Monday, June 02, 2008
A post about tits that aren't mine (for once)
I've always liked Christina Aguilera. She's clearly a total skank, and she's embraced it and really run with it. Back in the day when Eminem said that she was giving blowjobs to Carson Daly and Fred Durst and suggested she gave him a venereal disease, her supposed righteous outrage was scarcely believable, because it wasn't a stretch to imagine all those douchebags running a train on her. Even during her "Genie in a Bottle" days, you could tell that under her thin veneer of wholesomeness dwelt an unrepentant slut-ass ho. I like unrepentant slut-ass hoes.
That's why I was disappointed when Xtina got married and pregs and seemed to dial down the hooker factor. Okay, so she still rocks cocksucker red lipstick to the grocery store and looks like a blow-up doll hit with a spray can of orange paint, but every time you see her, she's walking around with her kid and husband (and I'm totally jealous, because Xtina obviously shares my lust for nerdy Jews), and generally not being as slutty as she was back in the day when she had cheap hair extensions and was rolling around with some simulated Thai prostitutes in a boxing ring wearing assless chaps. In fact, the only redeeming quality as far as the new, married-skanky Xtina goes versus the old, completely-skanky Xtina is concerned is her massive, post-pregnancy boobs.
Now, Christina always had a nice set of sweater puppies, but after her kid, they increased about ten cup sizes. They are such a pair of veritable melons that you could cut them open, scoop out the seeds, and make a fucking fruit salad. I initially figured that this was related to pregnancy and breast feeding. However, her kid is six months old, and I thought that by then, pregnant titties go back to normal. Being that I was never pregnant myself for more than a few weeks, I don't know if this is completely true and bitches with babies can correct me if I'm wrong, but I recently started being suspicious of those giant jugs.
I know that Xtina was rumored to have undergone a scheduled C-section to deliver baby Max, but now I'm wondering if that was the only surgery she had. Now, thanks to some recent photos from the celebrity gossip internets, I have my answer.
Yep, Christina had implants for sure. You can see the scars (which I have conveniently pointed out for you thanks to the miracle of Photoshop), and her tits look totally misshapen. Normal breasts aren't supposed to have creases or odd bulges in them, unless there's a big pouch of saline or silicone in there. I don't know why she bothered to get this done, because her tits were great before.
I don't have a problem with breast implants. I think that enough women are afflicted with feeling shitty about their bodies, and this shittiness is so often associated with their breasts, that if implants make her feel better about herself, then go for it. Granted, I'm not the world's biggest fan of the way implants--especially large ones--feel when you're busy trying to grab at or lick or suck on a chick's boobs, but I understand why women get them and that's their business. However, when a chick gets egregiously large implants and winds up looking like she got a discount titty job to help augment her webcam masturbation business, I feel sad. Xtina had a beautiful body and didn't need these basketballs stuck under her pectoral muscles. She's always been pretty heavily shellacked in terms of fake hair and makeup, but I think the boobs just took it from trashily hot into clown territory. It's not too late to get them taken out and blame it on the baby.
Labels: gross, oh the horror, plastic surgery, sluts
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Daily Douchebag: Jenna Jameson
DOB: April 9, 1974
Occupation: media whore, ex-porn whore, animal rights activist
Hometown: Las Vegas, Nevada
Current residence: Los Angeles, California
Douchebaggery: It's bad enough that Jenna Jameson has decided to follow up her epic triumphs in pornography with an excess of cut-rate plastic surgery, a severe case of anorexia nervosa, and a seemingly endless reserve of energy for attending events (runway shows for designers I've never heard of, cell phone accessory launch parties, etc.) where her grim visage might be more readily photographed commiting shameless crimes of PDA with ugly neckless ultimate fighters. Now, to make me REALLY hate her, she has gone and done an ad campaign for PETA.
Doing an ad for PETA is the quickest way to garner my everlasting disdain. I've gone off previously on this regarding Shirley Manson from Garbage, some dumb singer girl named Nellie McKay who made an obnoxious video for a crappy song busting on Columbia, and Girl Next Door #1 Holly (and for those of you who have been demanding Razzy vadge pics, read that last posting!). I hate PETA because they're overbearing, totally hypocritical, dog-killing assholes. Seriously, PETA claims that "animals are not ours to eat, wear, experiment on, or use for entertainment," but they're fine to dispose of when you're talking about dogs brought to their shelters. PETA vehemently opposes no-kill shelters and euthanize the majority of cats and dogs brought to their "rescue" facilities. In 2005, they euthanized 88% of the unclaimed pets in their care. Once they "saved" 18 rabbits and 14 roosters from a research facility and euthanized them because they didn't have the money to maintain them. So...it's not okay to perform potentially valuable medical research on these animals, but it IS okay to kill them and throw them away? That makes sense. Apparently, killing animals is only acceptable to PETA when you have to meet your budget's bottom line, and get absolutely no benefit whatsoever from that animal's life. I hate HATE HATE PETA, so now that goes for Jenna Jameson, as well.
Even worse, PETA, in all its insufferable wisdom, decided to dress Jenna up as Bettie Page, who is undoubtedly vomiting into her strained prunes at whatever old folks' home she currently resides. Surely the legendary pinup icon doesn't appreciate being emulated in a costume cobbled together with a patent pleather bikini from the clearance bin at Fantasy World and a busted wig from Ricky's. Jenna looks a hell of a lot more like she should be wearing a cloak and ferrying recently departed souls across the river Styx than posing for softcore 50s-era S&M erotica. Way to go, PETA. I'm sure leather futures are plummeting as we speak.
This makes me want to go eat a steak, put on one of my many luxurious fur coats, and kill some mice in the name of virology.
Labels: assholes, celebrities, gross, oh the horror, overcompensation, plastic surgery, porn, sexy delicious animals, you're ugly
Friday, February 01, 2008
La Fea Mafia
I love convicted justice obstructor/perjurer and cunnilingus aficionado Kimberly "Lil' Kim" Jones dearly for her contributions to the canon of cutting-edge feminist thought. I have been truly inspired by her tales about going from making her intro getting fucked in the Pinto to being skin-deep in the Lexus jeep, her assertions about the superiority of her self-proclaimed "designer pussy" (which apparently comes in "high-class tasting" flavors), keeping her finances and sex life independent of one another by refusing to go out shopping spending dudes' C-notes and instead staying at their cribs to provide them deep throat, and her refusal to let a man stick this without licking this. Lil' Kim is an iconic womanly figure and I love the groundbreaking achievements that she has blessed the world with.
