Monday, December 31, 2007

 

Happy Birthday to Rack!

So it's New Year's Eve, and I'd go off about all my resolutions, except that the only one I'm making is to get my player hater degree and actually get the hell out of grad school. That way I can sign MY name as "Dr. Razzy" and, unlike James McBride, actually be able to back up that title with a degree from an accredited university.

However, while I do plan on going out and getting rip-roaring drunk and hopefully laid, I won't be doing so in honor of 2008. New Year's Eve is always anticlimactic anyway, so it would be better if I had something better and more personal to celebrate. Luckily, I do! It's my good buddy Rack's birthday today, y'all! Thus, instead of celebrating New Year's, I'm celebrating that at this awesome party she is having:

Rack is the hotness, and the only thing I'm sorry about with regards to this party is that I will never be able to come up with a gift as dope as the "My Bitches" figurine she gave me for my 29th. However, I am making my mom's perenially successful artichoke dip and I'll bring some booze, as well as my inimitable party presence, as well as some party mixes of sweet jams (primarily R. Kelly and T-Pain), so hopefully that will make up for my lack of creative skills. Oh, right, and I'm giving her a shoutout on my blog, which should tickle her fancy as she is a dedicated Razzyphile.

Anyway, here's to another year of beach trips, boozing, "Beverly Hills, 90210"-watching, Smith College ex-girlfriend mocking, McAleer's patronizing, football watching, sushi-eating, Harry Potter movie attending, and general debauchery with my girl Rack--or Mac, as is her real-life nickname. Seriously, her real name is "Sarah" and every time she calls I'm like "Sarah...? Oh, RIGHT. It's Mac calling." Happy birthday to you, sugar tits! Tonight I'll be raising a Pepto-Bismol pink champagne flute (full of scotch) to your good health and happy future!

Much love and an emphatic "SKOAL",
XOXO,
Razzy

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:38 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: James McBride


Name: James McBride

DOB: February 5, 1961

Occupation: white supremacist, twice convicted felon

Hometown: Endicott, New York

Current residence: Endicott, New York

Douchebaggery: So yesterday I wrote a lengthy post detailing my annoyance with fake Doctor James McBride, some idiotic "Aryan Brotherhood"-belonging moron who practically begged me to pay attention to him and his dog and then plagiarized my website for his unremarkable ode to ranting incomprehensibly about Mumia Abu Jamal, Tookie Williams, and non-white people in general. Well, James, having nothing better to do, went ahead and made a new section of his website devoted entirely to me! Since I don't really want to link to this asshole, here's a screen capture:


I like how he refers to me as "Rozzy," apparently to prevent me from getting any traffic from him. Well, the joke is on Jaimie, because he already checks my website on the daily, so I figure I'm getting 100% of his traffic referred to mine. I guess I'll have to live without the three unique hits per year of other random white supremacists who visit his "Hate Mail" page and are interested in finding some useless bullshit. I also like how the best he can do to bust on me is suggest that my website looks like shit (no duh...how many times have I complained about that?), speculate that my apartment is messy (again, no duh, I talk about that all the time), and call me a "haggard looking aging debutante." Last time I was at one of the many high society balls I regularly attend, all the other socialites DID point out that I'm getting a little rough around the edges...I better go get some Botox or something!

I also like how James says that I have a "viral" hatred of him because I'm "a flaming dyed in the wool liberal." As I actually AM a virologist by profession, I don't know how my hatred of him relates to intracellular obligate parasitism, but then again, I have NEVER gone by the term "Mistress" (since I'm neither into BDSM or a fat goth loser), so it appears misnomers are a part of his cunning linguistics. I did appreciate his acknowledging my quick wit and nice tits. My tits aren't as nice as his, but oh well. Maybe in my next life.

Anyway, some fairly hilarious e-mail exchanges have been going on between myself and James since I advised him that I would be calling his racist ass out on my site. Since Razzyphiles seem to love it when I get into a flame war with someone who is way out of my league in terms of intelligence or word savvy, I figured I'd go ahead and post our correspondence for your amusement. Although James has posted most of it on his site, you would probably all rather read it here anyway, because my commentary is substantially better. In fairness, however, this is some of my material that James actually had the decency to credit me with writing. Maybe his New Year's resolution is to come up with his own damn content rather than ripping off mine.

If you recall, the last correspondence I posted between me and him ended with him going off on how "my type" always brings up Timothy McVeigh, and this segued into a long rant about how "Persons of Color" are responsible for all of society's woes. This was my response:
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
To: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)

"My type"? You mean, people who don't view everything through a fucking Nazi filter?

You are right about one thing...I am an intelligent woman. And I have used that intelligence to realize that I have better things to do than argue with a moron who probably bought his doctorate from some website he heard about via spam e-mail, especially a moron who has flagrantly plagiarized my website.

Prepare to be douchebagged.
I figured that this response would either escalate the situation or get him into apology mode. It did the former.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)

plagiarized? Well.... okay. I do indeed talk about my negro friends and rap music. You said i'm a moron. I'm wondering if i was minority sympathizer if you would consider me wise?
I'm not sure Jaimie entirely understands what plagiarism is. In the past, he all but bragged to me that he'd jacked some of my content, noting that his website was "inspired by" mine. And I don't know if I would consider him to be particularly sagacious if he were a "minority sympathizer," but probably not considering his regular commission of various grammar and spelling atrocities. Furthermore, he must not think I'm very wise if he thinks I'm going to believe for a second that he has "negro friends." Nonetheless, I replied.
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
To: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)

I would consider you wise if you weren't a flaming racist, and if you quit presenting yourself as a "doctor" when in reality you probably have a high school diploma and some technical certification obtained in prison, and ceased assigning the entire world's problems to every racial, religious, or cultural group except your own. Any person who assigns culpability to entire groups of people based on the actions of a few, especially when based on something as arbitrary as skin color or religious beliefs, is decidedly unwise.

I consider anyone who is so determined to remain ignorant to be a moron.

By the way, your site is offline. Too bad. You might have finally gotten that link from me you've been begging for, albeit probably not in the context you had hoped. I was also hoping to snag some pictures of your ugly ass with your fat wife to bust on. Pity.

It was wise of you to take your site down, though, because that warning on your front page was practically taken from mine word for word. Luckily I got a screen capture of that before jaimieandlisa.strangled.net went offline, because it's basically proof that you are infringing upon my intellectual property. Not that I'm going to bother taking you to court for it, but still. Just in case.
I figured that a clear explanation of what I considered plagiarism would get him to at least take that down from his site. Then again, he doesn't seem to get it in spite of my posting his offending material next to my original material. At the time, his website was down, and I thought that might be the reason. I thought wrong. Apparently, he was busy coding his tits off (and how much do you want to bet that the technical certification he earned in prison had something to do with computers?), making his site more readable for all the Razzyphiles who would ostensibly go there and experience his "refreshing ultra right wing perspective" for themselves.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)

took the site down? I completely revamped it. http://jaimieandlisa.strangled.net boob. I love it when liberals rags on me. This is particularly true when the ragger is an old debutante who's aging badly. Oh well, c'est la vie, ne-c'est pas mom chere? This site is written in php running on sql. Lots better than htm because if something ever goes horribly wrong you have all the data stored in your sql database, but why ramble on, eh? Explaining precursor hypertext and sql to your types is much akin to teaching a dog how to drive.

Let me ask you something: We're you the first girl in your old neighborhood to date/fuck/suck a minority? Something tells me you probably were. Oh well, thanks for the pitch and i'll be sure to link to your site har de har har
Oh, you speak French, "mom chere"? My goodness, all that fancy foreign gibberish in addition to your proficiency at website authoring has truly humbled me. You must really BE a doctor! That smattering of French and tech talk really does give you a nice veneer of intellectual superiority, which I'm sure comes in handy when "liberals rags" on you. But please, don't tease me like that with the prospect of linking to me. I've been really hoping for years that the marginally literate Aryan Nation demographic would take a shine to my useless bullshit in spite of my being "the first girl in my old neighborhood to date/fuck/suck a minority," and it really is cruel for you to dangle that prospect in front of me so tauntingly.

At this point, however, I was getting tired of bickering back and forth with James. He still was dodging any acknowledgment of jacking my material for his stupid site, and I was trying to watch the Redskins wallop the Cowboys, and his whole line of you're-aging-badly-and-you-fuck-minorities thing was getting awfully broken recordish. I figured I'd just reiterate my main points:

1. I'm not bothered by accusations of "aging badly" by some uneducated hick ex-con racist married to someone who looks like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Woman, except that I get mildly annoyed at being bored.
2. James DID plagiarize my material.
3. James desperately wants a link from my considerably more well-traveled site, and while I've purposefully not added the hyperlink to the numerous references to his site, I'm sure someone will actually paste it into their browser and go there, and he'll get at least five more hits than he normally would have.
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
To: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)

Yawn.

Haggard debutante? Too bad you didn't decide to plagiarize some of my better insults, because that's pretty weak.

Enjoy the extra traffic, loser.
Jaimie once again completely skated around the plagiarism issue in his response, choosing to interpret this as me accusing him of plagiarizing insults as well as his site "warning." He is truly dumb like a fox, as well as possibly a closet Smith girl, because he brings it with attacks on my self-esteem.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)

I'm sensing you have issues with self esteem. Do you think that everyone is plagiarizing you? Have you called someone a haggard debutante? If this does indeed prove to be the case i suggest it's probably a matter of innocent infringement than out and out plagiarism. On the otherhand it's more likely you're full of shit and the notion of refering to someone as a haggard debutante never occured to you. Whose do say though? You're probably a nice girl and although you are indeed aging rather badly you do however look vaguely like my ex wife. Obviously she was something of a jaded old skank too but why get into all that?

Dr James E McBride
I'm full of shit? Let me get this straight: even though I CLEARLY pointed out what he plagiarized, Jaimie is going to call me "full of shit" in the same e-mail he signs with his fake title of "Dr"? I can't let that slide.
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
To: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)

The only issue I have with self-esteem is that I have too much of it. And no, I don't think everyone is plagiarizing me...just assholes who copy what I write practically word for word right down to the capitalization (ie: "this website is FOR ADULTS ONLY BECAUSE I HATE KIDS," which I wrote on my site in JUNE 2006).

It's also pretty rich that someone who insists on referring to himself as "doctor" is busting on me for being full of shit and trying too hard. But thank you for saying I look like your ex-wife, because God knows she's got to be hotter than your current wife, as long as we're on the topic of haggard bitches succumbing to the ravages of age.
Ha. That'll learn him good. Or not. Once again, rather than respond to my very specific allegations of plagiarism, he insinuates that I'm mentally ill and that--horror of all horrors--I'm actually HITTING ON HIM.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)

Jeepers creepers Raz, have you taken your medication today? You're bipolar or something aren't you? In anycase you're going to have to ease off my johnson or i'm going to start thinking you want to be daddy's little shortie LOL! I read your douchbaggery of me a lot closer and i note your hip to sandnigger speak as well as regular nigger speak. I can't say i'm surprised.

Herr Doktor
I just told Herr Doktor that the prospect of me being his "shortie" was extremely wishful thinking on his part (and I guess the whole "Once You Go Black, You Can't Come Back" is out the window? I can hardly blame him...compared to his wife I look like fucking Gisele). At this point, I have better things to do than engage in a battle of wits with this fucktard, as it's tantamount to shooting fish in a barrel. For another thing, I have a feeling that this could go on forever, since Jaimie probably has nothing better to do than talk a bunch of banal smack to avoid admitting that he is too dumb to come up with his own content and thus has to appropriate mine. I am also bored of his whole "doctor" thing, since the only august institution he is an alumnus of is the New York State Department of Correctional Services for multiple felony assault convictions.

He probably has all day to sit around working out and hating on persons of color and sending me poorly composed e-mails insulting me in the hopes of teasing me into sending more site traffic his way. His time would be better spent brushing up on racial slurs with which to pepper his site that nobody reads and having nauseating sex with his Hostess cupcake-filled wife. What a fucking loser.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:37 AM 9 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Taylor Swift


Name: Taylor Alison Swift

DOB: December 13, 1989

Occupation: country singer, barely legal object of fantasy, world class cocktease

Hometown: Wyomissing, Pennsylvania

Current residence: Nashville, Tennessee

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Well, I really don't care much about Taylor Swift. She's hot in a country singer kind of way, I guess, but she's got a little too much hair for my taste. Not that I wouldn't sit on her face if given the opportunity (now that she's just turned 18, don't call Chris Hansen), but I can imagine that chick is going to have a very short shelf life. For one thing, take a look at her mom:

In a few years, Taylor is going to fill out, and not in a good way. She already wears a little too much makeup for an 18-year-old, and I can't help but wonder if underneath all that foundation, she doesn't look totally different (and not better). However she ages, though, I will begrudgingly admit that Taylor has some hotness going on. Okay, she has a lot of hotness going on. Yeah, I'd hit that, even if in ten years she's going to be rolling around on the country circuit wearing some sort of Reba McEntire-esque sequined pantsuit as country singers tend to do as they age.

This whole post is actually just throwing a bone to my buddy HotLawyer, "bone" being the operative term because that's precisely what he wants to do to Taylor Swift. Badly. Yesterday, he was texting me about the Seahawks game that I couldn't watch on account of it not being on TV here in New York (and my not bothering to go to my usual football bar to watch every team play their second stringers in the last game of the NFL regular season), and all of a sudden I get a text from him that reads along the lines of "Taylor Swift is just so fuckable! I just saw her video." This makes me think that no matter how many times HotLawyer insists he prefers brunettes, it's all a front because the overwhelming evidence suggests that like any decent gentlemen, he prefers blondes. We have more fun, after all.

Taylor Swift is lucky that she's a talented songwriter (so the internets tell me...I don't listen to country music unless it's being performed by a certain awesome American flag-guitar-toting patriot/Ford truck spokesman named Toby Keith), because if she weren't in country music, she has would-be porn star written all over her. She even looks like a younger, fresher, less used Hannah Harper:

If Taylor weren't strumming her guitar and singing about her broken heart or falling in love or Tim McGraw or whatever types of Faith Hill-esque topics she covers in her lyrics, she'd be starring in some movie called "Taylor's First Gangbang," "Taylor Swift: Filthy Whore," "The Violation of Taylor Swift," or something similar. Her name sounds like it was made for porn. Like I said, it's lucky for her (not as lucky for HotLawyer and everyone else in the Taylor Swift lust club) that she can sing.

And on another note, who wants to put money on Taylor Swift being Tony Romo's next girlfriend? She's totally the type. I smell a pink Cowboys jersey in her future.

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:33 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Sunday, December 30, 2007

 

There's a fine line between Razzyphilia and Razzy Hatred

A while ago, I got an email from some Razzyphile expressing his love and gratitude for yours truly. Okay, it was more like crazy rambling about Tookie Williams and how this guy's fake persona got kicked off Yahoo chat, but I think it was fan mail. At least, "I like your site" was one of the few coherent sentiments expressed in it.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: i like your site

As the powers that be recently suggested I shut my sites down I'm going through a withdrawal kind of thing and took to randomly surfing the net like the other swine. My site was very cool, completely interactive and highly controversial. Mostly I trolled idiocy that is Yahoo Political Chat and promoted my site, just to bust balls. The fast majority of the braying asses on yahoo chat are left wing conspiracy kooks who love The Diversified (LOL(I know you're one of them)) frequently refer to Islam is The Religion of Peace. I was merciless. You know as well as I do how gullible the nitwits in zombieland are.

For all their constant whining and crying and, of course, their object hypocrisy I felt duty bound to give them what they've been asking for all these years... or at least what they deserve. And so like your section fucking with the trolls who hit on you I did much the same thing except my beefs were more politically motivated. Like the fat kid on South Park, I hate hippies. I hate all their anti war bullshit, I have their smugness, I hate the ground they walk on.

But what to do? They're always bitching and whining about our country, the cops, every fucking thing. Like that mass shooting at VT, they whined that the cops weren't aggressive enough yet that drunk cunt at some fucking airport who died in police custody was Police Brutality. The liberals were over joyed when Timothy McVeigh got smoked (as was I) yet when they killed Tookie Williams, it was racist. I think that was when I snapped. Fuck Tookie Williams, you know?

Comes now http://profiles.yahoo.com/wolfgang_hoenicher . Wolfie, as they came to call him (me, duh) was everything they hated in this world. I was an Arch Conservative, seriously, heavily racist White Christian Male, who sometimes dabbled in fagdom (to ward off any chance of boredom coming on. Wolfgang was married to a Serbian refugee named Dragana Strajnic, who sometimes went on line and told tales of torturing muslim children to get information from their parents.

They believed every thing I told them. Everything. I told them I owned two adult bookstores upstate and made a fortune off the closet queens using the loops. I told them I owned three rooming houses in Syracuse having made a deal with NYS Parole rented exclusively to level 2 and 3 sex offenders for $250 a week per offender. They thought my wife's life in girlfriend (dare I wish) was named Lana Damarkov who was from Kiev. Lana got me a job doing the books for the organizatsiya for which they rewarded me with a co-op on Brighton Beach Avenue. I've never been to Brooklyn and my wife was born and raised in upstate NY.

I suppose I'm writing because I like your site and I especially like the meanness of your work. Our sites are much, much different because I attacked whole segments of society while you attack individuals. Alas my sites are gone now and it looks like i'm going to have to lay low for a while, perhaps quite a while.

In any case i have to walk my dog, a beautiful fawn american pitbull, and that's about it. I like your site.

Dr James E McBride
I wasn't entirely sure why Jaimie was so proud of "the powers that be" shutting his "completely interactive and highly controversial" site down for pointing out the "object hypocrisy" of hippies or black people or whatever, and I really had no idea how this related to Razzy's Rejects. In my view, there is a big difference between busting on an individual person for being an asshole, and busting on an entire demographic group because a couple of their numbers were assholes. I suppose Dr. James E. McBride felt that I might applaud him for going to such lengths to fuck with whatever dipshits spend their time in Yahoo political chat rooms. I think I probably responded with a terse "thanks", if at all. However, Jaimie was not done reaching out to me. In fact, he was just getting warmed up begging for my attention.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE: my kick as dog!

here's a kick ass dog!!! i'd freak if you put him on your site. His name is Jack, he's mostly american pitbull with a tiny pit of ridgeback. he'll be a year old on Christmas Day.

http://jaimieandlisa.strangled.net

this is my site which in many ways was inspired by your site. it's really new and i'm just starting to fill it up with useless shit.
I went to this site, but oddly the link didn't take me to his site proper. Somehow I ended up at his Topix profile, and immediately scoffed audibly at the prospect of posting anything about his dog or linking to his site as he was heavy-handedly hinting he'd like me to do.



My exclamations of "sha right" became more emphatic as I read his "refreshing ultra right wing opinion" on a variety of news stories. First, he goes off on Muslim women, specifically noting "I just don't care what muslim men do to muslim women. I think they're all dirty little animals and it just doesn't much matter to me what in the hell they do to one another and it seriously bothers me that white americans care."



It seriously bothers ME that you think I would ever link to a site containing sentiments like that. Next, Jaimie decides to express his sentiments on who is responsible for prostitution in whatever part of buttfuck upstate NY he lives in.



Because OF COURSE the hick cops managed to bust only johns of color. Whatever, Jaimie. Anyway, back to Jaimie's favorite subject: making idiotic racial slurs! This time, he hates on the Asians.



Ah, right. "Liberals" are offended by anything that is not an interracial relationship. I guess that explains why I can generally be found doing the nasty with blacks, Latinos, and Jews and NOT "staying with my own kind." Oh, right...I've fucked lots of white guys too. My sexual partners are like Skittles: I taste the rainbow, baby! High five to me!

Anyway, now James decides to demonstrate what a classy guy he is when he wishes he could have gone to a "liberal public school" in order to be molested by a hot teacher who doesn't teach kids how to hate Muslims properly.



And as long we're on the subject of kids complaining about being molested...time for some commentary on pedophile priests, and how their victims are all a bunch of liars!



Wait, you hated the priests but they are the finest people you've ever met? Do the clergy at St. Paul's and Catholic Central hate Muslims too? As always, I'm confused by Jaimie's "object hypocrisy." Anyway, back to hating Islam!



God, no wonder this guy has the cops coming to his house. He can't even walk his dogs without being a total fucking asshole.

Rather than start a pointless war with him, I sent him an e-mail saying that his dog was "kick ass" (the dog is cute, and it's not Jack's fault his owner is a dipshit), but that I strongly disagreed with his political views. I hoped that a succinct e-mail would discourage him from continuing his correspondence with me, and pestering me for a shout-out on my site. Although I am not always the nicest person, people who read my site know that I don't consider racism to be funny or to fall under the heading of "useless bullshit" that people might actually want to read. I would not even link to--and thereby endorse--a site containing nothing but post after post of moronic, knuckle-dragging idiocy, no matter how many times I was complimented or how many pictures of cute dogs I received. If I want to see cute dogs, I can look at the two canines snoring on my bed or couch and skip the paranoid bloviating about Muslims and minorities and liberals and their culpability for all the world's problems.

Unfortunately, this did not discourage Jaimie from writing back. In fact, he decided that he would more directly ask for a shoutout to his site, as well as offer his computer help.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE: my kick as dog!

thanks for calling jack kick ass!!!! as for my political views? did you Google us or something because although I have a great many political essays on the web there's only three on this particular site. I'm planning on doing a piece on Keith Olbermann who I absolutely despise.

I agree we are probably at very different ends of the political spectrum but i really do like the mean spiritedness of your website. Let me ask you something: are you hosting your own server? Which is to say is your site on a commerical server ie some kind of site hosting thing or are you running your own server?

I'm running my own. I have an ibm xseries server and roadrunner t-1 services. the site you apparently viewed (i could check the apache logs but why bother?) is written in php/sql/flash and a little bit of javascript.

If you want any banners or any kind of easy shit let me know and i'll do it for a mere mention in your site, which i think is awesome. My site is lacking in content at this time because the last one got shut down--cops at the house any everything!!!

The the mutts on yahoo chat believed this persona i created over the years and they turned me in. Oh well, i hope you write back because--for some reason--i like you and the site is cool. Is Jack Kick ass enough for your site?

Jaimie
Jack is kick ass enough for my site, but sadly, affiliation with dickless, mouth-breathing trash is not. I was relieved I hadn't actually stumbled upon the many political essays he's supposedly posted on the net (likely on account of my not keeping up with various Aryan Nation websites), because those few blurbs on his Topix page were more than enough. I elected not to respond, and hoped that Jaimie would keep busy decorating his double-wide with swastikas and unprovokedly harassing local chicken restaurant owners by ordering pork chops in a clearly halal establishment. I figured that, much like when I'm trying to dodge some overbearing honey who felt that a night of unremarkable jackhammering was tantamount to the beginning of a beautiful relationship, silence is more effective than dialogue. Unfortunately, Jaimie was not going to be so easily deterred.
From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: another catholic schooler

Raz:

I know you think i'm a right wing war monging racist but i have a question.
i note you went to a catholic grammar school. I went all though catholic
school. So did my parents and my kids. I don't have any first hand
information of anyone who ever got molested by a priest. Do You? I think
these mutts with their oh so sad tales are ruining the lives of fine, fine
men because The Church has deep pockets and no balls. What say you razzy?

dr james e mcbride
Are you kidding me? You want me to bust on victims of molestation? Clearly, Dr. McBride is not going to leave me alone so long as he thinks I'm at least tolerant of his fucked-up, paranoid, certifiably insane beliefs.
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
To: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
Subject: RE: another catholic schooler

Listen, Jaimie, I am glad you like my site, but you are right when saying that I do think
you are a racist. I know you have said that this is part of some persona you have
created to ostensibly amuse people, but I don't think there is anything funny about it. I dislike your pervasive use of the term "mutts" (as well as "sandniggers", "gooks", etc.) and I have a hard time believing that behind your internet views, you are anything other than the type of person whose ignorant and backwards views I have grown up despising.

For that reason, I am afraid I cannot link to your site, as, although my site can be
mean-spirited, I don't want people associating my brand of useless bullshit with useless hatemongering. You may consider your views "right wing," but all the ultra conservative people I know would undoubtedly take exception to your placing that label on views that amount to neo-Nazism. To me, your views are abhorrent, and I do not wish to associate myself with them in any way, even peripherally.

And for the record, I don't know anyone who was molested by a priest, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Most priests are fine, admirable people, but I have no doubt that some of them are pedophile creeps, just as there are some doctors, missionaries, lawyers, judges, teachers, rabbis, politicians, etc. who are pedophile creeps. Sort of like how there are some Muslims who are terrorists, but the majority of them are fine, admirable people and not deserving of the vitriol you reserve for them as a large group. Take Timothy McVeigh, a white American who also turned out to be a terrorist that despicably killed hundreds of innocent people.

Those are my thoughts, "Doctor."
Razzy
Jaimie wrote me back the same day. Rather than get the message that he should just fuck promptly off, he decided to reiterate his hatred for minorities via his old standbys: Tookie Williams and Mumia Abu Jamal. Apparently, "my type" can't see what is obvious to him: blame it on the people of color!

From: Jaimie (jaimie@stny.rr.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE: another catholic schooler

it's not at all remarkable that you'd mention McVeigh. your type always does. You are aware that we executed McVeigh i assume and there wasn't a whole lot of FREE MCVEIGH when we, as a society, gave him the gas. Remember when we executed Tookie Williams? Every liberal in the country was whining, exactly as they're whining now about that other murderous hump Mumia Abu Jamal. I wonder why that is, eh? Do you think it's because they're Persons of Color?

Look at the illegal immigration deal. Remember in May when all the illegals marched and whined and cried and told their sad tales to Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson? Did you by chance notice there weren't a whole lot of white faces in those crowds? My wife has a whole lot of relatives in Brighton Beach. I have a lot of relatives in Winter Hill and Southie. Something tells me that not all the people in those neighborhoods have their paperwork in order either yet you didn't see them not going to work and waving Irish and Russian flags now do you?

Nope. It's always Persons of Color who make all the noise and do all the whining. You're an intelligent woman and you have to realize that i'm right and i am, after all a doctor....

Dr James E McBride
Well, that does it. I can't sit idly by while this witless loser attempts to pathetically engage me in what his dumb ass probably considers an intellectual debate and what I consider an exercise in futility. This asshole will never get the point that virtually every racial, cultural, or religious demographic has its share of detestable pricks, but most human beings are decent and don't deserve to be judged by the acts of a few bad apples. I also find that arguing with monumentally stupid people is tiring, and arguing with monumentally stupid people who think they are smart (to the point of calling oneself "Doctor" to enhance his faux academic mystique) is nothing less than a waste of my valuable time.

I can't believe that, to top off the meritless rant about "Persons of Color" he just treated me to, he implies that my intelligence is suspect if I don't agree with him and reiterates that he is a "Doctor." Fuck that. Not only am I intelligent enough to question how a man whose MySpace profile lists his highest educational achievement as his high school diploma obtained a doctorate (most likely he bought it online), I'm intelligent enough to realize that when he says his website was "inspired by" mine, he actually meant FLAGRANTLY PLAGIARIZED:



I can't believe this asshole actually had the audacity to beg me for a link when he practically copied what I wrote word-for-word (tweaking it only to dumb it down). Mercifully, Dr. Jaimie didn't follow my lead and put up a picture of himself and his fat wife trying to look sexy, because...yikes. Newsflash: nobody wants to hear about "hot sex" between a pair of racist terrestrial whales. I mean, I'm sure someone out there wants to hear about how Jaimie has to lift his trashy-ass wife's prodigious gunt in order to access her rank, cheesy snatch, or how sexy it is when she peels off his metallic hammer pants and deep-throats all three inches of his chapstick, but it's not me.

