this film's producers for making a piece of Hollywood history... that will be worshipped by camp-loving homosexual men for decades to come. And in the same month as the Hannah Montana Concert Movie?! OH!.... MY!..... GOD! 2008 is just so.. FAAAAAABULOUS!!!!!*****
* - A serious disease that I TOTALLY did not just make up. Please, will you help spread awareness in your community? If only for the children. ** - The first girl I ever masturbated to, when I was like 11 or 12, and she was on Step By Step^. Don't ask why. IMAGINE why. *** - World of Warcraft Guild brothers do NOT count. Seriously, Kevin, move out of your parents basement and go to a bar or something. **** -Sarcasm (n.) - to praise a person, place or thing in contradiction to actual meaning, usually for the sake of humor. ***** - and yes, I totally am.****** ****** - I missed my *'s.
^ = T.M.I does not stand for Too Much Information! It stands for Too Much I'm so frickin awesome.
Stacy Keibler, who is probably the hottest, least shemale and/or local stripper-ish, WWE girl... oh, I'm sorry, "Diva" c. 1999, World Wrestling Entertainment, Greenwich, CT... is blitzkrieging the *shudder* blogosphere with a new video of her... apparently being a Daytona Beach Spring Break girl from the late 90's.
Which is, apparently, news. Well, as far in as any slight mention of some celebrity I find attractive is news. But I think we should take a moment to note the greater tragedy here... that we, as a nation, have allowed Ms. Keibler enough c-list fame to postpone her inevitable, direct-to-Cinemax, softcore pornographic debut. C'mon, people, Exotic, Erotic Confessions of REAL Women: Volume II - The Bed-and-Breakfast Sex-nection is just begging to be made.
Lindsay Lohan, pride of Long Island, recently shocked* the world by posing topless in tribute to Marilyn Monroe. Which would be awesome... except for the fact that she already showed them to us when she was 17... and again when she was 18... and 19... and well... I'll just stop there. But now you can see them in the setting of a non-Playboy, professionally photographed spread... which for the first time in my entire life has led me to beg for the ridiculous airbrushing of the aforementioned magazine. Seriously. What fucks up a great early twenties rack better than painfully unflattering shots of harshly lit Irish legs. I should know. I have IRISH LEGS! And believe me, nothing says "sexy" like skin that looks like a wedding dress thats been menstrated on through a thin screen. Couldn't she skip to the Amy Fisher** stage already? Now THERE is some Strong Island class.
America's favorite Canadian pop-star gave us more reason to quietly loathe her recently, but exposing, yet again, just how fucking perfect her oft-far too covered up body is. I'll update some more pics later, but for now... jesus christ. I know I seem at a loss for witty remarks tonight, but keep in mind that I've had several weeks to let these pictures settle into my "level-grinding" sessions... and at this point I've got nothing better than "hummana-hummana-hummana". But I will say this: blond hair with one streak of pink says just one thing to the male population of the world: "I am easily influenced, and look like I'm still in high school". Combine that with a immaculate body, and you've got a perfect storm of premature ejaculation... and sometimes incarciration. Yeah, I know. I'm just throwing slowballs today.
I'd love to put something up here to comment on the above pic... but its really hard to type with one hand... screaming "DAMN!" every two or three seconds. Seriously, has it gotten to the point where my Id is actually manufacturing reality now? If so, why does McDonald's not accept my claim to have "manifested" their McSkillet burrito, thereby not having to actually pay for it. That's right, I just equated Portman-Johannson lesbianism to a delicious breakfast treat. Now if only I could combine the two... mmmm... that sex would be chipotle-flavored!
Ladies and Gentlemen, your 2007-2008 NFL World Champions: the New York Football Giants!
Holy shit. I mean, honestly... HO..... LY...... SHIT. Did that just happen? Did I just hallucinate that whole thing?! The Giants won the Superbowl?! The Giants WON the Superbowl! Hahahahahaha..... Ahahahahahaha.... Ha. I just can't express the magnitude of the sports-gasm I had on the night of February 3rd, 2008. Truthfully, there is a small, 15-second, blackout in my memory following the gatorade being poured over Coughlin's head. One moment, I'm sitting on the couch, preparing for the massive coronary that was undoubtably on its way... and the next, I'm outside, running up and down the street screaming "WORLD CHAMPS! WORLD CHAMPS!". Grown men crying... airhorns bellowing... and obnoxious, bragadocious cell phone calls to friends from anywhere north of Durham, CT.