However, it seems that Lil' Kim's self-image isn't quite as strong as her song lyrics purport, because I can only assume that abysmally low self-esteem was what drove her to do this to herself:
NOOOOOOOO!!!! She doesn't even look like a real human being anymore. When I first saw this, I thought that Marc Jacobs (who looks more like a wasting Jeff Goldblum every time I see him) had taken a secondhand, beat-down blowup doll to whatever event this was as his date. It appears that Kim's gone back to her and Jenna Jameson's hack surgeon for more facial implants, and if she doesn't quit it with the rhinoplasty she's going to look like a member of the damn Jackson family. Lil' Kim should consider the fact that she has to still use a thick shellac of foundation to look presentable as an indicator that the surgeries are NOT working in the beauty department!
What is Lil' Kim even doing at an event with a fancy designer like Marc Jacobs anyway? While she often makes claims about being into haute couture in her lyrics, she also notes that she makes questionable fashion decisions such as her penchant for "rock(ing) colorful minks" and proceeds to wear the most garish trash imaginable every time I see her. The last time I checked what was on the cover of Italian Vogue, it wasn't purple pasties and giant diamond Queen B necklaces. It's a pity that Michael Kors wasn't at this event so that he could dispense some succinctly bitchy critical advice about her taste. He could probably craft some wickedly hilarious zinger simultaneously referencing the Crypt Keeper, 80s music videos, cheap prom corsages, and mothers of the bride. Lil' Kim needs his help in every way. BADLY. Starting with him changing her clothes and forcing her to sign away her rights to any future elective cosmetic procedures.
Lil' Kim needs to quit with the surgeries now, because she's ruining her entire mystique (in fact, that ship may have already completely sailed). If her face is any indication, her vagina is neither tight nor right, and that is a blow to mankind. For the love of God, Lil' Kim, love yourself enough to steer clear of the scalpel from here on out.
However, it seems that Lil' Kim's self-image isn't quite as strong as her song lyrics purport, because I can only assume that abysmally low self-esteem was what drove her to do this to herself:
What is Lil' Kim even doing at an event with a fancy designer like Marc Jacobs anyway? While she often makes claims about being into haute couture in her lyrics, she also notes that she makes questionable fashion decisions such as her penchant for "rock(ing) colorful minks" and proceeds to wear the most garish trash imaginable every time I see her. The last time I checked what was on the cover of Italian Vogue, it wasn't purple pasties and giant diamond Queen B necklaces. It's a pity that Michael Kors wasn't at this event so that he could dispense some succinctly bitchy critical advice about her taste. He could probably craft some wickedly hilarious zinger simultaneously referencing the Crypt Keeper, 80s music videos, cheap prom corsages, and mothers of the bride. Lil' Kim needs his help in every way. BADLY. Starting with him changing her clothes and forcing her to sign away her rights to any future elective cosmetic procedures.
Lil' Kim needs to quit with the surgeries now, because she's ruining her entire mystique (in fact, that ship may have already completely sailed). If her face is any indication, her vagina is neither tight nor right, and that is a blow to mankind. For the love of God, Lil' Kim, love yourself enough to steer clear of the scalpel from here on out.
Labels: Lil' Kim, plastic surgery, Project Runway, rap, sluts, you're ugly
Monday, January 28, 2008
Daily Douchebag: Hofit Golan
DOB: ???
Occupation: media whore, fug-ass model
Hometown: somewhere in Israel
Current residence: wherever there is some shitty-ass premiere nobody cares about and she can show up looking like a Sarah Jessica Parker drag performer
Douchebaggery: Yesterday, Dlisted had some pictures up of some chick named Hofit Golan, and I was like, "who?" So I Googled her and managed to come up a long list of events she has attended--mostly premieres for movies like Fred Claus and Sleuth--and virtually no information about her at all. I finally managed to discern that she is some Israeli model, although what she has actually been paid to model for is unclear. I couldn't find any magazine photos, ads, or runway shows that she's starred it, unless the red carpet at so-and-so's cell phone launch party counts as a runway. Besides being an apparently seldom-employed model, she is also friends with Petra Nemacova (who I only know because she broke her shit in the tsunami and then spent a year fucking that loser James Blunt) and Caprice (who I only know from her appearance on "The Surreal Life"), and she likes to wear outfits that showcase her ossified snap-on tits. Seriously, do they have breast implant technology from the '80s in Israel, or what? Because while Israel has done a bang-up job stockpiling their arsenals with state-of-the-art Jericho missiles, they apparently haven't been keeping up with advances in cosmetic surgery if Hofit's cans are any indication. "Hofit"is certainly an appropriate name for this broad given that it describes the tailoring on all her dresses.
How did Hofit's modeling career take off so dramatically? I can't figure this out. Unless of course she's working as a "glamour model" AKA bitch making $50 a shoot to suck balls for a spread in Swank magazine. Somehow she winds up with her cantaloupes popping out of designer gowns attending yacht parties in Cannes, yet she looks like the unholy spawn of Tori Spelling and Linda Evans:
Anyway, in spite of exhaustive Google searching, I can't really find out anything about Hofit Golan other than she's apparently a media whore, albeit not a very good one. Sure, she has gotten her picture taken at a lot of places, but I can't even figure out how old she is, her measurements, or where in Israel she is from. Although I haven't found out enough about her to give me any sort of tangible reason to dislike her other than my preference for cleavage that lacks capsular contracture, I figured she's douchebag worthy enough for being lousy at being famous. Bitch doesn't even have a website or a MySpace page! Hofit Golan, how am I supposed to adequately make fun of you when I can't find a single website with your biography on it? If she wants to be a celebrity (as all the events she hams it up for on the red carpet implies), then homegirl needs to make it easier for bloggers to find embarrassing information about her on the internets! Jeez. Some people.
Labels: Daily Douchebag, media whores, plastic surgery, sluts, you're ugly
Monday, January 07, 2008
Daily Douchebag: New York and Tailor Made
DOB: January 6, 1982 and ????
