Saturday, September 27, 2008
The fourth annual slutty-ass ho Razzy Halloween costume
Every year, I come up with some extra-skanky Halloween costume. This started because the grad student Halloween party I attend annually offered a prize in 2005 for the "most naked" costume, and I intended to win this. I came up with "King Slut," which was basically a bunch of cheap gold jewelry, heavy eyeliner, a pharoah hat, and five rolls of gauze from Rite-Aid. Naturally, I walked out of that party savoring my prize of four cans of Tecate and a cheap ass-flask of Montezuma brand tequila. Victory is sweet.
While no prizes were offered in subsequent years, I continued my tradition of wearing costumes involving as little clothing as possible, because naked is my favorite way to be. Every year, however, I worry that I won't be able to come up with anything good and that I'll have to go with the Lady Godiva costume I've threatened for a while. Showing up completely nude except for a wig is a bit much even for me, so I put a great deal of pressure on myself to come up with something clever and almost naked instead. I've always managed to come up with something, and every year without fail I'm pleased when I get my platonic life partner J-Sexy to bellow, "You have outdone yourself again, Razzy, you scandolos ridicolos ho!"
Luckily, this year I've come up with something timely and relevant that will still allow me to march around in underwear and amuse everyone. This is probably the last year I will attend this grad school soiree, and in fact, it's probably the final year this soiree will even occur, since the fella who throws it is graduating within the next year too. I thus felt especially pressured to go out with a decisive bang. For a minute I thought about going as my new god of cultic worshipfulness Ishtar, but then I remembered that most people probably aren't that familiar with any of the ancient sex deities of the Fertile Crescent and wouldn't get it. Then will a little help from LL Cool Jew, I came up with the perfect costume. It's timely, recognizable, and best of all, allows me to run around in a bikini. With a gun, no less. Before I show you the inspiration for my costume, though, let's just take a walk down memory lane and review the costumes from Halloween parties past.
2005: King Slut
While not an actual historical figure, as I mentioned before, King Slut left that party with the alcoholic spoils of victory. I really did deserve the "most naked" prize. Five rolls of gauze actually don't go very far in terms of coverage.
2006: Kimberly "Lil' Kim" Jones at the 1999 VMAs
This costume was surprisingly difficult to put together. You have no idea how difficult it is to find purple pasties and a purple off-the-breast dress. I had to make that shit! It turned out well. I think people actually believed that like Lil' Kim, I had buffoons eatin' my pussy while I watch cartoons (I do in real life, except I watch football instead of cartoons). And if anyone has use for a purple wig, holler at your girl. I got the hook-up.
2007: Britney Spears at the 2007 VMAs
It's Britney, bitch! I was particularly proud of the attention to detail I lavished on this costume. I even left the Rite-Aid press-on nail off my right ring finger to accurately reflect the acrylic Brit-Brit snapped off during her memorably fucked-up performance of "Gimme More" and swung by the Washington Heights Starbucks for an appropriate beer container.
And, now without further ado...
2008: Governor Sarah Palin (R-AK) in her U! S! A! bikini
Okay, so this picture might be a fake, but as far as I'm concerned, Governor Palin took second place in the Miss Alaska pageant way back when because she wore a two-piece in the swimsuit competition, so it's accurate enough. I'm going to add a "Miss Wasilla" sash for a little extra authenticity. And, for some REAL extra authenticity, Governor Palin is going to be accompanied by her infant son Trig:
All I need is an American flag bikini, some glasses, a brown wig, a rifle, and a Chingy!-sized onesie. CHONGAY CHONG, Governor Palin Halloween costume!
Labels: Britney Spears, intentional buffoonery, Lil' Kim, nudity, United States of Asskickery
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Chris Cooley is my kind of tight end
Apparently, Washington Redskins tight end Chris Cooley is, like me, a blogger in his spare time. Also like me, he does his best writing when he is in a state of undress. Sunday, he posted a photo of the Skins' playbook for their big game against the New Orleans Saints. Too bad he obviously snapped the photo as the playbook rested on his entirely pantless lap, as immediately noticed by the entire sports blogging world:
Even though my starting Fantasy tight end is Antonio Gates, who is pretty much universally regarded as the premier tight end in the entire NFL, I am almost tempted to start making some wild trade offers to my buddy G-Cat just to get Cooley on my Fantasy team. Any guy who sits around naked is my sort of dude. Any guy who sits around naked blogging about his Fantasy team is my destiny. Seriously, all the man needs is a pepperoni pizza, a sixer of Heineken, and the extended edition Lord of the Rings DVDs and...well, hello, Prince Charming. Marry me.
Labels: Fantasia, internet domination, NFL football, nudity, weiners
Thursday, August 28, 2008
People are such prudes
I saw this article the other day and shook my head in disappointment:
BARTLETT, TN (WMC-TV) - Bartlett Grove Park sits in the middle of a subdivision. It's a favorite spot for children, and was recently the site of an adult website porno shoot.
The video clip we discovered begins innocently enough.
"I thought I'd come out for the day," says the "model."
She then exposes herself on the playground slide.Some garden variety exposure is pretty tame as far as "explicit pornography" is concerned. After watching the clip of the local news story, I gathered that this chick pretty much just flashes her twat at the camera from the top of the playground slide. It's not like Anabolic was shooting the latest installment in their Romantic Rectal Reaming series there. A brief flash of sloppily augmented breasts and her cooch are a far cry from doing a double anal ass-to-mouth scene with Vince Voyeur and Lexington Steele.
"She's definitely a tramp -- just nasty," parent Barbara Taylor said in reaction to the video.
Taylor had a typical reaction.
"I think it's disgusting," she said. "I think I'm not letting my kids go down that slide anymore."
Danny Berryhill is a Baptist minister who lives right across the street.
"I don't have the words," he said. "I'm a Baptist minister, and I have no words."
Action News 5 is not publicizing the the exact web-site the video appears on, but it's full of explicit pornography, and there's a promise to visit more public places.
