Friday, August 10, 2007
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: BloodyTosser
DOB: November 9, 1977
Occupation: photographer, blogger, Muay Thai fighter
Hometown: London, England
Current residence: Brooklyn, New York
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: BloodyTosser is one of the most remarkable, interesting people I've met. We met back at Smith when she started dating my friend KatieScarlett, and when she graduated, they went off to art school in Chicago together. Fast forward seven years, and they've long since stopped being a couple in the romantic sense, but are still best friends and business partners. They're brilliant photographers (not that I'm any judge, but people who know about artsy shit also say they're amazing), and they've taken lots of hot nudey pictures of me over the years. Therefore I've had many opportunities (albeit not enough) to hang with BloodyTosser. We've had lots of fun singing mindblowingly awesome duets of "Don't Stop Believin'" together, making fun of the model (me) during some drunken photo shoots, pounding sake at various sushi/karaoke establishments throughout Manhattan, and generally raising hell whenever possible. At her birthday party a couple years ago, she also snapped the greatest candid photo of me EVER:
I didn't realize quite how much ass "Milla the Killa" kicked, though, until I was cruising by her blog this morning and saw this video. BloodyTosser is the bitch in the white top who absolutely destroys her opponent:
Okay, so she doesn't actually knock her out or anything, but she does get the other chick's blood all over her sports bra. As an added bonus, you can hear KatieScarlett cheering for her the entire time like a proud parent at a soccer game: "Yeah!", "Get her, Mils!", and Mortal Kombat-style "FINISH HER!" It's lucky I wasn't there, because the whole tape would feature a soundtrack of me drowning out KatieScarlett shouting "Sweep the leg! Sweep the leg! Put her in a body bag, Milla! NO MERCY!" I realize that kickboxing isn't the same as karate, and BloodyTosser is a sight better looking than either Ralph Macchio or the guy who played Johnny from the Kobra Kai dojo, but it would still work.
Anyway, BloodyTosser is the hotness, and while I want to hit her, I pray to God she doesn't ever decide to hit me. My last experience with pugilism was when I clocked Joy Stochosky in the fourth grade for beating me in the Spelling Bee, and I'm out of practice. I get the feeling if BloodyTosser ever hit me, I'd be either out cold or sitting on the floor in a daze with a ring of twittering cartoon birds flying around my head. I better stay on her good side.
Labels: BloodyTosser, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, hot chicks, sportsmen
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Smith is Bitten
I don't know why Sarah Jessica Parker is always spoken of like she's some sort of high priestess of fashion. Most of the time I'll see her as Carrie Bradshaw wearing some absolutely fucking ridiculous getup on "Sex and the City," like some kind of cracked-out leopard printed bodysuit with a poodle skirt and a pair of five inch tall Manolos, and she'll throw this on to go to Blockbuster or the bank. I know when I have to run errands all over Manhattan, nothing is more practical than an $800 pair of the tallest stilettos I can find. The stupid outfits only serve to enhance my dislike for Carrie (obviously I totally relate to and identify with Samantha the old, outspoken, ball-busting, occasionally bisexual slut), and in no way inspires me to wear a chiffon skirt with a paisley bustier and a tartan toga belted around my chest.
In spite of a mountain of photos in outfits as similarly absurd as the one above proving otherwise, a lot of women still talk about SJP like she has this unbelievably superior fashion sense ordained by God himself, and she's laughing all the way to the bank. In addition to her perfume line and her ultimately acrimonious stint as a Gap spokesperson, she now is selling discount hoodies, capris, tank tops, and cargo pants. Presumably she's also selling a bunch of tacky charm bracelets and floppy fabric flowers to pin to one's shirt, since that kind of so-four-years-ago gaudy chic is her trademark. I do applaud her for making that money where she can, because SJP's got a now old-looking, horsey face, a husband on the down low, and a rapidly drying market for romantic comedies co-starring Matthew McConaghey and Terry "The Scourge of NFL Today" Bradshaw.