Occupation: grossing everybody out
Hometown: Utica, New York and Queens, New York
Current residence: wherever there are F-list paparazzi lurking to capture more displays of stomach-turning vulgarity; most recently, Miami Beach and Vh1's sound stage in Los Angeles
Douchebaggery: Last night was the "I Love New York 2" reunion show, and it was a little on the anticlimactic side. I spent half of it being bored out of my mind by what was mostly contrived, predictable dramas and the other half being completely disgusted. I'm glad that New York and Tailor Made--both of whom I have already douchebagged--are putting on a good show of being deeply in love and actually engaged (and congratulations to Tailor Made on finalizing his divorce). However, I wish they weren't putting on such a great show that they felt the need to do this every time a camera gets pointed their way:
Adding to the skeezy factor is the fact that I am calling it now: Tailor Made has a straight up pencil dick. I HATE effing guys with skinny dicks. It's almost worse than fucking a dude with a short dick. At least guys with short dicks know their dicks are short, and thus try to compensate other ways (if they're smart), like by learning how to give decent head. Guys with skinny dicks often think that because their dicks are an adequate length, they have big dicks and are thus Don Juan. I can't tell you how many pencil-dicked morons I've boned who acted like I should thank them for blessing my vagina with their slender and unsatisfying rods. I fucked this guy one time who had delusions of grandeur so serious that he kept instructing me to close my legs so his dick wouldn't go in all the way and "hurt (my) cervix." First of all, EWWWW! Second, how dare you suggest that your cock is just too much man for me to handle?! Trust that I've sat on bigger dicks than your fucking bundle of dry fettuccine, so don't tell me about how to avoid the imaginary damage that's going to do to my internal lady bits, asshole. Needless to say, he didn't get a sequel. Since New York even told Tailor Made that he needed to get a penis implant during a couples' counseling session, I'm betting that she is having the same kind of stupid "close your legs" problems with her man. The last thing anyone needs is them making out all the time reminding us that Tailor Made is going home to pencil-dick the bejesus out of New York and her astonishing basketball breasts.
Anyway, I hope for the sake of my stomach and its general level of distress that this relationship is a sham and they quit playing it up for the media. Besides, if New York and Tailor Made work out, there won't be an "I Love New York 3," which I think everyone can agree would rule. Vh1 needs something from this franchise to air anyway, after "Rock of Love 2" and "Flavor of Love 3" wrap up this spring. So break up, already.
Labels: Daily Douchebag, gross, I Love New York, oh the horror, plastic surgery, TV, Vh1
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: ass implant doctors in 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.
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, gross, hilarious shit, plastic surgery
Friday, November 30, 2007
Next Halloween I'm going to scare the shit out of everyone
I have the perfect scary costume. Children will flee from me in terror. Men will feel their nuts shrivel in horror as I pass by. Women will burst into tears. The world will cry out in fear. I will set new standards for hideousness. Who will I be going as, you ask? This terrifying succubus:
Jenna Jameson has gone from being merely a cautionary tale about the dangers of excessive plastic surgery to looking like she should be leading hobbits up the Winding Staircase to the dread pass of Cirith Ungol while muttering, "We wants the precious, we wants it!" The only good surgery she had was getting her fake tits ripped out, but that's completely negated by the deforming hack job she's done to her face. Even worse, it seems she used Richie Rich, the ugly club kid twink above, as the model for all the work she had done. She must be seriously self-loathing to bring a picture of that asshole, who always looks like he just got done having a coked-up fairy puke sequins and santorum all over him, to her surgeon and be like, "make me in his image."
I know Jenna has "retired" from starring in porn, but quietly going in a different direction careerwise is one thing, and deforming yourself so severely that you exclude the possibility of ever working in an image-conscious business is another thing entirely. Eat some cheeseburgers and lay of the Restalyne, Jenna, because if, as you and Richie Rich are threatening, you open up a clothing store in Chinatown looking like that, people are going to think some type of monster is about to lay waste to the city. Stop the insanity, Jenna! Inspire masturbation, not Gollum quotes from Lord of the Rings!
I know Jenna has "retired" from starring in porn, but quietly going in a different direction careerwise is one thing, and deforming yourself so severely that you exclude the possibility of ever working in an image-conscious business is another thing entirely. Eat some cheeseburgers and lay of the Restalyne, Jenna, because if, as you and Richie Rich are threatening, you open up a clothing store in Chinatown looking like that, people are going to think some type of monster is about to lay waste to the city. Stop the insanity, Jenna! Inspire masturbation, not Gollum quotes from Lord of the Rings!
Labels: gross, Halloween, nerd alert, oh the horror, overcompensation, plastic surgery, porn, sluts, you're ugly
Monday, November 26, 2007
Daily Douchebag: Dr. Donda West
DOB: 1949
DOD: November 10, 2007
Occupation: former English professor, Kanye West's manager
Hometown: Atlanta, Georgia
Current residence: a cemetery somewhere--Chi-town?
Douchebaggery: 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. That said, however, the media should SHUT UP about Donda West.
Donda is being discussed in the same way that people discuss those who died in the Holocaust. She's being portrayed as the innocent victim of some nefarious evil force, and her departure from this mortal coil is the most tragic untimely death since Martin Luther King or John F. Kennedy. While from what I've read, it seems like Donda was a brilliant scholar, a loving mother, and an all-around good person, I had no idea who the fuck Donda West was until she croaked. The bitch was busy doing things like getting Kanye airmailed $4000 worth of transatlantic Indian food and marketing Kanye merchandise. She might have been a good person, but it's not like she was Mother Teresa, and I am tired of hearing her described as though she was. In my view, if it weren't for her, we wouldn't be listening to Kanye's asinine demagoguery about everything from conflict diamonds to Jesus, and that would make the world a better fucking place. Thanks a lot for giving birth to that asshole, Donda, and even worse, thanks for ENCOURAGING him to be a blowhard.
Furthermore, Donda didn't die from an assassin's bullet or some other martyr-type death. She died having plastic surgery from a doctor whose credentials she didn't check after a different doctor told her that she wasn't a candidate for a tummy tuck or tumescent lipo or whatever. Basically, she went against medical advice for the sake of vanity. I'm not saying that anyone who wants plastic surgery deserves to die, but it shouldn't be so fucking unexpected when a doctor refuses to operate on you because you're such a high-risk patient, and you instead turn to some unscrupulous quack without board certification. Donda decided to risk her life for her looks, and paid the price. That sucks, but it's not like she died rescuing puppies from a burning building, and if I hear one more entertainment news report portraying her death as some type of horrible unforeseen tragedy from which the world is paralyzed with grief, I'm going to swear off watching "Access Hollywood" and "The Insider" forever. Whatever will I do now that Donda West is dead? As challenging as it will be for me, I'll probably keep slanging rhinovirus, pounding Heinekens, watching reruns of "I Love New York 2," and hating on her son. In other words, BUSINESS AS USUAL.