Bartlett Police Capt. Tina Schaber said the girl in the video is clearly breaking a law.
"Public indecency right off the bat," she said.
Police got on the case after Action News 5 clued them in.
"I don't think this would be appropriate for an adult to see in a park -- much less a child," Schaber said.
According to Schaber, the model and those video-taping her could be charged with a number of other crimes.
"These days, who knows?" she said. "She could be over 18 -- she could be under 18."
Action News 5 was unable to locate the "model." She writes on the web-site that the pornographic shoot took place just last week.
A brief search of the internets turned up the identity of the "model," and as far as porn goes, my blog is more hardcore than the park spectacle perpetrated by "nasty tramp" calling herself Foxy Jacky. The extent of her inappropriate public indecency is primarily her giggling and doing stuff like this ("have a looksee at my hooters, y'all!"):
SCANDALOUS! I mean, there are some mildly more offensive shots of Foxy Jacky providing the camera with some intentional upskirt action, but nothing that would really warrant disinfecting the playground. Her site does have some uninspired whipped cream blowjob pictures and trite hardcore on it, but...yawn. All that seems to be done in the private confines of her apartment, and is nothing I haven't seen about 80,000 times from do-it-yourself adult cam entrepreneurs. Frankly, I find Foxy Jacky's poorly punctuated narrative of her adventures in indecent exposure more of an affront to my moral sensibilities than any of the actual public nudity:
August 26 - I am sure this update isn't going to go over too well with the local police but I don't care. I was called a tramp and a few other not so nice things last night by the local news station. All of this because I took a few naked pictures at a park how stupid. I made sure when I did it that there were no kids around and I didn't hurt anyony when I did it so I don't see a problem. Now the local police are talking about arresting me for doing this well here is another set in the public that I shot I hope you like it and I have lots more to put up soon lol. If you have no real crimes to investigate and need to meet a quota I guess there is not much I can do here is the link check it out.
Foxy Jacky accompanies this scathing polemic with new shots of her flashing her ossified snap-on clearance sale tits at an arcade. Her brand of boring gonzo nudity might lull me to sleep, but I do have to applaud her for continuing her subversive behavior despite threats of police intervention. Not only is she sticking it to authority, but she's demonstrating the marketing savvy to parlay her notoriety into at least two or three more foxyjacky.com subscribers. Maybe if she really takes advantage of her ability to shock Baptist ministers into silence, she might hit the big time (ie: a slot on the next iteration of "Rock of Love with Bret Michaels," since that seems the number one vehicle for cam whores and low-rent pro/am porn stars crossing over to the mainstream).
If I were a resident of Bartlett, Tennessee, I would consider providing a forum for a "tramp" to expose herself a better use of my tax dollars than recreational equipment for hateful children to play on. Certainly I'd rather see public space appropriated by blond chicks getting naked than kids running around getting dirty, making noise, and generally pissing me off. Foxy Jacky has actually done her community a service by getting uptight soccer moms to keep their brats at home and off the streets, not to mention silencing annoying preacher types. Clearly, these horribly offended parties are a bunch of lame prudes who spend way too much time judging other people, so if Foxy Jacky's briefly bared pussy is going to keep them locked up in their homes and churches, I say give that skank a key to the fucking city.
Labels: crime and punishment, destroy all children, nudity, porn, retard rage, sluts
Thursday, August 07, 2008
This just in: I'm never getting a job, say would-be law students
I discovered several links to my site from a board called AutoAdmit.com, which touts itself as "the most prestigious law school admissions discussion board in the world." A user identified as CollegeFrat starts off the Razzy-bashing by posting a bunch of relevant links and writing on the topic "Columbia Grad Student Posts Naked Pics on her Blog: Bash this..."
LOL at this chick. She is going to graduate from graduate school at 30 next year. There are dozens of pictures of her breasts online, never to be deleted. Who the fuck will hire this chick? The internet has gone too far.
Ruh roh. I never considered the possibility that I might not be able to delete titty pics from my own website. Furthermore, perhaps it's the lingering delusion from attending a bastion of radical feminism like Smith College that women might actually be judged by their professional accomplishments, but I was unaware that my breasts would preclude me from gainful employment when I finally get Ph.ake doctored and hobble away from Columbia at the crotchety old age of 30. I mean, I may have mad skills at virology, but...come on, ask a wannabe law student! Employers aren't looking for highly educated people with very specific and unique technical skills training with professors sufficiently recognized in their field to have authored the top-selling textbook on the subject. I have breasts and PEOPLE HAVE SEEN THEM. Whatever you do, do NOT hire me! I am, however, comforted in the knowledge that while I may be sitting around rendered unemployable by my exposed and wizened breasts, I at least have the distinction of taking the internet "too far." Because prior to my groundbreaking flash moves, the internet was a clusterfuck of conservative prudishness with no shocking or potentially offensive material on it whatsoever. At least I can rest easy in the knowledge that my fun bags have shaken the internets to its straight-laced core.
Just when I was starting to get depressed about a future of being the only McDonald's drive-thru jockey with an Ivy League doctorate, a heroic poster named Free Marvin Harrison! stepped in to defend my honor...sort of:
There are a lot of weird, nerdy girls in graduate school who are into freaky sex and don't care who knows. (I'm referring to her exhibitionist streak here, not her desire to have her coochie eaten.)I don't think she'll have trouble finding a job at an academic or government lab.
Whew, that's a relief. I'm glad that even though this person is apparently a fan of the detestable Indianapolis Colts and is presumably seeking law school admission to ensure that Marvin Harrison doesn't have to suffer the injustice of answering law enforcement questions about shootings that occurred on a highway near a bar he owns in Philly, he is defending my prospects for a career as an academic researcher (AKA perpetual scholar-serf) or a lowly civil servant! I'm relieved to know that my weird nerdiness or proclivity for "freaky sex" like showing off my hot rack (not to be confused with non-freaky sex like cunnilingus) won't get in the way. Unfortunately, the would-be attorney motivated by Marvin Harrison's cooperation with a police investigation is then rebutted by a couple posters named Fogo de LMAO and superLAZYdood suggesting that I was fucked long before I ever went "Girls Gone Wild," since Columbia is a shitshow of an institution with no standards (which, sadly, I and probably every other disgruntled, miserable Columbia grad student would have to concede is a fair point).