Anyway, SJP hired some models to help sell her new line calledOld Navy Bitten, and my friend BloodyTosser was one of them. However, she didn't hire any fact checkers, because although BloodyTosser looks great, they've got her shit all wrong:
First, the dumb assholes spelled "Northampton" incorrectly. Second, BloodyTosser last lived in Northampton EIGHT YEARS AGO. She is from London via Tripoli, and after leaving Northampton when we graduated Smith (as any Smith girl with the slightest shred of self-respect and desire for personal growth did), she lived in Chicago, and now Brooklyn. Then again, I get the feeling that Bitten will be ragingly popular at Smith. I can just see that Pumice Heather hoodie now on some portly American Studies major with a bowl cut and a HRC pin on her army green messenger bag, paired with a pair of drawstring frog-patterned flannel jammies, an INSPI(RED) spaghetti-strap tank, a pair of possibly sequined and/or rainbow flip-flops, and toting around the lyrics to the latest Prince song about to be butchered by the Smiffenpoofs or whatever her shiteous acapella troupe is called. BloodyTosser makes it look kind of tough and sexy, because she's hot, she's a badass, and she can kick the crap out of dudes twice her size in the Muay Thai fighting ring. However, every girl at Smith worthy of her striped hair bandana is going to buy this shit, and I predict there's going to be a lot of hirsute, North African vegetable stew-filled FUPAs straining the waistbands of many, many ill-advised low rise stretch chinos at the Cutter-Ziskind dining room come next fall.
BloodyTosser looks fabulous, and I think she should take more modeling jobs because she is a beautiful woman. However, I blame SJP for designing a line that will look like this on the average Smith girl, who in reality looks nothing like BloodyTosser: unremarkable and boxy, with arms like slabs of salt pork and oddly-placed adipose deposits that jiggle in all the wrong places. This prime specimen is exemplary of this phenomenon so prevalent at Smith, where a girl has no apparent tits or ass, but has disproportionally thick forearms, an ample chin, and the most dimpled lower abdomenal fat pad you've ever seen.
Okay, I'm kidding, that's Tej Bindra, and I just wanted to give her a shoutout since she completed matriculating last weekend and will undoubtedly now have non-profits eagerly Googling her to find out more about the vivacious young woman with the Praxis-funded worthless internship on her resume applying for the job in the mail room. In fairness, Tej might not be remotely as fly as BloodyTosser, but she is actually kind of a hottie by Smith standards. Most of the bitches in Little Suffragette City look like this:
Thank you, Sarah Jessica Parker, for ensuring that Smith will retain its place alongside filipinabride.com, the WNBA, and the Supreme Court on GQ's "Places Not to Look for Attractive Women" list for some time to come:
Anyway, SJP hired some models to help sell her new line called
BloodyTosser looks fabulous, and I think she should take more modeling jobs because she is a beautiful woman. However, I blame SJP for designing a line that will look like this on the average Smith girl, who in reality looks nothing like BloodyTosser: unremarkable and boxy, with arms like slabs of salt pork and oddly-placed adipose deposits that jiggle in all the wrong places. This prime specimen is exemplary of this phenomenon so prevalent at Smith, where a girl has no apparent tits or ass, but has disproportionally thick forearms, an ample chin, and the most dimpled lower abdomenal fat pad you've ever seen.
Thank you, Sarah Jessica Parker, for ensuring that Smith will retain its place alongside filipinabride.com, the WNBA, and the Supreme Court on GQ's "Places Not to Look for Attractive Women" list for some time to come:
Labels: BloodyTosser, celebrities, Dumb Smith bitches, fat fucks, hot chicks, intentional buffoonery, oh the horror, ranting, Sex and the City, Tej Offensive
Monday, May 14, 2007
Congratulations are in order
I went to eat dumplings and slizz on the Tsingtao with my buddy KatieScarlett last week, and she had exciting news on her end of the blogosphere. She and BloodyTosser, who are also known as Kate and Camilla, have decided to quit Nerve!
This is good, because it allows me to do two of my favorite things: promote my friends' web ventures, and bust on the retard clearinghouse that is Nerve.com. Every time I want to link to anything of theirs, I have to link to Nerve, which means that anyone clicking on said link must go through Nerve's stupid gateway to get to what I'm linking to, and that pisses me off. Actually, it pisses me off whenever I have to access their blog via Nerve. In fact, it fills me with rage. Not only do I have to put up with some sort of Polaroid snap of Rose and Olive's dirty pussies, but when I actually end up reading something there, it's the most inane shit ever committed to the internets. In one article, some hipster dipshit Nerve "essayist" (because "blogger" doesn't sound nearly as intellectualish) referred to porn star Justine Joli as "zeitgeisty."
