Chill the Fuck Out, 2010

This year SLY covered the hard-hitting issues: parasites, the Double Down, Vajazzling, and the coming robotpocalypse. So if you're still with us at this point, thanks! 2011 is going to be even better. The SLY "Test Kitchen" is going to ramp the fuck up and it's not just gonna be food in there! So let's just zone out until then, OK? Just chill out!

Throw Your Diamonds Up

At least Benold's has a sense of humor about the whole holiday jewelry guilt/shame spiral. Shows like Bridalplasty remind me that, yes, a very small group of women probably demands diamond rings and other superficial status updates for Christmas, and a small group of men thinks that's still what a woman wants. On the whole in 2010, who are these ridiculous ads targeting, and who can afford it? We live in a time when people are scouring their homes for shit to send to Cash4Gold.com.

And they've gotten really diverse this year: Kay finally put an African-American couple in one of its ads, to balance out the weird rape fantasies and overall whiteness elsewhere in their marketing campaign. The soft, white snow; the cut diamonds; the straight, white teeth. It's so blandly heteronormative. Good job, jewelers.



And this Zales commercial .... they all look one blink away from outing themselves as lizard people, especially the guy at the :10 minute mark. After he strangles her with the necklace of course. Benold's was right! He just cut the power! Run, girl!

Shut 'Em Down, Open Up Shop

Damn, Canada, you really put the scare in those rapists. As this story explains, a cliched, overused phrase in the States equals sexual predator diiiiisss up North.

I appreciate the flipped script, but what's "that guy" like in Edmonton, Alberta? I'm sensing a lot of names with short A sounds.

Cats vs. Demons

Austin dudes are notoriously allergic to cats. Or are they? Check out footage from the documentary film, Sleepwalkers:



You've been warned, ladies. Next time he's explaining why he can't stay the night, remember that "Sorry baby, I've got cat allergies" could be synonymous with "I'm a shape-shifting demon who's only natural enemy is the domesticated feline."

Typical Girls Are So Emotional

November 2010 Muscle Memory Mix

A Couple of Sharp Coconuts

 "The men were having a business meeting," Ray remembers, "and the women were definitely not invited there. When those guys were busy, the women just sat and waited. They'd smoke, drink beer, gossip, but they were pretty much just on ice until the meeting broke up. I remember, too, that many of them were surprisingly young: teenagers, or in their early twenties. They didn't look young, though. Riding around on the back of a Harley at a hundred miles an hour in all sorts of weather will age you, I guess."

 Hells Angels, 1965.

Horsehead Blues

Oh heyyyeeee. Summer has been busy at the So Like Yeah Estroplex, but we will resume regular hours soon. In the meantime, there are other important things to explore. One love.

2-4-6-Die

Look, I love fried cheese as much as the next red-blooded, mouth-breathing American, but this new sandwich from Denny's is...

...basically it looks like you're about to eat a bunch of open sores. It's apparently part of Denny's new "value" menu, which also includes a nacho salad and more things served in a skillet.

Hot Summer Congressional Crush

Ooooh Mary, look at Rep. Anthony Weiner of NY, going to town on Republicans! The way he orders that man to sit down, all Samuel L. Jackson and shit! It's almost like the olden days, when members of Congress had actual beliefs, and felt like it was their job to uphold them!

1. Sketch 2. Comedy

Anyone who has Googled dorky key phrases ("raptors," "brain worms," "converting bedroom into playball pen")has probably stumbled upon this comic. For those who haven't, please meet xkcd.com -- we'd be crushin' on this guy if we so weren't certain he exists only in two dimensional code.

Set Your Parasites High

An insect of unknown ancestry recently stung my eyelid. My, like most's, first instinct was to overreact. Who wouldn't assume that the bug in question was a braconid wasp, and that rather than simply stinging me, it was laying eggs in my shutter lens with its massive ovipositor? My entomological hysteria was relieved when a Benadryl and bag of frozen peaches made the swelling retreat. But now that I've realized my worst fear: becoming a parasitic incubator, I can't stop reading about others who actually have.

That's when I discovered Brain Worms.



It works like this: Someone eats undercooked pork and develops tapeworms. Those tapeworms lay 250,000 eggs each. The swine swallower then prepares food for others, without washing her hands, peppering the diner's dish with tiny tapeworm eggs. Those eggs are small enough to pass through stomach lining and enter the blood stream where they search for a warm, safe place to grow. Your brain is prime tapeworm real estate.