Kid Rock had it right at the AMAs when he took the stage and asked everyone who was busy with the clusterfuck of public lamentation about Donda West's death to remember the thousands of U.S. soldiers who died in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well. It's true that all those soldiers have done as much if not more for the world than Donda West, and who gave their lives serving their country rather than their own narcissistic desire for smaller saddlebags, and they're not getting shit besides the odd "here's who died in Iraq today" cable news segment. Donda West's death has served only to showcase how completely skewed our priorities as a society are, as we care more about Kanye's stupid mother than the fucking WAR that's destroying our economy, ruining our credit with the world, and killing our citizens and soldiers. So fuck Donda West. She's dead. Move on.
Labels: assholes, Daily Douchebag, media whores, people who died, plastic surgery, rap, vanity
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The world's most ridiculous boobs
Every Monday, JerseyGirl and I get together to watch (the greatest show in the history of reality television) "I Love New York," sometimes with her neighbor HillsYes. I'm teaching JerseyGirl how to cook (and this bitch doesn't even have a KNIFE...her lack of domestic skills are appalling but partially compensated by her trove of guido-flavored adventure tales about things like getting disqualified in banana-eating contests at Jersey Shore clubs such as "the Trade Winds"), so we make some type of beginner's food (chicken strips, grilled cheese, etc.) and watch our trash TV. The last few weeks, we've been noticing something that becomes more and more obvious every week: New York had another tit job, and it's out of fucking control.
We began to notice that, even by New York's typically over-the-top busty standards, her breasts look like they're about to pop. I don't remember them being so severely overstuffed last season, but this time around, it's like the basketball-sized implants within are about to burst free at any moment.
They're so distracting. It's like her breasts are two medicine balls that have been bolted to her chest. Even more distracting is her choice in dresses, which emphasize that mile of preternatural cleavage between those two silicone saddlebags she's rocking. Her tits are more stuffed than the fucking deer head on my wall. I imagine that if you manage to get a feel of those cans, it's sort of like holding a set of giant, unyielding stress balls.
I swear, New York purchased those tits at Big Lots or something. I've never seen such an appalling breast aug. I'm not the world's biggest fan of fake tits, but I know they can be better than that. One of my friends has fake tits and you would never even know unless you REALLY felt them up. Hers are a reasonable size and she opted for the more natural submuscular implant procedure using the latest model of implants. Obviously, New York had a coupon for a surgeon who last earned CME credits in 1985, because she looks like someone jammed a honeydew melon into each boob and called it a fucking day. Those are the kind of tits I'd expect to see flanking a stripper pole off Washington state route 512 at Foxes in Parkland. Or on a ridiculous, twice-spurned-by-Flavor-Flav woman who responds to criticism with mooning and who thinks church is an appropriate venue for Newport smoking to rock for the second season of her own Vh1 reality show.
I've got mad love for New York, but PLEASE get those jugs deflated just a little. It's hard to pay attention to the silly things New York's absurd bevy of suitors do, like fight each other or suck on her toes, because those cans are so goddamned distracting. She needs to shrink them just enough so that I can clearly read the "Princess" tattoo on her left hooter, and then they'll be the perfect outlandishly fake breasts. If there's a need for "I Love New York 3" (there will be; she lost out on her one chance at true love when she booted the hot piece that was Midget Mac last week), then Vh1 needs to think about adding a budget for a decent surgeon. Last night she booted Wolf for being a "country bumpkin" (who farted on her in the "Nip/Tuck" green room...don't ask) who didn't fit with her "exciting Hollywood lifestyle." Well, New York, live that lifestyle and go see Dr. 90210!
We began to notice that, even by New York's typically over-the-top busty standards, her breasts look like they're about to pop. I don't remember them being so severely overstuffed last season, but this time around, it's like the basketball-sized implants within are about to burst free at any moment.
They're so distracting. It's like her breasts are two medicine balls that have been bolted to her chest. Even more distracting is her choice in dresses, which emphasize that mile of preternatural cleavage between those two silicone saddlebags she's rocking. Her tits are more stuffed than the fucking deer head on my wall. I imagine that if you manage to get a feel of those cans, it's sort of like holding a set of giant, unyielding stress balls.
I swear, New York purchased those tits at Big Lots or something. I've never seen such an appalling breast aug. I'm not the world's biggest fan of fake tits, but I know they can be better than that. One of my friends has fake tits and you would never even know unless you REALLY felt them up. Hers are a reasonable size and she opted for the more natural submuscular implant procedure using the latest model of implants. Obviously, New York had a coupon for a surgeon who last earned CME credits in 1985, because she looks like someone jammed a honeydew melon into each boob and called it a fucking day. Those are the kind of tits I'd expect to see flanking a stripper pole off Washington state route 512 at Foxes in Parkland. Or on a ridiculous, twice-spurned-by-Flavor-Flav woman who responds to criticism with mooning and who thinks church is an appropriate venue for Newport smoking to rock for the second season of her own Vh1 reality show.
I've got mad love for New York, but PLEASE get those jugs deflated just a little. It's hard to pay attention to the silly things New York's absurd bevy of suitors do, like fight each other or suck on her toes, because those cans are so goddamned distracting. She needs to shrink them just enough so that I can clearly read the "Princess" tattoo on her left hooter, and then they'll be the perfect outlandishly fake breasts. If there's a need for "I Love New York 3" (there will be; she lost out on her one chance at true love when she booted the hot piece that was Midget Mac last week), then Vh1 needs to think about adding a budget for a decent surgeon. Last night she booted Wolf for being a "country bumpkin" (who farted on her in the "Nip/Tuck" green room...don't ask) who didn't fit with her "exciting Hollywood lifestyle." Well, New York, live that lifestyle and go see Dr. 90210!
Labels: gross, I Love New York, oh the horror, overcompensation, plastic surgery, sluts, TV, Vh1
Monday, October 22, 2007
Briana Butterface
My favorite porn star is Briana Banks, and for good reason. This former insurance auditor-turned-professional nymphomaniac whore has graced the small and/or computer screens with some of the finest and most entertaining masturbatory fare ever produced. She is enthusiastic, is such a good performer that she makes violent anal jackhammering look fun, and is appealing in spite of her badly overstuffed boob job.
Briana hasn't made many new movies lately, because like many of her esteemed colleagues, she developed a serious drug problem and went through rehab, divorced her porn star husband, and sued a sex toy manufacturer for making unauthorized replicas of her genitals. I was wondering what happened to Briana...if she retired, or was dead in a ditch somewhere, or what. Well, it turns out she was taking a little time off to clean up her act, but Vivid stood by their contract girl and now she's making a triumphant return to pornography!