Also, Nerve made some fucking retarded banner ads to entice their readers to Kate and Camilla's blog.
Kate and Camilla have exciting fun lives, they take interesting pictures, and I enjoy reading about both, but after one look at this ad, I want to punch them both in the face. It's not their fault that Nerve's marketing people are a clusterfuck of douchebags who probably spend their social hours discussing articles in The New Yorker to sound smart. They even managed to ruin KatieScarlett's awesome aviator/gold lame bodysuit picture.
I know better that Kate and Camilla aren't remotely the pretentious artfag bitches Nerve makes them out to be. Kate, for example, has the world's best taste in vintage t-shirts acquired from eastern Pennsylvania thrift stores.
And, in spite of her untempered lesbianism, Kate loves sausages, something we've been bonding over since college.
Camilla drinks cheap sake right out of the pitcher:
And she and I once sang the best rendition of "Don't Stop Believing" in Koreatown's illustrious karaoke history. She's just as much of an attention whore in those kinds of situations as myself, and rightfully so, because she's very pretty and does justice to Steve Perry's soaring vocal stylings.
I am SO glad that my ladies told Nerve to take whatever they were paying them and shove it up their asses. Well, they probably just gave two weeks notice like the professionals that they are, but regardless I am pleased they're flying solo. You should check out their new Nerveless, subscription-free blog:
http://kateandcamilla.blogspot.com/
It's the dopeness, and so are they.
This is good, because it allows me to do two of my favorite things: promote my friends' web ventures, and bust on the retard clearinghouse that is Nerve.com. Every time I want to link to anything of theirs, I have to link to Nerve, which means that anyone clicking on said link must go through Nerve's stupid gateway to get to what I'm linking to, and that pisses me off. Actually, it pisses me off whenever I have to access their blog via Nerve. In fact, it fills me with rage. Not only do I have to put up with some sort of Polaroid snap of Rose and Olive's dirty pussies, but when I actually end up reading something there, it's the most inane shit ever committed to the internets. In one article, some hipster dipshit Nerve "essayist" (because "blogger" doesn't sound nearly as intellectualish) referred to porn star Justine Joli as "zeitgeisty."
Also, Nerve made some fucking retarded banner ads to entice their readers to Kate and Camilla's blog.
Kate and Camilla have exciting fun lives, they take interesting pictures, and I enjoy reading about both, but after one look at this ad, I want to punch them both in the face. It's not their fault that Nerve's marketing people are a clusterfuck of douchebags who probably spend their social hours discussing articles in The New Yorker to sound smart. They even managed to ruin KatieScarlett's awesome aviator/gold lame bodysuit picture.
I know better that Kate and Camilla aren't remotely the pretentious artfag bitches Nerve makes them out to be. Kate, for example, has the world's best taste in vintage t-shirts acquired from eastern Pennsylvania thrift stores.
And, in spite of her untempered lesbianism, Kate loves sausages, something we've been bonding over since college.
Camilla drinks cheap sake right out of the pitcher:
And she and I once sang the best rendition of "Don't Stop Believing" in Koreatown's illustrious karaoke history. She's just as much of an attention whore in those kinds of situations as myself, and rightfully so, because she's very pretty and does justice to Steve Perry's soaring vocal stylings.
I am SO glad that my ladies told Nerve to take whatever they were paying them and shove it up their asses. Well, they probably just gave two weeks notice like the professionals that they are, but regardless I am pleased they're flying solo. You should check out their new Nerveless, subscription-free blog:
http://kateandcamilla.blogspot.com/
It's the dopeness, and so are they.