Once there, they stretch out and get comfy -- munching on your cerebral lining. This can go on for years until they take one bite too many and you start noticing symptoms of their incessant snacking. A leg goes numb. An eye goes out. You can only talk backwards like a David Lynch character -- what evs. That's when surgeons explore, expecting to find a tumor, and find worms in your brain.

Just try unlearning that, and happy Monday.

Thinkhole

“I am filled that day with vile or evil feelings — ill will toward one I think I should love, ill will toward myself, and discouragement over the work I think I should be doing. I look out the window of my borrowed house, out the narrow window of the smallest room. Suddenly there it is, my own spirit: an old white dog with bowed legs and swaying head staring around the corner of the porch with one mad, cataract-filled eye.” - Lydia Davis, “Examples of Confusion”

Older Than the Moon, Twice as Wild

A great read right here.

In the corner of the conference room, Ferrucci sat typing into a laptop. Whenever Watson got a question wrong, Ferrucci winced and stamped his feet in frustration, like a college-football coach watching dropped passes. “This is torture,” he added, laughing.

And a great sentence. My dad used to work for I.B.M. and as a child I was amazed at the clunky, whirring machines that lined his office. Futuristic at the time, sure. But they were still just machines to me - international business machines, actually.

Watson is something I would have dreamed up as a kid. After reading, I found myself wondering if, when I'm old, I'm going to have to deal with a robot doctor.

Complaint Box, Summer Edition

You ever have one of those moments where Idiocracy is right around the corner? On TV earlier, I saw two beer commercials in the span of a few minutes. One was for Coors Light's new Cold Activation Window, which visually tells you when your beer is cold enough to enjoy. But you still have to reach out and grab the beer anyway, so...

Also, it's COORS LIGHT. 

The other was for a new Miller Lite bottle that has spiral grooves inside the neck. It's called the Vortex, which helps the beer gush, rapids-like, into your thirst hole. BEER MOUTH FASTER. I can see the billboards now. Schlitterbahn, you're sitting on a tie-in goldmine.

Then I saw a Smirnoff Ice commercial, which reminded me of this, which is a thing apparently. A viral campaign for dude soda that has become real and now random d-bags can punk men who have been on the moon. I only found out about this fratastic phenom the other day - there was a story in the New York Times about it.

All this came in the midst of new BP commercials urging fishermen and others whose livelihoods have been upended to file claims, and B-roll shots of smiling employees looking through outdated file cabinets, while an oil demon rolls towards the Atlantic. An oil demon, y'all! 

It was a terrifying thrill ride into a future of sweatpants and mutants.

Can Fabrice Fabrice be at all awards shows?

Jaden Smith's "weird child entourage of tiny monsters." Seriously, what's up with that kid?

Crude Summer

Someone threw a rock through Mother Nature's window and...

She's

pissed

First World Problems

I'm boycotting SATC2, but this review from one of my favorite alt-weeklies says everything I'd want to say if I did see it. Such as:

"SATC2 takes everything that I hold dear as a woman and as a human—working hard, contributing to society, not being an entitled cunt like it's my job—and rapes it to death with a stiletto that costs more than my car. It is 146 minutes long, which means that I entered the theater in the bloom of youth and emerged with a family of field mice living in my long, white mustache. This is an entirely inappropriate length for what is essentially a home video of gay men playing with giant Barbie dolls."

 

http://questionableadvice.tumblr.com/

Meat Grief

I was going to try to come up with something clever, but no, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross is applicable here.

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

Total time: 4 1/2 minutes.

Execute Artist

The folks at Channel 101 are doing some very cool things with the video series Everything. Interesting concepts, short enough for modern attention spans.

via College Humor

Noah Kalina

Harsh Realms pt. 145

Florida, you never cease to amaze me. Only a former crackhead-turned-politician would propose something like this. Yeah, go after the small business owners! Go after those criminals at Grateful J's Grateful Deadhead Shop! They're practically begging you to smoke crack.

When bongs are outlawed, only outlaws will have bongs? 

A weapon in the hand of a beautiful woman

Niki de Saint Phalle, curio.

Intimidation as an art form. I'm with it.

I Think He's Playing Red Eyed Fly Tonight

There's nothing sadder than an unsuave robot.
This poor sap was crafted to aid the hearing-impaired in speech therapy, but that altruistic goal will likely be eclipsed by its intrinsic creepiness. How can anyone be tutored by a device with such extreme N.T.P. (night terror potential)?

nerdalertnerdalertnerdalert

http://comicbookcartography.posterous.com/

giant map room!!!