I think that even my detractors can agree they'd WAY rather see my pasty ass in a lab coat than see Jaimie and his corpulent wife Lisa do their best "Welcome to our trailer/meth lab, y'all!" routine. Even if they put on normal clothes (hint: vertical stripes make you look thinner), gave Dr. McBride the haircut he so DESPERATELY needs, and touched up Lisa's Ogilvy home perm, I can't imagine that anyone except a true glutton for punishment would want to gaze upon these two for longer than a mere glance. Looking at them for as long as it has taken to write this post has me practically choking on phantom anhydrous ammonia fumes.

Not surprisingly, Jaimie's website has mysteriously vanished from the internets upon my informing him that he should brace his flabby, impotent ass for ignonimy. A word to the unwise: pester me with e-mails expecting me to see the light and agree with your fucking appalling, abysmally stupid, poorly articulated, Aryan Nation-inspired racist rants, and this is what you get. Enjoy being owned by me, douchebag.

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# posted by Razzy @ 2:53 PM 3 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

 

Reggie (Stay Out of My) Bush

NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!!!!!!!!!

This is very, very, very upsetting. As I was catching up on my gossip internets from the last couple of days, I noticed this picture of busted, scabies-infested slag Kim Kardashian shopping for vibrators--I mean neck and back massagers--at the Sharper Image with none other than Reggie (Get in My) Bush! THIS SUCKS!

I saw that they had attended some crappy event together months ago, but I figured that she was just a large-assed diversion and Reggie had moved on to some other slag-about-Hollywood. After all, I haven't seen that skank wearing a pink Saints #25 jersey contaminating the Superdome with crabs all season! Then again, while Reggie was stacking paper from his various endorsement deals, he didn't have such a great year on the football field. My buddy Js and Ps, who took Reggie (Get in My) Bush as his first round draft pick, has been bitching about his lack of productivity all season. I can't really blame him, since who would have thought he'd be splitting carries with Aaron Stecker. Then he tore his PCL and is out for the season. It's probably because Kim Kardashian was behind the scenes, cursing Reggie with her talent-sapping, hot guy-ruining, football prowess-mitigating ass dentata. From the outside, with a slutty Lycra blend skirt on it, I know it looks like this:

But turn her around, bend her over, and take a gander between those two behemoth ass implants, and I bet you see that Reggie has been sticking his dick into something more akin to this:

Seriously, I would not be surprised if that is where the inspiration for the Pit of Sarlacc came from. I don't care how rich Kim Kardashian's parents are; that bitch, like fellow celebutard and former BFF Paris Hilton, is straight-up trash. Being from the Meth Lab Capital of the U.S. of A., I know it when I see it. Hooker is such a nasty, vermin-ridden prostitute that she makes me seem classy and prudish.

Anyway, I'm pissed because I figured if Reggie had just hit that once ages ago, he'd have since washed his pubes with Rid and be safe for me to sit on by now. Unfortunately, now that I realize they've got this long-term thing happening, not only am I convinced that Reggie's penis may not ever recover from the ruination wrought by Kim Kardashian's nether regions, but that if I ever have to the chance to actually get Reggie in my Bush, I'll be experiencing burning and discharge within several hours of that occurring.

I hate Kim Kardashian. HATE!

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# posted by Razzy @ 2:48 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Even bloggity skanks need a day or two off once in awhile

So you may have noticed that I haven't established anyone I want to hit the past couple days or douchebagged anybody, and consequently are probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, I am obviously a model Catholic and have spent Jesus's birthday in prayer and meditation as devout, pious people like myself are wont to do. Oh, who am I kidding? I've been more cat-licker than Catholic this break, and have been busy having my quarterly threesome, getting drunk and carousing all over Tacoma, and otherwise raising hell around the P-N-Dub. It's Christmas vacation, after all!

Anyway, I love all you Razzyphiles as dearly as I love my Lord and Savior, but I need a couple more days to get back to my blogging routine. For one thing, I'm going back to New York tomorrow, so I'll be on a plane all day long and thus my computer will be useful only for watching those "Beverly Hills, 90210" season 3 DVDs that jolly St. Nick left under the tree for me. For another, once I get back to my humble roach-infested Manhattan studio on jolly St. Nick Avenue, I'll have all kinds of stuff to do: running around collecting my herd of canines from their various dogsitters, performing oral on the aforementioned dogsitters to thank them for so graciously putting up with handsome but exercise-requiring Caesar and the nefarious, stank Chingy! for ten days, and going to lab and pretending to work, thus placating my PI (boss/mentor), who was a little pissed that not only did I fail to clone rhinovirus 1A before I left due to unforeseen PCR issues (you don't want to know), I was taking ten days off right before the thesis committee meeting which will hopefully usher in my final path to graduation and acquisition of my player hater degree.

That doesn't leave a whole lot of time for useless bullshit slanging, so please be understanding of the fact that the dispatches from Razzyland which you all spend 99.999999999999% of your time eagerly anticipating might be a bit more spare and sporadic than usual. I'll be back in full motherfucking effect next week to rock your tits off (and show you mine) for sure.

Merry fucking Christmas week, y'all!

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:44 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Meat Loaf was right...

...in his inherently wise musical proclamations (and I'm not talking about "Paradise by the Dashboard Light", although I can relate to that jam too). And God, Meat Loaf is a hot piece, for a long-haired proto-Jack Black wind machine aficionado who changed his name from Marvin Aday to Meat Loaf to enhance his a-little-bit-Dungeons-and-Dragons, a-little-bit-Hell's Angel, a little-bit-Grand-Ole-Opry mystique, anyway:

It's true that two out of three ain't bad. In spite of the sting of defeat related to my loss in the whole Dolphins-Patriots debacle, I have still been mostly winning. I was right about Jessica Simpson being the key to Tony Romo's downfall awhile back (and I know the Cowboys won this week in spite of a crowd of Panthers fans wearing the Jessica Simpson cutout masks being promoted by RuinRomo.com, but that had more to do with Marion Barber's 110 rushing yards than Tony's getting his shit together...Romo still threw an INT and I attribute that to Ms. Simpson being at the game in spite of the cameras not being able to spy her hideous and disgraceful pink jersey). I was also right about my prospects in the Columbia Ballers Fantasy League Ballers Bowl V!

Yes, bitches, I defeated the Js and the Ps (AKA the Bills of our league, as this is the third Fantasy Super Bowl he's lost) 92-80 to claim my first fantasy league championship. Now I am both league commissioner AND league champion, and I'm proud to say that I never once used my powers as commish (ability to fuck with draft orders, edit box scores, steal players from other teams, etc) to make this happen. Unlike those assholes in Shitsburgh, I don't need to cheat (or at least rely on some HIGHLY questionable officiating) to win a Super Bowl. That means I've got 250 clams coming my way, or, when converted to the currency of choice in Razzyland, 25 sixers of Heineken! I can simultaneously drown my sorrows about losing my Patriots-Dolphins bet to Benzo and celebrate the triumphs I have enjoyed. YESSSSSSS! Victory is sweet enough to make me forget about losing. Feel free to send me congratulatory sentiments and expressions of your awe and reverence at your leisure.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:48 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

 

Man is not made for defeat, but I just might be

My favorite author Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "Man can be destroyed but not defeated." Unfortunately, it seems that the opposite is true with women, because yesterday while my utter destruction did not occur, I assuredly was defeated thanks to the Miami Dolphins' failure to beat the New England Patriots as I had predicted. Thus Benzo won the bet I made with him concerning whether the Dolphins would stop the Pats from having a perfect season, and I now have to pay up.

Well, I never let my mouth write a check my ass--or in this case, my tits--can't cash and I'm about to make good on the terms of this wager. If you recall, I promised to post topless photos of myself with "Patriots Rule" written on my cans, and to write an excessive post describing the Patriots' awesomeness in graphic detail. I'll do just that, with one exception. My boobs are going to have to say "Pats Rule" instead of "Patriots Rule," as my rack just isn't big enough to spell out "Patriots" on my right breast backwards in cocksucker red lipstick. Furthermore, I am currently at my parents' house for the holidays, and I don't want to be answering any pesky questions about why I have red lipstick all over my shit later today when the family gathers together to attend Christmas mass. Bare breasts posted on the internets have to be kept on the low here at casa de Razzy. However, I'm sure this will still be satisfactory to Benzo and all the other Patriots fans who have been eagerly lining up for a glimpse of my combined hot set of jugs and my ignonimous loss of dignity. Enjoy.

 

WHY THE PATRIOTS ARE AWESOME
By Razzy

The New England Patriots are the greatest football team in the AFC, and ALMOST the greatest team in the entire National Football League (the greatest team being, of course, the vaunted Seattle Seahawks, but that's for another posting). They have won three Super Bowls in the past five years, and will without a doubt win a fourth (unless, of course, they play the aforementioned Seahawks, in which case it will be a battle more epic than the Trojan War which the Pats will just BARELY lose). The Patriots will have a perfect 16-0 season this year, and will lay waste to the AFC as they march toward Super Bowl XLII with the same merciless fury as General Sherman marching to Atlanta, leaving nothing but flames and ruin in their wake.

Why are the Patriots so amazing, you ask? For starters, their personnel are a bunch of true professionals with exceptional football ability. As Bengals right tackle Willie Anderson once said of the Pats, "They're grown men who take football seriously." This is true. Even Randy Moss, who once had all sorts of behavioral problems, including but by no means limited to squirting officials he didn't agree with, claiming to play only when he wanted to, and running over a meter maid with his tricked-out Lexus, has behaved like the consummate professional now that he's in his New England uniform. Yesterday, he demonstrated once again how far he has come when he caught two touchdowns to help the Pats rout the Dolphins 28-7 (thus precipitating this article).

Which brings me to the guy throwing those touchdown passes: the rugged, chiseled granite block of macho stud known as Tom Brady. Fueled by a limitless supply of Stetson cologne, extreme self-confidence, virile face stubble, and supermodel pussy, he is an unstoppable offensive force capable of adjusting to almost any scenario he might face. He can complete a pass to Randy Moss in triple coverage as easily as he can spread the ball out to Wes Welker, or he can pitch it to Laurence Maroney. Either way, he does what he has to do, and the Patriots just roll all over everyone. Tom Brady is so good that even if Patriots forgot to send out the other ten players on their offense, he could singlehandedly destroy whatever hapless opponent unlucky enough to be facing him. Then he'd onside kick to himself, and play an all-offense game, and basically own everyone.

I should add that Tom Brady is really hot. He's so hot that he could turn the Reverend Fred Phelps gay. He's so hot that Al Gore has cited him along with petroleum and Freon coolants as a primary cause of global warming. He's so hot that even in December, Gillette Stadium feels like it is in south Florida rather than Foxborough, Assachusetts. When he played for Michigan, Tom Brady kept the sidelines warm and toasty with his smoldering caloric output. It's no wonder he's always getting top shelf ass. Probably even the hookers he cheats on Gisele with are ridiculously good-looking. In physics, magnetic intensity is expressed by the equation J=moM, and when applied to the square-jawed Mr. Brady, where M (magnetisation) corresponds to his physical attractiveness and mo (permeability) represents the extent to which women will notice him, then solving for J as a measure of his pussy magnetism results in an off-the-chart quantity of Teslas.

And speaking of pussy magnets, let me take a minute to wax poetic about Bill Belichick. Coach Belichick has mastered the art of inexplicable sexiness. He is the kind of tight-lipped guy who never reveals much of anything and makes everyone wonder what exactly is going on beneath that taciturn, curt-yet-obtuse facade. You won't be seeing any Coors Light commercials with Coach Belichick in them anytime soon since, unlike Dennis Green, Bill Parcells, or Jim Mora, Sr., the most emotion you get out of him in a press conference is "We're moving on from the Jets game. Anyone have a question about the Chargers? Let's talk about playing the Chargers." He's the strong, silent type, and I think any woman can agree with the hotness of that. Furthermore, anyone who doesn't like the Patriots (ie: yours truly) just really wants to hate fuck him hard. I'd be like, "I'll give you something illegal to videotape, baby," and then make him leave his pungent, unwashed, cutoff sweatshirt on while I ride him like a triple crown jockey. Those quiet types always end up being really hot in the sack.

Besides, I have to give Belichick and the Pats' front office credit for making some quality decisions off the field. Not only is Belichick a great coach in the sense that he keeps his team focused, on task, and doesn't distract them with a bunch of antics in the media, I continue to be astounded by the foresight of the Pats' decisions. For example, even though they lost their 2008 first-round draft pick due to the whole Spygate business, they still have San Francisco's from a deal they made in 2006. And the Pats managed to acquire a little player named Randy Moss from the Raiders for a fourth-round draft pick, they used on John Bowie. Good going, Oakland; that was a fair deal. I'm sure Bowie is really keeping receivers honest when they play the Raiders' practice squad.

Now, if I were to go off on the Pats' defense, I could be writing all day. However, since it is my Lord and Savior's birthday, I have some important Christian business to attend to (wearing my new Julian Peterson jersey and napping in front of the special edition Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix currently showing on my parents' flatscreen. Therefore, I'll just start wrapping this up now. I think I've paid my dues and hopefully all the anti-Patriots smack I've been talking has been remedied and I've been sufficiently shamed.

In conclusion, I would like to note that my ex-boyfriend Benzo is right about everything having to do with the dominance of the New England Patriots. This is what I get for making bets against the man who originally taught me about football: I was totally schooled, yet again. Thus I lose some face, and Benzo is once again vindicated concerning the inherent glorious awesomeness of the Patriots. Benzo (and every other Pats-loving New Englander I've ever boned) probably would like nothing better under their Christmas trees than my smack-talking ass topless and thoroughly humbled. Well, as Benzo is Jewish, he probably doesn't care about my unwrapped tits being under an actual Jesus-vagina-ejection-commemorating Christmas tree, but you get the point.


Merry Christmas, Patriots fans. We 12th Men will see you in the Super Bowl.

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# posted by Razzy @ 1:09 PM 10 Comments Links to this post

Friday, December 21, 2007

 

Best. Office Holiday Party. Ever.

My friend JerseyGirl works for the bronze medalist of cable news networks, and last night was their parent corporation's holiday party. JerseyGirl promptly got on Gchat to advise me that she planned to take the opportunity to get to work on arranging a date for me with one of my ultimate dream guys: Chris Hansen, the hotness who holds internet pederasts accountable in the most riveting "Dateline NBC" joint EVER..."To Catch a Predator."
JerseyGirl: hey- i'm going to the nbc holiday party in a few minutes -and I REALLY hope chris hansen is there
Razzy: YES
Razzy: find out if he is single
Razzy: and if he wants to meet a cute blonde
JerseyGirl: oh i will
JerseyGirl: how can i do it subtly
Razzy: i don't know, is he chatty?
Razzy: do you know anyone who works with him?
JerseyGirl: i really don't know...
JerseyGirl: no unfortunately
Razzy: well, if he's there
Razzy: see if he has a date
Razzy: 1st and foremost
JerseyGirl: maybe i can say something like "oh you work so many hours, your wife must hate that you're away from home so much"
Razzy: YES
Razzy: and then when he's like, i'm divorced
Razzy: be like, oh i'm sorry to hear that
Razzy: do you like 29-y-o sluts?
Razzy: just kidding
JerseyGirl: lol
JerseyGirl: that is so funny
JerseyGirl: i will find out the deets
Razzy: tell him i do anal
JerseyGirl: okay!
Well, apparently when she got there, Chris Hansen was busy LOLZ-ing about stupid pedophiles with Brian Williams, and thus JerseyGirl was unable to interject herself to play matchmaker, or at least slip Chris Hansen my instant messaging handle. However, she was able to create a rapport, initiate a dialogue, and send me proof that Operation To Catch a Hot Predator Catcher is in full motherfucking effect:

Lucky bitch. I'm so jealous. Why can't I work for NBC Universal? Life isn't fair. However, I can't really hate too much, because thanks to JerseyGirl's intrepid work at establishing first contact, I expect to bag Chris Hansen sometime in Q1 2008. Trust.

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# posted by Razzy @ 4:31 PM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

GO DOLPHINS!

This Sunday, several epic battles will be decided via the greatest sport ever: football, and no, I don't mean bitch-ass soccer. First, I am going to get the $300 I justly deserve for laying waste to the other fools in the Columbia Ballers Fantasy League when I destroy the Js and the Ps in C-Ballers Bowl V. While that will be satisfying and while the cash will buy this alcoholic bitch a lot of Heineken, even more awesome will be when I win a little gentlemen's wager I made with my ex-boyfriend Benzo who is both a native of Assachusetts and a die-hard New England Patriots fan (like every other Pats supporter, he's been a hardcore fan since 2001). This wager concerns the impending epic week 16 battle between the 1-13 Miami Dolphins and the 14-0 Patriots:

I predicted that the Dolphins will beat the Patriots this Sunday, thus ensuring that they remain the only team in the Super Bowl era with a perfect record. I think this is even more likely now that Miami is coming off their first triumphant win of the season last week. They are primed and ready to keep the winning streak alive! Look at how fired up Joey Porter is in spite of his absolutely hideous countenance! He's ready to lay some bitches out in Foxborough. Benzo scoffed at me, as did every other New England-loving Masshole who heard of this. "Miami doesn't play well late in the season on the road," they say. "Ricky Williams is out," they say (because Ricky Williams has done SO much besides smoke pot, do yoga, and sit on his hippie ass the last few years...who cares?). "Cleo Lemon is starting," they say. I say "SO FUCKING WHAT?" back. Stranger things have happened in the NFL. My prediction about Jessica Simpson ruining Tony Romo was correct, and like the Dolphins, I'm gearing up for a big old winning streak!

Anyway, since the terms of this wager will be borne out on the blogosphere, here's what you all have to look forward to.

GO RAZZY!

If I win this bet, Benzo has to not only buy me large volumes of scotch, he will have to take a picture of himself holding one sign that says "PATRIOTS SUCK" and another that says one of the following (totally true) statements:
1. BELICHICK SUCKS DICK
2. BRADY SUCKS DICK
3. BOB KRAFT SUCKS DICK
4. PATRIOTS CHEAT
This picture will then be posted on this very blog, along with a lot of gloating sentiments from me. I tried to also make him wear a Yankees cap and stuff his junk between his legs Buffalo Bill-style as a revolting shot at the tuck rule, but he drew the line at doing those things. Oh well. I guess I'll take free scotch and the satisfaction of seeing Benzo implying that one of his Hatriot idols is exceptionally competent at fellatio.

GO BENZO!

If the Patriots win for Benzo, then I will take a picture of myself topless with "PATRIOTS RULE" written on my tits. I will also write a lengthy blog posting to accompany said photo extolling the Patriots' many virtues and discussing their excellent prospects for continued domination without any sarcasm. I will subsequently tolerate any comments from pro-Assachusetts bastards rubbing in how great the Patriots are. On that post, anyway.

But like that's going to happen. I'm already looking forward to the drinks Benzo will be buying me, as well as seeing his handsome rosy-cheeked visage holding a sign that says, "BELICHICK SUCKS DICK." Prepare to be owned, Benzo.

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# posted by Razzy @ 3:25 PM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Pitbull


Name: Armando Christian "Pitbull" Perez

Alias: Lil' Chico, Mr. 305

DOB: January 14, 1981

Occupation: rapper, hottest drunk driver of all time

Hometown: Miami, Florida

Current residence: Miami, Florida

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I've thought Pitbull was a pretty hot piece ever since he did that song with the Ying Yang Twins and exhorted everyone to "get crunk, get drunk, get loose, get blown", extolled his fondness for "swollen" breast, and repeatedly shouted "dale huevo" (nasty dude). As Michael K. of Dlisted notes, he's "hot in a douche sort of way. He would be the type of dude that keeps his boots on during sex because he thinks it's 'ghetto' or 'hardcore.'" So true.

Further validating Pitbull's hotness is the fact that he got pulled over going 93 mph in a 55 mph zone, and the cop suspected he was fucked up. He asked him to blow a breathalyzer, which he subsequently failed. When the cop went to arrest him, Pitbull waived his right to remain silent and advised the officer of his feelings on the matter: "This is a big waste of your time, papo."

SO AWESOME. If I ever get popped for DUI, right before I say, "I want my lawyer" I am going to say exactly that just to registed my opinion in the hottest manner possible. Unless I get pulled over by King County Sheriff's Deputy David Roscoe Hutchinson IV, in which case I'm going to be like, "Well, you busting me for DUI is certainly ironic given the number of times you've been swerving your fucking Jeep all over highway 18 coming home from the Muckleshoot Casino after losing your girlfriends' money during an epic booze and Texas Hold 'Em binge. You deserve to be the biggest cuckold in all of Puyallup, you fucking dickless tool. Now call HotLawyer."

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# posted by Razzy @ 2:04 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: whoever greenlighted THIS


Name: some dipshit producer who is obviously hitting the Jenkem hard

DOB: yesterday, apparently

Occupation: making piss-poor, straight-to-video movies

Douchebaggery: I absolutely DO NOT understand who has decided that Paris Hilton is a marketable commodity, or that people want to go see a movie in which her "acting" skills are expected to carry the film. Furthermore, they better expect a fucking Sophie's Choice caliber performance out of her if the premise of this movie is that Paris is a "hottie." Paris Hilton reminds me of the Barbie dolls my aunts would give me to discourage what they felt were unladylike pursuits (reading, science, career ambitions, lack of interest in husband-attracting or child-rearing). The Barbies didn't really do the job, because after I'd use them to wage war against and defeat my brother's army of GI Joes and Masters of the Universe figures on account of their comparative Brobdingnagian stature and failed to notice my dog dragging them out into the yard, they would be considerably worse for the wear and decidedly opposed to an image of idealized female beauty. Their hair would turn into a dreadlocked plastic mess, they would have teeth marks in their perma-tiptoed feet, and they would look like they just drank a quart of Ripple spiked with GHB and got gangbanged by a community college basketball team. Despite all her expensive clothes and extensions and Z-list model boyfriends, that's the image Paris invokes for me.

Speaking of revolting images, I would like to remind everyone that while Paris does look better than her co-star the "nottie," the last time I checked, THIS was not hot:

While there are probably some sick fucks who get turned on by genital herpes, most people would not file that under "that's hot." Oh, okay, I think herpes simplex is a hot virus because of its ability to establish latency in dorsal root ganglia and its hot subversion of innate antiviral immune responses, but that doesn't mean I want to lick a snatch covered with it. Just because Paris Hilton is a host for a hot virus doesn't mean anyone in their right mind wants to join her in Club Valtrex.

So note to whoever decided to give the go-ahead to The Hottie and The Nottie: way to cost your production company a lot of money they're not going to recoup. And thanks for cursing modern culture with this monstrosity. Even seeing it on the shelf at Blockbuster is an affront to standards of decency.

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:48 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, December 20, 2007

 

T.O. also hates pink jerseys

Yesterday, I had the following Gchat with HotLawyer:
HotLawyer: Razzy
HotLawyer: Princess HotLawyer owns and wears a PINK Tatupu jersey
Razzy: hey dude
Razzy: tell Princess HotLawyer to chuck that
Razzy: those pink jerseys are shameful!
HotLawyer: they're hot
Razzy: you really think those pink jerseys are hot?
HotLawyer: yes
Razzy: NO!
Razzy: they are the scourge of nfl pro gear
HotLawyer: They rule your ass
Razzy: never
HotLawyer: Plus, we don't look like douchebags when we sport our matching Lofa jerseys
HotLawyer: Lofa! Lofa!
Razzy: you already look like a douchebag wearing the same jersey as your GF!
HotLawyer: trick, please!
I consulted also with my ex-boyfriend Benzo, and he was of the opinion that pink jerseys aren't awesome, but he doesn't care one way or the other. "If I see a hot chick wearing a pink jersey, I'm not going to ignore her just because she's got a pink jersey on." I was totally annoyed that my boys didn't share my staunch anti-pink jersey sentiments. Then again, I can't be too annoyed at a man who squires his lady around Tacoma wearing his-and-hers Tatupu jerseys. I should actually be thankful we don't share the same opinion on this one, as his taste is clearly questionable.

At least one dude agrees with me on the pink jersey and the Jessica Simpson issue. At least one man, a bold soul named Terrell Owens, is brave enough to stand up and say that he doesn't appreciate pink Romo jerseys one bit, at the very least because there is only room for one ridiculously dressed fag hag in Texas Stadium, and that ain't Jessica Simpson. She's pouty because not only did her dumbass, overrated boyfriend deliver the worst performance of his career thanks to her game-killing presence, but because T.O. looks waaaaaaay cuter than her in his sexy women's wear from NFLshop.com:




T.O. had some choice words for Jessica:
"Right now, Jessica Simpson is not a fan favorite -- in this locker room or in Texas Stadium. With everything that has happened, obviously with the way Tony played and the comparison between her and Carrie Underwood, I think a lot of people feel she has taken his focus away. Other than that, she was high on my list until last week."
Translation: Bitch, take your stank, talentless, pink jersey-wearing ass back to wherever Tony Romo's last dumb blonde country-fried bimbo girlfriend went and let him get his mind off your herpetic punani and back on completing passes to me. Up until last week, I would have been willing to tap that ass, but now she's dead to me.

Keep in mind this is coming from a guy whose love for drag queenish blondes is so legendary that it became the most controversial opening for a Monday Night Football game ever. Remember that shit where T.O. ditches the game to go bang Nicolette Sheridan in the Eagles' locker room from two years ago? Here's the YouTube to refresh your memory (and I dare you not to snicker when T.O. says, "Donovan needs me." Hilarious.)


Given Terrell's susceptibility to seduction by such bitches who look like they have to pull a Buffalo Bill-style weiner tuck before getting some pregame ass in the locker room, I'm surprised he's not competing with Tony Romo for Jessica's attention. I would say that it's both because her ass was preventing Romo from completing passes to T.O. in triple coverage, and because he can't get past that fugly, embarrassing, despicable pink Romo jersey! If she'd worn nothing but a towel to ruin the Cowboys' offense in, maybe he'd be more sympathetic.

In any event, T.O. promises more good times in the coming weeks:
"Oh, I got a message for her when we make the playoffs. Just stay tuned."
The message will be something along the lines of, "Keep your pink jersey-rocking ho ass the fuck out of Texas Stadium, bitch," except delivered with Terrell's signature panache. Truly, the playoffs cannot come fast enough.

Oh, and I have a message too: GO SEAHAWKS!

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# posted by Razzy @ 1:07 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Casey Aldridge


Name: Casey Aldridge

DOB: sometime in 1988

Occupation: soon-to-be deadbeat teenage dad, huge fan of "Two-a-Days"

Hometown: CLEARLY somewhere in rural-ass Louisiana

Current residence: Kentwood, Louisiana

Douchebaggery: As usual, I've managed to become rapidly completely engrossed by the distinguished upper-crust family of aristocrats known as the Spears family. The latest news concerning those classy Spears ladies is that Casey Aldridge, Jamie-Lynn's sperminator, is out as quickly as he was in!

Apparently Jamie-Lynn dumped his ass and is excited to be a single working mom just like her big sis. Well, maybe not "working" since chances are "Zoey 101" isn't planning on having its eponymous character get knocked up in between bouts of giggling with her friends and liking cute boys (or whatever happens on that show...I don't watch that tween trash), but a single mom anyway. I have to say this was a good move on Jamie-Lynn's part for a few reasons.