I was stoked about the possibility of having novel Briana Banks action to illegally download when I found some still shots from the set of her big comeback and suddenly changed my tune. Just to remind you all, prior to her departure, Briana was hot HOT HOT:
Briana was the kind of classy, upper crust woman who would stand around her house in a pair of checkered thigh-highs, a thong, and an extremely sophisticated shirt like the one above while contemplating whether or not she wanted to tickle the ivories on her grand piano. Except by "tickle the ivories" I mean "get anally reamed something serious." Like I said, Briana was hot.
Unfortunately, THIS is what Briana looks like now:
I'm positive Briana had some face work done, specifically cheek implants and lip injections, and possibly a nose job. WHY, BRIANA, WHY??? She was completely beautiful before. The only good change she's made is that she's packed on a couple pounds after kicking the cocaine, which is for the best as she was so skinny previously that she once starred in a film called Titsicle. However, the wonky visage is completely ruining her voluptuous new drug-free bod, and I am not down to rub one off to that butterface (especially not if she's doing scenes with Christian, the male porn star pictured above, since masturbating to Mr. Clean assfucking the new fug Briana isn't my thing).
I am concerned that Briana loved Jenna a little too much, because she obviously asked her to recommend a surgeon. That just goes to show that you should never ask for plastic surgery advice from a woman who transformed herself from one of the most fuckalicious pieces of ass in the history of pornography into some kind of low-budget zombie Posh Beckham wannabe. Bad move, Briana. Bad move.
Briana hasn't made many new movies lately, because like many of her esteemed colleagues, she developed a serious drug problem and went through rehab, divorced her porn star husband, and sued a sex toy manufacturer for making unauthorized replicas of her genitals. I was wondering what happened to Briana...if she retired, or was dead in a ditch somewhere, or what. Well, it turns out she was taking a little time off to clean up her act, but Vivid stood by their contract girl and now she's making a triumphant return to pornography!
I was stoked about the possibility of having novel Briana Banks action to illegally download when I found some still shots from the set of her big comeback and suddenly changed my tune. Just to remind you all, prior to her departure, Briana was hot HOT HOT:
Unfortunately, THIS is what Briana looks like now:
I am concerned that Briana loved Jenna a little too much, because she obviously asked her to recommend a surgeon. That just goes to show that you should never ask for plastic surgery advice from a woman who transformed herself from one of the most fuckalicious pieces of ass in the history of pornography into some kind of low-budget zombie Posh Beckham wannabe. Bad move, Briana. Bad move.
Labels: hot chicks, oh the horror, plastic surgery, porn, you're ugly
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
To revadge or not to revadge?
Last week, BigBagel, who is obviously VERY busy covering health issues on the Gulf Coast of the mighty Mississip in his waning days as a newspaper reporter, sent out the following query to LL Cool Jew and some of her friends:
In case you didn't read the above article, it's all about how vaginoplasty (cosmetic reconstruction of the vadge and/or surrounding lady bits) has come into vogue either to improve one's genital appearance or to make a new fake hymen for crazy Christian bitches who want to physically repent for their old, sluttish ways. The article explores concerns among surgeons about vaginoplasty being an unnecessary and potentially dangerous procedure. LL Cool Jew was mortified that BigBagel had decided this was a move sanctioned by the very beautiful and sweet marriage vows they exchanged back in April:
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org), FalloniusMonk (fmonk@bighugecorporateexperientialmarketingfirm.com), Rack (rack@fashiondesignhouse.com), LL Cool Jew (llcooljew@trotskyitepropagandistnonprofit.org), Jersey Girl (jerseygirl@thirdrankedcablenewscompany.com), Wmania (wmania@bighugecorporatePRfirm.com), MillerTime (mtime@tacomahmo.com), Motherbucker (mbucker@somepoliticalplaceoranother.com), HotLawyer (hotlawyer@criminaldefenselawfirm.com), Morrissey'sHair (morrisseyshair@bankruptcylawfirm.com)
From: BigBagel (bigbagel@pulitzerprizewinningdirrtydirrtynewspaper.com)
Subject: being that i am now a married man...
ah, the funny things I come across as a health journalist. anyway, I feel a little more comfortable asking about this now that I am a married man, well, really since I now have access to a network of female friends.
http://www.reuters.com/article/healthNews/idUSN3125637420070831
this is a totally unscientific survey entirely for non-professional curiosity reasons. this is also an attempt to deal with my senioritis issues at work, even though I have a fuckload to do right now. Anyway, what do y'all think of the vaginoplasty procedure? Would you consider it for yourself? If so, under what cirucmstances? Cosmetic ever be a consideration? Performance-based reasons? "revirgination"? I can tell you from my perspective, no goddamn way i'd let anyone get a knife near my johnson unless it was somehow the only way to prevent it from falling off.
To: the Vadgetastic e-mail listI then felt the need to respond, not because I was shocked BigBagel decided to solicit this informal poll, but because this topic has interested me ever since I saw some old bitch get vaginoplasty on an episode of "Nip/Tuck" a couple seasons back and since I heard the rumors on the internet about the horrors that befell Jenna Jameson when she underwent this procedure:
From: LL Cool Jew (llcooljew@trotskyitepropagandistnonprofit.org)
zomg, i cannot *believe* my husband just sent a vaginoplasty article to all my friends...it was an unsanctioned move, fyi, and btw bigbagel, hotlawyer and morrissey'shair are men...
To: the Vadgetastic e-mail listI felt that pretty much covered it, and so did FalloniusMonk, albeit for apparently different reasons. I'm assuming she was referring to point #5 about fucking dudes with penis piercings, since she's a big ol' lesbo.
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
NO FUCKING WAY.
1. My vagina is a goddamn work of art, and it has many admirers who agree with me (including certain unnamed parties on this e-mail list).
2. Because of this procedure, Jenna Jameson's vagina looks like Petra after the hot Nazi stupidly brought the Grail over the Seal at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. In fairness, I haven't seen her post-surgical modifications, but if the work she's had done on the rest of her is any indication of her surgeon's skill, I sincerely doubt its appearance has been improved.
3. I don't know why any woman would consider this unless her cooch looks like the Mines of Moria. If your vadge is too loose, there's this little exercise called a Kegel that EVERY woman should know about and do on the regs, and that can fix it up.
4. As to the notion that I might have unattractive external or internal genitalia...SHA RIGHT. Like I said, my shit looks like a freakin' Georgia O'Keefe lily. Except better.