IS THIS MOVIE IN PRE-PRODUCTION YET?

"Brenner and the dolphin met in the 1970s at a Sarasota County amusement park, and he calls their underwater love affair 'passionate.'"

"The thing I learned the hard way is that dolphins can develop very, very deep emotional bonds to you -- bonds that are so strong, we don't understand how they work," Brenner said.

So now just anyone who got drunk and fucked a dolphin at Sea World in the 1970s can write a book? That screeching sound you hear is half the population of Deltona, Florida speeding to an Internet cafe.

However, this being Florida, I'm a little disappointed no one contacted an animal psychic to see what the dolphin had to say from beyond the grave.

Mom! I Want My Giggle Hat!

That kid is so high.

The snork-inspired device is called PediSedate, and it lulls wee ones into a peaceful, drugged-out, python-riddled, hallucinatory state prior to medical procedures by pumping nitrous oxide near their noses while they play video games. And yeah, I want one. Gimmie that giggle hat!

From PediSedate's website:
"PediSedate is a medical device consisting of a colorful, toy-like headset that connects to a game component such as the Nintendo Game Boy system or a portable CD player. Once the child places it on his or her head and swings the snorkel down from its resting place atop the head, PediSedate transparently monitors respiratory function and distributes nitrous oxide, an anesthetic gas. The child comfortably becomes sedated while playing with a Nintendo Game Boy system or listening to music. This dramatically improves the hospital or dental experience for the child, parents and healthcare providers."

Crazy From the Meat

Mark your calendars and write up your wills, this thing apparently passed market testing.

I think if Jesus were still alive today, he'd definitely be into this.

Play 'Free Bird'!

French artist and musician Céleste Boursier-Mougenot introduced electric guitars into an aviary.

This Week in Florida

Trailer park arson, pig uprisings, and "getting razor burn in Key West" is no longer a euphemism. They don't call it Darwin's Waiting Room for nothing.

Dude, Where's My Pants?

The New York Times just ran an article on the Sensecam. It's a little black box worn around the neck to assist Alzheimer's patients. The theory is that the camera/accelerator combo will make a sort of flip book of experiences -- one that can be accessed later, jogging the memory.

They also mention future marketing targeted at the "YouTube generation," whose memories are just lazily clouded by booze and barbiturates.

Can we not do this?

In addition to making everyone look like Toshiro Takashi from Revenge of the Nerds, I believe blackouts happen for a reason. If we had to see how stupid we all act while drinking, everyone would quit doing it. Bars would close, people would stop getting laid, tattoos of leprechauns dancing around tribal signs would cease to exist, and we'd all have to develop real personalities. This little black box could ruin civilization as we know it.

Get ya broke ass out the club if you ain't gon' tip

What up, J.Cam? I know you got epicly later'd at the Oscars, but you're being pretty cool about the best picture and director award going to your ex-wife's movie about a real war.

John Hughes tribute: OK. Seeing the cast of The Breakfast Club 25 years later: No. James Spader? Andrew McCarthy? Someone.

Can this be the last year for the Oscars? Seriously, that shit took like three days. Most of it was blatant shit-being-called-a-sundae-ism. Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin did the Dean/Jerry thing well enough, but their joke time was eaten up by James Taylor's weird death montage ballad and interpretive hip-hop dancing. Just let this guy host next year.

Something You'll Never See at Beauty Bar

Imagine if Lego synth guy and large-scale Lego sculpture dude ever got together...



You could start a dance party on a replica of Han Solo frozen in carbonite. Let the panty-dampening, begin!

So Like Lexicon

SBoonin’: Waking up disoriented with your arm around an empty bottle of Boone’s Farm.

Rolodix: Your cell phone booty call list.

Green-up: A post-sbender period in which a body demands traditionally “healthy” food, but will settle for fried if no vegetables are available.

Fire Fly-by-Nights: Hallucinogenic night terrors that follow an excessive intake of sweet tea vodka.

Whhyyyyy isn't there a show like Soul Train anymore?

It’s the Culmination of Your Life’s Events, in Tube-Form.

Those smug Swedes. They've been hoarding squeezable bacon technology for years, but now, thanks to ThinkGeek, it's been liberated. Now you can purchase tubed bacon and have it shipped directly to your big, sweaty, knuckle-popped American paws to use as you see fit. (Toothpaste? Sexy-time prop? Edible mustache? Bacon flan?)

Stranger still, this bacon/gel hybrid allegedly has no preservatives, due to some hastily glossed over "freezing technology." Lie to me, bacon. You know I'll always forgive you.