For one thing, Casey started banging Jamie-Lynn when he was 16 and she was 13 when they met at church and he charmed her with his "Two-a-Days" hair (he wants to be Ross, Hoover Buccaneers quarterback, BAD). Gross! Apparently, he may now face statutory rape charges, although it better not be Team Spears filing them. I don't see how you can charge him when Jamie-Lynn's expert Christian mother signed off on them shacking up together when Jamie-Lynn was 14 or 15! Then again, didn't Casey have anything better to do than just impregnating his underaged common law wife? Like GO TO HIGH SCHOOL, for example? Shouldn't he have been taking his SATs or writing an essay on A Separate Peace or going to a Hoover Buccaneers pep rally or some normal 17-year-old activity rather than putting the final touches on his impeccably mussed hick bangs? Don't get me wrong, because I practice-fucked my lame boyfriend plenty of times in cars, parks, beaches, and friends' houses when I was that age, but I was too busy with other stuff (ie: AP tests, obsessing over my ability to play Chopin's repertoire of nocturnes as well as Artur Rubinstein, writing shiteous Sylvia Plath-influenced poetry, other egregious geekery) to think about cohabitating with his broke ass. Casey apparently doesn't have anything going on besides that, because Jamie-Lynn sent his ass packing on account of having no prospects and no maturity.

There is really nothing more humiliating than being dumped by your soon-to-be unemployed teenage baby mama for having no prospects. When you're too much of a useless loser for inbred PWT that emerged from the stagnant sewage puddle that is the Spears gene pool, you've got serious problems. Good luck with life, asshole.


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# posted by Razzy @ 12:04 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: YOU, if you're a computer nerd


Name: your name!

DOB: your DOB!

Occupation: whatever it is, it involves proficiency at blog design and cascading style sheets

Hometown: wherever you're from!

Current residence: wherever you live, but preferably somewhere in the vicinity of NYC

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Last night, I was hanging out with my buddy Mullah AntoniHo. Well, actually, he doesn't want to be called that anymore for fear of being associated with Ahmadinejad who is getting too crazy for even his taste, so now he's going by TAFKAMA--The Artist Formerly Known as Mullah AntoniHo. Anyway, while we indulged in the nectar of the P-N-Dub (Vitamin R AKA tallboy cans of Rainier beer), TAFKAMA was telling me all about his job and how Amazon.com is recognizing his computer genius properly, and I took the opportunity to beg him for his help.

"Dude, I am so incompetent at webmastering, can you help me?"

"You just need a new layout. Your layout sucks," he said in his typical half-amused, half-scornful manner.

"It's because I suck at coding! I can barely wrap my mind around basic HTML!" I said. "And CSS KILLS me. I am so fucking bad at it, I just can't figure it out! It galls me to no end that when you go to the link for an individual entry, my 'RazzyBlog' header isn't there any more. Well, it's there, but it's the same color as the background. I have dicked around with everything in the template and can't change it."

"Yeah, and you should move your blog to your home page, too. All that stuff on there sucks," he added.

"I don't know how! HELP ME!"

I was praying that TAFKAMA would take pity and just fix my shit in like 30 seconds. As long as I've known him, he has been a computer whiz. When we were in high school, and the internets were still in their infancy, he always managed to find disgusting pictures of horse fellatio and other sick shit on Prodigy. I figured that he'd be able to at least tell me how to make the necessary changes, or point me to some nerd who could help.

Unfortunately, it turns out that being able to write crazy programs for Amazon's account management websites doesn't correspond with being able to make simple repairs to a computationally retarded slut's personal blog. TAFKAMA couldn't even tell me which variety of geek I should ask for at the Geek Squad or whatever to help me. He did, however, suggest something that might help.

"Um, hello, dumbass, you have fans on the internet. One of them can probably help you. Or can hook you up with someone who can."

"You think I should just beg shamelessly on my blog?"

"Yes. 'Daily Dude I Want to Hit: YOU, geeks!'"

I thought TAFKAMA might be onto something, so here it is: my shameless plea for help from those of you with competency with html and CSS, or those of you who know someone who might be. PLEASE help me. I am not above prostituting myself for technical support. Seriously, I will fuck your brains out if you can help me out. In fact, I'll blow you just for referring me to someone I can fuck for blog design help. And if you're not into me, I'll hook you up with someone you are into. JUST HELP ME, because currently my geek squad looks like that picture above, and that's working about as well as Chingy!'s diet. In other words, NOT AT ALL.

Seriously, HELP! HELP! HELP!

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:00 AM 3 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

 

FREE KELLS!

JerseyGirl just alarmedly Gchatted me to advise me that a bench warrant has been issued for Robert Sylvester Kelly! NO!!!!!!

Apparently, his tour buses got pulled over going over 100 miles in Utah, and the cops wanted to see some paperwork that they didn't have, and blah blah blah. The cops took the buses out of service, and Kells couldn't grab a flight back to the Chi in time for his court date. Consequently, the judge is giving him until tomorrow to show up before the warrant is enforced.

Thank GOD, because any minute that the Pied Piper of R&B spends behind bars is too damn long. He needs to be free as a bird to sing dulcet lines like "you can call me the man of steel cause that ass is like a magnet" and "comin' down the pole, no secret why I'm here...because you keep my donk on swole." He needs to be free to roam Chi-town blessing the unsuspecting populace with his mackadelic nightspot realness. He needs to be off in this Jeep, fogging windows up. Where he does NOT need to be is cooling his heels in the clink at the expense of the Illinois taxpayers because some assholes in Utah were sticklers about his tour bus. Free Kells!

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:19 PM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Banging skanks with fake hair=INTs galore

When I was perusing the cover of Us Weekly seeing the (quickly forgettable compared to Ok!'s Jamie-Lynn Spears exclusive) cover story about Heidi Montag, I noted with a certain satisfaction that my prediction has come true. What prediction, you ask? The one where I said that Jessica Simpson would be singlehandedly responsible for the catastrophic implosion of the Dallas Cowboys this postseason since her vagina dentata got hold of Tony Romo's dick. Well, even Us Weekly is taking note of this! Previously Us Weekly's NFL coverage involved stories about exactly how much Bridget Moynahan HATES Tom Brady, and how Tom Brady can't be bothered to do more than occasionally pretend to like baby JET, because he's banging Gisele. However, now Us Weekly is validating what I knew to be true a solid week ago: Jessica Simpson is destroying the Cowboys by taking out their QB.


Here's a better picture of this goddess of failure and discord casting her accursed gaze all over Texas Stadium:

You can almost see her bad vibes emanating from that dumb bitch pouty face she makes. PLUS, I have ZERO respect for bitches who wear those pink jerseys. It's not like wearing a normal Cowboys jersey would butch her up to the point where we'd be questioning her femininity. Those pink jerseys--and all their companion products (pink baseball caps, pink knit caps, pink headbands, etc.)--represent one reason why the end of days might just be imminent. For years, I've been bemoaning the lack of jerseys that flatter a hot set of tits like mine available on NFLshop.com, but they finally get their act together to expand their women's products and make everything fucking PINK? FUCK THAT! I'm more against those pink jerseys than I am against raisins, spiders, or the war in Iraq. But I digress.

I'm just excited that my assessment about how Tony Romo would rather see his jersey in pink on the worthless drag queenish human blow-up doll he's sticking his dick into than lead his bitch-ass team to the Super Bowl was correct. For one thing, I hate the Cowboys. Granted, the Cowboys aren't at Shitsburgh Stealers, New England Hatriots, or Indianapolis Colts level of hate induction, but they're certainly up in the second tier of teams I detest alongside the St. Louis Rams, the New York Giants, and the Philadelphia Eagles. I am glad that my prediction that Jessica Simpson is the key to their doom is coming true. For another, it's great for the Seahawks, as a Simpson weakened Cowboys team makes the NFC even easier to completely conquer. And finally, I think it's what Tony Romo deserves.

I don't know why, I just get some bad vibes from Tony Romo. He seems like he's probably swinging around a respectable enough weiner, but he strikes me as a shoulder-pusher. In case you are unfamiliar with this term, a shoulder-pusher is a dude who expresses his desire for a blowjob in the most obnoxious manner possible: by just shoving on your shoulders and/or head to force you down into the vicinity of his crotch. Whenever I encounter one of these guys, I just want to say, "Oh, really, you want me to give you head? Shocking, because if there's one thing guys HATE, it's getting head! Thanks for subtly indicating this to me by trying to wrangle my face down onto your dick via physical buffoonery, because it never would have occured to me to fellate your dumb ass otherwise!" God, the quickest way to ensure I DON'T suck your cock is to shoulder-push. Tony Romo seems like the kind of guy who resorts to shoulder-pushing as his go-to move. Sadly, that sort of thing works with dumb hos like Jessica. In fact, they think it means the guy really cares about them. Deeply.

Anyway, one other reason I'm stoked that Jessica is singlehandedly ruining the Cowboys is that it means my forecasting the football future is on point. That means I've got a very good chance about being right about the Dolphins beating the Patriots this Sunday. Which means Benzo is going to owe me some drinks and will be embarrassing himself on the internets. In the words of DJ Unk, I've got predictions like they Cleo's. Except unlike Miss Cleo the fraudulent Ja-Fake-An psychic lesbian, my predictions are right! TRUST!

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# posted by Razzy @ 3:32 PM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Heidi Montag


Name: Heidi Montag

DOB: September 15, 1986

Occupation: "reality" TV whore, some variety of wannabe singer, some type of glorified receptionist at Bolthouse Productions

Hometown: Crested Butte, Colorado

Current residence: West Hollywood, California

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Frankly, Heidi Montag by any normal sentient being's standard is abysmally stupid. However, when compared to some of her co-stars on "The Hills"--namely Audrina and Whitney--she looks like fucking Einstein. Well, if not Einstein, then at least Doogie Howser, M.D. There was just one thing mitigating her comparatively higher intellect: her relationship with Spencer Pratt. The use of "douchebag" as a pejorative descriptor was invented to describe this fuckwit. I was thoroughly unimpressed when he gave her a big cubic zirconium and proposed to make up for Heidi's choosing him over her relationship with ex-BFF Lauren Conrad. Then, with each passing week, JerseyGirl, HillsYes, Senioritis, and myself would choke on whatever white trash cuisine I was teaching JerseyGirl how to cook as Spencer continued to surpass his own previous demonstrations of skeeziness. Just look at this creep:

I would expect to see Spencer showing up for frozen lemonade at some 13-year-old's house only to be confronted by the hotness that is Chris Hansen inquiring about his interest in doing anal to a minor. For some reason (ratings), Heidi decided to accept his proposal of marriage despite his constant assclownery, and consequently had to put up with his decorating their apartment in vintage arcade games (Centipede, Galaga), and his trying to talk her into eloping to Vegas for their wedding, and spying on her instant message conversations, and generally being a detestable prick. Normally, Heidi would have nothing short of my disdain and scorn for agreeing to wed such a loser. However, since she has now decided to dump his ass, I must applaud her.

Heidi's breaking this engagement means that Spencer is only going to be giving us a serious case of the shudders for a couple episodes this next season before he gets straight kicked to the curb. No more Z-list fame for Spencer (the) Pratt! At least, until he makes an appearance on "To Catch a Predator." So, thank you, Heidi, for coming to your senses and hastening this asshole's exit from the not-really-limelight he is currently enjoying. Just for that, I'd tap her ass hard enough to put some serious fuck-knots in what HillsYes calls her "Texas blowout" hairstyle.

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# posted by Razzy @ 1:28 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: bastard baby daddy sperm


Name: X or Y

DOB: whenever it underwent meiosis

Occupation: knocking bitches up

Hometown: some dude's scrote

Current residence: in some slags' eggs

Douchebaggery: Jesus Christ, is pregnancy fucking catching right now? I woke up this morning excited to see that six Seahawks made the Pro Bowl and was subsequently sent into an immediate tailspin upon receipt of a text from LL Cool Jew reading "Jamie Lynn Spears pregnant!" WHA...????

Sure enough, I got on the internets and realized that being on the West Coast and in "vacation mode" (meaning I'm only staring obsessively at my computer screen for a couple hours a day instead of twenty) means I am behind the fucking times. Jamie-Lynn is not the only one jumping on the bastard bandwagon, either. The gossip websites I frequent are NOTHING but pregnancy news. Here are the breaking stories:

Jamie-Lynn Spears

This dumb 16-year-old proved that she's not all that different from her big sis when it comes to irresponsible procreation. Now all the tweens can kiss their "Zoey 101" goodbye because Nickelodeon doesn't let sluts have their own TV shows. What's amazing about Jamie-Lynn is that her 16-year-old ass was LIVING WITH her baby daddy. I am almost thirty and have never officially cohabitated with anyone, and I shudder imagining what my mother would have said if I decided to shack up with my boyfriend when I was in high school! In spite of apparently letting Jamie-Lynn live in sin with the doppelganger of Ross the quarterback from "Two-a-Days," Lynne (matriarch of the clan Spears) is now upset because her book on CHRISTIAN PARENTING is being delayed indefinitely. Because letting one's fame whore 16-year-old kid move in with her hick 19-year-old boyfriend is a church-approved strategy for rearing exemplary Jesus-loving daughters not susceptible to teen pregnancy. Then again, whatever Christian publisher decided to seek parenting advice from the woman who brought up the legendary Ms. Britney Spears has clearly been hitting the Jesus juice a little too hard.

Jessica Alba

I guess some people (ie: my brother Lil' Tevie) think this slag is hot, but I think the homeless guys wandering around the A train giving their "I don't steal, I am a homeless person, I am just trying to get something to eat, I don't use drugs or alcohol" spiel are more accomplished thespians than the sour-faced Ms. Alba. This bitch gives Katherine Heigl a run for her money in the uptight, humorless snatch department. You know that she's the type who can't open her mouth without a complaint coming out of it. Frankly, her endless bitching and nagging really detracts from the sexiness of those DSLs she's famous for. Speaking of, I bet the sorry stubby-dicked fuck who knocked her up gets blown once a Leap Year and it's a good month where she consents to let him to stick it in in missionary with her shirt on and all the lights off. I can totally see her being one of those "are you done yet?" type of harpie lays. She's a far cry from girls like me, who practically floss with dick. The only joy I take in knowing that she's going to be an even more insufferably lame twat once she adds "mother" to her title is that in a few months she'll be a fat, bloated mess, and I will laugh. Heartily.

Fantasia Barrino

Who knew Fantasia was effing Young Dro? I guess since his mentor Clifford "T.I." Harris is having this little hassle with federal felony weapons charges for trying to purchase a "chopper" from undercover ATF agents and thus can't produce the follow-up single to "Shoulder Lean," Young Dro has lots of time to stick his dick in the former American Idol or whatever Fantasia is famous for. I don't blame him, because you know Fantasia is a freak. You can see it in her eyes. And Young Dro said it himself: "My girl got a girlfriend." I imagine that some Belladonna-type shit is probably going to go on with these two throughout their bastard's gestation. Okay, MAYBE breast milk enemas are a little extreme, but I can see them getting down with a Louisville Slugger. Fantasia seems like she can handle that variety of rough anal with expert flair.

Lily Allen

Let's see: fat, ugly, bad hair, and smoking while pregnant with an older man's illegitimate spawn...are we sure Lily Allen is really British? Because that's some trashtastic Puyallup shit right there. I hate this cooze, and I can't wait for her to get fat too. Go figure that Lily Allen decided to become even more annoying than she already is by unleashing another hateful child upon the world. I can't wait until, thanks to her knocked up smoking and probable boozing, her kid comes out more retarded and worthless than her next album is going to be.

Anyway, it's unplanned baby season, y'all! Christmas is totally when hookers get knocked up. I don't know why, but women are extra fertile during Jesus season, and it sure does suck. I myself got a case of the pregs a few Christmases back, and I was on the pill and everything. Granted, that didn't really matter because it's not like I got pregnant by getting cream pies from my entire stable of P-N-Dub hoes. An angel actually appeared to me, introduced himself as Gabriel, and congratulated me on being chosen as having a uterus worthy of Jesus part II. Then he showed up a little later and was like, "Uh, there was a mix-up at the Mother of God selection office, and it turns out that not only were you not conceived without sin, you're actually not a virgin." In spite of my protests that I'm a good Catholic girl and that's a filthy lie that haters are spreading because they are jealous of my chaste purity. Gabriel wasn't buying it. "Sorry about that, but it looks like the Apocalypse will have to wait until we can find someone who meets our heavenly standards for Christ-bearing. In the meantime, Razzy, off to the clinic with you!"

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:24 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

 

Mae yao jeh huan

Last Friday was my platonic life partner J-Sexy's farewell party for her tits. She's getting a breast reduction this Friday. Before all the breast men and women out there gasp, never fear. She's going from a triple D to just a single D, so she'll still have a great rack, but considerably less back pain.

Anyway, to wish her cans Godspeed and safe passage, we went to this restaurant on the Upper West Side which has the distinction of offering FREE WINE with dinner. Of course the wine comes from a box labeled "Franzia," but swill is swill and drunks like us will suck it down anyway with cheap-ass Chinese food.

After dinner, I realized that in addition to the free hooch and the tasty scallion pancakes, they actually have the most accurate fortune cookies in the world. Most of the time I immediately forget my fortune, unless it's something too striking to ignore. In college, I got a fortune that said, "You have a future in medical research." TRUE! I kept that one in my wallet for years. In fact, I might still have it in my box of college crap. On Friday, I got another equally true fortune.

"Holy shit, dudes," I said as I opened it. "On the back, my fortune is teaching me how to say 'still single' in Chinese. Mae yao jeh huan. It even clarifies that 'still single' means 'not married'!"

"You lying bitch!" said J-Sexy. "That is ridicolos. It does not say 'still single'!"

"Yes, it does!" I showed her. Then I flipped it over to see my fortune. Nothing could be more fitting than this:


The only way that cookie could be more right is if it said "SHA RIGHT" instead of "yeah, right!" And it was a true predictor of the future. Indeed, I did not avoid the opposite sex. Or the same sex, for that matter. It might as well have just taught me how to say "I'm a slut" in Chinese. Which, now that I think of it, would be useful to know.

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# posted by Razzy @ 1:46 PM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Tyra Banks


Name: Tyra Lynne Banks

DOB: December 4, 1973

Occupation: ex-supermodel, host of the worst talk show on TV, the scourge of "America's Next Top Model," aficionado of appallingly bad fake hair, sanctimonious pain in the ass, CHEAP BITCH

Hometown: Inglewood, California

Current residence: New York, New York

Douchebaggery: I have a lot of reasons to hate Tyra Banks. Every Wednesday, J-Sexy and I get together to stuff our faces with white trash cuisine and audibly scoff at Tyra's obnoxious preaching about how to "smile with your eyes" in between her horribly affected lapses into faux-ebonics and other varieties of ridiculous assclownery with Miss J the runway coach on "America's Next Top Model." Half the fun of watching that show is watching Tyra talk about modeling like it's rocket science and she is J. Robert Oppenheimer, and consequently mocking her.

Even worse than her patronizing dumb bitches on "America's Next Soon-to-Be Forgotten Model" is her behavior on that clusterfuck of a daytime talk show she does. Almost every time I accidentally watch some of that trash, she's got a porn star on and she is getting busy with the morality sermons. I don't know what exactly Tyra hates so much about porn, but she DESPISES it. Clearly Tyra doesn't have a very active masturbation life (unlike--ahem--me), because if she did, she would be too busy rubbing one off to the porn stars she has on her show to waste time publicly shaming them. Tyra truly blames pornography for everything from divorce rates to adultery to violent crime to the Holocaust. Okay, I don't know if she's managed to actually blame the Holocaust on porn, but trust that she would if she could. I think she's just hating because so many porn stars (ie: Tyra Banxxx and the hotness that is Briana Banks) named themselves after her. Anyone who opposes porn AND makes dumb wannabe models wear unflattering Ken Paves weaves that are as astoundingly piss-poor and cheap as her own is no friend of mine.

And speaking of cheap, that's what Tyra Banks is. Apparently, after making her entire staff either look for new jobs or relocate to NYC with her talk show, she decided to thank the ones who moved by stiffing them in the holiday bonus department. Then, she had some party on the Lower East Side for them with no hors d'oeuvres and drinks only. I wouldn't complain about that, as I prefer a liquid diet anyway, but I would be insulted by what happened next. Tyra showed up for around five minutes to announce, "Santa's here!" Then some asshole in a Santa outfit came in to hand out McDonald's cheeseburgers to everyone, which was Tyra's cue to bail and head to Italy. Her staff was so disgruntled that a drunken brawl ensued.

Oh, thanks, Tyra, you fat fucking cow, for so generously making everyone on your staff an official Dollar Menunaire. I bet they are all delighted to have moved across the country for the opportunity to book porn stars for you to trash and eat the pathetic Mickey D's your Scroogish ass deigned to purchase for them before you ran off. No wonder they started a fucking physical altercation. They had to find some way of expressing their rage that Tyra is cheaper than her busted tracks.

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:49 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Adrian Peterson


Name: Adrian Lewis Peterson

DOB: March 21, 1985

Occupation: running back for the Minnesota Vikings

Hometown: Palestine, Texas

Current residence: Eden Prairie, Minnesota

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Thanks to Adrian Peterson's performance against the Bears last night, I do not have to play my friend NeisMan's all-Patriots team in the Columbia Ballers fantasy league Super Bowl V. Oh, right...I guess I should gloat about mention the fact that THA RAZZIES ARE GOING TO MY FANTASY LEAGUE SUPER BOWL!!!!

Even though the Dolphins are going to destroy the Patriots next Sunday (TRUST!), I was a little nervous about playing NeisMan's lineup of Tom Brady, Randy Moss, and the Pats DST. I was thus rooting for Adrian Peterson, running back for the J's and the P's, to have a great game last night. During the first half, Adrian--and the rest of the Vikes' offense, for that matter--didn't do jack shit and I was getting concerned. However, Brad Childress Major Dad, the Vikings coach, must have given one hell of a rousing talk in the locker room at halftime, because Adrian owned the Bears during the second half.

Now, I just need Adrian Peterson to get in some sort of horrible car accident that causes a broken leg or some other season-ending injury before next Sunday so that I can defeat the J's and the P's. Last time I played them, I barely won smoked that ass like a Christmas ham. The J's and P's may be the football pride of Hamburg now that NFL Europe has folded and the Sea Devils are no more, but I'm about to prove why America rules this Sunday when I become league champion as well as league commissioner. U!S!A! U!S!A!

Oh, and Adrian Peterson's not too bad looking, either. I'd hit that. More than once.

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:49 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Monday, December 17, 2007

 

THE WORST PICK-UP LINE EVER

I love Christmastime. 'Tis the season to be merry and I really am pretty damn merry throughout the month of December! Over the weekend, to celebrate this merriment, a group of us went out drinking (what else). We were at this fun dive bar downtown, having a really great ole' time … until one total d-bag tried to ruin our fun-filled Saturday.

Kodiak and I were standing the bar, talking to another couple. The two guys went off to get more drinks, while Sarah and I stood there talking. Suddenly, our conversation was interrupted with:
"So … are you two sisters?" (This is not the worst pick-up line in the history of the world.)

This guy was not cute at all - in fact he was short and bald. Let's call him Short Bald Guy (SBG). So we decided to give him the cold shoulder by saying, "Um, noo," really snotty and then proceeding on with our conversation as if nothing had happened.

Well, this short little midget man was mighty perceptive, and picked up on our disinterest, and thus fired back:

"Hey, hey I'm the married one of the bunch, don't worry, I'm not trying to pick you up. But I've got my two friends with me and they're single."

Sarah responds to this idiotic backtracking by saying, "Did you not notice the two extremely tall men that were standing with us the whole time? They're our boyfriends."

"So? Ditch them. I guarantee you'd have a better time with my friends."

Now - this statement just really irks me. How the hell would this guy know, let alone GUARANTEE that I'm going to have a better time with two perfect strangers than with my boyfriend whom I love and have been dating for almost a year? But beyond that - when a lady tells a fella that she has a boyfriend, and that, um, he's with her at the bar, it's time to let that ship sail and move on to some other unsuspecting prey. Which is exactly what happened after I ended the conversation with:

"We're not interested. But thanks."

Sarah and I finally went back to our conversation, until we were interrupted again a few minutes later. But this time it was not by short, bald guy - it was by my friend HillsYes!

***A quick note about HillsYes! that will be important to the rest of this story. HillsYes! looks like the quintessential, blonde, California girl. She's so cute, and sweet and talks with a totally endearing valley-girl accent***

"I'm sorry to interrupt you guys, but I have to tell you something. You know that short, bald guy over there … well, I was talking to Liz and I guess I said something like 'Oh my Gahhhhhddd' in my valley-girl way, and that short, bald guy came over to me and said 'OH MY GAHHHHHHHDDDDDDD' and started making fun of the way I talk."

Ah, yes, this makes perfect sense. A short, bald guy pushing 40 decides that the best possible way to broach a conversation with this hot young thang is to insult her. Thank God Elliot, one of our friends, overheard this all and said in his very cute British accent, "Mate, if you're going to try to talk to a girl, you've got to come up with a better line than that." Yeah, no duh!

HillsYes! finished her story and I was infuriated. INFURIATED at what had just transpired. This rage was founded on many reasons, but mostly because HillsYes! is just the prettiest thing you've ever seen, not to mention one of the sweetest girls. Why did this stupid, short, bald guy have to ruin our holiday cheer?

I've also got a few drinks in me. Plus, my boyfriend's at the bar. As well as a few other very tall, big ready-to-kick-your-ass-if-you-insult-one-of-our-girls guy friends. I was untouchable and decided to seize the moment.

I marched myself right up to Short Bald Guy said to him, "So, why exactly did you think you're allowed to insult my friend? Because you're not."

To which SBG responded, "Hey I wasn't talking to you, so why don't you butt out of it?"

"Um, actually she's one of my best friends, so this is exactly my business. Secondly, where the hell did you get the idea that the best way to pick up a lady is by making fun of her?"

He really had no response to that one, so instead said something totally lame like how I was just pissed that he didn't try to pick me up.

To which I responded: "Well, first of all, yes you did. And more importantly, you're short and bald and that's really not my thing!"

Then I broke out into what Kodiak calls my "sex dance." Sometimes after we have sex, and I have a really good O (orgasm) I jump out of bed and do a little jig, sort of like a touchdown dance in the endzone. I'm just really excited that I've had an awesome O, so I do a little dance. Anyway, I did the sex dance right in his face, and then all of my friends screamed, "Ohhhhhhhh!!!!!" and we laughed and actually pointed in his face for about a full 60 seconds.

This was one of the most satisfying moments of my life, because SBG just stood there, completely dumbfounded, unable to believe that a woman had put him in his place, nonetheless in front of his two buddies. He looked so stupid, and so short and bald. It was awesome.

But this is my question to all you Razzy readers - WHY on God's earth would this man ever insult my beautiful friend? Is teasing really an acceptable method of hitting on a girl, past the age, of say, twelve? Why wouldn't he just go up to her and say, "Hey, come here often?" Or, "Wow, it's really cold outside," or "Hey- you're really pretty," or ANYTHING that is not a direct insult to the lady in question?

Can anybody out there answer this question for me?