With such vigorous debate going on about my career prospects, I decided to consult with someone who has actually one-upped these bright-eyed, cocksure future lawyers. ElCyd is starting law school in about a month as well as the founder of my Facebook fan club, so she knows a thing or ten thousand about both gaining admission to barristry training camp AND the content of my website. Therefore, I sent her the link and we discussed the validity of the opinions of a bunch of 21-year-old recent college graduates sitting around talking about boobies on a law school admissions board.
Razzy: i love when people are like "YOU'LL NEVER GET A JOB BECAUSE PEOPLE HAVE SEEN YOUR BOOBS!"Well, there you have it. Somehow I think I'll manage to overcome the fact that pictures of my breasts are on the internets and get a legitimate job in science. I have that validation from a smart, hot bitch with more law school admission credentials than my internets detractors that my career isn't yet completely fucked. This complements my existing personal experience-based knowledge (from back in the olden days before grad school when I had a real job with a business card and a cubicle and a phone extension and everything) that you can pull some absolutely RIDICULOUS bullshit in the workplace and still get promotions, raises, and highly complimentary recommendations for graduate school.
ElCyd: lol
ElCyd: dude, ppl at my firm had pictures of themselves smoking pot
Razzy: i mean, people don't care
Razzy: and i don't want to work for the ones that do
ElCyd: srsly
ElCyd: not in academia
Razzy: or even in industry!
Razzy: they just care that you get the job done
ElCyd: and when you cure the common cold, no one will care
Razzy: exax
ElCyd: in fact, they'll be your biggest fans!
Since my PI just informed me that I'll be going by Dr. Razzy by next spring, I can now start my hunt for a real job (or at least a real postdoc) without fretting about predictions of professional doom cast by the sage oracles aspiring to be lawyers. Whew.
Labels: ElCyd, internet domination, nudity, Razzy Haters
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: SLEEP
I'm full of excuses this week. Before I get to my excuse du jour, however, I wanted to say thanks to all those of you who commented and e-mailed wishing me well. That sort of thing really helps, and I don't think I can adequately explain how much. It's a great relief to know that not only are you somehow managing to not eviscerate yourselves over the fact that I'm processing about my fragile state instead of being hilarious and witty and totally Razzified, you're actually pulling for me and sending encouragement my way. I'll have you know that thanks to said kindness, I'm getting about the business of taking care of myself. So thank you very much.
Now, on to today's excuse. Part of taking care of myself means not getting up at five a.m. to write for four hours before going to lab for the day and evening. This morning, I decided that I was going to allow myself the luxury of sleeping until 8:30 instead of waking at the ass crack of dawn to a not-healthy breakfast of Parliament Lights and Sugar-Free Red Bull. I feel a lot better for having done this. Sadly, that means depriving y'all of any quality material, but as it seems most of you are understanding, I have realized that this is okay and the world isn't going to end.
I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks for your patience, and once I get caught up on my sleep and my recharged my mental batteries, I'm going to be back in full effect. Y'all better ask somebody.
And in the meantime, check it out: tits!
Labels: excuses, nudity, Razzification
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: male strippers
DOB: ???
Occupation: disrobing for cash
Hometown: ???
Current residence: in Brad's case, somewhere near Washington, DC
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: My friend LL Cool Jew is the matron of honor in our college buddy Wmania's wedding, so naturally she took it upon herself to organize the wedding shower and bachelorette party, and the latter means one thing: hiring some professional semi-nude entertainment. Since before she married BigBagel, LL Cool Jew was a lesbian, we took her to Scores for her bachelorette party and had her literally covered in writhing topless ladies for three hours. Wmania, despite being a Smith alumna herself, has previously shown minimal interest in those without a Y chromosome, so LL Cool Jew realized that to return the favor, she ought to get a male stripper.
Initially, we planned to get a midget stripper to hump a small donkey, because Wmania used to work for the Democrats and because a midget would probably make the somewhat prudish Wmania go into convulsions from the shock. However, we couldn't track down a midget, so we had to find a regular-sized sausage showoff. Thus, LL Cool Jew called Amazing Entertainment and hired some dude named Brad.
The night before the bachelorette party, Brad called LL Cool Jew to get an idea of his audience. "Well, some of the crowd might be a little...conservative," she explained.
"I appreciate your candor," Brad replied. "Would you do me a favor and ensure those ladies have a few cocktails before the appointed time?"
"Dude, he was really professional," remarked LL Cool Jew, after assuring him that we'd get the "conservative" ladies (specifically the bride-to-be) sufficiently liquored up prior to his performance. Later she noted that she was fascinated by her "first official transaction in the sex industry" (although I've seen that hooker stuffing bills into plenty a lady's G-string, so that's not entirely accurate). We were all looking forward to seeing the candor-loving Brad demonstrate his professional skills.
The next night we adorned Wmania in the typical bachelorette party crap, including the piece de resistance, a blinking penis tiara. We popped a case of champagne and between the eight of us, finished it in two hours like the champion alcoholics we are. Then, the gracious hostess admitted Brad, claiming he was her neighbor.
"Oh my God, DUDE," exclaimed Wmania. "I know what's going on here."
Brad actually wasn't that great looking. According to FalloniusMonk, he actually looked like a grotesquely swollen Kevin Bacon. However, he was indeed very nice and professional (before beginning he advised us that he has two rules: no video although still pictures are fine, and no punching him in the nuts). He also managed to lay Wmania on the floor and remove dollar bills from her ginormous rack with his teeth without her looking too exceptionally uncomfortable. While she didn't look as though she enjoyed Brad's attentions much, the rest of us were laughing. Naturally, when her turn was over and Brad asked who was next, she pointed right at me and said "RAZZY!"