"I Heard Jennifer Love Hewitt Started It"

VAJAZZLE is a thing. This is where we are in 2010. This is the new Tupperware party.

What, you don't care to adorn your birdcage with Swarovski crystals? Heathen!

Piranhas 3-D Why You Makin' Me Wait?

Hot Tub Time Machine comes out March 26. At first I was all, "Man, has someone been eavesdropping on my dreams?" And then I was all, "Wow. Movies have gotten terrible. This looks so bad/good I may have to see it." And then I was like, "Wait, John Cusack ... Chevy Chase???" Oh, to be a fly on the wall at that pitch meeting:

Exec #1: I've got it. You've got four unlikely best friends. They used to party a lot and be crazy, but life has beaten them down as they've gotten older.
Exec #2: Road trip!
Exec #1: I like it, but it can't be your normal four guys on a road trip movie.
Exec #2: Ok, some crazy shit happens at a ski resort, and they get sent back to 1986 and some more crazy shit happens and they all learn the value of being themselves.
Exec #1: Yeah, but how do they go back -
Exec #2: Hot tub.
Exec #1: Hot tub time machine. Bam. What's next?
Exec #2: What about a sequel to Bio-Dome?

Wizard-Related

 Ladies, you ever dated this guy?
"Sooo, I gotta tell you something. I was a wizard."
 Oh. Ok, like D&D?
 "And I was also in prison."
 Wow. Ok. For something ... wizard-related?
"Aaaand since we're being honest, it's a horrifying jungle of man and lady parts down there. I've had a couple surgeries but the doctors are still sorting it out."

Classic. Am I right?

My withering attention span thanks you, 5-Second Films.

Nomad Has a Chocolate Fountain

(Song starts at 1:30)

I'm single and I don't hate Valentine's Day. There, I've said it. I know it's an unpopular thesis, but I don't see the problem with folks being good to each other, even if it takes an imagineered holiday for that to happen.

And maybe you don't have a significant other today. So what? That won't always be the case. Your perfect slob and you are still clumsily pawing through life, waiting to run into one another. And when it finally happens, just remember: You asked for it.

Till Half-time Do Us Part

EMBED-Valentines Day Proposal Goes Wrong - Watch more free videos

Don't feel too bad for this guy.

Sure, the commitment-seeker gets rejected, but it happens in front of an entire professional cheerleading squad. Cheerleaders can't resist crap like that; it's like romantic kryptonite. He'll be a base in the pyramid by the fourth quarter.

Resist This Psychic Death

 

Bros! This is the guy who's going to help you score chicks! No, the one on the left.

 One of his Valentine's dating tips: "Dinner and a movie has been done to death. Invite her out to a late night at the aquarium or to paint pottery at an arts and crafts cafe and you can be sure you're the only person to have asked her on that date today."

 

Ummmm, the fuck, dude who looks like that dude in Green Day? After an uncomfortable string of Super Bowl ads that basically screamed, "I'm a living ghost and need a Dodge Charger to fill the space where my balls were," this just makes my soul feel damp, like when the lights come on at last call.

 

Word, dude from Mountain Goats. I don't particularly like your music, but I feel you on this topic.  

I interviewed Julie Klausner a few weeks ago and, while I haven't transcribed it yet, she described an episode with an ex-boyfriend who had a  Ziggy complex. There were tears of laughter, mostly, with a 10% chance of "Oh, wait, that sounds familiar." I don't know what's going on in Dudesville, but it's making my head feel all Scanners-y.  

Quick, someone slide a guy down a bar top into a pyramid of beer cans already.

(How Can I Get?) One Last Screw

So... Viking funeral isn't in your game plan? Cremation seems too... wind-dependant? Do you want to be buried with all of your appendages but don't want to clog up the cemetery the way your stuffy old grandparents did? Well! You're in luck! Donald Scruggs, an innovator out of California, has created the screw-in coffin.

This device can either can be twisted into the ground by your burliest friends (above), or it can be tightened into the earth with great reverence via backhoe (below).

Either way, it should make for a pretty rad farewell.

Your corpse will be sealed in resin, kinda like Han Solo when he was frozen in carbonite. Also, you can select either a metal casket (burial magnets!) or a clear plastic one, for that final "ta-dah!" moment.
Even its name is catchy: the Easy Inter Burial Container. Who's got the last laugh now, Death?