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# posted by Annimal @ 8:04 PM 5 Comments Links to this post
 

This is why MSNBC is the bronze medalist of cable news networks

My friend JerseyGirl works for MSNBC, and she'll be the first to say that their afternoon material is CRAP. Here is a classic example of their afternoon anchor, Contessa Brewer (and JerseyGirl swears up and down this is her real name), fucking up hilariously. This isn't quite as awesome as when Shepard Smith on America's most freedom-loving news channel said that Jennifer Lopez's block in the Bronx would rather give her a "curb job than a blow job," but it's nonetheless an excellent analysis of the race for the Democratic presidential nomination.

I guess that saying "Clinton and Obama are neck and neck" is just too trite and used, so Contessa decided to compare their "dead heat" to another body part.

Awesome. From now on, I predict that a lot of my lab meeting talks are going to involve discussing whether or not my data is "statestically" significant, and my fantasy football shit-talking will revolve around directing my detractors and opponents to look at various player "statesticles." In fact, the word "statistic" is dead to me. Dead!

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# posted by Razzy @ 3:34 PM 2 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Puyallup, Washington



Name: Puyallup, Washington

DOB: 1890

Occupation: doing itself, daffodils, farming, methamphetamine, volcano evacuation routes

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Ahhh...my sweet home town. Beautiful Puyallup (which, by the way, is pronounced "pew-ah-lup") is known for many things, including its tribal casinos on the reservation for which the town and its major river is named, its notorious state fair, its world-famous daffodils, its imminent destruction by the happening anytime eruption of Mt. Rainier, and its production of NFL quarterback busts (the brothers Huard, Billy Joe Hobert). Lucky me, I am here now enjoying the lovely overcast skies, the many evergreen trees, my dad's garage filled with homebrewed beer, and my parents' fridge filled with food. Hopefully, I'll soon also be enjoying some quality time with some of my many honeys here in the P-N-Dub, which means you'll all soon be enjoying more hilarious stories of my drunken and/or sexual antics.

In the meantime, you can pre-funk by checking out Puyallup's Wikipedia page and wishing you were from here, too (in case you're wondering, I'm from secessionist South Hill, although I'm a Puyallup loyalist). I mean, YOUR hometown wasn't founded by a dude who put up mile markers on the Oregon Trail named Ezra Meeker (whose grave, incidentally, I totally smoked pot and then fucked my boyfriend on). YOUR hometown's famous Fair didn't double as an internment camp ("Camp Harmony") in World War II! YOUR hometown doesn't have a four-part daffodil parade! Jealous? I thought so.

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# posted by Razzy @ 2:09 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Deputy David Roscoe Hutchinson IV


Name: David Roscoe Hutchinson IV

Nickname: Hutch

DOB: May 22, 1977

Occupation: King County sheriff's deputy, shitty ex-boyfiend (okay, that was a typo but I'm leaving it, it works)

Hometown: Puyallup, Washington

Current residence: Puyallup, Washington

Douchebaggery: Hutch is my friend MillerTime's ex-fiance, and I am calling him out here at her request. Well, I'm also doing it because THANK GOD she broke up with him and they aren't getting married, because in my opinion he was a total asshole and fully worthy of a public douchebagging. I always got on well enough with Hutch because I had to, but it did not escape my notice that Hutch was not a nice guy to MillerTime, and not the kind of guy I want to see one of my best girlfriends marry.

For one thing, he was lazy and expected MillerTime to practically wipe his ass for him. MillerTime is the kind of girl who has some serious mother hen instincts, and every time I would go over to their condo, she'd be in the middle of doing his laundry or making him dinner. I would be like, "Are we going to go out drinking or what? Hutch can fold his own damn boxer shorts." MillerTime would insist that sometimes Hutch did do his own laundry, but in the five years they dated and lived together, I don't think I ever once saw him go near their washing machine except to dig through the dryer for something he wanted and subsequently bitch at MillerTime that she hadn't gotten around to washing it yet.

As evidenced by his contributions to domestic life, Hutch had a grossly unfair view of the roles in their relationship. He would get all over MillerTime for things that he did himself with impunity. For example, MillerTime came to visit me in New York last spring, and Hutch called her to bitch about how much money she was spending. In truth, because we'd attended a wedding, and all the rehearsals and bachelorette parties and stuff associated with it, MillerTime spent a lot less money than she could have if we had just gone out to restaurants and bars every night. However, Hutch bitched at her anyway, in spite of the fact that during the same conversation, he informed her that he loaned his buddy $1500 out of their savings one night when they were drunk at the casino. When MillerTime got off the phone, I was like, "I don't understand...it's okay for him to give Wick $1500 fucking dollars out of YOUR SAVINGS, but it's not okay for you to buy a stupid I heart NY t-shirt for $5 and then get some drinks? That's bullshit!" MillerTime agreed. Their relationship was progressing very rapidly toward its doom at that point.

During her visit to New York, MillerTime picked up the habit of drinking a beer while watching TV from me and continued this upon her return to the P-N-Dub. Hutch started to berate her for being "an alcoholic" on the basis that she was having beer "for no reason." In Hutch's mind, normal drinking behavior is to drink only when you plan on consuming so much alcohol that you black out and/or transform into an entirely different (and by no means improved) person. Having one or two beers to unwind is a drinking problem, but binge drinking yourself into oblivion--and then DRIVING--is healthy and safe. Hutch actually used this line to kidnap his and MillerTime's dog Stretch when they broke up. Because MillerTime is an alcoholic with her one or two beers on a school night, she isn't a fit dog mother. I keep telling MillerTime that if she wants to go break into his apartment and get Stretch back, I'll totally help her get all Not Without My Daughter on Hutch's bitch ass and smuggle that dog back up to the safe side of Puyallup where he belongs.

Dognapping on a trumped-up charge of unfit parenting isn't the only grossly unfair bullshit Hutch has pulled. In the paragraph before I mentioned that Hutch actually has a much more serious drinking problem than MillerTime. He might drink less frequently, but when he does, he drinks inordinately more and does far, FAR worse things than MillerTime. For one thing, he sees nothing wrong with hopping behind the wheel of his Jeep after a shot of Wild Turkey or twenty and driving home from the casino, which I think everyone can agree is an excellent example for a police officer to set. However, when MillerTime would go out and stay at my or some other friend's house because she didn't want to drive drunk, Hutch would call and berate her for not coming home. Also, as I alluded to before, when he drinks, he likes to get his compulsive gambling on with his buddies. Sometimes this means him lending large sums of cash to his buddies when they hit an unlucky streak at the Pai Gow table. Sometimes this means him withdrawing large sums of cash for himself, because GOD FORBID he should be deprived of the opportunity to play video slots while he drinks himself stupid. One time, right before they broke up, Hutch withdrew almost the entire balance on his and MillerTime's joint checking account, and they almost weren't able to pay their mortgage because of it. Yet somehow, MillerTime always ended up being the one accused of being irresponsible.

Hutch is also downright mean. One time we were all out at a bar and ran into one of his ex-girlfriends. For no reason other than to be a dick, he spent the entire night dancing and flirting with her for MillerTime's benefit. Another time, Hutch crashed at my house one time and jumped into my bed with me. I am absolutely certain that had I not told him to go away, he would have hooked up with me. What kind of asshole tries to hook up with his girlfriend's best friend? Unlike him, MillerTime can trust me, so it wasn't going to happen then or EVER, but I took note of that behavior. I thought it was indicative of a deeper character flaw, and it turns out I was right. Hutch was also mean about the way he proposed to MillerTime. MillerTime is the kind of girl who really likes the idea of a big, romantic wedding, and naturally, she'd been waiting four and a half years for her proposal. When Hutch FINALLY got around to getting her ring and proposing, he told her it was hidden somewhere in their condo. After laughing at MillerTime tearing the place apart for twenty minutes, he revealed that he had it in his pocket all along and just wanted to see how long it would take for her to figure it out. That's how every romantically-minded girl pictures her engagement: being mocked by her fiance for wanting to get married to him.

Finally, Hutch had a big problem with urination. He was one of those guys who gets up in the middle of the night drunk and pisses in odd places, like closets, or on walls, or in shoes. On the night that I summarily booted Hutch out of my bed, he took a piss on top of my coffee table. I noticed the next day when I went downstairs and noticed that the lace tablecloth by where Hutch had been sleeping was wet. I thought that was odd, since I didn't see any glasses or beer bottles or any other potential source of liquid around. Then I sniffed it and sure enough...URINE. I called up MillerTime.

"Dude, your boyfriend pissed on my coffee table."

"WHAT?!"

"Hutch pissed on my coffee table! The tablecloth is soaked! It smells like piss."

"Are you sure it wasn't Caesar?" Caesar was a puppy then, and had his fair share of accidents.

"Caesar is big, but he can't lift his leg THAT high. I mean, the top of the coffee table is covered. He even managed to fill up the ashtray on top of the coffee table!"

"Oh, Jesus, dude, I'm sorry. Don't say anything to him, though, he'll be embarrassed."

At the time, I respected MillerTime's request to help her man save face. However, now that she's on board with my view that he's a FUCKING ASSHOLE, I might as well share this story with the internets. And in case you ever happen to be driving around south King County, Washington (somewhere in the neighborhood of Kent, Auburn, Des Moines, etc.) and you get pulled over by an asshole sheriff's deputy by the name of "Hutchinson," you can tell him that not only are you well aware that HE drives drunk and pisses on people's furniture, but that he is a mean-spirited dick who didn't fuck his girlfriend properly and then stole her dog. It might not stop him from arresting you, but trust that it will sure embarrass him down at the sheriff's station in front of all his macho cop buddies.

Oh, and Hutch, by the way...there was also a reason why your girlfriend was calling you "Razzy" when your name is "David." If you're going to make your girlfriend clean up after your bitch ass like the worthless chauvinistic asshole that you are, you should at least put out once in a while to reward her for going through the trouble of scrubbing the skidmarks out of your boxer briefs. It's the least you could do, you selfish prick.

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:34 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Saturday, December 15, 2007

 

Barry Bonds got with "the program"

I was hanging out with JerseyGirl the other day watching the freshly dropped "Beverly Hills, 90210" season 3 DVDs, and we got to discussing our favorite Peach Pit regular Steve Sanders's proficiency as David Silver's manager. Season 3 is awesome because it really showcases young David Silver's burgeoning abilities as a rapper, culminating in the great moment at the homecoming dance when he singlehandedly dispels racial tensions between West Beverly and Compton High via his hip-hop skills. JerseyGirl pointed out that Steve Sanders probably had good connections which would help him as a talent manager, as his mother is the famous Samantha Sanders, beloved TV mom and star of "The Hartley House." Then she wondered what his father did.

"Rush Sanders? He was an investor of some kind. He owned part of the Peach Pit After Dark for a while." I said.

"I don't even remember Rush Sanders," said JerseyGirl.

"Oh my GOD, really? He wasn't on the show very often, but when he was it was quality. Dude, don't you remember the father-son golf tournament at Rush's country club where they played against Barry Bonds and his dad?"

"Barry Bonds, like steroid Barry Bonds?"

"Yes, dude!" I couldn't believe JerseyGirl forgot this episode, as she (like me) should have an honorary doctorate in Bev Niner lore. It was one of the finer celebrity athlete guest appearances on Niner, in the same class as when Steve Young showed up at the Walsh house to play a little two-hand touch with the gang on Thanksgiving. I remembered Barry Bonds wearing one of the most hideous shirts in the history of patterned fabric (eclipsed only by the appalling cardigan sweater Rush wears to the links).

Ironically, the moral of the entire episode was that cheaters never prosper, because Rush was using some kind of weighted illegal golf ball and it wasn't sitting well with Steve. In fact, at one point Rush says in defense of his "superballs" something along the lines of, "Well, those Bondses would do it to us!"

This episode was from a later season of Niner--maybe season 5 or 6--that hasn't dropped on DVD yet so I had to pray that it was on YouTube. THANK GOD.


It's certainly fitting that Barry Bonds would be battling against Steve Sanders, since both of them have had their trouble with performance enhancing substances. In season two, Steve got mixed up with steroids while a member of the West Beverly track team. Instead of "the cream" or "the clear," they were on something called "the program." Naturally Brandon joins the track team as the least conspicuous undercover reporter in the history of investigative journalism and spends most of his tenure there delivering sanctimonious lectures on the dangers of drugs, while Steve undergoes some truly hilarious roid rage mood swings (I believe he punches a locker and calls someone a "butthead"). I'm sure Brandon would have gotten the Pulitzer for his shocking expose if only he could have gotten somebody's mistress to come forward to tell tales of "program"-induced bacne.

And OF COURSE Barry Bonds, then as now, acts like a total asshole throughout the episode. Barry taunts Steve's golf game ("maybe you want to hit it for him, Rush"), then laughs at his misforutne when he promptly slices his drive into the deep rough. Like the classy guy he is, Barry responds to a spat Steve and Rush get into by asking, "Can you work out your family problems some other time? We've got a tournament to win."

The best part is when Barry Bonds asks Rush, "You got some kind of secret weapon?" While on the episode it was his magic balls, one knows that Barry once asked Greg Anderson of BALCO Laboratories the same question and got with "the program." Once again, "Beverly Hills, 90210" proves to be just as relevant now as when it aired back in the twilight of the twentieth century. Bev Niner is the best show ever! PERIOD! You all need to make like Steve Sanders and Barry Bonds and get with the program.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:06 PM 0 Comments Links to this post

Friday, December 14, 2007

 

Merry Pre-Christmas

I am probably going to be a little quiet on the blog front the next couple days because, like with everyone else, it's holiday party season and I have a number of engagements on my calendar. I also have to finish up some shit in lab, finish some shit for my job in the patent office, finish cleaning my apartment (sha), finish packing (which will be right after I start packing), and finish getting my dogs situated with their sitters. Then I have to haul my ass off to JFK and pray that the snowstorm doesn't delay me in returning to the land from whence I came: the verdant, overcast P-N-Dub.

I know that it will be difficult for you all to cope, but know that the blogging will probably be good once I am firmly entrenched in Puyallup with the keys to my mom's Honda Accord. Let's see, what happened last time I went home? Oh yeah...I had a threesome, LOTS of hot girl-on-girl, and got in trouble with my mother for exposing my breasts at the Crab Feed, the high school fundraiser I had returned home to attend. At Christmas, as an added bonus, all my crazy relatives come out of the woodwork to regale me with their hilarious political views (ie: my aunt's common-law boyfriend who informed us that Osama Bin Laden had been cloned because "everybody knows there were four Hitlers") and interrogations about when I'm going to marry juxtaposed with their hopes that my chosen Prince Charming isn't black, Latino, Catholic, Italian, Jewish, or anything other than Scandinavian Protestant. Thank God my parents don't mind when I drink heavily at these gatherings (they usually mind when I drink PERIOD), because those joyous events are the one time that they actually hit the sauce, just to make it through. Last year they served cosmopolitans and rye whiskey at the family Christmas party, and although I got an earful from my mom before the party for the slutty dress I was wearing, I managed to get so drunk that, later that evening in a bar, some crusty lezbot came up to me to advise me that my ass was being accidentally exposed on account of the aforementioned slutty dress and I responded, "So? My shit's fly!" Then I had another scotch, and wound up capping off the night by fucking a childhood friend. Ahhh...Christmas in the Northwest.

Anyway, stay tuned for ten days of P-N-Dub debauchery next week.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:20 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

My gambling problem

So yesterday my ex-boyfriend Benzo, outspoken Boston sports fan extraordinaire, expressed interest in making a friendly wager with me concerning my prediction that the Miami Water Dogs will defeat the New England Patriots, thus spoiling their unbeaten record a week from this Sunday. He thinks otherwise, and is willing to back it up with a bet. I am willing to stand by my prediction, however improbable it might seem. It's just ridiculous enough to work! And I will gladly accept his wager, though I am too poor to make the stakes financially interesting.

Well, he doesn't know how to bet without money, so he wants me come up with the terms. I figured if I lose, I will write a lengthy blog posting extolling the virtues of the Hatriots, exploring the sweatshirt-mediated disgust that has evolved into a so-wrong-it's-right lust to hate-fuck Bill Belichick, and rhapsodizing over Tom Brady's rugged good looks AND sweet passer rating. I will celebrate their perfect season, join the Randy Moss fan club, and offer my services as a spy to them any time they need it. I will also post pictures of myself topless with "Go Patriots" or something like written on my tits. In fact, if anyone has Patriot gear they want to loan me, I'll wear that too (sorry, I draw the line at investing in wearable Pats logo products I'd rather wipe my ass with). Basically, I will humiliate myself publicly if I lose this bet.

However, since I'm NOT going to lose and the Dolphins WILL beat the Patriots, I need to come up with something good for Benzo to do if HE loses. At first I was like, "He should wear a Seahawks shirt every Sunday for the rest of the season," but that's not very creative and there's not a lot of 12th men here in New York to appreciate that. Besides, how would I know he was making good on the bet? I correspond with Benzo via e-mail and blog comments much more than I see him in person, so how could I even be sure he was wearing Seahawks gear as promised? I also think that, since Vegas probably has the Patriots winning this game by approximately 10,000 points, the payoff should be bigger if I am right. Therefore, in the interest of appeasing Patriots haters everywhere, I am posing this question to the internets.

What would you really like to see an (obnoxious, mouthy, smartassed) Boston sports fan do if the Patriots lose to the Dolphins (short of nudity or suicide, because I can tell you right now Benzo won't do either of those things)? What is the most humiliating thing a Patriots fan could do?

I have some other ideas, but why have all the fun myself? I may as well share it with my lovely Pats-despising Razzyphiles. So weigh in with some commentary.

And in the meantime, enjoy this video of Tom Brady's greatest pouty sadfaces:

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:45 AM 9 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: 20/20


Name: 20/20

DOB: 1978 (wow-"20/20" is as old as me!)

Occupation: boring newsmagazine for old people

Hometown: New York, New York

Current residence: televisions of the elderly and losers who have nothing better to do on Friday nights and nothing else to watch now that "Intervention" moved to Mondays--okay, fine, I've totally been the loser who stayed home on Friday nights before and this trash is better than "Ghost Whisperer"

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Usually if I'm home on a Friday I will (as referenced above) usually watch "Intervention" or, now that's not on, watch porn or my "Beverly Hills, 90210" DVDs. I generally don't watch "20/20" because most of their stories are snorefests. Either that John Stossel guy is talking about how much credit cards suck (I already know that from experience), they have some other lame consumer report, or they have some hokey feature story about some douchebag doing something worthy of admiration yet totally forgettable. "20/20" can let me know when they convince Chris Hansen to leave NBC and sign up to catch predators, because that's the only conceivable thing they could do to make me watch. UNTIL TODAY.

It seems that tonight, "20/20" is doing a feature story on the legendary Ms. Britney Spears and her tempestuous relationship with the paparazzi. As much as I would love to see the inevitable montage of Brit-Brit driving her Benz over various photographers' feet, calling bystanders names, showcasing her entire vast collection of Ricky's wigs and QVC weaves, driving with her babies on her lap, and sucking down Starbucks and Red Bull by the gallon, what I would REALLY want to see is this:

Yes!!!! "20/20" is doing the world premiere of the "Piece of Me" video, which is the second single off her album Blackout. I am not ashamed to say that I bought Blackout, because it is more entertaining than a monster truck rally on Jenkem. "Piece of Me" is a song detailing Britney's confusion over the media's fickle treatment. It is hilarious:

I’m Miss American Dream since I was 17
Don’t matter if I step on the scene
Or sneak away to the Philippines
They still gonna put pictures of my derrière in the magazine
You want a piece of me?
You want a piece of me…

Does Britney ever "sneak away to the Philippines"? I'd be amazed if she could even point to the general vicinity of the Philippines on a map, since she doesn't strike me as the type who played (on the Apple II platform) or watched (on PBS) "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?." I'm not sure she could do it even with the understanding that because of the Pacific Ocean's large size, she has a good probability of correctly indicating the Philippines by placing her finger on it randomly. However, maybe Britney is more educated in geography than I give her credit for. Using a word like "derrière" with that faincy foreign accent mark certainly implies that she's more cosmopolitan than I previously thought.

I’m Miss Bad Media Karma
Another day, another drama
Guess I can’t see the harm
In working and being a mama
And with a kid on my arm
I’m still an exceptional earner
You want a piece of me

Scratch what I said about Britney's international cultural fluency, because she obviously doesn't know what karma means, or that it implies she did something to deserve all the "bad media" coming her way. But give her a break...she IS a hardworking single mom. It's not easy being an exceptional earner when you're hard at work tweaking at Hyde and Les Deux, binge-spending on puppy mill-bred Yorkies, and chain smoking with your brats in the backseat.

I’m Mrs. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. Oh my God that Britney’s Shameless
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. Extra! Extra! This Just In
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. She’s Too Big Now She’s Too Thin
(You want a piece of me)

Who is saying that Britney is "too thin"? Just curious.

I’m Mrs. ‘You want a piece of me?’
Tryin’ and pissin’ me off
Well get in line with the paparazzi
Who’s flippin’ me off
Hopin’ I’ll resort to some havoc
End up settlin’ in court
Now are you sure you want a piece of me?
(you wan' a piece of me...)
I’m Mrs. ‘Most likely to get on the TV for strippin' on the streets’
When getting the groceries, now for real..
Are you kidding me?
No wonder there's panic in the industry
I mean, please, do you want a piece of me?

I do agree with that "most likely to get on the TV (or at least the internets) for strippin' on the streets," but that's because most people don't do that when they're getting the groceries (if Slim Jims, venti caramel Frap, and Marb lights count as "groceries"). Hell, even I don't do that when I swing by Gristede's on my way home, and I have a long and storied reputation as a street stripper. Usually I manage to just pick up my Lean Cuisine, Heineken, and Beneful Healthy Weight (for Chingy!) and get out of there fully clothed. Then again, I don't have paparazzi swarming around me with their middle fingers raised, and I am not an exceptional earner who could afford the hassle and expense of settling in (or out of) court as a consequence to havoc I've created. Maybe if I were in that situation, showcasing my FUPA bursting through the elastic of my ill-fitting boy shorts might be the appropriate response. I shouldn't hate because I can't relate.

Anyway, props to "20/20" for sending all their old viewers over to TV Land or whatever the hell channel shows reruns of "Matlock" and "Diagnosis Murder " and sharing the genius of "Piece of Me" with whatever remains of the Friday night newsmagazine audience. I almost wish I didn't have 50 holiday parties to attend tonight so I could stay home and see this video in its entirety. I guess if I want to see Britney get blitzed, throw on an undersized bra-and-panty set with a ratty fur shrug, and try unsuccessfully to reclaim the sexiness she once had in 2002, I will have to just watch YouTubes of her VMA "Gimme More" performance until "Piece of Me" is fully leaked to the internets.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:55 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: MLB players named in the Mitchell Report



Name: Roger Clemens, Andy Pettitte, Mo Vaughn, Gary Sheffield, Barry Bonds, the brothers Giambi, Miguel Tejada, et al

DOB: varied

Occupation: cheating at America's favorite pasttime

Hometown: various

Current residence: infamy

Douchebaggery: I think it's pretty obvious that the long list of guys named in former Senator George Mitchell's report naming guys linked to purchasing steroids, either via the internets, via Mets trainer/roid dealer Kirk Radomski, or via BALCO lab are candidates for douchebagging simply because of these acts. Nobody like a cheater, and nobody likes 80-something of them, either. I've already declared Barry Bonds a douchebag, which is easy to do since not only is BB seemingly a total asshole, but it's not difficult to imagine him demanding that his mistress scrub at his "cream" or "clear"-induced bacne with Proactiv solution and otherwise being an unrepentant dick about his cheating. Likewise, everybody already knew the Giambis were getting their roid on, as well. However, what was a little more shocking for America to digest were some of the other names on the list. A lot of these guys have given plenty of lip service to the notion that they are men of integrity who would never, never, NEVER even dream of doing such a thing, and yet the Mitchell report has a copy of their checks made out to Radomski for $3200 (and who buys drugs with checks, anyway? I snicker just imagining the look on my dealer's face if I were to break out my checkbook the next time I pick up some tweeds--I mean, JUST KIDDING! I don't do drugs). Not only do I love seeing these assclowns get their comeuppance for being lying hypocrites, but it's especially sweet that so many of them are Yankees and/or former Yankees. To me, reasons to hate the Yankees are like orgasms or sexy boots: you can never really have too many.

Anyway, I thought I'd just mention two of the more prominent dickwads on this list and highlight why they are a bunch of duplicitous losers with no respect for the game they play or the fans who made them millionaires. It's always a good time for a cautionary tale about how asshole losers who lie and cheat their way through life while telling everyone they are fine, upstanding men deserving of respect always get their due. Since yesterday I received a request to call out Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte, I figured I'd focus on them. This is not a challenge for me, since if there's two things I hate, it's hypocritical Christians and New York Yankees, and both of these cocksmokers fit that criteria

Roger Clemens: Also known as "the Rocket," Clemens is one of the most respected diva dickheads in baseball. He's a narcissist who named all of his kids something starting with "K" to reflect his success as a pitcher, and whose modus operandi for upping his contract includes retiring every other year and then deciding to return (usually to the Yankees). Every time he decides to leave retirement YET AGAIN, he always gives a shoutout to the big JC and claims that he came to the extremely difficult decision to make millions of dollars thanks to lots and lots of prayer. Because if there's one thing about Jesus, he loves it when the faithful sheep in his flock stack that paper. That whole "blessed are the poor and meek, they shall inherit the earth" Sermon on the Mount Beatitudes business from the gospel of Matthew was totally done on opposite day, after all. Jesus wants Clemens to get back into a pair of horrible Yankee pinstripes and start chucking fastballs at the heads of opposing batters he doesn't like, because that is how good Christians roll.

Prior to the Mitchell Report, everyone was wondering how Clemens can still bring the heat at age 45. In addition to attributing his physical endurance to Cheese-Sauce CHRAST, the only other substance Clemens ever was caught using was the Icy Hot he smears all over his genitalia to get his game face on. I suppose he would also claim his continued good health is a result his eschewing of the hallowed tradition of chewin' tobacky for gum:

While I'm sure that Clemens passing on the Red Man helped him stay fit enough to wear hideous windbreakers, now we all know how he REALLY kept his arm rocket-caliber all these years: steroids. Per the Mitchell report, Clemens not only was an enthusiastic opponent of Winstrol (because he was too much of a pussy to do the abdominal human growth hormone shots), he insisted on bringing his favorite injector (I mean "personal trainer") from clubhouse to clubhouse with him so as to stay on cycle.

As of right now, Clemens has an attorney who is making all sorts of noise about "slander" and implying that some litigious action will be taken against Major League Baseball for having the audacity to investigate his steroid use. Sha right. Barry Bonds tried to play the slander card, too, and look where it got him: under indictment in federal court. Roger Clemens will be lucky if the worst that happens is they engrave asterisks on all his Cy Young award plaques. On the bright side for his legal remedies, though, at least Roger didn't film a PSA setting a kid straight for injecting testosterone into his ass.

Andy Pettitte: One of MLB's biggest holy rollers, Andy Pettite went so far as to write a book detailing his achievements at being the best Christian ever (although this is mitigated by his playing for the Yankees, who I believe God hates even more than fags). Here's a little excerpt about how Andy committed himself to "purity," and to him this goes beyond merely bagging broads outside of wedlock to encompassing every aspect of one's life:
"I might as well be straight with you. This whole question of purity isn’t about how true love waits until you are married to have sex. You can do that and still miss the point. Purity begins with a commitment to live in a way that honors Jesus Christ, a commitment that spreads over every part of your life."
Well, I can see how it would be a dishonor to JC to run around porking baseball groupies like Corbin Bernsen in Major League, but as in Roger Clemens's case, Jesus doesn't mind a HGH shot here and there to help out with a pesky case of elbow tendonitis. In fact, I'm sure Roger introduced Andy to his dealer--I mean his trainer--at church. Here's a couple pictures of Roger and Andy discussing how injecting banned hormones and hormone precursors faith in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ has kept them in the game.

Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Way to honor that commitment to purity, Andy Pettitte. Jesus would be proud. And Roger Clemens. And all the other assholes on this list who are making excuses for their own willfully wrong behavior. Just fucking apologize and purge your records already...and while you're at it, honor Jesus Christ and RETIRE!

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:57 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, December 13, 2007

 

Daily Douchebag: Jessica Simpson AGAIN


Name: Jessica Ann Simpson

DOB: July 10, 1980

Occupation: Singer, actress, spokeswhore, dumbass

Hometown: Abilene, Texas

Current Residence: Los Angeles, California

Douchebaggery: So I already bestowed this illustrious honor upon the voluptuous Ms. Simpson last July, but I felt it was worth doing again. I believe at that time, I shared my opinion that Jessica should "just duck the fuck out of the spotlight before even the morons patronizing her brand wise up and realize what a bimbotic tool she is." For some reason, she didn't heed my eminently wise suggestion, and months later she's still all over the internets. I say, hasn't this bitch been famous for almost nothing long enough?

Really, what is Jessica Simpson famous for now? Her reality show from three years ago that is as dead as the marriage that served as its premise? No. Singing? Can YOU name a single Jessica Simpson song? I can only think of the aural holocaust that was her cover of "These Boots are Made for Walkin,'" and I only remember that because it was on TV ad nauseum in a fucking Pizza Hut commercial or something, which doubled as a video for the song. In it, Jessica is portraying Daisy, her character from the appalling Dukes of Hazzard movie, and she soaps up the General Lee and writhes around on it in an attempt at seduction. In reality, she looks like a busted drag hooker with cerebral palsy, too much makeup, and a really, really bad personal stylist. Her pink bikini not only clashes horribly with the red car, it also does a lovely job showcasing the capsular contraction in her post-op double Ds. AT BEST, it reminds me of that burger commercial that Paris Hilton did rolling around on a car and eating some mess from Carl's Jr. or something like that, and when your most sexy moves are reminiscent of a herpetic skank binge-eating, it goes without saying that you need to make some adjustments.

Though the whole "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" thing mercifully went away for the most part when the Dukes of Hazzard movie bombed, Jessica continued to torment America with her reprisals of the Daisy role to hawk various crap products. Most recently this was in a commercial for DirectTV that is on during football games. This commercial was part of an ad campaign in which scenes from classic movies, such as Major League, Back to the Future, Aliens, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, are updated to be ads for Direct TV. I would seriously firebomb the Direct TV corporate headquarters for audaciously equating Jessica Simpson's godawful performance in The Dukes of Hazzard with Charlie Sheen's portrayal of Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn in Major League (one of the greatest films in the history of cinema and that is no joke) if it weren't for their exclusive rights to the "NFL Sunday Ticket" package. Charlie Sheen is a master thespian and Rick Vaughn, nearsighted misunderstood badboy fastball pitcher, was the role that is his magnum opus. Meanwhile, Jessica's tits are better at acting than she is, and it is insulting for Direct TV to lump them into the same category, even if that category is "shameless marketing whore." Direct TV should stick to reminding people that they have NFL Sunday Ticket.

Speaking of the NFL, that reminds me another way that Jessica Simpson is pissing me off lately. Apparently, she's currently losing cheap-ass tracks of Barbie hair in the bed of Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo. While as a Seahawks fan this delights me, since it means that by the time the Seahawks wind up playing the Cowboys in the playoffs, Tony Romo will be a dried-up shell of a human being thanks to weeks of work by Jessica and her family of succubi. Tony has been spending every moment possible away from Texas Stadium over at the Simpson's compound with Jessica, her fag-along Ken Paves, and her creepy father. This is a picture of them all hanging out just yesterday (and BTdubs, nice stripper heels, Jess...are they real vinyl and Lucite?):

Tony Romo isn't paying attention to football, and I think that as the Simpsons sink their claws deeper into him, it will start to show. By the time he faces Seattle in the NFC championship game, he'll have a shadow of the quarterback rating he once had. He won't complete any passes to an irate T.O., Tatupu will pick him like 5 times, he'll lose 2 fumbles and get repeatedly sacked thanks to the pressure put on him by our Sea-fensive line, and the Hawks will be off to face the almost undefeated (except for a loss to Miami in week 16) New England Hatriots in the Super Bowl, where we will WIN! If that happens in part due to Tony Romo's Simpson-induced failures, I will personally stop hating Jessica Simpson for around two seconds. What I DON'T like about Jessica Simpson's dating Tony Romo is that when I'm trying to watch the damn football game, all of a sudden Joe Buck and Troy Aikman (who I already hate for being obnoxious and overconcussed, respectively) are gabbing about Jessica Simpson. If these assholes want to gossip between plays, I would rather hear about what T.O. is disgruntled about today and who is talking shit about who else in the NFL, not about Jessica fucking Simpson! It's bad enough that I have to see Jessica Simpson in those damn Direct TV ads during the game, much less that I have to hear the commentators talking about her skank ass banging the quarterback. If there is ANY sacred time that should be Jessica Simpson-free, it's fucking football!

Anyway, since Jessica's primary achievements in cultural relevance these days (apart from a lot of straight-to-video movies) are whoring herself out to Pizza Slut, Direct TV, HSN, and Macy's and fucking Tony Romo, I say it's high time she got demoted to at least the F-list. In fact, I demand it. For my mental health's sake. Please! Ease my pain!

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:48 AM 4 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Norm Johnson


Name: Norman Douglas Johnson

DOB: May 31, 1960

Occupation: real estate agent, retired NFL placekicker

Hometown: Garden Grove, California

Current residence: somewhere in Kitsap County, Washington (Silverdale?)

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Yesterday, I received the following e-mail from Morrissey'sHair:

From: Morrissey'sHair (mhair@helpingbrokemotherfuckersllp.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)

Dude,
Not sure if you saw this story yesterday, but Norm Johnson, aka The Greatest Kicker in Seahawks History, aka The Seahawks' All-Time Leading Scorer, aka The Snowman, aka White Jesus, aka Why Your Bitch Keep Pagin' Me?, is an honest to god HERO. I think he deserves Daily Dude I Want to Hit status.

http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2007/12/12/america/Placekicker-Samaritan.php

Morrissey'sHair


Actually, I thought Norm Johnson went by "Mr. Automatic" and not "Why Your Bitch Keep Pagin' Me?," but all the same, I thought Morrissey'sHair was onto something. Basically, Norm Johnson was taking his brat to school and came across some dumb broad who hit a patch of ice and flipped over her car into a ditch. The ditch was filled with freezing water, and the chick couldn't get out, so Norm Johnson grabbed a rock, broke a window, and helped the hooker out. Okay, the woman probably wasn't so much a "hooker" as she was a "Bremelo," which is a local term describing fat women in Kitsap County who hang around the navy base in Bremerton looking to score some seamen, but regardless, Norm Johnson did a commendable job acting as a Good Samaritan.

Granted, this is nothing like the time that Captain Johnathan of the F/V Time Bandit pulled that dude out of the frigid and violent Bering Sea last season on "Deadliest Catch" to the guy's weeping, man-hugging, "You saved my fuckin' life, man!" gratitude, and it would be far more apropos in Kitsap County if Norm pulled this chick from a burning meth lab, but I'd hate to be stuck in a car overturned in a muddy ditch in Silverdale. I would say that drowning in freezing runoff somewhere in Silverdale in a sinking 2001 Pontiac Grand Am is right up there with Southern lean overdose and AIDS-related wasting on my list of crappy, unremarkable ways to die, so if I were that woman, I'd reward Norm Johnson with more than just a wimpy hug for saving me. The least she could do is give him a trunk full of gold doubloons. Or at least a blow job. Being a record-setting placekicker saving random bitches' lives is a thankless job, indeed. Maybe when I get back to the P-N-Dub in 3 days (!) I can track down Norm Johnson and thank him properly on her behalf.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:58 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

 

The Immaculate Ms. Britney Spears

Anyone who has ever been to my apartment can vouch for the fact that I'm crazy about the Virgin Mary. I have pictures and statues of her everywhere. I've had honeys come over, look around suspiciously, and say, "Hey, are you really religious or something?" I always put their mind at ease with something along the lines of, "Relax, baby, Catholic girls grow up to be either virgins or whores, and you're in luck, because I'm the latter." I don't know why I have these icons everywhere, but after twelve years in Catholic school, they make me feel at home. Anyway, today my interests came full circle when the internets informed me that the Blessed Virgin (or BV, as I like to call her) is about to be represented on the silver screen by no less than the legendary Ms. Britney Spears! YES!!!!

This is like my dream come true. I always wondered how Britney would follow up her seminal film Crossroads (which was shafted at the Oscars in favor of Chicago, just another example of how Hollywood REALLY has fucked up priorities in picking a musical over the tale of a not-yet-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman's coming of age road trip). Now I know: some French movie producer is angling to cast Britney as the BV in a movie called Sweet Baby Jesus. The movie will feature Brit-Brit as a pregnant teenager with no apparent baby daddy who gives birth in Bethlehem, Maryland (not Bethlehem, PA? That's bullshit!). The baby is then lauded as the second coming of Jesus H. Christ. Sweet baby Jesus, indeed!

I know that everyone is scoffing at this notion and that Christians will probably start using a lot of loaded words like "blasphemy" and "heresy" to describe the premise of JC returning in glory to make his final judgment via Brit-Brit's vadge, but I love it. Britney is down with religion, and I think she'll do it justice. If you don't believe me as to her level of piety and devotion, then look no further than the Blackout album liner:

Britney has obviously spent a lot of time reflecting on Catholicism and the nature of sin and talking about it with her local parish priest, so I wouldn't be shocked if the archangel Gabriel was giving her the good news that she got the call from upstairs. Think of how awesome the Nicene Creed (now called the "Profession of Faith" post-Vatican II) would be revised to reflect Britney's MOG (mother of God) status:

We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth, of all C-section scars seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light,
true slut from true slut, begotten, not made,
one in Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made, including Jenkem, Red Bull, and ecstasy.

For us men and for our salvation he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit he was born of the legendary Ms. Britney Spears,
addicted to meth, and became man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered, died, and was buried beside the paparazzo Brit ran over on her post-Golgotha Starbucks run.
On the third day he rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory with a cry of "It's Jesus, bitch!" to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end and will also have a stripper pole.

We believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord, the giver of obscene wealth and Marlboro Lights,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

With the Father and the Son he is worshipped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets AKA TMZ, Perez Hilton, Dlisted, etc. etc.

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
Amen.

Man, mass would be so much better if they spiced up the POF to laud Britney's contributions. I really can't think of a better BV. She'd be cold as fire and hot as ice, and if you've ever been to heaven, this is twice as nice. As long as I'm rewriting prayers, I decided to update the Hail Mary in celebration. The old Ave Maria is getting a little tired, anyway; it's due for some sprucing up. I don't keep up on my rosaries like I should (surprise, surprise), but maybe I will if I can rock out a few decades of this variation:

Hail Britney, full of Frappucino
The Lord is with thee
Blessed art thou amongst meth-addled skanks
And blessed is the fruit of thy syphilitic womb, Jesus.

Holy Britney, mother of God and Sean Preston and Jayden James,
Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our meth. I mean death!

Father-Son-Holy Spirit, Amen.

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:18 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: People who keep chickens in cities


Name: various

DOB: various

Occupation: deciding that an urban environment is the appropriate place for poultry rearing

Current residence: Chicago, Illinois...apparently

Douchebaggery: I was reading through the news today, looking for a good candidate for douchebagging, when I came across an article entitled "Chicago considers chicken ban." At first I was like, "Fuck you, Chicago! Not even your blessing the world with Robert Sylvester Kelly's mackadelic nightspot realness can rectify your depriving your citizenry of delicious KFC!" I do love me some fried chicken. Then I read the article, and realized they weren't considering banning chicken as a tasty menu item, but as pets.

I have never understood why anyone would want to keep a chicken as a pet. They're mean, they peck, and they shit everywhere. It's not like you need them for food, since you can buy a plucked, cleaned, ready-to-roast chicken or eggs in any supermarket. In large cities like Chicago or New York, I find it even more unbelievable that anyone would want a chicken running around their apartment with all the mice and roaches. Granted, I realize I have two dogs, but they don't shit in the house (unless they're sick). And while I love cock, I wouldn't want one crowing incessantly at the asscrack of dawn every day, either. Usually that's the time of day that my cock should be giving me wake-up sex, followed by an inquiry about where the nearest subway is, because it's time to make like Michael Jackson and beat it. However, there are a lot of chicken lovers who disagree, thus causing the Chicago city council to take action and consider a chicken ban.

The chicken ban seems like a no-brainer, especially given the observation that chicken-keeping is associated with rodent infestations, as mice and rats like to eat chicken shit (gross). However, other cities don't seem to mind. According to the article, "[c]ities including Madison, Wis., and Kent, Wash., have passed ordinances allowing people to keep chickens." Well, if people in such cosmopolitan locales as KENT, WASHINGTON are doing it, then it must be a great idea. Kent is a city famous for its big hair, high John Birch Society enrollment, pull-tab bars, meth labs, Green River Killer victim dump sites, and proliferation of PWT driving IROC-Zs. I can see why Chicagoans would want to emulate such a place. I hooked up with this dude who lived in Kent one time, and apart from the fact that he was a clingy stalker who later molested me at a Tacoma bar after I dumped him (seriously, he stuck his hand up my skirt, I wasn't wearing any underwear, and thus occurred the first and last time I've ever slapped a dude across his bitch face for getting too fresh with me), when I finally managed to extract myself from the breakfast in bed he made me (ugh), one of his neighbors hollered at me that I should "swing by (his) place for round two." Needless to say, that got a resounding "SHA RIGHT" from me, along with a vow never to fuck anyone residing in Kent ever again. But I digress.

Whoever is fighting the proposed chicken ban in Chicago is a moron. If you want to own a chicken so bad, then move to the fucking country where you can spend your days mucking out henhouses and scattering feed and whatever the hell else is involved in chicken husbandry. Chicago needs to be a place known for its deep-dish pizza, inept quarterbacks, and playerette flirters, not its embracing of domestic fowl as pets. On the bright side, though, if the chicken ban is overturned, I predict some hilarious scenes involving chickens in the next installment of Robert Sylvester Kelly's "Trapped in the Closet." At least one good thing could come out of it.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:43 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Razzy Haters


Name: various

DOB: various

Occupation: sipping on the Haterade as they send me comments and e-mails

Hometown: from whence morons arise

Current residence: where morons live

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: As my traffic has increased, so has the quantity of e-mail and comments I receive, and I couldn't be happier about that. Surprisingly, I'm not so universally hated that the majority of my correspondence is negative. In fact, it's quite the contrary. I would estimate that 95% of the e-mail and comments I get are overwhelmingly positive and say something along the lines of "you're fucking hilarious" and/or "you're hot, put up more naked pictures." These e-mails warm my black, shriveled heart, and fill me with happy thoughts, and if you've sent me something along those lines and I haven't written you back, know that it's just because I'm really busy and not because I don't care and I don't appreciate your kudos. I appreciate you and your pro-Razzy sentiments VERY much!

However, the OTHER 5% of e-mails and comments also fill me with happy thoughts, even though that is not their intent. This correspondence is from the haters, and it makes one thing very apparent to me. I piss off stupid people. I'm not just saying that these people are stupid because their views don't jive with mine. In real life, I put up just fine with people whose opinions I don't agree with. I also don't think everyone who disagrees with me is a moron; in fact, just the opposite. I respect people who can defend their opinions, however divergent, with a compelling argument, and I think that if everyone agreed with everything I say the world would be a tremendously boring place. That said, the vast majority of people who write me to take issue with something I've posted do NOT have a particularly compelling argument. In fact, clever haterisms (ie my all-time favorite "always the cum dumpster, never the bride") are few and far between. It cheers me immensely to know that people who get pissed about stuff I've written on my personal blog have a heaping helping of stupidity to go along with their indignation and provide me with lots of fodder for mockery. Since it's been awhile that I've posted stuff from the haters, I might as well do so to illustrate how stupid these people generally are.

1. People who bombed the "reading comprehension" questions on their SAT verbal

Yesterday, I got the following comment on the post I wrote a couple weeks back Douchebagging Kanye West's mom:
speechless said...

This is the only time that I'll ever pipe in.

This is horrible. Judging from your blog, you're going to respond somewhere along the lines of "fuck you fuck that fuck everything fuck you it's my blog, fuck fuck fuck bitch fuck", but I just had to say something.

This is somebody's dead mother that you're talking about, that you're referring to as a bitch. This is the mother of somebody who is mourning. I know you don't seem to have any respect for anyone, but empathy? Even a little bit? This is by far the most cruel thing you've said on this blog. Can't you at least stick to living people...?

I really hope Kanye doesn't read such posts from people like you. I don't know if you know what it's like to lose a parent, but it's the worst thing in the world, and I hope nobody does this to you when you lose a parent.

12/11/2007 5:26 PM
Well, speechless, before I respond, let me oblige your prediction, except with appropriate use of commas: fuck you, fuck that, fuck everything, fuck you, it's my blog, fuck, fuck, fuck, bitch, fuck. Okay, now that I've got that out of the way, let me explain more clearly how I really feel about your position. If you read this post carefully, you would notice that the first couple sentences of it went as follows: "As much as I hate Kanye West for being an insufferable, obnoxious asshole, I did feel bad when his mother died. I would be devastated if my mother passed long before her time, and I don't wish family tragedy on anyone, even an annoying egomaniacal sell-out like Kanye."

I spent the rest of the post trashing the media for its beatification of Donda West much more than I trashed Donda West herself, and if you think that's the most cruel thing I've ever written, you obviously haven't read my blog extensively. I mean, I've repeatedly wished for the Pope's death! I believe that I did acknowledge that I have some sympathy for Kanye (I can't have empathy since my parents are still alive and well and pretending my website doesn't exist), and I spent much more of my time complaining about the media coverage of Dr. West's passing than about Dr. West herself. So go back to junior high and learn how to intellectually process what you've read, speechless. And I'm terribly sorry about the loss of your parent, because my reading comprehension skills indicate that's probably where your speechlessness is coming from.

2. Crazy lunatics who think they are being extremely clever but just ramble nonsensically
From: Leif Williams (heirsign@sbcglobal.net)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: Angie-o-gram (be still my heart)

Fuck me...clearly you've been stockpiling your meds and have gained access to an on line computer while the guard sleeps....the places the net takes us. I have no idea who you are, though (and rather obviously) your chest thumping blog quells in you some kind of wistful penchant to escape the truly anonymous misery to which you're afraid you'll forever remain ensconced. I thought you were pretty cute 'til I got the closeup pic and started wondering how sooooo much penis envy could emanated from a man who'd switched teams! Hmmm, go figure. I know, 186 pickin' on a jewannabe ain't right. OK brainiac, if you can get past the smolder of cranial singe as you dissect your Lionel Richie lyrics (or whatever you do to bone up on your cognitive skills), then maybe you'll again drop us pearls. Til then, we just fucking PINE baby! Love you always anyway-
This started out promising, as this hater is implying that I'm institutionalized and have pulled some Sarah Conner from Terminator 2-type antics with the security there to get on Blogger and start bloviating for the masses. Extra points to Leif for commenting on my desperate desire for recognition beyond being a lowly science geek; that was most perceptive. However, then Leif gets a little carried away. Implying that I'm actually a M2F tranny is one of the oldest insults in the book, and...YAWN. Being called a "jewannabe" is a new one, but I'm not sure what it means or even if it's an insult. Does Leif think I wish I was Jewish? While I do tend to get on well with members of the tribe (judging by the sheer number of them I've befriended and/or fucked cross-eyed), and while I can eat my own weight in smoked fish, matzoh balls, latkes, and brisket, I am quite comfortable in my own skin. I was born Scandinavian-Irish, and raised Catholic, and that's just fine by me. My Catholic schooling has given me the reputation of being a big skank with solid fellatio skills (a deserved reputation), and I get to brag about being descended from marauding Vikings. That said, I doubt I'd be much different if I had been born and raised Jewish, except maybe I'd be better at managing my money. KIDDING! Also, what is a "186"? The only thing I could find about that in Wikipedia is that 186 A.D. marked the martyrdom of St. Apollonius and the birth of Roman Emperor Caracalla, as well as the year the Gauls staged an anti-tax revolt. Thanks to all the early 90s West Coast rap I've listened to, I know that "187" (ie: "it's 187 on a motherfuckin' cop") means murder, but I'm at a loss for what "186" means. Maybe "186" is police code for "anti-semitic fucktard sending rambling, incoherent e-mail to random bloggers."

Anyway, if this e-mail weren't from someone obviously crazy and/or wasted during its composition, I would take the time to point out that the only lyrics I've ever dissected on this site are those penned by the King/Pied Piper/R-uh of R&B, Robert Sylvester Kelly, not Lionel Richie. While I do love Lionel Richie to the point that LL Cool Jew once gave me a "Lionel Richie Fan Club" t-shirt, I think my readers already know about how awesome "Hello" and "Dancing on the Ceiling" are. What they could benefit from are breakdowns of lyrics like "you're gonna trip, gonna trip, gonna trip, gonna trip when I show you my love jones, babe...and make the room go black," and any heat generated in that process is due to overriding lust for R. Kells rather than "cranial singe." In fact, the only "cranial singe" I experienced was a result at trying to make sense of Leif's desperate and ultimately futile attempts at seeming erudite and articulate.

3. Bitchy tools who just WILL NOT STAND for posts I've written disparaging John Mayer
From: Sam Montague (samoose78@hotmail.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: response to article...read!

just responding about the article you posted about the singer/singwriter John Mayer. it is obvious that you are ill acquainted when it comes to the world of music. I am sure that the cliched, main-stream, bogan rock musicians such as Metallica and the "Original Guns 'n' Roses" can certainly act tough and play the part of a rock star, but they are nowhere near as musically talented as the great John Mayer. John mayer handles a strat in the same league as the past greats such as jimmy hendrix and stevie ray vaughan. he is a master at the guitar, and an overwhelmingly talented singer. He doesn't even have to try to play the past of a rockstar.... he is beyond that. He plays the guitar and sings because he loves doing it, and hes great at it.. he doesnt try to play the role of a rockster. with his mixture of blues and pop he is in a league of his own. and its nice of you to rip on him about his girlfriend.... although im pretty sure a little whiney bitching geek like yourself could pull much more attractive women than jessica simpson... right?? And heres a suggestion for you Razzy....... grow some fucking musical taste you insensitive wheener and fuck off.
Okay, so I may be so busy with my "main stream" metal bands of the late 80s to appreciate underground talent that NOBODY except true musical aficionados knows about like John Mayer. Maybe if I listened to more of this indie, not-at-all-mainstream (except for the Gap and Volkswagen commercials he stars in) musical genius known as John Mayer, I could appreciate that his work with a Fender Stratocaster makes Saul "Slash" Hudson look like a pussy and a hack. Then again, I take Sam's credentials as a guitar critic with a grain of salt since he can't even spell Jimi Hendrix's name properly. So, sorry, Sam, I stand by my opinion that John Mayer not only sucks, he is still the world's most unfuckable rock star. I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. And if Sam wants to question my musical credibility, I've been playing the piano since I was six (thus for TWENTY-THREE YEARS), and I probably could mop the floor with his ass in a musical theory contest. Just because John Mayer can incorporate a few used-ass blues riffs into his songs doesn't make him fucking Chopin or Brahms, and if he wants to knock my boys Frederic or Johann, we're going to have some problems. Problems like a slutty stiletto-heeled boot to Sam's nutsack kind of problems. Trust.

And I do pull way hotter bitches than Jessica Simpson. Hotter dudes, too.

4. Haters who don't need--or are unable to adequately articulate--a reason
From: James Ryder (jamesryder49@yahoo.co.uk)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: [No Subject]

you are pathetic
Oh, okay, thanks, James. Good to know. Why, exactly? Despite several e-mails inquiring about how I achieved my pathetic state, James refused to elaborate. I came to the conclusion that this is probably because writing is not his strong suit. Just to see who was calling me pathetic, though, I went to the world's largest online moron clearinghouse: MySpace. Sure enough, James has a MySpace page which also contains a noticeable dearth of descriptive prose. I broke down in tears when I saw the angelic visage of the terse fellow calling me "pathetic." Tears of laughter!

My advice to James is to take a look in the mirror and fix his personal style before throwing stones. I mean, that haircut is hot if you're trying to look like the bastard child of Danny Bonaduce and the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls circa 1997, but it doesn't work if you want to call a chick with hot tits and a commanding vocabulary pathetic and have any credibility.

5. Militant lesbian feminazis
From: Wanda Jennings (wandamonium@activist.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: stop it
i read your post about ro and boy you sure have a lot of nerve. straight girls like you need to stop it and stop it now. i hate when you say you are bi when you are not so you can impress guys and act like you have a leg to stand on when writing homophobic drivel like you do constantly. you are not bi or lesbian so stop pretending. its incredibly offensive to real lesbians and the queer community. i don't understand why people like you who are HETERO decide to be bisexual all of a sudden when its convenient for your stupid blog but it is degradory to all who suffer the daily struggle of being queer in a hetero world and we don't appreciate it. it negates what we go through every day when you say you are bi just to drag the name of someone who has struggled to fight for us and our rights through the mud or because you think boys will like you if you kiss some other straight girl once in a while. maybe you don't realize the damage you are doing but everyone who has ever been called a dyke or a fag would agree that all their strength and sacrifices are undone by your careless ranting about something you know nothing about. i warn you to go back to writing about clothes and your boyfriend and normal hetero shit pardon my french because you have no right to speak for us when it suits you. i won't leave you alone. i'm a strong lesbian woman and proud of it and we will not tolerate you setting us back 200 years just so you can write a stupid blog that nobody reads anyway. wanda
Oh, I'm setting the gays back 200 years by making fun of Rosie O'Donnell being a hard-headed asshole and a shitty writer? How does that work, when I'm doing it on "a stupid blog that nobody reads anyway"? Sorry, Wanda, I didn't realize how much damage I was doing to the cause. I guess I'll go back to writing about clothes and my boyfriend. It will be a relief, because when I'm going off on whatever Razzified hotness I'm going off on any given day, I'm secretly resisting the overpowering urge to write instead about "normal hetero shit." Oh wait...I'm NOT STRAIGHT, so nevermind.

You know what is worse for the gays than someone being outright homophobic? Stupid dykes like Wanda who seem to think that because they have come out of the closet and braved adversity for being gay, they are the world's ultimate authority on sexuality. Case in point: Wanda, for telling me that I'm not really bisexual. She's got her mind made up that I only kiss girls so I can write about it on my blog. Actually, I hook up with them because it's hot, and because it gets me off, and I don't consider "kissing" and "fucking" to be the same thing unless Wanda is referring to the Lil' Kim lyric where she exhorts her partner to "kiss the lips with no teeth." While I'm sure the dudes who have participated in various threesomes I've had did enjoy watching me get it on with the other chick, I've had plenty of one-on-one girl sex too and liked it just as much (if not more) than when I've had a penis-bearing audience. And I don't need to be bisexual to attract men, because my hot rack does that well enough on its own. Wanda probably thinks of herself as very open-minded, but this e-mail indicates quite clearly that fundamentalists neo-conservatives don't have the market cornered on exclusionary, rigid, unrealistic attitudes about human sexuality that do more harm than good.