I sat down on Brad's provided stepstool and while he gave me a lap dance, I whispered in his ear that I wasn't one of the conservative ladies LL Cool Jew had mentioned in her briefing the day before.
"Okay, then you want to do something crazy?" he asked.
"Sure, why not?" I said.
"Are you wearing panties?"
I thought for a minute. "Amazingly, I am," I replied.
"Are you scared of heights?"
"Nope."
"Okay, get ready to fly," he said. Then he grabbed my ass and did this:
I stuffed my entire wad of dollars into his G-string for giving me an extended face ride. Granted, I had a bunch of residual fake tanner and coconut oil on my thighs afterward, but it was well worth it just for the expression on Wmania's face while Brad twirled me around the room and tried to avoid hitting my head on any light fixtures.
Later, after Brad departed, the ladies were discussing it, and there were a lot of comments going around describing the experience of watching a jiggling beefcake as "gross" and "disgusting." I was surprised because, while not necessarily a sexy experience, I thought it was hilarious. Generally I think male strippers are pretty boring, because mainly all they do is waggle their thong-clad packages at you and give lame lap dances, they don't smell as nice as lady strippers, and there's usually some kind of oil on them which can stain clothing. However, I have to recognize a male stripper who incorporates a lot of sexually suggestive participatory acrobatics into his routine. I might dispute his website's claim of him being the embodiment of male perfection (on account of his not being a black doctor, a Jewish nerd, an MIT graduate, or a swarthy rogue), but I have to applaud his dedication to a lively and interactive performance. I almost always prefer female peelers, as they have breasts and are generally prettier than the generic beefcakes dominating the sausage-swanging circuit. Besides, male strippers never show their weiners, and I can look at a Calvin Klein ad if I want to see some well-defined pecs. However, when a male stripper can actually make up for his cock shyness and overcompensating muscles by inducing hysterical laughter, I have to give my wholehearted approval. Well played, Brad. I salute your professionalism.
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, FalloniusMonk, hilarious shit, intentional buffoonery, LL Cool Jew, nudity, Wmania
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
(Ho Rofra's) Daily Dude I Want to Hit: The Dazzle Dancers
Name: Cherry Dazzle, Houdini Shalom Dazzle, Dazzle Dazzle, Vinnie Dazzle, DT Dazzle, Edible Dazzle, Hole Dazzle, Machine Dazzle, Prettyboy Dazzle, Chalupa Dazzle, Propecia Destiny Dazzle, Robbie Dazzle, Sochny Dazzle, Negro Noir Dazzle, Besame Dazzle, Rinky Dinky Dazzle, Chunky Cupcake Dazzle, Booty du Chef Dazzle, Smokey D Dazzle, ... + "a diverse and ever-changing membership, unified by [the] commitment to Dazzle in this often dreary world".
DOB: 1996
Occupation: dressing like American-Gladiators-Gone-Wild, hangin with celebs, saving the world
Hometown: New York, New York
Current residence: New York, New York
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: In their own words: "The Dazzle Dancers are the ultimate party intoxicants. [They] have been known to get crowds into frenzies that haven't been seen since Greco-Roman times. [They] are that swiveling, sexy garnish that makes your event one of those nights people never forget. It's almost guaranteed that by the time [they] are done, people will be on their feet dancing, and everyone will be kind of horny."
Ok. First off, they seriously get paid for what they do. I know what you're thinking... "So do most strippers." BUT. The Dazzle Dancers aren't strippers. Their stage-presence resembles 6 a.m. at a rave party, right when your E stops working. Yet, they've shared a stage with Blondie, The Scissor Sisters, FischerSpooner, Le Tigre, Nina Hagen, Jody Watley, Princess Superstar, Laura Branigan, Kate Pierson, Sandra Berhnard, and MC Hammer. That's right. I said MC fucking Hammer.
Plus, they're super accommodating: "Upon your request, we will get naked (always a crowd pleaser) or remain respectfully in our satin thongs and just smile flirtatiously." See? When's the last time you were given that option?
But... On a serious note... The Dazzle Dancers aren't just about dancing around mostly-naked. They're about dancing around mostly-naked in pursuit of world-peace: "Our goals, however, extend beyond mere spectacle. We are committed to spreading a message of love and sexual freedom. We battle the forces of blandness, fear, and isolation so common in our clenched culture of coffee franchises, fear marketing, and money worship. All of this is accomplished through the powerful forces of dance, glitter, and fun." ...And by "fun" they mean "glitter-coated genitalia barely covered by neon animal-print fabric".
And they really totally mean it. They are seriously patriotic (see Spiderman-style picture above) and lifted our nation's spirits during a time of need: "In October 2001, we danced through the streets of downtown New York, only weeks after the September 11 attacks, to give people a sorely needed sexy smile."
So yeah... They're basically saving the world. AND with impeccable style. Even Penthouse said "they all look pretty damn amazing in their pasties and sparkles". So true.
Labels: artfaggotry, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, Ho Rofra, neon, nudity, saving the world
Watch the eyes
In a week or so, I'm going to be attending an event (read: bachelorette party) where there will most likely be a professional male entertainer who specializes in taking off his clothes. LL Cool Jew told me the other day that she had never seen a male stripper before, and I reminded her that she had once before at Senior Banquet, a Smith event in which the graduating seniors get the underclassWOmen of Jordan House drunk and "will" them crap they want to part with.
"At my Senior Banquet at Smith! Remember? I know you were there...I willed you my Dr. Dre poster!"
"Uh, I remember going to your Senior Banquet. I don't remember a stripper there."
"Dude, the Jordan underclassbitches totally hired one for us! He came in dressed as a cop and then proceeded to wag his smiley-face banana hammock in all our faces!"
"I still don't remember that," LL Cool Jew said.
"Yes! And then, do you remember that shitty bar in Leeds or wherever called The Office? Well, the stripper came there with us afterward, and then Martindale brought him back to Jordan and fucked him!"