Labels: BloodyTosser, down with OPB (other people's blogs), internet domination, KatieScarlett, retard rage
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
My new nose
When I was around eight or nine, my grade school best friend Cris and I used to play a variety of imaginative games. For example, we used to play this game accurately called "commercial", where we would make up commercials for invented products and perform them for each other. There was one I came up with that I thought, then and now, was genius; it was a parody of ads for Lee Press-On Nails. For those of you unfamiliar with Lee Press-On Nails, they are these tacky fake nail tips you can buy at the drugstore.
They come with these nail-shaped glue stickers that supposedly keep the nail tips secured to your fingertips. They don't work in the sense that they fall off almost immediately, are veritably Freddy Krueger in terms of length, and are an even cheaper, trashier alternative to a fake manicure than a set of acrylics. The commercial I invented was for a product called Lee Press-On Noses. My commercial consisted of me saying brightly, "Want a nose job but don't have the time or money?" Then I would press an imaginary nose to my face and say, "No problem! That's why there's Lee Press-On Noses! They're EASY to use and won't break your budget!" Then the commercial would basically end as Cris and I dissolved in laughter.
Granted, even if a product like this existed, it's doubtful I'd try it. I'm quite happy with my nose, and have never desired rhinoplasty. Even if I did, I feel that changing one's bodily features is an activity best done at the offices of Drs. Troy and McNamara or some other non-fictional plastic surgeon. However, thanks to KatieScarlett, I now have an approximation of what a Lee Press-On Nose might actually look like.
Yesterday, KatieScarlett e-mailed me and said something like, "Dewd, I read ur blog. R U mad we put ur pic up because I can totalz take it down if ur not kewl with it!" (Don't let the style fool you, KatieScarlett is actually quite eloquent save her intentionally misspelling "masterbate." We just type all our e-mails to each other in the style of "To Catch a Predator" instant messages because it's funny to us). I responded "No, dewd, it's totz kewl, I wuz just busting ur ballz for not linking to my site and sending lotz of Nerve.com pseudo-intellectuals to get indignant on my comment pages for making fun of them! LOL ROFLMAO! Luv yew so!"
Nonetheless, KatieScarlett went and posted a link to my site for the porn artfag crowd to better find me, and directed her readers to look at the thumbnails on her blog sidebar. Because she and BloodyTosser are the special variety of internet chronicler known as "photobloggers", Nerve arranges little snippets of all their photos to tittilate readers. Right before the entry featuring my infamous balloon hat fellatio picture, they had posted pictures of a naked man jumping, so that's the thumb right below the one of my red eyes. KatieScarlett noted, "Doesn't the thumbnail arrangement make it look like poor Razzy has a ballsack for a nose??!! Hehehehehe!"
If there were Lee Press-On Noses, I'd make sure to get the scrotum-shaped variety for sheer humor value alone.
They come with these nail-shaped glue stickers that supposedly keep the nail tips secured to your fingertips. They don't work in the sense that they fall off almost immediately, are veritably Freddy Krueger in terms of length, and are an even cheaper, trashier alternative to a fake manicure than a set of acrylics. The commercial I invented was for a product called Lee Press-On Noses. My commercial consisted of me saying brightly, "Want a nose job but don't have the time or money?" Then I would press an imaginary nose to my face and say, "No problem! That's why there's Lee Press-On Noses! They're EASY to use and won't break your budget!" Then the commercial would basically end as Cris and I dissolved in laughter.
Granted, even if a product like this existed, it's doubtful I'd try it. I'm quite happy with my nose, and have never desired rhinoplasty. Even if I did, I feel that changing one's bodily features is an activity best done at the offices of Drs. Troy and McNamara or some other non-fictional plastic surgeon. However, thanks to KatieScarlett, I now have an approximation of what a Lee Press-On Nose might actually look like.
Yesterday, KatieScarlett e-mailed me and said something like, "Dewd, I read ur blog. R U mad we put ur pic up because I can totalz take it down if ur not kewl with it!" (Don't let the style fool you, KatieScarlett is actually quite eloquent save her intentionally misspelling "masterbate." We just type all our e-mails to each other in the style of "To Catch a Predator" instant messages because it's funny to us). I responded "No, dewd, it's totz kewl, I wuz just busting ur ballz for not linking to my site and sending lotz of Nerve.com pseudo-intellectuals to get indignant on my comment pages for making fun of them! LOL ROFLMAO! Luv yew so!"