What Wanda really needs is to quit reading Rosie O'Donnell's lolcat blog, trim her rat tail, and buy a decent vibrator, because the one she's got is clearly not doing the job. I can only imagine that the reason some uptight dyke took it upon herself to dictate to me what my sexual orientation is and how I should behave accordingly is because she's a frigid bitch who spends far more time being enraged than enjoying the sexuality she carries like a damn battle standard. Fuck you, Wanda, and all your hypocritical militant lezbot bullshit too. Oh, and "degradory" isn't a word.

I have some more hate mail to rag on, but it's getting late and I have a busy day at the old laboratory, so I'll have to save that for another time. In the interim, however, let's all give thanks for the Razzy Haters! Their correspondence provides me with ample mirth and joy. Thank you for sharing your poorly conceived, badly punctuated, appallingly spelled, barely intelligible, inadequately reasoned, and generally idiotic thoughts on why I suck. This truly makes my day.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:32 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

 

But does he have a MySpace?

My favorite fanatical despot is quickly becoming Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. The guy is crazy as a loon, but he's determined to make sure his craziness is heard round the world. Therefore, he did what all lunatics with nothing better to do on their hands (since he's apparently not busy enriching uranium and building nukes after all): he started a blog!



YES! Goodbye Dlisted, A Socialite's Life, Bossip, The Superficial, and What Would Tyler Durden Do?, hello Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's Personal memos!

In addition to lots and lots of rambling craziness (my favorites are Ahmadinejad's message to "Noble Americans" trashing Bush or his polemic against airport security entitled "Fingerprinting the passengers, an image of power or insult to human dignity?"), there's a confusing autobiography that reads like something--ironically--out of a Salman Rushdie book, some correspondence Mahmoud has received over the internets, and a lot of Allah-praising. There's also a hot photo gallery of Ahmadinejad striking a variety of presidential poses.

This is sincere, conviction-filled Ahmadinejad.


This is Ahmadinejad's foreign policy face. In other words, it's his "I'm pretending to listen to your argument for the validity of the Holocaust having actually happened as opposed to it being a farsical tale made up by Zionist pigs to fuck us over but I'm actually thinking about which Members Only jacket I want to wear to my next press conference denouncing America" look. It's a hot one.


This is his half-smirking, that's-the-most-ridiculous-thing-I've-ever-heard face. There are no gays in Iran, just as there are no cats in America and the streets are made of cheese. DUH.


It's impossible to be a fundamentalist Islamic dictator--I mean, democratically elected president--without a powerful jihadist fist pump. Down with the American and Israeli infidels!


And finally, my favorite, is where Ahmadinejad shows his sexy side. Mahmoud McDreamy!

Has anyone over at the Department of Homeland Security checked out Patrick Dempsey lately? Because I think these two could be related. Ahmadinejad even wears the same wardrobe that Patrick Dempsey rocked in late 80s classics like Can't Buy Me Love.and Loverboy. And the next time one of my friends starts gabbing about "Gay's Shitnatomy," I'm going to stop her right in her tracks by being like, "Whatever...IRAN SUPPORTER. They should put you on a no-fly list!" Hey, maybe I can get "Grey's Anatomy" canceled by claiming that they support terror...Okay, maybe it's a stretch to say that strictly because Patrick Dempsey and Ahmadinejad KIND OF look a little bit alike, but I'm sure I could cook up some sort of reasonable-sounding argument that's just ridiculous enough to work. I'm an expert in bullshit, after all, and I feel the same way about "Grey's Anatomy" that Ahmadinejad feels about Israel and the Bush administration. Besides, making stuff up works really well here in America; remember how well that "there's weapons of mass destruction in Iraq" thing worked out? Well, if you were like "t-t-t-totally dude" when it comes to getting involved in an unfixable shitshow of a war, it worked out great! I think getting "Gay's Shitnatomy" taken off the air is even more noble a cause than fighting terror or whatever it is we're supposedly doing in Iraq

Sadly, there is no online store. I would love to get whatever type of politically explosive t-shirts this crazy fool could design. Furthermore, if Mahmoud puts his own favorite styles up there, I'd better buy some stock in the Men's Wearhouse because that shit is going to skyrocket. I hope that as he refines the content, he will realize how brilliant it would be to make Ahmadinejad merchandise. I'd buy some just to have a shirt that talks trash about Bush in Farsi. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy reading his psychotic yet hilarious ranting. Iran, fuck yeah!

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:54 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Steven Spielberg and George Lucas


Name: Steven Allan Spielberg and George Walton Lucas, Jr.

DOB: December 18, 1946 and May 14, 1944, respectively

Occupation: most powerful men AKA biggest obnoxious jackasses in Hollywood

Hometown: Phoenix, Arizona and Modesto, California, respectively

Current residence: Los Angeles, California

Douchebaggery: I could go on for hours about how much these two annoy me, but at some point I have to go to lab, so I'll just stick to what pissed me off about them today. I just saw the teaser poster for this upcoming film, which makes my blood boil every time I think of it:

This movie doesn't piss me off because I don't like Indiana Jones. In fact, quite the contrary. But this looks like it's going to suck. For starters, this "Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" looks a whole lot like the Temple of Doom, which totally sucked. That movie was lacking all the things that make Indiana Jones great (long-lost Judeo-Christian religious artifacts, Nazis for Indiana Jones to kill, archaeology classes about X not marking the spot to teach at Smith College), and it added the dual nightmares of Short Round and Kate Capshaw. Nobody gives a rat's ass about seeing the director's wife butcher her performance as a nightclub singing whore with a hatred of bugs and snakes who secretly yearns to eff globetrotting liberal arts college archaeology professors. This crystal skull business isn't any Judeo-Christian artifact I've ever heard of, and I have a very bad feeling that like the stones or whatever from Temple of Doom, the premise of this movie is going to be implausible and stupid. That crystal skull trash looks like something that a crushed velvet cloak-wearing fat bitch would keep on her treasure shelf, between her collection of Anne Rice novels and Evanescence albums.

Add to it that Harrison Ford looks like he should be eating strained peas in a home somewhere. That movie poster is photoshopped to shit, because we all know that these days Indiana Jones looks a lot more like a dude in his 60s having an aging crisis rather than a rakishly handsome, sexually voracious artifact hunter with keen whip skills and a fear of snakes. He needs to be sequestered comfortably in Northampton, Assachusetts in his Seelye Hall office writing his treasure hunting memoirs, not running around looking for hokey crap like this skull. And furthermore, ARE there going to be Nazis in this movie, or what? Watching Indiana Jones singlehandedly thwart Der Fuhrer's designs at harnessing the awesome power of the divine is the best part. I could watch him punch and/or shoot and/or otherwise maim and kill Nazis all day. However, since he's obviously considerably older than he was in the first three movies, I would assume that World War II has long since ended and it's the late 1950s by now for Indy. So unless he runs off to South America to track down aging escaped Nazi war criminals like Sir Laurence Olivier in The Boys From Brazil (and even if he did, it wouldn't be anywhere near as dope as when that little Hitler clone sets his pack of Rottweilers on Dr. Mengele AKA the hotness that is Gregory Peck), I don't see how he's going to be running around kicking Nazi ass from a chronological perspective alone. Maybe he'll be fighting Russians? Or maybe the EAST Germans? Either way, while I do love a good commie-stomping session, I prefer that to be delivered by Patrick Swayze, C. Thomas Howell, Charlie Sheen, Jennifer Grey, and Lea Thompson in Soviet-occupied Colorado. Since this isn't Indiana Jones and the Cast of Red Dawn, however, I am not sure I need to see my favorite Smith social sciences professor taking on the Cold War like he took on the Third Reich. There's just something inherently more satisfying to see a Nazi get punched in the face and thrown from a blimp than seeing some random pinko suffer the same fate, and at the hands of a pathetically old man.

To make matters worse, not only is this past the time where Indy can be fighting Nazis and act believably spry, Spielberg brought in Shia LaDouche to youth up the movie. I hate Shia LaBoeuf. He's a boring, obnoxious little brat, his popularity is one of the reasons I distrust kids these days so deeply, and they might as well bring Short Round back as long to ensure that they really annoy and piss off the audience. At least Short Round provided occasional comic relief. Granted, I wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him every time he was like, "Doctah Jone! Doctah Jone!"--which was usually accompanied by him or Kate Capshaw doing something idiotic to complicate the already unbearable plot of Temple of Doom--but at least he wasn't a tool who thinks he's the best thing since KY Liquid. I really get the vibe from Shia that he thinks he's God's gift to everything: women, movies, the environment, etc., and that irritates me. He has stupid tattoos and I can barely remember what he looks like. Earth to Shia: you're not special, and I associate your name with either a sect of Islam or French beef, not some hot Hollywood stud. So don't think you're hot shit just because you're in this abortion of an Indiana Jones movie.

I just don't think there needed to be another one of these movies, especially not now when Harrison Ford is succumbing to the ravages of time. This movie is being made for one reason only: greed, and because of that, it's going to suck more dick than I do. Thanks a lot, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, for continuing to ruin the classic film franchises you've made by squeezing every last drop of profit out of them, no matter the cost. This movie is going to hang like a dark cloud over the Indiana Jones franchise for decades to come, even worse than Temple of Doom. Not that I'm surprised, as this is coming from the men who gave us A.I.:Artificial Intelligence and Jar Jar Binks, but it pisses me off nonetheless.

In fact, the only good thing about this movie that I can think of is that Cate Blanchett is in it, and I have the hots for that bitch something serious. However, I understand she only has a bit part in the movie. Oh well. At least there's five minutes of it I'll like. Probably.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:41 AM 3 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Jeanne Assam


Name: Jeanne Assam

DOB: 1965?

Occupation: Christian, sharpshooter

Hometown: ??

Current residence: Colorado Springs, Colorado

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: For starters, Jeanne's personal style choices qualify her for a mention. She's got a sort of Farrah Fawcett meets Tonya Harding thing going on, and it's a look that appeals strongly to my PWT sensibilities. You know she is rocking some serious acrylic tips to go with that thick layer of Cover Girl Tru Blend shellac and those meticulously shaped eyebrows. Get this woman a pack of Virginia Slim Light 100s and a video poker machine, stat.

Second, Jeanne is hardcore. When a crazy, schizophrenic gunman walked into her church on Sunday ready to shoot some bitches up, she prayed to the Holy Spirit and put a cap in his ass. Jeanne happened to be packing at her Sunday services because, having had prior experience in law enforcement, she volunteers as a security guard at the church. I'd like to know what the hell kind of church needs an armed security guard. Obviously, it worked out well in terms of preventing a crazy lunatic from killing half the congregation, but I find it hard to believe that anticipating disgruntled ex-members of the flock showing up to kill everyone was the impetus for organizing a church security force. Certainly I've never heard of us Catholics doing such a thing, and our churches are full of gold and marble and all sorts of ornate crap that people might want to steal. I mean, if someone wanted to walk into any given mass with an assault rifle, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel, because most people leave their handguns at home when they go to mass. We Catholics haven't routinely stocked our churches with weapons since the Crusades. Okay, we had some sweet torture setups during the Inquisition, but it's still been a few centuries since it was common practice for us to keep instruments of misery and death in our houses of God (unless you count the cross, but that's a technicality...and we Catholics love our idols and effigies). These megachurches must be shockingly dangerous places to worship if they need a pistol packing security force to keep the peace during their services.

Then again, I guess these types of places are just waiting for someone to go berserk and shoot them up. If that Joel Osteen guy is any indication, these megachurch evangelical types are all a bunch of slick charlatans whose services are essentially one gigantic, flashy attempt to separate the faithful from their hard-earned cash. My dad does this amazing impression of Joel Osteen where he shouts, "Open your hearts and your wallets, brothers and sisters!" Although it hasn't happened with Rev. Osteen yet, most of these dudes get caught smoking meth with a gay hooker, or molesting children, or embezzling church funds, or something equally sinful and obviously reprehensible. I can see why some of their more fanatical followers can go nuts; there's only so much hypocrisy one can stand in the name of the Notorious J.C. That's why the New Life Church needs hot pieces of trash like Jeanne above to keep her concealed carry permit current and fill any asshole looking to revenge himself upon God's righteous Christian soldiers with lead. God bless her.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:18 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Monday, December 10, 2007

 

How to tell that you are an alcoholic

This morning, I went to get a sugarfree Red Bull from my fridge to augment my morning blogging. It always takes me a while to get into a good blogging rhythm on Mondays, because I am invariably hung over from drinking all day on Sunday during football, and because I am invariably tired from staying up late drinking more and watching the Sunday night game after getting home from the bar. So on days when I'm smart, I pick up a caffeinated beverage the night before to help me get started in the morning. Last night, I was smart, and I picked up a Red Bull on my way home, along with my Sunday night game six-pack.

This morning, when I hauled my protesting ass out of bed to grope my way to the fridge for this Red Bull, I wasn't feeling so hot. In fact, my head felt like someone dropped a metal bowl on it and hit that with a hammer. All I knew was that I needed Red Bull, STAT.

It wasn't until I climbed back into bed with my laptop and went to take my first sweet swig of energy drink that I realized I had grabbed a BEER out of my fridge instead of the Red Bull. I went to the fridge seeking relief and I must have unconsciously grabbed the beverage I thought would be most likely to provide that: the alcoholic one.

Luckily, I didn't take my drinking problem to the next level by actually drinking the beer at 7 a.m., and fortunately I hadn't opened it, so it didn't go to waste. However, I think it indicates one thing pretty clearly:

My name is Razzy, and I am TOTALLY an alcoholic.

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:39 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Help out with my strap-on

So this weekend was a pretty typical Razzy weekend. I did some drinking, went to mass (okay, that's not really very typical, but let's pretend for one second--without laughing--that I'm a good Catholic girl), and watched football all day on Sunday. Oh yeah, and I had hot lesbian sex!

Now everyone knows I am bisexual, but I'm definitely a 90/10 boy/girl split in terms of preference. I've slept with ten dudes for every one chick, and I am a big fan of weiners. If there was a penis fan club group on Facebook, I would assuredly join. In fact, there probably is, and I plan to look into that. However, just because I like boys better doesn't mean I'm going to pass when some hot chick wants to get it on. This past year, I've reconciled myself with the fact that casual lezzie sex can be just as fun as casual breeder sex, as it's not all the boobmashing, processing, and Dar Williams-listening that I came to associate with it when I was at Smith. There are actually bitches out there who just want to fuck and have fun and not live up to the old "What does a lesbian bring on a first date? A U-Haul with all her shit in it" cliche that I previously associated with girl-girl action. In that spirit, I decided to fully invest in having hot Sapphic misadventures and went out and bought some lesbian sex gear.

Since most of my hooking up is done with boys, I hadn't really had an opportunity to use my strap-on, other than walking around my apartment wearing it and looking in a mirror and thinking that having a penis would be totally hilarious and fun. I would tell everyone to blow me, all the time. For those of you who are like some Razzy with your masturbation, here I am striking one of the"suck my fake dick, bitch" poses I amuse myself with:

Anyway, this weekend I was getting hot and heavy with this girl and decided to put my strap-on to better use than just running around being immature about it. So I cinched up my harness and was prepared to have this bitch love my doggystyle. However, I quickly realized that this looks a lot easier in porn movies than it is in real life. I realized that, although this girl is taller than me, my thighs were a lot longer than hers. Thus when I was on my knees behind her, my fake dick was way above her vagina. It was a comedy of errors trying to get us both in a position where I could actually fuck her and get some kind of rhythm going. Having always been on the receiving end of doggystyle sex, I didn't realize what a hassle it is for the person doing the penetrating. In the end I got the job done, but I couldn't help be horrified at how much practice I need to become truly proficient at hitting that shit from the back with a strap-on.

On the numerous occasions when I have been the recipient of sex in this position, I have never had a dude indicate that he was having problems with angles but this must be a problem guys have to contend with. I tend to like tall guys, so obviously their thighs must be much longer than mine and they must have to do some rearranging to achieve the right angle. However, I can't think of one who had much trouble making it work. So, I need some help from all you wise perverts out there. How do guys solve this problem? Is the issue that my strap-on, although somewhat flexible, has less of a range of motion than a real cock? Or is there some trick that guys know to overcome this? Or am I woefully ignorant to the point where I probably don't even deserve to wield a fake schlong?

So, dudes and advanced lesbians, please leave me some comments and help a skank out. It's embarrassing for an accomplished slut like myself to have problems achieving sexual positions, so I need to correct this ASAP before I try to bang another broad and look like a clumsy amateur. I am yours to instruct, so comment away.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:56 AM 12 Comments Links to this post
 

Sig Hansen is the 12th man

Yesterday while I sat stewing in malevolent thoughts concerning a certain despicable team from Foxborough, Assachusetts and waiting for my man Alex at Josie Wood's Pub to turn on the Seahawks-Cardinals game, I was busy texting my buddy from the P-N-Dub, HotLawyer.

HotLawyer: Prediction--hawks win by fourteen! Fuck yeah!
Razzy: I went to church yesterday and prayed 4 just that
HotLawyer: God answered

Indeed he did and how, because the Seahawks actually ended up winning by 21 points. However, at this point prior to kickoff, the game still wasn't on in the bar, so HotLawyer had to call me to tell me that something AWESOME happened at Qwest Field. In case you don't know much about Seahawks football, we fans are known as the "12th man." Yes, I know Texas A&M thought of this first, but we really perfected it in Seattle. Here's the hot piece of middle linebacker known as Lofa Tatupu running around yesterday waving the 12th man flag for the fans' delight:

At the beginning of every game, a local Seattle celebrity and/or hero is called upon to raise the 12th man flag. Often, this is a douchebag like John Kerley (host of a local shitshow called "Evening Magazine") or one of Seahawks owner Paul Allen's douchebag friends from Microsoft. Sometimes they do better and get a hot Mariner (ie: Ichiro) or some hot former Seahawk like Jim Zorn to do it. And once in a great while, they get someone who truly embodies everything that makes Seattle great. Someone who is a real man, a true hero, and a devastatingly handsome hunk of Viking sexiness.

Who could meet such high and exacting standards, you ask? There is only one man I can think of, and his name is CAPTAIN SIGURD HANSEN OF THE F/V NORTHWESTERN!

YES!!!! Who is Captain Sigurd Hansen of the F/V Northwestern, you ask? Only the most dreamy crab boat captain ever to mine the Bering Sea for "red gold" on the Discovery Channel's "Deadliest Catch." My feelings for Sig are well-known, since he himself stumbled upon a blog entry I wrote praising his bravery and rough-edged Scandinavian hotness, linked it on his MySpace, and declared me his .1 fan (!). Sig is so damn sizzling that undoubtedly all the people shivering in the chilly Seattle winter weather at Qwest Field probably felt like the heat was turned on full blast.

"Sig just raised the 12th man flag!" HotLawyer told me excitedly. "This portends well for the Seahawks, I think."

Immediately after getting off the phone with HotLawyer, I got a text message from his twin brother, Morrissey'sHair.

Morrissey'sHair: At game. Sig raised the 12th man flag!
Razzy: HotLawyer told me. Is it like 80 degrees at qwest field because sig is there?

Morrissey'sHair was probably occupied with a large frosty cup of Rainier beer, so he didn't get back to me about Sig causing unseasonably warm weather at Qwest Field, but I'm sure if he hadn't been busy chugging Vitamin R and cheering for the Hawks he would have replied in the affirmative.

Anyway, I'm glad that Captain Sig took a break from "selling out" (according to some ardent "Deadliest Catch" fans) by putting his name on Russian crab being sold at Wal-Mart to celebrate his Seahawks love. When he finished raising that flag, he probably fired up a cigarette and called Captain Phil Harris of the F/V Cornelia Marie to rub it in that he was the face of the 12th man. I can't wait for next season of "Deadliest Catch" when Sig taunts Captain Phil with wheezy laughter into his radio about assisting in the defeat of our pathetic divisional rivals from Arizona.

Obviously the Seahawks won thanks to Sig's blessing Qwest Field with his virile masculinity and his overall positive mojo. How could anything but victory come after watching Sig put his decades of crab-fishing experience into one of the finest executed 12th man flag raisings in the history of standard bearing? Watch and see for yourself:

So. DAMN. HOT!

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:11 AM 2 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: the New England Patriots


Name: the New England Patriots. All of them.

DOB: established 1960, but really became hateworthy upon Bill Belichick taking the reins in 2000

Occupation: cheating, running up the score, being bad sportsmen, popularizing vagrant chic in terms of cutoff-sleeve sweatshirts

Hometown: Boston, Assachusetts

Current residence: Foxborough, Assachusetts

Douchebaggery: I know the Pats are winning and winning and winning and they're unstoppable and Randy Moss is amazing and they're setting all sorts of records and blah blah blah, but I just can't help sipping on my Patriots-flavored Haterade. Actually, fuck sipping...I'm CHUGGING it for the Pats. I just don't like them. I hate Tom Brady's ass-shaped chin and rugged good looks. I hate Belichick's terse press conference manner and resistance to pulling Jim Mora, Sr.-esque hilarious tirades (although at least I can console myself knowing he won't be spliced into a Coors Light commercial anytime soon). I hate the way they run up the score against shitty teams just to be assholes and just to help out certain people (named NeisMan) in my Fantasy league who have an all-Patriots team and who I am playing in our Fantasy playoffs next week. The Patriots are assholes and I just HATE THEM!

I didn't realize how deeply I hate the Patriots until yesterday, when I was at my usual football bar watching what I deemed the Asshole Bowl: the New England Cheaters versus the Shitsburgh Stealers. I found that I was actually rooting for the Stealers. For those of you not familiar with my football loyalties, I am a Seahawks fan, and like all Seahawks fans who suffered through the horror of February 6, 2006 AKA "Black Sunday" AKA Super Bowl XL, I loathe the Pittsburgh Steelers with every ounce of energy I have. I call them the "Stealers" because they straight up STOLE THE GODDAMNED SUPER BOWL via some obvious shady pact with the officials and possibly the devil. Roethlisberger was given a touchdown that he did NOT score, and the officials wouldn't stop making up bullshit offensive pass interference penalties against the Seahawks while flagrantly ignoring horse-collar tackles and face mask infractions committed by the Stealers. It was a dark day in the P-N-Dub, and one which I will never forget, and I have already described my (extremely bitter, angry, and pissed off) feelings about this at length in previous blog postings.

Considering that every time I cross paths with a Stealers fans, I want to throw paint on their Bettis jerseys and throttle them with their Terrible Towels, it's saying a lot that I was cheering when they scored (which was rarely). I always love to see the Stealers lose, and it was thus shocking to me that I was sad about this. I thought to myself, "My God, I really hate the Patriots."

I am not alone. The internets are full of like-minded people. There is a (totally awesome) website devoted to being INEPT (I hate the New England PaTriots):

There is a group on fannation.com hating the Patriots and questioning Tom Brady's sexuality (although I'd say his whole supermodel-fucking thing does argue for his being hetero):

There is a 1300+ member-strong group on Facebook:

The Facebook group has spent a lot of time making pictures like this:

A nice sentiment, but I'm turning my back on my Christian faith if Jesus is a Colts fan. I hate them too. I'm a little shocked at how I've realized the extremity of my Patriots hatred via commiserating with Stealers and Colts fans, two groups of people that I detest on principle. I guess I can sleep with the enemy a little bit to fully explore my feelings of loathing for New England. I just don't like them. I mean, I just REALLY don't like them. I plan to channel all my psychic energies into wishing them to lose, because prayer isn't working. I suspect Jesus doesn't actually hate the Patriots, which, if you ask me, is a major lapse in judgment on his part. I went to mass on Saturday night (and no, I didn't burst into flames upon crossing the threshold of St. Patrick's Cathedral, and I even took communion without bringing down the wrath of God on my sinful head...Christ is merciful), and prayed fervently for the Patriots' defeat. Jesus never answers my sports-related prayers, and it must be on account of him not watching football, because I can't imagine why he would be on the Patriots' side unless their cheating ways remind him fondly of his old tax-collector disciples.

Since JC isn't doing the job, I'll just hope against all hope that my prediction for the Patriots' first loss comes true. I always look for a silver lining, and I think that will come in two weeks in the form of the Miami Dolphins. Yes, you read that right...I predict that the Miami Water Dogs will get their first win of the season by taking out the Hatriots. Before you express audible scorn for this prediction, let me remind you that the 1972 Dolphins were the only team in the Super Bowl era to go undefeated. The 2007 Dolphins have not won a game, and rather than mark the 35th anniversary of their triumphant undefeated season with a winless one, they will get their shit together to take out New England in one of the greatest David versus Goliath victories in NFL history. It's going to be one of the greatest football stories of all time, because nobody is going to be expecting it. Nobody but RAZZY.org readers, that is! Just wait and enjoy watching the Patriots learn some humility from the worst team in pro football. And in the meantime, you can all enjoy bitchy comments that my ex-boyfriend Benzo is sure to leave juxtaposing tired boasting about Belichick's genius and the Red Sox World Series victory with weak insults about the NFC West being an easy division.


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# posted by Razzy @ 8:04 AM 4 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: the subway strippers


Name: Laura Lee Anderson, Jessica Wu, Marissa Lupp, and Isis Masoud

DOB: early 80s

Occupation: making slutty YouTube videos

Hometown: Queens, New York

Current residence: gracing the pages of the NY Daily News

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I was seeing what the New York tabloids had to offer this morning in terms of hot headlines in large exclamatory font, and was attracted to an article entitled "Subway pole dancers enrage MTA." I am staunchly pro-subway pole dancing, so I decided to see how the Metropolitan Transit Authority was continuing to increase their lameness quotient by getting in the way of this practice.

Apparently these unemployed NYU grads had nothing better to do than try to win some sort of online contest for the best public pole dancing, so they grabbed a boom box and jumped on the N train. While generally I loathe subway performers (nothing makes me more broodingly annoyed than hearing a shout of "SHOWTIME!" followed by teenagers pushing everyone out of the way so they can break dance for spare change between stops to the beats of Timbaland), I support any type of subway performance featuring hot broads stripping and providing passengers with lap dances. I also support anything which enrages the MTA, because they are scoundrels and crooks with fucked up priorities. According to the article:
"The last thing we want is for anyone to turn our subways into roving burlesque stages for crude exhibitionists," said NYC Transit spokesman Paul Fleuranges.

"While the rules don't specifically state lap or pole dancing ... what is depicted here is disorderly conduct," Fleuranges added.
Speak for yourself, Paul Fleuranges. I think that I can find a whole lot of New Yorkers who share my opinion that it would be fucking rad if our subways became roving burlesque stages for crude exhibitionists. That would be much better than the current roving dumpsters--complete with sleeping indigents--that our subways currently are, and it might even give me an opportunity for making money on the side, as my crude exhibitionist credentials are extremely solid (for evidence of this, click on the "nudity" tag). Furthermore, why does the MTA have time to get bent out of shape about this when just last week a YouTube video appeared of a gang of teenagers laying a beatdown on some passenger they didn't like? Compared to mopping up the PR fallout for random assaults being showcased on the internets, I would think the MTA would welcome some amateur strippers getting freaky on the N train. This is just another reason why I should be in charge of the MTA. In addition to subway conductors giving fun facts about history at each stop, crosstown transportation options improving dramatically, and ending the practice of making the A train run local on the weekends, my benevolent rule over the MTA would be characterized by strippers on every train. Straphangers everywhere would praise and glorify my name. Mayor Bloomberg should strongly consider this the next time he's in the market for someone to run the MTA.