"How do I not remember that?" LL Cool Jew wondered.
I then took it upon myself to explain to LL Cool Jew what it's like witnessing a male stripper in action: BORING. Male strippers never take it all off. While LL Cool Jew pointed out that many female strippers keep their bottoms on too, they at least have tits. I could care less about some pretty boy guido's muscle definition. Sure, I might say, "He's got a hot body," but after about 30 seconds of lame gyrating I'm going to get bored without seeing some weiner. I mentioned that LL Cool Jew's bachelorette party, in which we had that bitch in the private party room at Scores literally drowning in lady strippers, was going to go down in history as being WAY better in the nudity department than this upcoming shindig because male strippers are by definition sort of boring.
Anyway, I did a little research about male strippers, and I concluded that some of them may actually take it all off. For a moment, I felt cheered up. However, then I went to see what was going on in the world of internets celebrity gossip, and came upon a disturbing anecdotal tale. I'm now a little nervous after hearing this story courtesy of Michael K. at Dlisted:
So, my friend was at some bachelorette party and of course they had some guido stripper shaking his junk for all of them. Guido stripper went from girl to girl and practically dick slapped them. The next day, my friend's eye was all swollen and nasty. She went to the doctor and guess what was in that bitch's eye? A fucking dead crab.
So, my friend was at some bachelorette party and of course they had some guido stripper shaking his junk for all of them. Guido stripper went from girl to girl and practically dick slapped them. The next day, my friend's eye was all swollen and nasty. She went to the doctor and guess what was in that bitch's eye? A fucking dead crab.
This just validates my view that male strippers are far more loathsome than their female counterparts. I have enough trouble with guys and my eyes as it is. One time a dude shot his load on my face and hit me in the eye, and it felt like my contact got soaked in liquid fire. You wouldn't think that shit would sting so bad, but then again, semen is at a pretty alkaline pH to counteract the acidic environment of the vagina and maximize sperm survival, so I guess it can really fuck up a pH neutral mucosal surface like the eye. On that occasion, the guy noticed me clutching my hands over my eyes and saying "Holy FUCK, ow!", and was like, "What's the matter, baby?" Then I was all, "Nice shooting, asshole! Annie Fucking Oakley you are not! No more facials for you." As semen was bad enough, I have absolutely no desire to be picking the exoskeletons of pubic lice out of my tender, contact-wearing baby blues, so if this dude plans to dick slap me, he better brush up on his physical defense skills, because there will be no weiners in my face. In my mouth, vadge, or ass, maybe, but NOT IN MY FACE!
Labels: assholes, epidemic geekery, gross, holy fucking matrimony, nudity, oh the horror, sexual assault, weiners
Monday, June 02, 2008
I'm behind and I'm sorry!
So I just checked my RAZZY.org e-mail (which is something I don't do as often as I should, mainly because there's so much spam that it's aggravating sorting through it to find real e-mail from Razzyphiles and Razzy Haters), and was distressed to see that I'm getting WAY behind on my e-mail returning. I try to be good about this, but sometimes I just get sidetracked. If you've written to me lately, you might be thinking to yourself, "Who does that fucking bitch think she is to not respond? I took time to give her excellent tips and supportive words on quitting smoking or dealing with post-abortion stress/depression, or inquire about various internet, sex, and/or science-related things, or tell her she rules, or tell her I hate her, or suggest a daily dude/douchebag, or send a link to a funny news story! Talk about UNGRATEFUL to her readers!"
Well, I don't think I'm too good to return your e-mails. I just have a high standard for wit in e-mail responses, and I haven't had time to devote the attention they deserve. Therefore, I want to apologize for not getting around to this, and let you know that it isn't you, it's me. I love the fact that you all read what I put a lot of time and energy into writing, and I sincerely appreciate your making the effort to respond to it. I promise that I WILL get back to you...eventually. It's a busy time for me, what with R. Kelly on trial, and a full agenda of mice to kill, and an upcoming trip to New Orleans this weekend, so please be patient.
And in the meantime, as a token of my appreciation to all Razzyphiles and readers (whether corresponding with me or not), here's me showing some love in the form of tits, because while I'm certain you ALL read my website for the stunningly brilliant articles, nothing says "I love you" like an impromptu shot of my unshowered, barely awake self showing my cans at 6 a.m.
Labels: correspondence, excuses, nudity, Razzification, Razzy Haters, Razzyphiles
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Desperately seeking a naked midget
I've done a lot of strange and crazy things in my time involving naked people. However, until now I have never been in a position where I needed to hire a midget stripper. Or a "little person," if that term is preferable. I can't say why, except that I need a midget in our nation's capital who is willing to sexily disrobe and hump an ass. I mean a donkey, you pervs! A stuffed donkey!
I did a little searching on the internets, and I found that here in New York there is an agency dedicated to midget strippers called "Dwarf Entertainment." Apparently stripping can be a lucrative career for little people, particularly those willing to dress like Elvis and then take it all off. Well, they BETTER take it all off. There's nothing that irks me more than a male stripper who doesn't take off the G-string. If I want to see a naked chest, I'll check out my own hot tits. I'm not paying a male stripper to see his muscle definition. If a dude wants me to show him the money, then he better show me his weiner.
Unfortunately, there is no equivalent service provider in Washington, DC. So if anyone has any clue where I might find someone who can fit the bill, holler at your girl.
Labels: intentional buffoonery, nudity
Monday, May 19, 2008
Post-Tits
I just got a comment requesting that I pose topless more often with stuff written on my girls. Apparently, when I wrote shit about the New England Patriots on my sweater puppies in the past, this was well-received by certain readers who considered them "extremely hot." This reader went on to suggest that, as it's not football season and I can't fit "MATT WALSH SPEAKS THE TRUTH" or "BELICHICK DID SO TAPE THE RAMS' PREGAME WALKTHROUGH IN SUPER BOWL XXXVI", I should write something like "90210," "VOTE JOHN MCCAIN," or "FREE R. KELLY." Okay...Brooks and DONE.