Ten Angry Vaginas

Tyra Banks, keeping it classy. The opening line of this clip should nail down that Emmy. Also featured on this episode: "A woman whose legs won't stop growing." Freakshow re-airs Feb. 11, just in time for Valentine's Day.

No One Said Dating Your Rapist Would Be Easy

via Julie Klausner

Windsor Sausage in Jelly

A gelatin-filled visual journey through food ads and cookbook photos from the past.

 

Scene from a David Cronenberg film or acceptable dinner party dish?

 Domestic abuse jokes!

I Kinda Want This Job

From Reuters
- International hotel chain Holiday Inn is offering a trial human bed-warming service at three hotels in Britain this month.

If requested, a willing staff-member at two of the chain's London hotels and one in the northern English city of Manchester will dress in an all-in-one fleece sleeper suit before slipping between the sheets.

"The new Holiday Inn bed warmers service is a bit like having a giant hot water bottle in your bed," Holiday Inn spokeswoman Jane Bednall said in an emailed statement to Reuters.



Soooo, what I'm hearing is that somebody is going to get paid to traipse around hotels, wearing a fleece onesie, and catnapping in strangers' beds? Mine.

Snipers Anonymous

Man Eggs. Just go there.

When 2012 Comes...

Squeegee My Third Eye

Remember that guy in college who took a lot of speed and never shut up about the Illuminati? He has a website now, and besides seeing occult symbols in places like the Denver airport and Pinocchio, it also takes on pop stars and their hidden agendas.

Did you know Lil Wayne's new video was directed by Satan? Or that Lady Gaga is a sleeper assassin? Obvs she's hiding more than just a potential disco stick under that Hello Kitty pile-up.

Jay-Z as a Mason, though, is something I can get with. He would make it cool to be a Mason again, and soon there will be a mass exodus of celebrities to secret temples, from which TMZ will do live broadcasts.

Together, We Can Put the "Fun" Back in "Funeral"

Yesterday a ceiling fan fell on my head... while it was spinning. (A note: Whoever Final Destinationed me, if you would simply make yourself known and apologize, all will be forgotten.) It got me thinking about funerals and how antiquated they are. I ain’t going out like that.

Instead, I’ve decided that I want a tasteful affair. Something that really sums up my life’s accomplishments, so with much contemplation, I’ve decided on this: Viking funeral aboard a party barge, with my corpse stuffed in my tauntaun sleeping bag. Just so there’s no confusion, I’ve decided that the soundtrack should be all Jock Jamz. I’ve detailed the playlist below.

"Firestarter" – Prodigy (Lighting the barge)

"Push It" – Salt ‘n Pepa (Leaving the dock)

"You’re Unbelievable" – EMF (Floating away, with the crowd doing shots)


"Getting Jiggy Wit It" – Will Smith (The crowd is still doing shots and inappropriate spring break dancing is occurring)


"The Final Countdown" – Europe (As my humble river boat crashes into a delicate, endangered coral reef)

If my final wishes are not honored, my fire spirit will return to haunt the shit out of everyone. Undead me will crash on your couch, even if you had other plans that week. I will also drink all of your beers and never offer to pitch in for more. I’ll sign you up for magazine subscriptions online and click “Bill Me Later,” in an attempt to ruin your credit. I’ll also criticize every date you bring home – not to his/her face or anything, but to you, after he/she leaves. So yeah, you bitches better fulfill.

Earthquake Glue

More Fun with Google

A Nation Divided

Like Being Trapped in a Scary Man Museum Overnight

More here.

I Forgot About Those Volcano Nachos

Enough already, America. No one asked Taco Bell to make their menu healthy. You eat there because it's drunk and you're late. I mean, it's open late.

What's next, KFC's Salad Buckets? Not in my lifetime. I'm still waiting for this monster to show up and devour the Midwest.

Brraaaap.

Note to 15-Year-Old Self

Awesome.

Six Arrested in Indonesia for "Sexy Dancing"

Last Tuesday, Indonesian police officials arrested six people for dancing too erotically in a local cafe, an act that is in conflict with local morality laws.

Via the AP:
"It could be described as sexy dancing. But more importantly, they were wearing minimal clothing and performing in public, which can stir desires," he said.

Under the country's anti-pornography law, the dancers could face up to 15 years in jail if convicted, he added.

The controversial law, passed in October last year, criminalises all works and "bodily movements" deemed obscene and capable of violating public morality.

It has prompted protests across Indonesia, with critics saying it could threaten traditional cultures from temple statues on Hindu Bali island to penis sheaths on tribesmen in Christian and animist Papua province.