I have to applaud these bitches for being great citizens of this fine city. Bringing nudity and what the Daily News calls "Scores-type moves" to a subway commute is a tremendous service that shockingly few women provide. I have never stripped on a subway (although I did ALMOST have sex on the L train once, but that's another story I like to forget because it was with my hateful ex-boyfriend TWOD). I'm thinking that to do my part in giving back to the community I should follow these brave ladies' lead and start providing lap dances to lucky passengers on the A train. I salute these women for their pioneering efforts at making the subway a better place. Bravo, ladies.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:12 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Friday, December 07, 2007

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Nobody!

Sorry, guys, but I failed to make the Swedish meatballs I'm supposed to bring to the damn floor holiday party today last night because I fell asleep watching the rest of the "Two-a-Days" DVDs that LL Cool Jew sent me. It's true that I really cannot get over their hair, a style my friend Unicorn Dick refers to as "hick bangs." In spite of those bangs and the fact that he is a total dumbass, I would definitely and for sure peel off that Livestrong bracelet and hit Alex (#34) the safety (he's legal--the age of consent in 'Bama is 16...booyah!). I'd also totally jump promptly on Repete (#91), the defensive end, to support him realizing his dream of being the first in his family to go to college. I've been to college; I can tell him all about what it's like!

I have a lot more than this to say about "Two-a-Days" because LL Cool Jew was mostly right when she said that I had to get with "Two-a-Days" because "it is the greatest show ever." It's still no "Beverly Hills, 90210," but as far as non-Bev Niner shows are concerned, it's some quality material. Therefore, I'll save my "Dude I Want to Hit" entry dedicated to the barely-or-almost legal men of "Two-a-Days" for another day, and wish you all a happy fucking weekend. I have to go cream some balls. Meatballs, you pervs! I mean Swedish meatballs!

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:08 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Mike McHaney


Name: James Michael McHaney

DOB: 1979

Occupation: aide to Senator Maria Cantwell (D-WA), predator

Hometown: ??

Current residence: Washington, DC

Douchebaggery: While working for one of my home state's shriveled, FUPA-sporting skanks in the Senate, James Michael "Mike" McHaney decided that it would be a great idea to use his AOL Instant Messenger account to chat with what he thought was one of his fellow pedophiles. Apparently, he was busy trying to set up a "long lunch" in which he and his chat buddy could do a 13-year-old up the butt. To ensure that the 13-year-old met Mike's standards for prepubescent hotness, he inquired as to whether or not the kid had "any pubes." When the chat buddy responded in the negative, Mike replied "that's hot."

EWWW, no it's not! For one thing, that's Paris Hilton's catchphrase from approximately three years ago, and not only is it outdated, but it's being popularized by Paris makes it decidedly NOT hot in any context, much less in talking about some child rape victim's progress through puberty. For another, children are not hot! Granted, I am not only not a pedophile, but someone who actively despises children, but still...kids are not hot. If you're going to use positive attributes to describe their sexuality, Mike, you need to watch a little more "To Catch a Predator" to learn that the more appropriate pederast adjective is "kewl." However, Mike probably could have stood to watch a little more TCaP just for the knowledge that planning to go sodomize a minor via instant message during your lunch break from the U.S. Senate office where you work is inadvisable.

Sadly, Mike's chat with the "cooperating witness" was under surveillance by the FBI and not the hotness that is Chris Hansen and the morally superior folks over at "Dateline NBC." This is a shame for a couple reasons. While on the plus side, the FBI got a creep and a sex offender off the street, now we're not going to get any awesome footage of Mike McHaney getting his due apart from the report on The Smoking Gun. It would really have been better if they used a female actor to lure him to a house, sat him down for Kool-Aid and/or cookies, and then had Chris Hansen stroll out with his business face on. I can only imagine watching Mike run his hands nervously through his stiff forest of sculpted blonde tips as he tries to explain why he said "I'll be there" in response to "Want 2 do anal 2 a 13yo at lunch lol?" Also, sadly, we will not get to hear TCaP's brilliant voiceover actors reenacting the chat right down to perfectly executed "lmao"s and exclamations of "omg". I bet Mike gives some hilarious predator IM that would make the scene where, after being released from the withering reproachful glare of Chris Hansen, he gets jumped by fifty cops all hiding in the shrubbery wearing giant leaf-covered camouflage gear that much more satisfying.

On another topic, while I'm no longer one of Maria Cantwell's constituents and instead am represented in the U.S. Senate by the two biggest media whore assclowns in politics (Chuck Schumer and Hillary Clinton), I would like to know why her employees have enough free time to go pound kids up the ass during their lunchbreaks. What the fuck is Maria Cantwell doing--or more accurately, NOT doing--that her aides can spend all day on IM planning their next pubeless tryst with a minor? Clearly, the Cantwell Senate office is a classic example of taxpayer money going to good use.

Prior to Maria Cantwell, that Senate seat was occupied by a guy named Slade Gorton. Slade Gorton looked evil, sounded evil, and was a Republican. His nickname, based on supporting environmentally unfriendly silver mines in the Cascade Mountains, was "Cyanide Slade," and he was otherwise known for hating on Native Americans big time. Even his own campaign ads featuring a sinister voice exhorting voters to support "SLADE Gor-ton" in a way that by all rights should have been followed by a maniacal "mwah ha ha ha." In addition to all these unlikable attributes, he actually looks like the bastard child of Skeletor and Max Headroom, and gives off some serious pedophile vibes of his own.

However, now that Maria Cantwell has shown that she figures a prior job at the Human Rights Commission is a good enough indication that staffers are decent people who will spend their days working rather than soliciting group anal with a teenager via chats, I feel almost nostalgic for old Senator Gorton. At least he didn't have any gay, overcoiffed, Spencer Pratt-looking child rapists on his staff. Well, that got caught, anyway.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:01 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, December 06, 2007

 

Pourin' out for Pourin' Up

Sadly, Chad "Pimp C" Butler passed away two days ago from as-yet-undisclosed causes. His mom says he died in his sleep, which makes me think "codeine and promethazine overdose," but I'm down to make a friendly wager on this matter if you have another idea. My thoughts are that 33-year-old dudes don't just up and die for no reason, and given that he was a man from the South who noted in "Big Pimpin'" (while helping Jay-Z make Grey Goose vodka rain all over the tits of a veritable army of bikini-clad video hoes) that he's "keepin' lean up in his cup." Other notable Houston-based rappers (ie: DJ Screw) have died from overdoing their Jolly Rancher-Sprite-prescription cough syrup-vodka concoctions, so my money's on the sizzurp.

Anyway, it's sad that the world was deprived of this great artist at such a young age. Pimp C's fans have already crafted beautiful and moving tributes to his memory, and to help his longtime partner Bernard "Bun B" Freeman cope with his loss. I know it hurts, but stay trill!


To keep his memory alive, I will conclude this memorial with a few lines that Pimp C penned himself. Pimpalation will always be proceeding so long as we cherish Pimp C's contribution within our hearts. Bow your head and take a moment to reflect.
Smokin out, pourin up, puttin dick up in yo slut
All my car got leather and wood, in my hood we call it buck
I'm smokin out, pourin up, keep it lean up in my cup
All my car got leather and wood, in my hood we call it buck
Father-Son-Holy Spirit, Amen.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:49 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Mutton Bustin'

Shockingly, this is not the title of some redneck porn. Not shockingly, this is apparently a sport that goes down every year at my hometown's annual claim to fame, the Puyallup Fair. A local country music station sponsors this fake bullriding competition to facilitate fairgoers better Doing the Puyallup, but to ensure that all the fat trailer trash and enfeebled meth addicts from the outlying areas aren't injured, they ride sheep instead...hence, the "mutton" in "Mutton Bustin'."

Thanks a lot, Puyallup Fair, for allowing this event and for letting some slag put up a clip of it on YouTube. As if my town doesn't already have enough of a bad reputation for doing cracker-type stuff, you have to actually sponsor an exhibit based on a sheep-riding theme. Given that our state's need for anti-bestiality legislation was apparently precipitated by activities going on in the greater Puyallup metropolitan area ("metropolitan"=used EXTREMELY loosely here), I don't think that offering the opportunity to mount a bucking sheep is helping people Do the Puyallup in any kind of wholesome way. You can do it at a trot, you can do it at a gallop, and you can do it to a sheep? Puyallup doesn't need its already dismal reputation concerning the prevalence of daffodils and criminal man-on-livestock sex brought further down by our eponymous Fair condoning bareback sheep rides. I'm totally writing a letter to the editor of the Tacoma News Tribune and the Pierce County Herald when I drop into the P-N-Dub next week. The good, non-animal-fucking people of Puyallup and unincorporated Pierce County will not have the name of our beloved Fair besmirched in such a vulgar and perverted manner. Down with Mutton Bustin'!

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:26 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Belladonna


Name: Belladonna

Real name: Michelle Anne Sinclair

DOB: May 21, 1981

Occupation: porn star, specializing in anal, fetish, and rough lesbian genres

Hometown: Salt Lake City, Utah (another shining example of a virtuous Mormon lady)

Current residence: somewhere in Porn Valley, California

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Belladonna is a dirty, filthy, nasty, disgusting girl, to the point where, depending on the movie, up to 90% of what she does makes me cringe. However, like a train wreck, I can't stop watching some of Belladonna's extremely perverted antics. For Belladonna, double anal is just another day at the office, and while that sort of thing doesn't really arouse me, I'm fascinated by Bella's ability to make it seem like the most fun anyone could ever possibly have. I think that sticking one regular-sized dick up my ass is challenging enough as far as my comfort level is concerned, so I can only imagine sticking two porn star-sized cocks in there along with a lime or a baseball (not joking about that) is damned excruciating. OUCH.

Belladonna always pushes the envelope. She has sex with men, women, and trannies, and she usually does nasty fucking things to all of them. I saw one clip in which she was not only eight months pregnant, she was having a lesbian/tranny orgy and proceeded to give one of her companions a BREAST MILK ENEMA prior to sticking a Louisville slugger up her ass. I watch a lot of porn, but even for a dirty, perverted girl like me I was like, "Oh. My. GOD. How did I manage to pull this off the internets?" It's the kind of thing that doesn't really turn you on, but that you watch with a mix of revulsion, shock, and a sense of horrified curiosity. Granted, I'm sure that there are people out there who are really into pregnancy fetish-themed anal group sex, but I imagine most people, even those well-versed in porn, watch that and say, "What the hell...?" Again, for Belladonna, it's just another day at the office.

In addition to the fact that her sheer depravity is impressive even for a famous porn star, I like the fact that Bella doesn't really look like a typical porn star. She has a huge diastema (gap between her front teeth, and trust that dick DOES fit...I saw her deep throat all eleven inches of Lexington Steele's penis, and just thinking about attempting that makes me want to start retching) and is regularly shaving her head for lesbian scenes (extra style points to Bella for catering to the lady-loving ladies in the audience via her coiffure). Her breasts are natural C cups, and she has tattoos all over, including a giant sacred heart on her left tit. In spite of not being covered with fake blonde hair and silicone, Bella manages to fuck with more aggression and panache than ten Jenna Jamesons put together. Furthermore, even though Bella isn't conventionally good looking, she is drop dead gorgeous when put next to Jenna "We Wants the Precious" Jameson. She fucks with more vigor and enthusiasm, has more of a sense of humor (currently, the poll on her NSFW website is "Should Rubbing Slugs be the title of my next girl-girl series?" and there's a picture of jizz dripping off her nose to the caption "I GOT SLIMED!"), and has more range than 90% of the bitches in porn. I don't get off to Bella the way I respond to Briana Banks, but as far as the level of respect I accord to a porn star, Bella is light years ahead. She is smart, unafraid, and unapologetic, and is as much of a feminist icon as a woman starring in movies called Belladonna's Dark Meat, Butthole Whores 2, My Hot Wife is Fucking Blackzilla 11, Manhandled, Cock Happy, Fetish Fanatic, and Belladonna's Oddjobs (a series about sex with feet, fruits and vegetables, and other various household objects) can possibly be. While uptight feminazis at Smith College might say that porn like this is degrading, every woman who has enjoyed the greater sexual freedom that the feminist movement has afforded them can thank Belladonna for blazing a trail of unabashedly weird yet strangely empowering sexual deviance. Thanks to Bella, it's okay for women to be perverts too, and I mean that in the most positive way possible. I think she has done a great service for women's liberation.

I was thus fairly upset about a month or two ago when Bella announced her semi-retirement from the industry. This was because she developed a gigantic herpes lesion on her ass, presumably was unable to perform (since her ass is in approximately 95% of the footage she shoots), and was worried about passing her simplex around to her co-stars, even though virtually all of them have the herp. Luckily, it turned out a different member of the herpesviridae; just a spot of shingles as opposed to the worst herpes simplex outbreak of all time, and now she seems to have reconsidered her desire to stop getting DPed for the camera (which is inadvisable, since her shingles outbreak actually suggests she has varicella-zoster virus as well as herpes simplex, and I don't really have a "more the merrier" philosophy when it comes to herpesvirus infections). Granted, I still won't be buying Belladonna's latest Fetish Fanatic movie because I don't really get off by making a vodka gimlet in some other bitches' vadge while I shove a kielbasa up her ass. Nor will I ever hit her hotness since I'm not planning on starring in any violent anal lesbian porn films anytime soon and since I avoid effing people with herpes, but I will continue to read her MySpace blog and cheer her on. Keep on shocking the world's sensibilities, girl! And here's hoping you start a dynasty of winning the FAME "Dirtiest Girl in Porn" award, because you are!

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:20 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: holiday parties


Name: holiday party thrown by (friends/office/organization/etc.)

DOB: rises anew every fucking Chrismukah

Occupation: augmenting my already high holiday stress levels

Hometown: ubiquitous

Current residence: this week, there's two at work and one at a bar downtown

Douchebaggery: I know it's nice and in the spirit of the holidays to wish everyone you know well during this time, but why does EVERYONE have to do this? I feel like I can't do anything that I normally would for the next week and a half because of all these damn parties I have to go to.

Usually, a full schedule of parties isn't anything to complain about, but most of the time parties require nothing but showing up with a six-pack and a social attitude. These holiday parties not only require attendance, they require work. The one I have to go to tomorrow is a potluck, and even worse, I'm supposed to bring some trash representative of my cultural heritage. Since I'm not investing $150 in a lefse-making set-up and there are no local joints where I can buy pre-made lefse or potatis korv, and there's NO WAY I'm making lutefisk (I do not want a pot of boiling lye in my kitchen), I'm stuck spending tonight making a batch of goddamn Swedish meatballs. If there's anything my Norwegian grandfather would be rolling in his grave about, it's that I'm bringing Swedish meatballs to a party. Granted, my grandmother was Swedish, but Grandpa Ben told me to just ignore that because although he loved my grandmother, the Swedes are generally a weak people, and almost as bad as the Danes. "Ten thousand Swedes ran through the weeds, chased by one Norwegian," he used to tell me. And now I'm stuck making their pussified meatballs for a stupid potluck that I don't even really want to go to. FUCK THAT!

In addition to doing a bunch of bullshit potlucks that actually require cooking, a lot of these parties have "Secret Santa" gift exchanges. Historically, I've always made out horribly at holiday parties in the gift exchanges, which I attribute to my karmic reward for buying the gift at a drugstore twenty minutes prior to the gift exchange happening. One year at the company I worked for prior to grad school I actually got a jar of pickled asparagus as a Secret Santa gift. I've contributed some crazy shit for these gift exchanges, but nothing ever as lame as weird bloody mary garnishes. Meanwhile, everyone around me is unwrapping gift cards and bottles of wine and other useful, quality gift items. Life is unfair.

Even more infuriating, for my floor party, the gift exchange has a $12 minimum (!), and there is a sign up about it in the lunch room that admonishes everyone, "Don't be cheap!" Don't be cheap? I'm in grad school! Sorry, but I'm not in a position to bring a fucking Cartier watch to the floor potluck/gift exchange. You'll be lucky if I gift-wrap a six-pack of Heineken. Hell, you'll be lucky if I remember to bring anything at all! "Don't be cheap!"...don't be an asshole! I'm already making a whole pot full of fucking meatballs AND bringing beer. Of course, my beer will probably all be consumed by Sohard, the dumb slag in our lab who never brings ANYTHING to floor parties. Last summer, she actually asked everyone if they were okay with her eating and drinking her fill even though she brazenly took our rotation student to the store to buy his contribution, and decided that her cheapness was acceptable so long as everyone said so. I was too busy making out with the hot redhead from the lab down the hall to get into it with Sohard, but I guarantee tomorrow I'm going to see that twat running around with whatever beer I bring and a plate of whatever vegetarian crap people bring. Knowing her, she'll complain that there aren't more vegetarian entrees even though she doesn't bring anything. Christmas is certainly here, because that bitch is a dirty HO HO HO!

Since I am always a big Scrooge when it comes to the topic of Sohard and I could write a lengthy five-volume set about all that is wrong with her tongue ring-wearing, PBR-drinking, wide-assed, midwestern, pretentious hipster lifestyle, however, I'll just get back to the original topic. I don't understand why everyone insists on having a holiday party. If you really wanted to give me a gift for the holiday, your ass could wait until the holidays are over and then have a party. There aren't enough parties in January or February, so I would be glad and grateful if someone said, "You know, let's just call it a 'winter' party instead of a 'holiday' party, and then everyone can come, and it won't be horribly stressful, and we won't have to do a stupid gift exchange, and everyone wins." Think about that, assholes, before you decide that it's time to show everyone how much more pressed for time and annoyed you can make everyone this holiday season.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:40 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

 

Sam Lufti is the new Howard K. Stern

As my concern for one of my favorite artists of all time, the legendary Ms. Britney Spears, continues to grow, I saw a disturbing story this morning in Us Weekly, and I'm not talking about the one speculating whether Paris Hilton has undergone plastic surgery (duh). Upon seeing "CONTROLLED BY A CREEP" I knew immediately that Us Weekly had dug up some dirt on Brit-Brit's grossest hanger-on, Sam Lufti.

I went to read the article, and it was basically as I expected: Sam Lufti has a shady past, including restraining orders, a variety of aliases, and former acquaintances describing him as "a hustler."
Since last summer, when Britney Spears' pal Sam Lutfi appeared out of nowhere, the 33-year-old so-called film producer has become an integral part of the pop singer's life.

He's called Ryan Seacrest's radio show to denounce rumors that she's pregnant, organized her 26th birthday party and stayed overnight at her homes — platonically.

But in the the current issue of Us Weekly, there may be good reason for concern.

Lutfi has had two restraining order against him for violent verbal and physical attacks, according to complaints obtained by Us, and has gone by multiple aliases, including Osama N. Lutti and Osamah N. Lutfi.

In a 2005 complaint, Jumana Issa, a business acquaintance, claims Lutfi "harassed me repeatedly with obscene e-mails, offensive faxes, telephone voice mails (around 1 a.m. to 3 a.m.), out-of-control behavior and outrageous telephone hang-ups (around 15 to 30 a day)." In one fax, Lutfi scolded: "Peel yourself away from all the candy ... and overhangin [sic] belly ... and answer my e-mails."

His former neighbor, Douglas Snoland, filed a similar complaint in 2004, alleging that Lutfi tried to kick down his front door when he suspected Snoland of having his car towed. Snoland also accused Lutfi of wanting to kill his 73-year-old disabled mother. In the complaint, Snoland accused Lutfi of saying: "I will beat your ass ... Your mother is a f-----g old hag. You are a f----t. You will regret the day you ever met me." Lutfi’s attorney denied the threats, but a judge granted a three-year restraining order to Lutfi to stay at least 15 feet away from Snoland and his mom.

As for his past work history, he is listed as a producer of the 1998 B-movie Bug Buster on imdb.com. The movie's actual producer and director, Lorenzo Doumani, says Lutfi was his $350-a-week assistant. "He was a hustler type, a fast-talking kid," recalls Doumani.

Now Spears' pals worry he is in her life under false pretenses. "They are frightened," a source close to her parents, Jaime and Lynne, tells Us. "They know she is being taken advantage of."

"She's so desperate for a friend that it's easy once you get in there," adds a pal.




What kind of fucking moron goes by the alias "Osama N. Lufti"? If someone came up to me--especially a bald, snaggle-toothed, weak-chinned, obviously sketchy creep in a "Fight On!" shirt--and introduced himself to me as "Osama N. Lufti" I would promptly start laughing in their face. The laughter would continue when he stated his occupation as "movie producer" when he was actually fetching Katherine "Shrewish, Humorless, Uptight Bitch" Heigl's coffee on the set of the straight-to-SciFi-shitshow Bug Buster (he probably wasn't even important enough to get the star of the movie--RANDY FUCKING QUAID--his Starbucks). And I would probably have a hernia with the hilarity that would ensue if this man sent me correspondence reading "Peel yourself away from all the candy...and overhangin belly...and answer my e-mails." Sadly, Britney probably thinks he's the best friend she's ever had, that "Osama" sounds REAL sophisticated and foreign-like and shit, that he can produce her long-awaited return to the silver screen (as fans of the riveting and underappreciated triumph known as Crossroads are obviously clamoring for more of Britney's mastery of the craft), and that he gets results in the business arena ("business arena"=ordering hair extensions from QVC). He probably spends most of his time purchasing urine on Craigslist for Britney to use in faking her court-ordered drug tests.

Britney needs to watch out. If there's anything we learned from Anna Nicole, it's that associating yourself with a shady dude who gradually takes over your entire life and handles all your business doesn't end well. In fact, in ends with you overdosing on methadone, chloral hydrate, and Xanax and a white trash twink battle over your surviving offspring and your millions. Except in Britney's case, she dies from overdosing on amphetamines and Jenkem, the Frappuccino and gas station product market in Malibu crashes, and Osama N. Lufti makes a fortune exploiting the shit out of Britney's tragic demise. Britney, he is not cold as fire, nor is he hot as ice. Lose the skeevy hanger-on.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:02 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: ass implant doctors in Tennessee


Name: unnamed hack plastic surgeon in Knoxville, Tennessee

DOB: ??

Occupation: butchering buttock augmentations on ugly bitches

Hometown: ??

Current residence: Knoxville, Tennessee

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Quite simply, for providing me with this video on the internets. If doctor whoever hadn't been so inept at applying $5500 worth of busted ass implants on this fugly bitch, I wouldn't currently be laughing my way to a hangover cure.

http://view.break.com/409510 - Watch more free videos
This shit is so amusing that even the reporter can't remain objective. He's snickering through the entire story, which is obviously supposed to be a serious consumer report/cautionary tale. The newsman knows better, though, even noting at one point, "If you want a laugh, watch this." I have no idea how the woman who suffered such butchery on her ass thought that a television audience COULD take it seriously when she dropped trou and started flopping her giant ass cheeks around. And frankly, that's what she gets for trying to emulate Kim Kardashian. I mean, Kim has higher quality ass implants, but the shapely curves of her posterior are mitigated by all the herpes and crabs which I suspect are crawling around her nether regions. That's not a look I'd be striving to replicate on my own body, and certainly not one I'd use a coupon for at the Knoxville discount plastic surgery center.

I don't know why this is so fucking hilarious to me, but I've watched this video like three times now. Quality material.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:38 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Plum Pomidor


Name: Plum Pomidor, specifically, Ed the hot bartender there

DOB: 2005

Occupation: getting grad students staggeringly drunk on a Tuesday night

Douchebaggery: Yesterday afternoon, I remembered that it was Tuesday, and that on Tuesdays, Parrilla, this steakhouse down the street from work, has $2 beers during happy hour. So I dragged SisterChristian over there after lab, and then convinced J-Sexy that she should swing by after she finished giving inspirational speeches to junior high kids about STDs and careers in science, or whatever do-gooder stuff she does Tuesday evenings. At 7, when the $2 beer supply dried up, SisterChristian wisely decided to go home. I was not quite ready to be responsible, however, so I convinced J-Sexy that we should go to Plum Pomidor, this bar/restaurant up the street, for one cocktail.

Last week, we did this and had two drinks...nothing serious. J-Sexy, however, swore that she would never drink another dirty martini. I was planning to stick to beer, but the moment we walked in, Ed the bartender said something along the lines of "here comes trouble" (apparently he remembered the loud conversation I treated the entire bar to about the three Bs--blowjobs, buttsex, and bisexuality.) Then he said, "I think you probably want a Johnnie Walker Black" and my plan to stick to beer was promptly out the window. J-Sexy forgot last week's vow and ordered a dirty martini. Then some dude at the bar bought us both another round. Then we did switch to beer, but Ed gave us a round of complimentary tequila shots. Then Ed gave us another round of beers. By the time we left, not only were we a couple of drunk bitches, we were the last customers in the bar and somehow J-Sexy actually decided that we should do yet another round of tequila shots. Who the fuck thinks it's a good idea to do tequila shots on a Tuesday night? DRUNKS, that's who.

Anyway, I got home wasted at around 1 a.m., only to hear the sound of my upstairs neighbor, this obnoxious hippie jazz musician who I hate almost as much as spiders, raisins, and housework, HAVING SEX! I at least heard this repetitive thumping sound that sounded an awful lot like the noise my bed makes when some honey is all thrusting up on me. "How is that asshole getting laid? More importantly, how is he getting laid when I am NOT?" I wondered. He looks like the bastard child of the Crypt Keeper and a stringbean, with a goatee. I shuddered thinking about the quality of the pussy he brought home. I should have stayed at the bar and tried to take home the bartender. He did have a couple tequila shots, and while I'm not usually into guys with reddish hair, he's pretty hot. And he gave me a knuckle pound for being "a wolf" as far as my sexuality is concerned, noting something about being able to recognize his own kind. I bet I could have hit that if I'd hung around, and I guarantee we would have outsexed jazz boy and whatever fugly bitch he brought home. Hmm...maybe next Tuesday I'll remember to dress sexier. Yesterday I was rocking some serious Smith lesbian couture as I'm a little behind on my laundry.

Sadly, I did not get laid, I missed the episode of "Nip/Tuck" that Tiffany "New York" Pollard guest-starred in, I had to listen to jazz boy getting ass which grossed me out, I got a truly insufficient amount of sleep, and now I'm hung over. No more tequila Tuesdays! Bad Razzy! Bad Plum Pomidor! Bad!!!!

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:49 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

 

I don't think ur cute

My friend El Polaco just informed me that I sent him a MySpace comment saying that I thought he was cute or something. Judging by the obscenely poor grammar and the fact that I think every moment spent on MySpace takes years off my life, he ascertained that I was not, in fact, the author of said comment which I sent to all my friends, including myself. For the record, El Polaco is cute, but he's also a big, sweet, gay bear so my thoughts on his cuteness are not particularly relevant to either of us in a practical sense.

So if we're MySpace friends and you get some sort of retarded comment from me, then please know that my account has presumably been hacked. I've changed my password so hopefully that will fix the problem. I have not developed the burning desire to tell everyone how they "r cute" or how I have a crush on them or something. If you got a comment from me mocking you and being obnoxious, that would be more believable. I don't think you are cute. In fact, I probably think you're fat, ugly, and not as smart as me. And even if did characterize one's appearance as "cute," I would phrase it a little differently (ie: "I'd totally hit that hot piece", "I'd eff the bejesus out of him/her", etc). I would also probably express it via a different medium than a comment for all of MySpace to see. Like over drinks. Or on this website. Anything but MySpace.