5. After a particularly memorable (in a most unpleasant way) one-night stand with a dreadlocked retard who had eleven penis piercings and experienced the extremely painful process of healing from a vaginal shredding, including walking bow-legged (and not in the good way promised to strippers by R. Kelly in "R&B Thug"), I have decided not to let anything sharp and metal near my twat ever again. That dude also gave me a visible hickey and a urinary tract infection...bastard.
You might also be interested to know that there is also a type of collagen injection called "The G Shot" that, per its website (www.thegshot.com), "can temporarily augment the Grafenburg spot in sexually active women with normal sexual function." MAYBE I would consider something like that because I'm down for more intense orgasms and it's just a little shot...except in this case, the lengthy list of risks (http://thegshot.com/risks.htm ) including "vesico-vaginal fistula (hole between the bladder and vagina)," "erosion," "exposed material," and "local tissue infarction and necrosis," mitigates the reward. NO THANKS! I'll stick to my regular old orgasms and leave my lady parts unsullied by medical intervention.
To: the Vadgetastic e-mail listMotherbucker, likewise a big ol' lesbo, decided to take a more snarky approach in her response:
From: FalloniusMonk (fmonk@bighugecorporateexperientialmarketingfirm.com)
They should call it Revagination.
I leave the eloquence to Dr. Raz. For wildly different reasons, BigBagel, I concur with her - and you, for that matter: hell motherfucking no.
To: the Vadgetastic e-mail listJerseyGirl, as all of our friends would have predicted, responded with a typical "ew, gross!" sentiment. JerseyGirl once almost threw up when I was discussing some of the messier aspects of anal sex, so this topic didn't suit her rather squeamish temperament.
From: Motherbucker (mbucker@somepoliticalplaceoranother.com)
I would definitely get it. I want my twat to remain forever tight for all the hot dick I regularly get involved with...
To: the Vadgetastic e-mail listSo far, with the exception of Motherbucker who was being 100% sarcastic, nobody has taken a pro-vaginoplasty stance. However, to relieve BigBagel's insatiable curiosity about the wild world of revagination, I thought I'd bring the debate to the internets. If anyone has an opinion about whether they'd personally would or would not get vaginoplasty or why they would or would not encourage their bitch to get a Twat 2.0, spend those two cents on the comment page, y'all! Maybe BigBagel can write another Pulitzer-worthy investigative report on it. Also, I'm still waiting to hear from HotLawyer and Morrissey'sHair about what they think as far as their vaginas are concerned.
From: JerseyGirl (jerseygirl@thirdrankedcablenewscompany.com)
That is gross. No.
Labels: FalloniusMonk, gross, HotLawyer, JerseyGirl, LL Cool Jew, MillerTime, Motherbucker, oh the horror, plastic surgery, Rack, science, sex, stank vaginas
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Zombies invade the P-N-Dub
I don't know why Jenna Jameson has tried to halt her rapid progression toward completely resembling a reanimated undead stripper whore by doing the world's worst Victoria Beckham impersonation, but I guess it's better than her recent blow-up doll and that "Quaid! Start the reactor! Free Mars!" mutant in Total Recall looks. Here's Jenna getting her Posh Spice on at Sea-Tac airport this week:
Why was Jenna in Seattle in the first place? Unless she was there to purchase that hideous fucking beaded shirt from the South Hill Mall Lamont's store (a standby of ill-fitting, outdated-by-decades Liz Claiborne fashions for the PWT ladies of the P-N-Dub), I can't imagine why she strayed so far from Porn Valley. What the hell does a city full of uptight, faux cosmopolitan, tree-hugging hipster computer geeks have to offer the world's most famous porn star besides ubiquitous wi-fi and Starbucks filled with obnoxious Al Gore devotees? Maybe she's a fan of "Gray's Shitnatomy" and tried to visit the nonexistent Seattle Grace hospital to see if Patrick Dempsey could fix her collapsing vadge. Given the abysmally bad plastic surgery choices she's made in the past, I wouldn't be surprised if she thought it reasonable to get physician referrals from network television.
The sad thing is that when her Posh-wannabe ass strolled into the Sea-Tac airport Northwest Expressions store looking to buy some smoked salmon or a Space Needle coffee mug as a souvenir, nobody even thought, "Queen of Porn." Most people probably shook their heads with an expression of undisguised pity and thought, "Look at that poor anorexic woman trying desperately to emulate a Spice Girl-turned-trophy wife media whore." Jenna, I beg you, quit trying to reinvent yourself, get your shit fixed, and do what you do best: FUCKING FOR THE CAMERA! I'm tired of groaning every time I see her. You don't see Briana pulling this sort of nonsense (and yes, this is just an excuse for a gratuitous Briana Banks picture, but I had to do something to cancel out the horror of Zombie Spice above):
The sad thing is that when her Posh-wannabe ass strolled into the Sea-Tac airport Northwest Expressions store looking to buy some smoked salmon or a Space Needle coffee mug as a souvenir, nobody even thought, "Queen of Porn." Most people probably shook their heads with an expression of undisguised pity and thought, "Look at that poor anorexic woman trying desperately to emulate a Spice Girl-turned-trophy wife media whore." Jenna, I beg you, quit trying to reinvent yourself, get your shit fixed, and do what you do best: FUCKING FOR THE CAMERA! I'm tired of groaning every time I see her. You don't see Briana pulling this sort of nonsense (and yes, this is just an excuse for a gratuitous Briana Banks picture, but I had to do something to cancel out the horror of Zombie Spice above):
Labels: gross, oh the horror, P-N-Dub, plastic surgery, porn, sluts, you're ugly
Monday, July 23, 2007
No more surgery!
Every time I bust on Lil' Kim's looks, it pains me a little. I love Kimberly "Lil' Kim" Jones. She is one of the bravest, most noble, most pro-cunnilingus feminist heroes in the history of women's liberation, and I applaud her many efforts at bringing women's sexuality to the forefront with her patriarchy-challenging lyrics ("he wanted me to suck him, but I didn't, I ain't frontin'") and creative personal style.