Nonetheless, KatieScarlett went and posted a link to my site for the porn artfag crowd to better find me, and directed her readers to look at the thumbnails on her blog sidebar. Because she and BloodyTosser are the special variety of internet chronicler known as "photobloggers", Nerve arranges little snippets of all their photos to tittilate readers. Right before the entry featuring my infamous balloon hat fellatio picture, they had posted pictures of a naked man jumping, so that's the thumb right below the one of my red eyes. KatieScarlett noted, "Doesn't the thumbnail arrangement make it look like poor Razzy has a ballsack for a nose??!! Hehehehehe!"
If there were Lee Press-On Noses, I'd make sure to get the scrotum-shaped variety for sheer humor value alone.
Labels: BloodyTosser, down with OPB (other people's blogs), KatieScarlett, ridiculous absurdity
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
I can always tell...
...when KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser put a picture of me on their Nerve.com blog, as I start getting weird e-mails from their readers. Usually these e-mails are a more erudite and/or cryptic version of "ur pretty hot nekkid wen can i do u?" This happened yesterday, when a couple dudes e-mailed me saying stuff like "Saw you on Kate and Camilla's blog via Nerve...interesting. Yer video there caught my eye" and "What a photograph! I've enjoyed your forays into portrature on K&C in the past and though this one is of a different ilk it sums you up so beautifully. So very apropo."
I was like "video?" Why have several people gone through Kate and Camilla's blog archives several months today to look at old videos of me? Also, I didn't have the usual spike in traffic that accompanies a link from Kate and Camilla's blog (much to my chagrin and disbelief, Nerve.com still gets a lot more traffic than RAZZY.org, and thus whenever KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser throw some linkity love my way I get literally thousands of hits more than is typical). I was puzzled, so I went to Kate and Camilla's blog. It turns out THIS is the photo KatieScarlett posted at this blog entry. I should have known. Both of them have told me that they think it may be the most hilarious photograph they've ever taken, and though I look awful in it, I have to concur. It's pretty ridiculous.
I still don't know why dude is talking about a "video", unless this inspired him to search their blog for "Razzy", but whatever. They forgot (an oversight, I'm sure) to include a link to my site, which explains why the comments on their blog are not "Razzy is a f-ing riot" (usually what people say when they stumble across my site) and are instead "kinky! looks like she's drunkenly fellating her headgear" (and yes, Einstein, that's EXACTLY what I'm doing). Ah, those astute Nerve.com readers...I'd expect nothing less from a community of people who worship Macs, will not drink beer unless it's a microbrew, wear angular glasses whether or not they have vision problems, read Sartre because they heard he's an existentialist and that sounds cool, refer to themselves erroneously as "intelligentsia", and like to pretend their porn is art. KatieScarlett told me that she and BloodyTosser got a talking-to once from the higher-ups at Nerve because they had a week or two where they didn't put up any nudity, and the Nerve pervs were getting restless looking at landscapes and fashion shoots for a cashmere sweater designer. Apparently they're expected to be more like the other Nerve photobloggers Siege (who takes pictures of naked bitches and/or his cock under blacklights and provides inane, snotty commentary) or the possibly retarded Rose and Olive (who have some of the worst face, chest, and bacne I've ever seen, probably owing to the fact that all their pictures involve them rolling around in mud puddles and/or by-the-hour flophouses to showcase their stank genitalia, then juxtapose it with quotes from Aldous Huxley and William S. Burroughs.) Therefore, if it isn't semi-pornographic and accompanied by some sort of intellectual poseur text blurb, then it isn't fit whack-off material for the intellectual elitist tools at Nerve. I'm not kidding...those fucks leave comments telling BloodyTosser about how they jerked it to pictures of her breast reduction surgery scars.
KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser have been very busy as of late, as they just signed with an agent and have to put all these fancy portfolios together. Plus, KatieScarlett and Bienvenido-a-Miami are now officially domestic partners and are planning a commitment ceremony (KatieScarlett told me to brace myself for her "big fat lesbian wedding"), so they probably haven't had much time to shoot jerkers, naked chicks, etc. To keep the Nerve crowd happy, they probably went through their old photo file, found this picture from BloodyTosser's birthday party two years ago, and decided to get some extra mileage out of it. As KatieScarlett noted, "it gets me every fucking time!" Me too, dude. Me too.