But this story isn't entirely true: There were seven "Sexy Dancers," and the cafe was rigged with security cameras. Understandably, So Like Yeah is the first site to show the secret footage of the morality violators. Be prepared: It's shocking.

The Flowers are Still Standing

Via
I spill coffee, wine, and queso on myself daily. I'm scared to go camping because bears will sniff out my awkwardness and attack me while I sleep. I, in turn, will respond by flailing into the tent while struggling to escape, and accidentally wrapping myself up like a giant burrito, or a fly in a spider web of my own design. For me, taking off a pair of gloves is less like an En Vogue video, and more like an I Love Lucy excerpt. Yep. I'm "That Girl."
Shit like this amazes me.

A Triangle More Perplexing Than That One in Bermuda

So, scientists have discovered that a woman's most mystical place, may not exist. Again.

"A sexual quest that has for years baffled millions of women — and men — may have been in vain. A study by British scientists has found that the mysterious G-spot, the sexual pleasure zone said to be possessed by some women but denied to others, may not exist at all.
The scientists at King’s College London who carried out the study claim there is no evidence for the existence of the G-spot — supposedly a cluster of internal nerve endings — outside the imagination of women influenced by magazines and sex therapists. They reached their conclusions after a survey of more than 1,800 British women."

Haven’t we seen this study performed more than a dozen different ways with a dozen different results over the last 50 years? Why are nerve endings within the human body more illusive to scientists than dark matter? And who are the intrepid field agents “gathering data” on this seemingly unquantifiable topic? My guess? These guys:

You May Develop a Leathery Tail

There are so many terrible commercials for this birth control pill that it's tough to pick a favorite. However, I'm partial to this one. Here's why: A.) One of the women has clearly been having near-suicidal bouts of depression mixed with agoraphobia. This is quickly glossed over by the group's alpha female. B.) Girls hang out at trendy rooftop nightclubs and talk about PMDD. Now you know, boys! And when we go to the bathroom, it's just an excuse to exchange medical journals on the topic. C.) What about this ad would ever, ever, ever lead a gal to want to put this hormone-based Hiroshima in her body? It's crazy talk. They might as well have run the ad for Annuale.

You Can Jump Into the Fire

Alex Carnevale's lovely post over at This Recording got me thinking about the past decade. I came into the 2000s at 19, going on 20. I left them at 30. In college, I had a cell phone, but only because my mom gave me one before I went away to school. A cell phone meant that, even if I was kidnapped and raped and thrown in a ditch (her worst case scenario), I could call and let her know. Now, there are too many ways to let people know you're possibly a headless corpse wandering I-95. Such is progress. We adapt.

I graduated college eight months after 9/11. The "Iraq" war started right when I got my first job at a newspaper. I moved to Austin the day after Bush was re-elected. It's strange, all these milemarkers in life measured against the horrible things that rode in the backseat with us.

Are you perpetually afraid you're going to lose your wallet? I am. When you grab for it and it's gone, that sinking feeling in your gut is a powerful feeling. This decade had a lot to do with adapting, as well as balancing a foggy daydream of youthful invincibility with waking, walking terror.

A do-over, Carnevale asks. I learned a lot in my 20s, and made bad decisions and mistakes and told out-and-out lies to get out of things, like the people that run our country do. I also had a really fun time and met some of my best friends. In the past decade, music, for the most part, got really bad again, which means the ten-teens can only get better. Well, historically.

Whew. Let's bring the lights back up. Please enjoy this video of a cat whose crazy owner forces it to eat with a fork. Yes, the Internet is a vortex and we will reach the end soon.

Forever 21 Has It

Style highlights from Roseanne.

This Time I'm Gonna Be a Free Woman

Comin' at ya like a Northern bullet. 

Like Those Nicotine Patch Night Terrors, But Real

Wilton Manors, Sweaty Updo's and my former residence, is a quirky city that spoons Fort Lauderdale. Census data shows that it has approximately 1270% more gay men per capita than the national average. This means, basically, that the grocery stores blast Donna Summer, there are no women's restrooms anywhere, and "Female Illusionist" is everyone's night job. You also learn that no illusionist wants to be just a woman; he wants to create the largest, most inflated representation of female characteristics imaginable. It gets a little creepy. It also gets a little cutthroat.



Enter scene: Twat LaRouge. Why fight the crowds as just another man-turned-diva with size GGs, Dolly Parton hair, and giant, Florida Turnpike employee finger nails? Especially when you can take the road less travelled: Giant striptease drag puppet.