It's no coincidence that I just finished posting about Robert Sylvester Kelly's prolific courtroom Post-It note production. While he's busy scrawling messages of his innocence on everyone's favorite neon-colored office supply, I'm busy shouting a similar message with my version of a Post-It. Some people say it with flowers, R. Kelly says it with Post-Its, and I say it with bare breasts. Actually, I'm not so much saying it with tits as shouting it from the fucking rooftops, because I put that shit on with extended wear lip color, which means that even with some verifiably painful loofah action I'm going to have "FREE KELLS" on my chest for the next three days. Oh well. It's worth it.
Labels: crime and punishment, nudity, Razzification, Robert Sylvester Kelly
Friday, May 16, 2008
Tit for tat
Yesterday someone bitched that I'm supposed to put up titty pictures when I don't post. Well, I felt like there was some sort of Dickensian ghost in my chest rattling his chains mournfully with every breath and my nose was like a snot factory, so I was in no mood to flash for the camera. I realize my tits weren't sick, but when I feel crappy, I just don't feel like my exhibitionist self. Today I'm marginally better. My chest is rattling a little less, and the decongestants have done their appointed job, so I guess I'll make up for it. However, I can't really say I'm putting up a picture of my tits (plural) since that asshole Chingy! got in the way. Thus, here is a picture of my left tit (singular).
So sorry I failed to oblige yesterday. Hopefully you'll enjoy this 50% of my rack.
And CHONGAY CHONG, tits (plural)!
Labels: CHONGAY CHONG, excuses, nudity, Razzification, sluts
Monday, April 28, 2008
I suck
Okay, I was getting started on my morning bloggery, but then I got to Gchatting with LL Cool Jew, which led to me catching up on some e-mailing, which led to me dicking around on the internets, and thanks to the scotch I was drinking with MillerTime last night at Puyallup's ultimate nightspot (the Roadhouse Tavern), I'm feeling pretty unmotivated to do anything besides read the excellent Tacoma News Tribune's coverage of the Seahawks' draft picks and dig through my parents' fridge.
Now my dear friend M-Boner just called to invite me to her home in Bothell so I can ogle her new baby. Bothell is not close to Puyallup, so I've got to get a move on. Therefore, I'm taking the day off from Dude Hitting and Douchebagging. For all those hardcore Razzyphiles eagerly awaiting news of all the debauchery I've been getting up to on this trip to the P-N-Dub, rest assured that I did extend my streak of post-Crab Feed ass-getting to three years and I'll relate the whole sordid tale here soon. Well, it's actually not that sordid, since I just effed a dude while drunk and that's about as unusual as brushing my teeth or watching Bev Niner DVDs. But I'll relate it nonetheless. In the meantime, my apologies for not promulgating as much useless bullshit as usual, but whatevs. I'm on vacation. Maybe some tits will make up for my shameless neglect of my bloggity duties:
Labels: excuses, nudity, Razzification
Monday, March 31, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: my breasts
DOB: November 17, 1978 (although they really didn't come into present form until sometime around 1993 or 1994)
Occupation: source of batshit craziness, popping out of my shirt, totally ruling
Hometown: Puyallup, Washington
Current residence: my chest, Sugar Hill, Harlem, New York, New York
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Whether lauded or maligned, my tits are one of my best features. That's why I always put pictures of them up when I have nothing better to do. I don't have a particularly high opinion regarding my facial good looks. I'm not necessarily ugly, but I don't think I'm that pretty either. Facewise, I would rate my looks as more or less average. I could be more busted, but I could also be a lot more beautiful. My breasts, however, are fucking awesome, and the only people who have ever said otherwise are anonymous commenters on the internets who can't come up with anything better to hate on me about (these are usually the same haters who call me "fat" even though I'm a fucking size 4).
I've had a love-hate relationship with my cans throughout my life. I started school early, and I hit puberty late anyway, so I was the last girl in my class to develop breasts. There was this one kid who used to fold over his All Saints School uniform sweatshirt at nipple level, and run around saying, "Check it out, I've got bigger boobs than Razzy!" I remember in the fifth or sixth grade I felt so left out by my lack of development that I begged my mom to buy me a size AAA training bra just so I wouldn't be left out among all my friends in the grappling with puberty. On one occasion, I made the very ill-advised decision to stuff said training bra with Kleenex prior to going to a movie with some friends. After the movie, I went out to dinner with my family, and upon being seated my dad said, "Got a stuffy nose?" I was like, "Huh?" He said, "Because I see you packed some extra Kleenex," snatched a stray piece of tissue that was poking out of my collar, and blew his nose with it. I was mortified, my brother and dad were laughing hysterically, and my mother was fighting back laughter while trying to get pissed at my dad for embarrassing me. I was horrified at the time, but in hindsight I can hardly blame my father for cashing in on a golden joke-making opportunity.
I think because I spent so many years feeling insecure about my breasts (or lack thereof), that when I finally got them, I went overboard showing them off. I didn't realize that I had a decent rack until I was about to go to college, when enough boys had complimented them for me to take notice. Since then, I've been overcompensating for those many years of breastless agony by exposing them whenever and wherever possible. Since my tits are awesome, I consider it a service to my fellow man, and a fun party trick that's always good for a laugh. For going on fifteen years now, whenever there's a dull moment, I can always count on my fun bags to bring excitement, laughter, surprise, and general mirth. This weekend was no exception.