I was like "video?" Why have several people gone through Kate and Camilla's blog archives several months today to look at old videos of me? Also, I didn't have the usual spike in traffic that accompanies a link from Kate and Camilla's blog (much to my chagrin and disbelief, Nerve.com still gets a lot more traffic than RAZZY.org, and thus whenever KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser throw some linkity love my way I get literally thousands of hits more than is typical). I was puzzled, so I went to Kate and Camilla's blog. It turns out THIS is the photo KatieScarlett posted at this blog entry. I should have known. Both of them have told me that they think it may be the most hilarious photograph they've ever taken, and though I look awful in it, I have to concur. It's pretty ridiculous.
KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser have been very busy as of late, as they just signed with an agent and have to put all these fancy portfolios together. Plus, KatieScarlett and Bienvenido-a-Miami are now officially domestic partners and are planning a commitment ceremony (KatieScarlett told me to brace myself for her "big fat lesbian wedding"), so they probably haven't had much time to shoot jerkers, naked chicks, etc. To keep the Nerve crowd happy, they probably went through their old photo file, found this picture from BloodyTosser's birthday party two years ago, and decided to get some extra mileage out of it. As KatieScarlett noted, "it gets me every fucking time!" Me too, dude. Me too.
Labels: BloodyTosser, down with OPB (other people's blogs), hilarious shit, KatieScarlett, perversion, ridiculous absurdity
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Dodgy Jammer does Masturbate Theater
Apparently BloodyTosser was off bicycling around Pennsylvania, or lost her fake beard, or something. Therefore KatieScarlett took over Masturbate Theater duties this week, reading poems allegedly published in The New Yorker, as Dodgy Jammer:
KatieScarlett's accent is brilliant, particularly when she says things like "quim" and "dislodged an errant twat hair."
KatieScarlett's accent is brilliant, particularly when she says things like "quim" and "dislodged an errant twat hair."
Labels: BloodyTosser, creative projects, down with OPB (other people's blogs), hilarious shit, KatieScarlett, perversion
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
America's Next Topless Model: The Short Film
A few months back, my buddies KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser, AKA Kate and Camilla, hired me to model naked for this pretentious nudey website called Uberbelle.com. The guy from Uberbelle never put up my pictures on his site. I may not have been Uberbelle material, being that I am not a sour-faced, emaciated Czechoslovakian teenager, which describes the majority of naked bitches on that site. Also, I think that my irreverent and cheeky replies on my Uberbelle biography questionnaire may have turned off the pompous, self-congratulatory fucktard who penned this welcome message:
"Welcome to Uberbelle.com. Not your father's Erotica. Dedicated to the photography of sexy women. And the innate beauty in the nude form. Uberbelle.com pushes fashion photography into the world of art. Or is it the other way around?"
Whoa, Mr. Uberbelle, you sure turned the tables on your audience! They won't know whether they're looking at pornography or art, and they'll just be confused as to whether they should jerk off or feel patronized. That's an excellent way to sell $9.95 per month memberships. I suppose added incentive is the "Uberlists" section that the Uberbelle website describes as "a nutritious side of pop culture." In these Uberlists, the Uberbelle editorial staff tell everyone what to like, because they're certainly in a position to speak with authority, as they have *impeccable* taste. For example, a man who describes himself as a writer in Kentucky working on a novel about his "self-built family car lot's legacy falling into Faulknerian decline" gives us a scintillating review of a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert. Another idiot who describes himself as a "self-styled pop culture provocateur" begins a review of Green Day's Dookie album with this topic sentence straight out of a junior high book report: "It would be easy to write an essay considering Green Day’s breakthrough record, Dookie, as a pivotal moment in the evolution of modern rock music. The angles are limitless for such an analysis." Not only are these assholes supercilious, inflated peacocks who probably wear boxy glasses and read Sartre to look smart, but I don't need to pay $10 a month to have some prick grace me with a numbingly dull rundown about a CD that everyone in my high school sophomore class had, and then have the audacity to imply that it's an incentive.