Let's recap: 1) Sunday, January 6th... The New York Giants defeat the overrated Tampa Bay Bucs, 24 - 14, winning their first playoff game in the Coughlin-Manning era, thereby securing their own jobs (which, at least in the case of Coughlin, would've been lost almost defintely had this game been lost) and sending the Giants to an unprecedented playoff meeting with their rivals, the heavily favored Dallas Cowboys. Already, in the eyes of most Giants fans, this season is a success. 2) Sunday, January 13th.... The New York Giants defeat the top-seeded Dallas Cowboys, 21 - 17, inflicting the most soul-crushing loss upon Dallas in the last decade, perhaps ever. Eli Manning outplays Tony Romo, who is considered by most of the professional football establishment to be the young Quarterback that Manning was once supposed-to-be. R.W. McQuarters intercepts the ball in the end-zone with 26 seconds remaining to seal the biggest upset of the season, sending the G-Men to the legendary home of the Green Bay Packers and pitting young Eli against the greatest Quarterback thus far in NFL history, Brett Favre. 3) Sunday, January 20th.... The New York Giants defeat the mythic Green Bay Packers, 23 - 20, by an overtime, 47-yd field goal by Lawrence Tynes, after the kicker had previously missed two significantly closer attempts in the fourth quarter. This time, Eli outplays the God of Football, Favre, himself. This NFC Championship, fought on the famous/infamous "frozen tundra of Lambeau Field" becomes an instant classic... and suddenly the Giants are showing an signs of a team of destiny. and then.... 4) Sunday, February 3rd... The New York Football Giants defeat the previously-undefeated New England Patriots, 17 - 14, to accomplish the greatest upset in football history and claim the Superbowl Championship. Following the exponential improvement of his postseason journey thus far, Eli Manning does the impossible, according to the sports media of the world, and outplays Tom Brady. The Giants come together as an epic force of pass-rushing, sound running, and impeccable passing offense... and unseat a team that was only sixty-minutes earlier regarded as the best single-season team of all time. Manning's great escape, and impossible connection with relatively-unknown David Tyree on 3rd and five during the game's final moments, will be a moment remembered in New York until the day the city is razed to the ground... and probably long afterwards. Seconds later, Eli connects with Plaxico Burress for the game-winning touchdown and a trip into history... a history where they will be somehow better remembered that the Patriot team with which they contended.
Honestly, I could rant a hell of alot more... and probably will before next season starts. But I'll wrap this up with the bullet point version of why this victory is so sweet, and then let any Bostonian tell me that they've had a moment in sports that even comes close to equaling something with so many, sweet, sweet layers of celebration: - "The Miracle in the Desert" - Eli Manning to David Tyree. - Eli Manning... Superbowl MVP.... - ... the year following his older brother, Peyton. - Strahan finally gets his ring... alongside the greatest rushing companions he's ever possessed in Tuck and Umenyiora. - Tom Coughlin has become the leader New York has craved since Parcells left. Given a few years more, maybe better... - The Rebirth of the New York "Fuck Boston" sports moment, dead since 2004. - The Greatest "Fuck Boston" Moment yet. Worse than Buckner, worse that Bucky Dent, worse than Aaron Boone. - Ahmad Bradshaw and Brandon Jacobs wear Championship rings now... Tiki Barber does not... - ... and almost certainly will never go to the Hall of Fame now. - Eli Manning, NYG Franchise Quarterback. - "The Giants Secondary actually played the ball on Brady's last moment hail mary passes!" - Shoving Brady's arrogant scoff at Burress' prediction right back in his face... sorry Tom, you didn't even score 17. - I wish I could taunt the Patriots coach after this game... but he suddenly disappeared from the field with 1 sec. left... -... and only showed up a few days later to answer to allegations of cheating... -... and blew the game by going for it on 4 and 13, as he had all year to great, if unsportsman-like, success instead of going for a field goal... which is the exact point difference they ended up losing by... -... and was overall, thoroughly outcoached by Tom Coughlin. - The Patriots dynasty is now immediately lowered to below that of the 49ers and Steelers, and now can never attempt to equal them again.. unless they start all over again. - The Giants dynasty is just getting ready to begin. - We "Stomped You Out"! - Eli outplays Romo... then Favre... then Brady. Suddenly, that Manning name makes sense. - "The Miracle in the Desert"... two miracles, one play... deserves to be mentioned twice. - The Parade in the Canyon of Heroes, where I stood five yards from Strahan, Manning, Coughlin and the Lombardi Trophy. - and, of course, because the New York Football Giants are World Champions.
Well, its been several months of blurry memories, and here we are again. Another year of mind-numbing office labor, and thus, another year of judgemental bloggery. I'm sure there will be several dozen "catch-up" posts in the near-future, the first of which will shortly follow. Just pretend its still topical material... you know, act surprised like that time your parents told you to close your eyes for your 5th-birthday present... and when you opened, all the furniture was gone and you could hear the family sedan streaking away down the block. Good times. Good times.
Joss Stone is an idiot. Attractive. But an idiot. Recently she claimed, quite arrogantly, that the Brits are more healthy than Americans because they "smoke hand-rolled cigarettes", also known as "rollies". These smokes, she claims, are far less dangerous than their commercial counterparts. Which is just about as accurate as that commercial, years back, where that teen rolls five cigarettes into one giant cigarette while the announcer proclaims that one gram of marijuana contains the same amount of cancer-causing material as five cigarettes. That is to say, not at all.