Unfortunately, Kim keeps shooting herself in the foot--or more accurately, the face--when it comes to her plastic surgery choices. It stared with fake tits, then moved on to lip injections, skin lighening, and facial implants. However, I think that it's time for the internets to step in and take some action, because what Lil' Kim has going on these days is downright wrong. I just saw this picture on Dlisted, and in spite of being familiar with her current level of aesthetic (or lack thereof), I couldn't help but be a little bit shocked:
She's finally moved into straight Michael Jackson territory. Her face is so horrifyingly distorted that it actually makes her weave look natural. Whether her dramatic painted-on eyebrows, the blotchy pigmentation of her complexion, the botched eye job and/or facelift that resulted in those frighteningly wide eyes, the bizarre shrinking nose, or the general puffy bloatedness of the whole package is more of an embarrassment to her surgeon is up for debate. I can't imagine why she's like, "My last procedure went really well, I think it's high time I got another one. My (insert unadulterated body part here) hasn't been rendered hideously deformed yet, maybe I'll get that lifted/implanted/grossly reshaped," except that she has some serious body dysmorphic disorder.
I must BEG Lil' Kim to not visit her surgeon any more. Eventually she's not even going to be able to rap raunchily about how fresh her pussy is (sha right), because you know that's on her "to surgically ruin" list, and I wouldn't be surprised if she is going to Jenna Jameson's surgeon. Word on the internets has it that Jenna's vaginoplasty went badly, and now her cooze is collapsing like a tunnel in the Big Dig. Avoid the vadge work, Kim...your vagina doesn't need to get any tighter or righter. Also, given that one of her implants is reportedly leaking silicone into her thoracic cavity, I suspect she has lupus or rheumatoid arthritis. I'm fairly convinced that her puffiness is the sure sign of an anti-inflammatory steroid regimen, and though I'm not a physician, I would say that treating an autoimmune disease with an immunosuppressant is counterindicative for invasive elective surgery. Just stop.
Unfortunately, Kim keeps shooting herself in the foot--or more accurately, the face--when it comes to her plastic surgery choices. It stared with fake tits, then moved on to lip injections, skin lighening, and facial implants. However, I think that it's time for the internets to step in and take some action, because what Lil' Kim has going on these days is downright wrong. I just saw this picture on Dlisted, and in spite of being familiar with her current level of aesthetic (or lack thereof), I couldn't help but be a little bit shocked:
I must BEG Lil' Kim to not visit her surgeon any more. Eventually she's not even going to be able to rap raunchily about how fresh her pussy is (sha right), because you know that's on her "to surgically ruin" list, and I wouldn't be surprised if she is going to Jenna Jameson's surgeon. Word on the internets has it that Jenna's vaginoplasty went badly, and now her cooze is collapsing like a tunnel in the Big Dig. Avoid the vadge work, Kim...your vagina doesn't need to get any tighter or righter. Also, given that one of her implants is reportedly leaking silicone into her thoracic cavity, I suspect she has lupus or rheumatoid arthritis. I'm fairly convinced that her puffiness is the sure sign of an anti-inflammatory steroid regimen, and though I'm not a physician, I would say that treating an autoimmune disease with an immunosuppressant is counterindicative for invasive elective surgery. Just stop.
Labels: Lil' Kim, oh the horror, plastic surgery, rap, ridiculous absurdity, you're ugly
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Jenna Jameson's transformation is almost complete
If she's trying to transform into an actual blow-up doll, anyway.
Okay, I'll give it to her that she looks better than what she looked like a few months ago (a thoroughly broken in and well-oiled baseball mitt with anorexia), but seriously...everything on her looks completely fake, from the ratty Barbie hair to the giant fish lips to the multiple facial implants to the spray-on tan to the totally fucked (no pun intended) vagina (not pictured), which supposedly looks like a cross between a collapsing tunnel in the Mines of Moria and that garbage compactor thing that Luke, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and Princess Leia get stuck in on the Death Star in the original Star Wars. I know she's going through a rough divorce and all, but sheesh...last I checked, nasty divorce battles didn't force you into a discount plastic surgeon's office asking for a full body hack job.
I guess I should shut up, because her boyfriend is one of those Ultimate Fighting Championship guys, and I don't want him dragging me into the Octagon for the pummeling of my life, but I am just so disappointed that Jenna continues her descent toward being an amphibious subhumanoid swamp-dweller instead of the enviably hot porn star she once was. Thank God she's now supposedly retired as a performer in the world of adult film, because these days girlfriend is more likely to give me nightmares than masturbatory orgasms. It would be like trying to rub one off to the creature from the black lagoon:
Anyway, my heart will always belong to Briana. At least the only horrifying part of her body are her monster tits, and if you watch enough porn, you can learn to overlook that. Even without all her stage makeup she's way hot.
I guess I should shut up, because her boyfriend is one of those Ultimate Fighting Championship guys, and I don't want him dragging me into the Octagon for the pummeling of my life, but I am just so disappointed that Jenna continues her descent toward being an amphibious subhumanoid swamp-dweller instead of the enviably hot porn star she once was. Thank God she's now supposedly retired as a performer in the world of adult film, because these days girlfriend is more likely to give me nightmares than masturbatory orgasms. It would be like trying to rub one off to the creature from the black lagoon:
Anyway, my heart will always belong to Briana. At least the only horrifying part of her body are her monster tits, and if you watch enough porn, you can learn to overlook that. Even without all her stage makeup she's way hot.
And Briana, I know you love Jenna, but please DO NOT follow her example with regard to aesthetics. You're doing just fine as you are!
Labels: oh the horror, plastic surgery, porn, you're ugly
Saturday, January 27, 2007
An open letter to Lil' Kim
Dear Lil' Kim,
Let me start off by saying that I have loved and admired you for well over a decade. Ever since I first heard your magnum opus Hard Core when I was a dewy-eyed radical feminist fresh on the campus of Smith College, and my dorm neighbor Ashley played your CD for me, you have brought me nothing but joy. I threw out my Birkenstock clog and fleece pullover collection partly because of your unabashed brand of slutty feminism. I've supported you through all your plastic surgeries, your less-than-spectacular musical projects shamelessly capitalizing on your past affair with the late Christopher Wallace (ie: The Notorious KIM), and your beef with Inga "Foxy Brown" Marchand. I defended your honor when you were in prison and haters decried you and maligned your character. I put up with your disparaging the integrity and mores of my boyfriend Curtis Jackson. I even dressed up as you this past Halloween, a tribute I reserve for the figures most sacred to me, placing you in the revered company of such luminaries as King Slut, a valkyrie, Britney Spears, Satan, Darryl Hannah from Clan of the Cave Bear, and the St. Pauli Girl. You are a beacon of hope and a font of inspiration to me, and I won't forget that.