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:22 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
 

Help a honey out

So I was surprised last week when this honey who unceremoniously left me home and enraged on a Friday night via the world's lamest text message ("can we do a raincheck-type thing?") e-mailed me to apologize. As hard as it may be for you all to believe, I have had dudes blow me off after banging me before (obviously they are stupid and insane), but having one regret his actions and take the initiative to actually say sorry is unprecedented in my experience. I felt his apology was sincere, and accepted it because (don't tell anyone) I'm actually a sort-of nice person, and I thought he was funny (the greatest attribute in my value system) prior to his being a dumbass. Thus I improved his status from "Elevated" to "Guarded" on my Honey Asshole Behavior Alert Scale, and now we're e-mail friends of sorts:



It turns out this honey wasn't apologizing exclusively to mitigate the shame he should feel at being dumb enough to cancel plans with me and vanish after I totally blew his mind in bed, but because he also needed some advice on how to run his stable of hos. Apparently he's had a little bit of trouble getting girls to fall in line with his "let's just fuck without any emotional commitment" paradigm of relationships and wanted to know if I could help communicate this message to the ladies. Being that I have been dealing with annoying stalkers and hanger-ons lately, I could relate to his dilemma and thought about it over the weekend. I came up with some advice on being a better communicator about his goals and explaining more clearly the motives of the girls he's choosing to date/bang, but I thought it might be helpful to survey the opinions of the internets. Here is his question:
I just can't figure out how to get it through some girls' heads that by sleeping with them, it doesn't mean I want to date and fall in love with them. Is there some magic words to get these chicks to divorce the sex from any emotions. Am I a total asshole for feeling this way?

I thought that in 2007, after Sex and the City and all that, it's cool to just fuck around a little bit without it meaning too much. Or am I just picking horrendously clingy girls.

In a nutshell, that's my dilemma. Thoughts?
Like I said, this was relevant to current situations in my own life, and as an added bonus, reminded me that I had been meaning to write a scathing polemic against "Sex and the City" and what a bullshit show that is. Therefore, I would be interested to hear YOUR thoughts (for once) on this matter. So leave some comments, Razzyphiles!

Also, if you'd prefer an alternate topic for commenting on, this honey asserts that Maker's Mark with ginger ale is not a gay drink. I say he may as well be drinking an apple martini. Thoughts?

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:36 AM 12 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Gay hookers/sluts of the GOP


Name: David Phillips, Mike Jones (who?), Greg Ruth, and Tom Russell

DOB: Varied

Occupation: information technology consultant, former male prostitute, college Republican/US Army captain (retired), and unknown, respectively

Hometown: the down-low

Current residence: out of the closet

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I've already lauded David Phillips for his bravery at telling the world the degrading tale of santorum-smeared boxer briefs resulting from his decades-ago tryst with Senator Larry Craig, but I've got to give props again to him and his compatriots. All these dudes have been on the receiving end of some toe-tapping and/or hot backdoor action with the good Senator from Idaho. Indeed, he da ho. All these men have also given interviews to the Idaho Statesman, further embarrassing Senator Craig and destroying whatever shred of credibility he had left.

You know what, Senator Craig? That's what you get for spending all your time campaigning against the gays in various ways (no gay marriage, no benefits for gay partners, no hate crime laws applied to gays, etc.) to overcompensate for your deep-seated self-loathing: outed as a filthy hypocritical ASSHOLE (aficionado). The great thing is that 2007 appears to be the year in which these neo-con moralizing Jesus freaks have all wound up with egg--or in this case, random fellow airport and/or gay hooker jizz--on their faces. This is Jesus Christ's sweet revenge for these dudes running around being the most hard-hearted, unsympathetic, mean-spirited dickwads in his name and speaking from an undeserved, self-appointed moral high ground to everyone else, and we have these fine homos to thank for it. Kudos, gentlemen.

Trent Lott is next, right in time for Christmas. I mean, this dude didn't even resign from the Senate when he caught heat for bemoaning Strom Thurmond's failure to win the White House for the Dixiecrat/pro-segregation--wait, I mean "states' rights"--ticket. He has had white supremacist lobby groups visit his office and spoken at their events numerous times. I would argue that being a shameless racist is pretty bad, but I bet Senator Lott being outed as a big butt-pirate is probably far worse in his mind. When was complaining about civil rights sending the country to hell, he left his position as Senate Majority Leader kicking and screaming because he felt he was completely right to lament Thurmond's not taking the nation's reins in the '48 election, so it's more than a little bit odd that he just up and resigned last week for no apparent reason. Okay, it might have something to do with some sort of fraudulent insurance hijinks related to Hurricane Katrina, but I prefer to think that it's because there's a gay hooker waiting in the wings ready to come forward with a tawdry, stomach -churning tale of secret down-low anal with the distinguished senator from Mississippi.

Too bad LL Cool Jew has given up the newspaper business. If anyone could break this story wide open, it's her. Just look at her taking Senator Lott to task with her penetrating stare. You can really see how deeply Chester Trent Lott, Sr. offends LL Cool Jew's liberal Jewish San Franciscan lesbian sensibilities:

Alas, I guess we'll have to wait until Larry Flynt pays Trent's twink whores to talk. I couldn't ask for a more satisfying Christmas present.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:56 AM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: Katherine Heigl


Name: Katherine Marie Heigl

DOB: November 24, 1978

Occupation: actress, moralizing humorless sack of tits

Hometown: New Canaan, Connecticut

Current residence: Los Angeles, California

Douchebaggery: I've never really liked Katherine Heigl very much. For starters, she is a principal star of "Grey's Anatomy" AKA "Gay's Shitnatomy," a show that I hate and despise all the way to the core of my being but that 90% of bitches my age tend to love and talk about all the time. JerseyGirl and Rack have interrupted many a session of "Beverly Hills, 90210" watching with discussion concerning Dr. McDreamy or whoever, and I just tune it out because I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to resurrecting Patrick Dempsey as some kind of hottie sex symbol. Dude got paid to pork Kirstie Alley in a movie once, and that is a point-of-no-return situation after which you can never again considered either hot or a convincing neurosurgeon. Fuck "Gay's Shitnatomy," it is the worst show on television, and some of the responsibility for the appalling mess that is that program can be attributed squarely to Katherine Heigl's performances on it.

Not only does she annoy the world via the medium of her craft, Katherine can't keep her yap shut in real life, either. Previously, she appointed herself the anti-Isaiah Washington spokesperson of the cast when that whole "fag" to-do was going on, and generally seems like a big snob who takes herself ENTIRELY too seriously. I mean, Isaiah Washington sounds like an asshole who sucks to have around the office, but the world knows this without Katherine Heigl harping on and on about it to whoever will listen. SHUT UP. Well, the internets inform me that she's at it again as far as being obnoxiously outspoken is concerned. She gave some interview to Vanity Fair in which she first put her "Gay's Shitnatomy" character on blast for being a depraved whore. Apparently she doesn't approve of her character's banging the short, married, balding gay guy (well, he's gay in real life, whereas on the show he's just a simpering bitch and self-deprecating failure who scores pussy that would be WAY out of his league in the real world as opposed to fake Seattle). Because the world is desperately in need of patronizing sermons about the ethical fortitude of "Gray's Anatomy" characters from a bitch whose curriculum vitae includes such monumental work as the following:

Seriously, prior to her Emmy nod for "Gay's Shitnatomy," her greatest achievement was playing a skank for murderous dolls to kill in Bride of Chucky. That certainly qualifies her to opine on whether the character who has made her famous, Dr. Izzie Slutbag or whatever, is meeting her standards for respectability. Then, since she hadn't quite achieved her quota of moral superiority for the day, she decided to blast her most recent film, Knocked Up. "It was a little sexist. It paints the women as shrews, as humorless and uptight, and it paints the men as lovable, goofy, fun-loving guys. Ninety-eight percent of the time it was an amazing experience, but it was hard for me to love the movie."

I didn't see this Knocked Up trash, but if there's a reason why her character is depicted as shrewish, humorless, and uptight, it's because that's HOW SHE IS! And furthermore, if she thought the movie was so offensive to her tightassed feminist sensibilities, why did she star in it, promote it, and allow her precious snotty self to otherwise be associated with it? It's not like Judd Apatow held a gun to her head and forced her to set back women twenty years by portraying them as a bunch of dour, crabby, fun-hating sourpusses. She is a dour, crabby, fun-hating sourpuss, so she really has nobody to blame but herself. That's like me getting a Ph.D in science and claiming that I'm offended when I'm portrayed as a nerd. I wear a lab coat with markers in the pocket (no protector, though--I live on the edge) and read Lord of the Rings and have a website and know entirely too much about a show on the SciFi channel that I neither confirm nor deny that I watch, which I'll call Attlestarbay Alacticagay. There's no escaping the reality that I'm a big nerd, so why bother complaining about it? This is the path I chose, so I may as well just accept it. Similarly, Katherine Heigl would do well to just accept the fact that she's an uptight bitch. If she wants to change that, I can recommend a couple models of vibrators that would probably do wonders for her, but since she seems to enjoy getting press attention for being a cranky slag, I'm thinking she's not going to loosen up soon. I'd settle for her just shutting the fuck up.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:23 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Monday, December 03, 2007

 

Hills YEAH!

I watch "The Hills" and I'm finally okay with admitting this. It comes on right after "I Love New York 2", and I think I enjoy watching it because it makes me feel like the smartest person on earth compared to the dumb rich slags on this show. JerseyGirl, Senioritis, and HillsYes join me every Monday for a little Monday night reality whore party. I was delighted to prefunk for this joyous occasion today when the following video arrived in my inbox courtesy of JerseyGirl.

Those who have succumbed to the doom that is "The Hills" know two unimpeachable facts: Audrina Partridge may be one of the most vacant, astoundingly stupid people on the planet, and her now ex-boyfriend Justin Bobby is an asshole fucktard with the hygiene of an indigent. He is probably the worst non-physically abusive boyfriend in the world, but Audrina just stares blankly and bares her blinding veneers in the face of his alternately belching and putting her down. I seriously question whether or not Audrina has been lobotomized. She is that fucking mindless.

This video captures the essence of the Audrina-Justin Bobby relationship and the type of intense dialogue which transpires between them on any given episode of "The Hills:"



Mila Kunis doesn't quite have her Audrina glassy stare down, but James Franco captures the true essence of Justin Bobby. The best part is at the end where "Audrina" idly strokes "Justin Bobby's" greasy tresses. It was touching.

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# posted by Razzy @ 11:57 AM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Sex and the Shitty

Like many girls, I have seen a lot of "Sex and the City" episodes. Now after seeing numerous reruns on non-HBO TV (which are lame, as all the good parts get cut out), I have come to a couple conclusions about this series that are going to make a number of women howl with outrage at my blaspheming. Those conclusions are:

1. This show sucks

AND

2. This show sucks

I remember thinking this show was WAY more clever and amusing that it actually is. When you deconstruct "Sex and the City," it's unrealistic, absurd, and not all that funny. Okay, Samantha can be entertaining, but even her accomplishments at sluttery are often mitigated by the appallingly garish dresses and ridiculous hats she wears. Not even the world's most accomplished playerette flirter can pull off a teal, midriff-baring peasant top with a pair of fuchsia hot pants at age 50.

The rest of the characters are intolerable.

Just describing these women makes me hate them:

1. Carrie Bradshaw: Horseface Jessica Parker plays the main character, who seems to regard herself as a sort of literary giant because she can come up with cliched phrases to justify her addiction to $700 shoes, which she is mysteriously able to afford along with a huge Upper East Side apartment despite being employed as a writer for a WEEKLY column. She is otherwise known for being a selfish, indecisive narcissist who is driven wild by either rich old "Law and Order" alums and Russian ballerinas or simpering pussies. Because Carrie is the main character on the show, we are supposed to sympathize when she runs out on her friends at the Opera because she spots an ex-boyfriend in the audience and has the coping skills of an twelve-year-old with a copy of Tiger Beat. Even worse, Carrie's idiotic, immature behavior is made more infuriating by juxtaposing her spaz-out sessions with preachy, trite voiceovers of Carrie reading the bullshit she scribes for her worthless column. SHUT UP, bitch. Demanding your "right to shoes" is not only a piss-poor pun that loses steam immediately upon your whiny voice verbalizing it over scenes of you and your friends engaging in a glut of consumerism up and down Fifth Avenue, it makes women seem like a bunch of superficial, vapid twats who make a scene over Manolos that their ugly asshole boyfriends don't care about anyway. I DO NOT RELATE!

2. Miranda Hobbs: a lawyer who never seems to meet with clients or appear in court or do anything besides make notes of all her sexual conquests on legal pads, Miranda has the distinction of being the ugliest of all the dried-up old broads having sex in the city. It's telling that her first role after "Sex and the City" was playing Eleanor Roosevelt, who has the distinction of being the ugliest first lady in the history of the American presidency. Miranda seems to love men who are squarely in her class of physical appearance and I do not respect her taste. If I looked like her, and I had a hot black doctor confess his love for me via pepperoni pizza, I would give him a lifetime supply of blow jobs, not dump him unceremoniously for my scrawny, bespectacled, fugly bartender of a bastard baby daddy. Miranda also loves to wear hot pink, which when combined with her flaming red hair, produces a most unpleasant visual effect. I DO NOT RELATE!

3. Charlotte York (when not MacDougal or Goldenblatt): an uptight WASP art dealer with a seriously unhealthy idealization of marriage that borders on straight mental illness, Charlotte can usually be found obsessing about how she is having problems with either her marital status or her ability to procreate. Charlotte is boring, judgmental, and forever in pursuit of her MRS degree. She cannot openly communicate with anyone about anything, and even has a hard time telling her girlfriends about her sex problems, which is mystifying since that is the central premise of this show. Charlotte also doesn't put out and seems like an emotionally stunted, outrageously high-maintenance, royal pain in the ass to date. I DO NOT RELATE!

4. Samantha Jones: the only somewhat likable character on the show, Samantha is New York City's most notorious middle-aged slutbag. I'm always like, "You go, girl" when Samantha has threesomes, schemes to make her current boyfriend's jizz taste better, fucks random college kids, bangs a hotelier in his private jet, picks up a dude at a wedding, throws out her back banging her Brazilian artist girlfriend with a strap-on, etc. I am also impressed at Samantha's hotness in spite of her advanced age. However, the producers and writers apparently felt that Samantha's almost show-redeeming behavior could not go unpunished, because in addition to making her wear some truly hideous coutoure, they gave her breast cancer in the show's final seasons, which resulted in some very unfortunate wig selections. They also gave her that gay-faced boyfriend and a sudden desire to settle down. I DO NOT RELATE!

The other problem with "Sex and the City" is that it gives guys a lot of silly notions about women, and I've had to sort out more than a couple confused men. Namely, they think that bitches these days are all getting together to drink cosmos and swap raunchy sex stories. While that may be true, it does not in any way mean that modern ladies are all busy buying Jimmy Choo shoes and vibrator/back massagers at The Sharper Image and having a grand old time, and this translates into easy sex. Of course my girls and I spend a lot of time talking about sex, but that doesn't mean that most women have given up their old-fashioned notions of dating and romance. Not all girls are like me and are willing to fuck strangers in bar bathrooms just because it makes for a good story, and in fact, most of them aren't. Most women don't separate their feelings from their sex lives. Many, many women--no matter what they profess to want from their dating life--are looking for a nice husband and a touchy-feely relationship rather than simply a gratifying roll between the sheets. While this is captured by Charlotte and Carrie's storylines on the show, it is usually lost on the dudes watching it. Guys see this show as "SEX (and the city)", get a glimpse of Samantha in action, fast-forward through the parts where the gals process about their feelings about their relationships, and are thus disappointed when they try to translate this to their own lives and find out that most chicks aren't sexual sharks prowling high-end martini bars in search of casual dick and/or group sex. Even more unfortunate for the fellas misled by this show, the chicks who usually get their sexual aggression on in such environs are on the hunt for a fat wallet.

I don't like the fact that this show bills itself as some sort of hilarious, heartwarming take on the nature of women and their relationships, because it's not very representative. I would never quit my job and move to Paris with Mikhail Baryshnikov, I would never fuck a pussy like than furniture-whittling bitch Aidan, I would never wear a big floppy flower on my bodice, I would never have the audacity to expect the wife whose husband I had been fucking in her bed to forgive me after I put her on the spot by crashing her lunch date, and I would never, EVER run out on my girls without so much as a simple goodbye simply because one of my ex-boyfriends showed up. These skanky old prunes don't represent me and I resent the fact that they market this show as doing so.

My friend Wmania announced on her blog--much to the amusement of myself and all our other friends who have seen it--that she "believe(s) in Sex and the City (the TV show)." Well, I believe in Sex and the City (actual sex in New York City, which is where I live) and NOT the TV show. This show is bullshit. It should be called "Frivolous, petty, one-dimensional old hags and the City" because that's what it's about. "Sucks and the City" has a nice ring to it. Fuck "Sex and the City!"

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:43 AM 2 Comments Links to this post
 

Liar, liar, whore's crotch on fire!

So for some reason, I watch that "Shot at Love with Tila Tequila" trash. In case you are not familiar with what the kids these days are jamming to on MTV, it's a show in which Tila Tequila searches for romance among a bevy of suitors. Since Tila's main claim to fame is being the most popular skank on the social e-cesspool known as MySpace and she is not nearly as entertaining to watch as Tiffany "New York" Pollard, the show's twist is that Tila is bisexual and is choosing from a pool of reality fame whores representing both genders. However, it seems there is more afoot on the set of "A Shot at Love" than the MTV producers would have us believe. In another example reminding everyone why the New York Post is the greatest publication in the history of print journalism (fuck off, snobby Times readers!), Richard Johnson has this shocking expose on Page Six:
SELF-proclaimed bisexual MTV skank Tila Tequila may actually be straight as an arrow. The gay-for-pay bikini babe stars in a "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila," about her search for the perfect mate - male or female. But it's "all a sham," says a source close to the show. "Tila has and has had a boyfriend for over a year, and she's not really bi. She's made out with some girls in her past, as all girls have, but she is not bi at all." Our insider claims that MTV works hard to pretend she's single and available because she refuses to break up with her boyfriend, "who's like five years older than her. This is a massive scam . . . That's why they are not continuing with the show [for a second season], because she won't dump him." Tequila has also been acting like "a diva" and become a "nightmare to work with," said the source. "She arrives late and doesn't talk to any of the contestants between takes. She complains she has too much going on." A rep for Tequila said, "I'll confirm that she's bisexual and she's a delight to work with."
SHA RIGHT, Tila Tequila's rep! Nobody is surprised to find out that she's a fake bisexual and a bitch. I would frankly be surprised to hear that Tila, a woman primarily famous for her trucker hat-bikini combos, her claims that she porked the indigent nail-polished despicable hipster mess who answers to Jared Leto, and her ability to parlay ZERO talent apart from aptitude at manipulating online social networks and the fact that she looks like she just stepped out of a hentai anime porn into some sort of Z-list fame, ISN'T a big faker and a mean-spirited cunt with a severe case of self-aggrandization.


I've been suspicious of Tila's slut credentials from day one of this show. For starters, all the contestants on this show sleep on one massive bed. If I had a bed populated with male model bodybuilder wannabes and lesbian strippers, priority numero uno would be effing each and every last one of them. So far, Tila's played coy, doing little more than some light making out with some of them. Nobody is watching this shit to see Tila process with these assholes: we want to see her act like the whore she's marketed herself as! Get with the orgy-having, already, because memo to Tila Tequila: you are not bisexual until you lick some snatch. Making out with girls and boobmashing does not count., because as the Post so astutely points out, you can get any bitch to do that if you feed her enough sea breezes. I cannot count the number of straight drunk girls I've made out with, and 99% of them did not wind up sitting on my face. Apparently at the "Welcome to Grad School, First-Years" party this year which I hosted as co-president of the grad school student body, instead of kissing babies I worked it politically by kissing 5 or 6 different girls who had been enjoying the open bar. People are still talking about the hot makeout sesh I publicly engaged in with this second-year who went to Mount Holyoke (Seven Sisters represent!). However, I didn't score any pussy that night, because all those girls ARE STRAIGHT! Making out with me doesn't make them bi.

I have a suggestion for MTV if they want to continue with the "Shot at Love" franchise since that duplicitous-ass bitch Tila won't dump her secret real-life boyfriend: PICK ME! Not only am I smarter and more witty than Tila, but I'll also show my boobs, get drunk on the regular, and give every last contestant a test drive in that giant bed. And I'm also cooperative, easy to work with, and actually bisexual, so there will be plenty of sincere hot girl-on-girl going on. I'll show up ready to craft some exquisite reality with a suitcase full of sex toys and a readiness to bring the drama by getting it on with everyone in sight. It's true that I only only have 600-something MySpace friends as opposed to Tila's two million, but if it's bisexual bachelorettes who know how to keep things lively you're looking for, I'm your girl, MTV!

Besides, MTV is going to need to make it up to their "Shot at Love" viewers who have devoted themselves to the adoration of Dani, the butch lesbian firefighter who is one of Tila's final three candidates. Specifically, LL Cool Jew and El Cyd, founding members of the Cult of Dani, will go ballistic when Tila breaks Dani's sensitive lesbian heart by noting that she's actually looking for a shot at cultural relevance as opposed to love, and will not be riding off into the sunset beside her in Dani's Subaru Outback. "A Shot at Casual Sex with Thirty-Two Unemployed Foodservice Employees and/or Exotic Dancers Of Both Genders with Razzy" is how MTV can make things right.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:45 AM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: My alarm clock


Name: General Electric model 7-4601A

DOB: 1996

Occupation: jarring me from pleasant dreams about hot lezzie sex

Hometown: Taiwan or China

Current residence: my bedside table

Douchebaggery: I have to give my alarm clock its due for being a trooper. I've had this bitch since college and it keeps on doggedly telling me the time. I am so familiar with its layout that I can practically reset the time while half-asleep with my face buried in a pillow. This clock is one of my treasured possessions, and I will probably use it until it dies of old age.

That said, I hate my alarm clock. I may be able to find the snooze button with my eyes closed on it, but that doesn't mean I like waking up in the morning. I have an elaborate alarm routine that I've honed and perfected throughout the years. First, I set the clock ahead without looking, so the clock is fast, but I'm not sure exactly HOW fast. It could be 15 minutes fast, it could be two hours fast, but I don't know, and that makes me get up. Then, I set the alarm to go off 54 minutes before I actually intend to get up, which allows me to hit snooze six times and thus gradually ease myself out of bed. This method is usually effective for getting me out of bed, although it's not a hit with the fellas I have over on school nights. My ex-boyfriend Benzo used to rant and rave about my snooze button addiction almost as much as he would about the son-of-a-bitch-bastard Yankees, because apparently hearing the alarm's nerve-grating "REE-REE-REE-REE" noise six times before waking up to have sex and watch reruns of last night's Sportscenter wasn't his idea of a pleasant way to wake up. It's not my idea of pleasant either, but it works, and sometimes you have to sacrifice comfort for efficacy.

However, sometimes the earlier alarm sounding time results in very undesirable effects, such as this morning. I was having a VERY vivid dream about having sex with this hot blonde girl. I don't know who this girl was or how she found her way into my subconscious, but she looked like a cross between Scarlett Johansson, Heidi Klum, and Briana Banks circa 2001. I had seen an ad for (the enraging and despicable monstrosity known as) The Nanny Diaries DVD before going to bed, and I watch a lot of both "Project Runway" and porn, so maybe that's how I imagined up this broad. Anyway, she was super hot and had huge, perfect breasts, and she was fucking the hell out of me with a strap on, and then...my ALARM went off. Not only was I distinctly disgruntled to realize that Scarlediana Johanssoklubanks had been replaced in my bed by a rank, snoring Pug, but I was pissed that if I hadn't been following my morning routine, I could have enjoyed this dream for another 54 minutes. Thanks a lot, alarm clock, for boxblocking me in a damn dream. Now I've got a killer case of the Mondays.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:29 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Sunday, December 02, 2007

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Lofa Tatupu


Name: Mosiula Mea'alofa Tatupu

DOB: November 15, 1982

Occupation: Seahawks middle linebacker, hot piece

Hometown: Wrentham, Assachusetts

Current residence: Seattle, Washington

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: ELEVEN TACKLES AND THREE INTERCEPTIONS. Take that, Philadelphia Eagles! Every turnover benefiting the Seahawks yesterday was courtesy of the hotness known as Lofa Tatupu. Sitting at my usual football bar, surrounded by a horde of obnoxious Eagles fans sporting their "Bleed Green" shirts, I was the lone 12th man in the establishment, with nobody to share my love of the Seahawks save my P-N-Dub buddy HotLawyer, with whom I exchanged a variety of texts along the lines of "put in Maurice Morris" and "Alexander sucks" throughout the game. The fact that I was wearing my Lofa Tatupu jersey, however, was enough to make me almost visibly swell with pride every time Tatupu picked off A.J. Feely.

Although J-Sexy, who came for the beer and wings, initially agreed with me about Tatupu's hotness, she revised her position upon catching sight of his thick neck.

"Dude, everyone in the NFL has a thick neck," I said. "Their asses are still hot." J-Sexy had been rhapsodizing about certain players' asses prior to narrowing her attention to my man Lofa, and speculating whether or not some of them wore ass padding in their "ridicolos white pants."

"I do not like it when the neck is wider than the head," she added. "His neck is very thick."

I disagreed that this was very noticeable, but J-Sexy was being very mulish on this point. Her fixation on this irrelevant superficial quality reminded me of my dad, who sees Tatupu (or any player with lots of ink on his arms) and grouses, "Well, he'd be a good-lookin' guy if it weren't for all those stupid tattoos!" My dad hates tattoo sleeves to the point where it merits at least one mention whenever he catches sight of Tatupu, and no amount of "He's Samoan, dad, it's cultural," will change his mind on the matter. Watching a NBA game with him is almost intolerable; if only there were a way to adequately capture in prose the epic eye rolls my brother Lil' Tevie gives my dad's anti-tattoo harangues during Sonics games. Those frivolous details are irrelevant to me, though. When Tatupu is getting his Sea-fence on, I don't give a damn about his neck or his body art. I care exclusively about watching that hot piece make the Eagles offense his bitch, thus benefitting my fantasy team immensely as I was playing the Seahawks D/ST.

Yesterday's performance was even more impressive than usual, since Lofa was playing with sore ribs and hadn't practiced all week. Nevertheless, a couple of bitch-ass ribs didn't stop him from saving the game when the Seahawks idiotically punted the ball to Brian Westbrook in the last minute or so of the game and allowed him to return it 64 yards to put the Eagles in scoring position. Tatupu said "fuck you" to his ouchy ribs and promptly executed a spectacular pick. Game over. Then he took his sore ribs, fashioned a slutty ho out of them, and banged the hell out of her in his Philly hotel room. Okay, I made up that last part, but Tatupu is such a magic man that I wouldn't put it past him. Now, if I could only make some headway with J-Sexy about the thick neck issue, I could put up the world's dopest clock in lab:

I might just get that and put it up anyway. Lofa rules. SEA-FENCE! SEA-FENCE!

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:56 PM 0 Comments Links to this post

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