On Saturday, I attended a birthday party for my dear friend JerseyGirl. As there were several other hardcore Razzyphiles in attendance at the dinner beforehand (Rack, FalloniusMonk, HillsYes, Senioritis, Twathopper, Rack's boyfriend TheOldGuy, JerseyGirl's boyfriend Kodiak), at some point the topic of discussion came around to how stupid the editors of IvyGate are for thinking that breast-centric blog entries are actually an expression of "batshit" craziness. The general consensus was that any undergraduates who sneer at free photos of bare breasts should take a gander in the mirror before slinging around accusations of mental illness, because that in itself is a much surer measure of insanity. Kodiak thus declared that "every picture I take of you tonight is going to be of your boobs." He delivered. Yesterday, I got a text from JerseyGirl saying, "Dude, there's pictures of your tits all over Kodiak's Facebook." And indeed, half of the "JerseyGirl's Birthday!" photo album on Kodiak's Facebook is comprised of this:
I'm just amazed that none of these pictures include me pulling my top further down to immortalize some bare breast action as being an integral part of the celebrations commemorating JerseyGirl's 28th year of blessing the world with her presence. Bare or barely covered, though, my boobs were one of the reasons why it was, according to JerseyGirl, "OMG! Like the best JerseyGirl's 28th birthday Beirut party in the history of the world ever."
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, intentional buffoonery, JerseyGirl, Kodiak, nudity, Razzification, Razzy Haters
Monday, March 24, 2008
An Easter miracle
Yesterday evening I was very excited to see that "Rock of Love 2" FINALLY had some action worth watching since the departure of the incomparable cartoonish French low-budget gonzo porn slut Angelique. Much like Christ before her, HEATHER returned from the grave with her giant hair, giant silicone boobs, and giant collection of garish sideless spandex stripper dresses from the skank clearance bin at Forever 21. Also unlike Jesus, instead of coming to redeem mankind's sins, Heather is coming to bring the drama in the form of drunken whorishness.
In case you didn't watch the original "Rock of Love," Heather was one of the final two hard-livin' slags competing for the affections of Poison lead singer Bret Michaels. She is a thirty-two year old stripper renowned for her acrobatic polework, revealing that she had engaged in group sex with Bret and the nefarious Lacey by screaming "I watched you suck his dick, bitch!," and getting "Bret" tattooed on the back of her neck. Heather is hard-livin' even as far as hard-livin' slags go.
Last night, Heather announced her arrival on "Rock of Love 2" by shouting, "I hope you brought your extra liver, bitches!" She was there to dig up dirt on the girls to assist with Bret's elimination, and wasted no time getting everyone to take body shots. That was followed by a truth or dare game involving naked cartwheel, inquiries as to whether or not certain girls had been "fucked in the ass," and lots of crying. Unfortunately, one of the girls tried a little too hard to impress Heather with her drinking, and this wound up happening:
All in all, I was pleased to finally see an entertaining episode of "Rock of Love 2." This season is boring and it needs some Heather spice. The producers seem to realize this because thankfully, next week Heather is going to Vegas with Bret and the remaining girls to "party like a rock star." They'll probably watch a lame Bret Michaels concert in the basement lounge of the Hard Rock or wherever, get shitfaced, and either a vicious catfight or a wasted threesome will ensue. They need to keep Heather on for the rest of the show.
Labels: alcoholism, nudity, Rock of Love, sluts, TV, Vh1
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Quit your bitching!
In light of suggestions that some Razzyphiles aren't wild about links to my old posts on days when I just don't have the energy or inspiration to craft novel useless bullshit up to my high and exacting standards, here's an alternative placeholder for actual material: BARE BREASTS (and bad hair). Plus my face looks busted in this picture, so Razzy Haters can have fun with this too.
I'm going to now work on fixing my problems and getting my mind right so I don't continue to disappoint.
XOBJBS,
Razzy
Labels: excuses, nudity, Razzification
Monday, March 17, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Nicholas Hadzick
DOB: May 1977
Occupation: fucking shit up
Hometown: Freeland, Pennsylvania
Current residence: Lancaster County Prison, Lancaster, Pennsylvania
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: One thing I've always secretly wanted to do is go on a drunken rampage of destruction. Unfortunately, I'm always too broke to justify trashing a hotel room or otherwise wantonly destroying property for the sheer gratuitous joy of breaking other peoples' stuff. About the closest I ever got was when I went to my Smith College two-year reunion. KatieScarlett and I always used to say that we were going to go to all the alumnae functions (which invariably are LAME) and interrupt the tea parties by creating a big scene, shouting "fuck this, we're OUTTA here!", and turning over a table, leaving nothing but broken Wedgwood china and snickerdoodle crumbs in our wake. Unfortunately, KatieScarlett did not go to my two-year reunion because she was stuck in art school or something, and I decided that it wouldn't be as fun wreaking havoc and getting a lifetime ban from the Smith Alumnae Association, so instead I just got laid (with a guy, which some might say is an even greater achievement in badassery at a Smith reunion than vandalism).
Anyway, thank Jesus H. Christ that there are people like Nicholas Hadzick to succeed where I have failed, so that I may live vicariously through them. Nicholas got dragged to a resort in a part of Pennsylvania where there is probably very little to do besides ogle Amish people, so he did what any decent bored human being would do: he got really, really wasted. Still bored, he decided to go for a stroll. However, to add some spice, he decided to do this butt naked while destroying every inanimate object in his path. First, he trashed the offices at the resort he was stuck at, and drove a forklift into a wall. Then he went to a nearby store and destroyed the deli and meat departments, ruining three scales, a meat-wrapping machine, a soda cooler, a delivery truck, and a 300-pound pizza oven. Overall, he did $40,000 worth of damage. HOT.
I think the bar has just been set for great achievements in gratuitous vandalism committed by a non-rock star. My hat--and pants--go off to Nicholas Hadzick.
Labels: alcoholism, crime and punishment, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, hot dudes, nudity
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Tania Derveaux
Name: Tania Derveaux
DOB: ???
Occupation: political whore...literally
Hometown: Antwerp, Belgium
Current residence: still Antwerp???
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I am waiting for Barnes and Noble to send me my latest hit of literary chronic, so in the meantime I'm rereading my favorite book, The Sun Also Rises. In an early scene from the book, the protagonist Jake Barnes is feeling self-loathing and lonely because he got his dick shot off in World War I and therefore can't bang his extra-slutty true love Lady Brett Ashley, so he picks up an ugly Parisian hooker with bad teeth to have dinner and pernod with. He tells her his name is Jacob, and she asks if he is Flemish. He reassures her that he is an American expatriate, and she says, "Good. I detest Flamands." I thought to myself, is there something really bad about the Belgians? What could possibly be bad about the Belgians?