Anyway, I don't give a shit if Uberbelle ever puts me up or not, because every time I flip to it, it buries the needle on my moron detector and I still got paid. Plus, it's Uberbelle's loss not putting me up there, because my Alexa ranking is considerably lower than theirs, which means that I get more traffic. As of today, RAZZY.org's Alexa ranking is 193,289. That means I'm the 193,289th most visited site on the internet. It's not that impressive, but Uberbelle's Alexa ranking is 235,136. That means I'm owning Uberbelle traffic-wise to the tune of 41,847 websites. So kiss my ass, Uberbitches!
I still had a lot of fun doing the photo shoot with Kate and Camilla, though, because Kate is one of my best friends and Camilla is extremely cool, and we all got drunk. During the shoot, we got to talking about (one of the best shows in the history of reality television) "America's Next Top Model," and how that dumbass Jade couldn't get her shit together to film a decent commercial for Cover Girl TruBlend powder foundation. Somehow, this ended up in them breaking out the video camera and filming me drunkenly hamming it up, including bongo drumming on my beer belly, can-canning with my tits, and staggering around with a bottle of Heineken acting like an asshole. Apparently this was funny, because they turned it into an entry on their video blog. Behold, Razzy in her native state (topless and intoxicated):
"Welcome to Uberbelle.com. Not your father's Erotica. Dedicated to the photography of sexy women. And the innate beauty in the nude form. Uberbelle.com pushes fashion photography into the world of art. Or is it the other way around?"
Whoa, Mr. Uberbelle, you sure turned the tables on your audience! They won't know whether they're looking at pornography or art, and they'll just be confused as to whether they should jerk off or feel patronized. That's an excellent way to sell $9.95 per month memberships. I suppose added incentive is the "Uberlists" section that the Uberbelle website describes as "a nutritious side of pop culture." In these Uberlists, the Uberbelle editorial staff tell everyone what to like, because they're certainly in a position to speak with authority, as they have *impeccable* taste. For example, a man who describes himself as a writer in Kentucky working on a novel about his "self-built family car lot's legacy falling into Faulknerian decline" gives us a scintillating review of a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert. Another idiot who describes himself as a "self-styled pop culture provocateur" begins a review of Green Day's Dookie album with this topic sentence straight out of a junior high book report: "It would be easy to write an essay considering Green Day’s breakthrough record, Dookie, as a pivotal moment in the evolution of modern rock music. The angles are limitless for such an analysis." Not only are these assholes supercilious, inflated peacocks who probably wear boxy glasses and read Sartre to look smart, but I don't need to pay $10 a month to have some prick grace me with a numbingly dull rundown about a CD that everyone in my high school sophomore class had, and then have the audacity to imply that it's an incentive.
Anyway, I don't give a shit if Uberbelle ever puts me up or not, because every time I flip to it, it buries the needle on my moron detector and I still got paid. Plus, it's Uberbelle's loss not putting me up there, because my Alexa ranking is considerably lower than theirs, which means that I get more traffic. As of today, RAZZY.org's Alexa ranking is 193,289. That means I'm the 193,289th most visited site on the internet. It's not that impressive, but Uberbelle's Alexa ranking is 235,136. That means I'm owning Uberbelle traffic-wise to the tune of 41,847 websites. So kiss my ass, Uberbitches!
I still had a lot of fun doing the photo shoot with Kate and Camilla, though, because Kate is one of my best friends and Camilla is extremely cool, and we all got drunk. During the shoot, we got to talking about (one of the best shows in the history of reality television) "America's Next Top Model," and how that dumbass Jade couldn't get her shit together to film a decent commercial for Cover Girl TruBlend powder foundation. Somehow, this ended up in them breaking out the video camera and filming me drunkenly hamming it up, including bongo drumming on my beer belly, can-canning with my tits, and staggering around with a bottle of Heineken acting like an asshole. Apparently this was funny, because they turned it into an entry on their video blog. Behold, Razzy in her native state (topless and intoxicated):
Labels: alcoholism, America's Next Top Model, BloodyTosser, creative projects, KatieScarlett, nudity, Razzification
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