That made me take a mental inventory of all the Belgian nationals I've ever known. Basically, I know one guy from grad school and that's it. He is very nice and I have no problem with him. So I went to the internets to find information about famous Belgians that might influence my opinions. Luckily, a site called famousbelgians.com exists as a primary source for exactly this type of research. Less luckily, I still hadn't heard of most of the people. There were three Nobel prizewinners I hadn't heard of, a couple tennis chicks I had heard of but had no opinion about other than "Clijsters" sounds like a lesbian porn if you glance at it real quick and replace the "j" with a "t" in your mind, and the Singing Nun, who I think sang a song in the sixties about the benefits of the Pill. I'm down with the Pill, and have nothing against tennis or Nobel peace prizes (excepting those that go to Al Gore), so thus far I couldn't find anything to despise about Flamands. The most famous name on the list I saw was Father Damien, who ran a leper colony in Molokai, Hawaii, and wound up dying of leprosy (don't fuck with genus Mycobacteria!), and in Catholic school my religion teachers were all over his nuts. So far, no bad Belgians! Then I smacked myself in the head...I had forgotten the most famous Belgian celebrity. She should be Belgium's fucking president. She is the greatest ambassador for Belgians in the entire world, and she is the reason I will never have anything against Flamands: Tania Derveaux!
If you're wondering "Tania Who?" trust that soon enough she'll be a household name. Tania Derveaux is a third-party candidate for the Belgian Senate, and is running on campaign promises to provide 400,000 jobs, and 40,000 of those will be of the "blow" variety.
However, I have faith that Tania probably just hasn't had time to work in the sex scenes--which will undoubtedly explain all the incongruous nonsense that's transpired thus far--because she's too busy sucking dick. Giving 80 blowjobs a day for two years would definitely sap me of a little enthusiasm for producing arthouse politically-motivated pornography on the side. My submandibular joint is aching with sympathy pains just thinking about that. I can be patient.
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, international intrigue, nudity, politics, porn, sex, sluts
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
By popular demand
Except by "popular" I mean one person requested that I put an anti-Patriots slogan on my tits to commemorate their historic 18-1 season and Super Bowl XLII loss. Besides, it's Mardi Gras, and exposing one's breasts is a time-honored tradition.
Unfortunately, this didn't work out quite as well as the time I wrote pro-Pats slogans on my cans (because I lost a bet, not because I wanted to support the bastardly Patriots), because of a variable I didn't have to contend with when I took those photos over Christmas at my parents' house: CHINGY! As you can see by the splotches, he became very interested in the red lipstick all over my girls and noticed I was taking pictures. Apparently desiring to put the "fat" in "fat Tuesday," he wiggled under my left arm, smearing lipstick everywhere. He currently looks like he has some horrible wound on his side because there is a giant streak of cocksucker red on his fawn fur. Whether he did this just to disrupt my blogging or because he secretly loves the Pats (and as Chingy! is a grade-A fucking asshole, that wouldn't surprise me), I don't know, but anyway. I have to get to lab so I don't have time to redo it. Enjoy the boobs.
CHONGAY CHONG, Patriots losing and Razzy titty shots!
Unfortunately, this didn't work out quite as well as the time I wrote pro-Pats slogans on my cans (because I lost a bet, not because I wanted to support the bastardly Patriots), because of a variable I didn't have to contend with when I took those photos over Christmas at my parents' house: CHINGY! As you can see by the splotches, he became very interested in the red lipstick all over my girls and noticed I was taking pictures. Apparently desiring to put the "fat" in "fat Tuesday," he wiggled under my left arm, smearing lipstick everywhere. He currently looks like he has some horrible wound on his side because there is a giant streak of cocksucker red on his fawn fur. Whether he did this just to disrupt my blogging or because he secretly loves the Pats (and as Chingy! is a grade-A fucking asshole, that wouldn't surprise me), I don't know, but anyway. I have to get to lab so I don't have time to redo it. Enjoy the boobs.
CHONGAY CHONG, Patriots losing and Razzy titty shots!
Labels: CHONGAY CHONG, fuck the Pats, NFL football, nudity
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Angelique from "Rock of Love 2"
Name: Angelique
DOB: ???
Occupation: stripping, having discount breast augmentation and lip plumping injections
Hometown: somewhere in France
Current residence: Los Angeles, California
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: In case anyone is not clued into the premise of the masterpiece of "celebreality" known as Vh1's "Rock of Love 2," it's basically an effort to find a girlfriend for Poison's lead singer Bret Michaels from a cadre of washed-up musicians, strippers, and webcam whores. The girl who won the inaugural "Rock of Love," Jes, wound up hating Bret and made it sound like she was forced at gunpoint to participate, and now Vh1 is trying again to find the right girl for Bret and the ridiculous extensions that have replaced his bandana as his baldness amelioration technique of choice. Here's Vh1's unintentionally hilarious description of this show:
If there was ever any doubt about Bret Michaels' status as a Rock God, season one of Rock of Love put all those doubts to rest. The enormous success of the show proved two things: Bret continues to draw in fans by the millions -- and his appeal to women has never waned. The women who competed for Bret's heart in season one made one thing very clear from the very beginning -- they wanted Bret, and they were willing to do whatever they could to win his heart. Now, twenty new women will lay it all on the line for their chance at the ultimate rock-and-roll romance. And this time, it will be bigger and better than ever, because as any rock fan knows -- the best part of any rock-and-roll show is always the encore!
VH1 and 51 Minds Entertainment will give these twenty sexy, saucy ladies a chance to prove they have what it takes to win Bret's heart. After moving into a super-sized rock star mansion, the women will be put to the test. Each week, they will have to prove to Bret they are worthy of sharing his spotlight. They'll show off their own special talents, and demonstrate their mental