However, that said, I was extraordinarily disappointed with what I saw the other day. Instead of doing something constructive, like working off that penitentiary weight with the exercise regimen you once touted (jog five miles a day then hit the sauna, rock Chanels and smoke mad marijuana), you went on TV and announced that are an integral part of what will undoubtedly be a very regrettable creative project. You are going to be a judge on the CW Network's new reality competition, "Pussycat Dolls Present: Search for the Next Doll." I am consoled only by the fact that you look as unhappy about this prospect as I am:
As if it weren't bad enough that you're doing this, Kim, I have to tell you that you aren't looking so hot these days. You should have spent your leisure time at the gym instead of getting your lips stuffed with Restalyne to the point where they're the size of Jay-Z's. Your wig looks like a hand-me-down from the closet at Whitney Houston's crackhouse, and I don't know what is going on with your left breast. It looks like you didn't get that leaking implant repaired. I would suggest shying away from shapeless blousey tops reminiscent of a flour sack in the future until you get your tits in order. The only thing that makes you look slightly appealing is the fact that you're sitting next to that stringy hooker Robin Antin, the choreographer who masterminded the Pussycat Dolls, and she looks like she rose from her grave, got some cheap extensions, and went looking for some brains to eat. It's not good that the best thing I can say about you is that at least you don't look like the tranny undead.
Are you that desperate for money, Kim? Because the only other explanation I can think of for why you would affiliate yourself with the Pussycat Dolls is that you read their name wrong and mistakenly thought they were called the Pussyeat Dolls. Being that I am very familiar with your music, I know that a prevalent theme of your music is the unending quest for receiving oral, and I can see how such a misinterpretation of the Pussycat Dolls' name could confuse and mislead you.
Also, why is another Pussycat Doll even needed? There are already six of them, and in my view that's six too many. They already have, from left to right, a chick who just came from an audition for "Red Shoe Diaries", a woman who appears not to have gotten over the fact that she isn't in junior high anymore, a wannabe goth vampire chick trying to look like the lead singer of Evanescence, an obvious fan of overusing self-tanner, a faux punk lesbian with entirely too much eye makeup, and an elderly M2F transgendered person. Is there some other variety of sorely needed costume-wearing slut that would truly improve this ensemble?
Furthermore, Kim, what are your qualifications for judging prospective Pussycat Dolls? Apart from your shared love for extraordinarily tacky, body-baring costumes and low budget hairpieces, you have little in common. Whereas you've directly addressed and revelled in your trampy ways, the Pussycat Dolls try to keep it under wraps. I went to their website today, and after the mind-numbingly painful experience of reading the girls' blogs, I realized that they are so concerned about avoiding profanity that they can't even write "grass", "competition", or "hello"without some well-placed asterisks to disguise the vulgarities within those seemingly innocuous words. They might include the odd sexual innuendo in their lyrics about pushing buttons and men looking at their "beeps", but I guarantee they never have and never will write shit like "somethin' I wanted, but I never was pushy, the motherfucker never ate my pussy", "I dug him, so I fucked him, it wasn't nothin'...he wanted me to suck him but I didn't, I ain't frontin," or "I ain't out shoppin' spendin' dudes' C-notes...I'm in the crib giving niggas deep throat." Your lyrical style is so inherently different that I can't see how you would possibly judge a Pussycat Dolls' song on the basis of lyrical content. Also, you are not the world's greatest singer. You are certainly capable of spitting lines concerning your "hard core flow that keep a nigga dick rock", but you can't carry a tune to save your life. God, there's one song on Hard Core where you can't even execute a sort-of singing imitation of Buddhist chanting. Although the existing Pussycat Dolls aren't exactly on par with, say the soprano performing in the Met's production of Die Walkure, they can at least butcher their bastardization of Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic "Swass" hook on key. What sort of experience (excluding that of the sexual variety) can you draw upon when selecting the next Pussycat Doll? It's not like you're Tommy Mottolla or Clive Davis or something. Christ, even when Diddy tried to do this the best he could produce was the caterwauling abortion known as Danity Kane. You're out of your league here, girl.
I know that you probably get letters such as this one regularly, so I'm sure this is not the first time a fan has questioned your career choices. Therefore I implore you to PLEASE drop out of this project immediately, hit the gym, cancel any appointments you might have with Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon (trust me, you DON'T need any more work done), get into the studio, and write more songs about your heroic quest for cunnilingus. If you insist on getting involved with a television project, then ask BET if they'll let you do another awesome reality show. RUN, don't walk away from anything having to do with these stank vagina-having drag queen whores. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for your fans, because it's going to be very difficult indeed to support you when you have a shitshow like this on your CV. I beg you to save yourself.
Skoal,
Razzy
Let me start off by saying that I have loved and admired you for well over a decade. Ever since I first heard your magnum opus Hard Core when I was a dewy-eyed radical feminist fresh on the campus of Smith College, and my dorm neighbor Ashley played your CD for me, you have brought me nothing but joy. I threw out my Birkenstock clog and fleece pullover collection partly because of your unabashed brand of slutty feminism. I've supported you through all your plastic surgeries, your less-than-spectacular musical projects shamelessly capitalizing on your past affair with the late Christopher Wallace (ie: The Notorious KIM), and your beef with Inga "Foxy Brown" Marchand. I defended your honor when you were in prison and haters decried you and maligned your character. I put up with your disparaging the integrity and mores of my boyfriend Curtis Jackson. I even dressed up as you this past Halloween, a tribute I reserve for the figures most sacred to me, placing you in the revered company of such luminaries as King Slut, a valkyrie, Britney Spears, Satan, Darryl Hannah from Clan of the Cave Bear, and the St. Pauli Girl. You are a beacon of hope and a font of inspiration to me, and I won't forget that.
However, that said, I was extraordinarily disappointed with what I saw the other day. Instead of doing something constructive, like working off that penitentiary weight with the exercise regimen you once touted (jog five miles a day then hit the sauna, rock Chanels and smoke mad marijuana), you went on TV and announced that are an integral part of what will undoubtedly be a very regrettable creative project. You are going to be a judge on the CW Network's new reality competition, "Pussycat Dolls Present: Search for the Next Doll." I am consoled only by the fact that you look as unhappy about this prospect as I am:
As if it weren't bad enough that you're doing this, Kim, I have to tell you that you aren't looking so hot these days. You should have spent your leisure time at the gym instead of getting your lips stuffed with Restalyne to the point where they're the size of Jay-Z's. Your wig looks like a hand-me-down from the closet at Whitney Houston's crackhouse, and I don't know what is going on with your left breast. It looks like you didn't get that leaking implant repaired. I would suggest shying away from shapeless blousey tops reminiscent of a flour sack in the future until you get your tits in order. The only thing that makes you look slightly appealing is the fact that you're sitting next to that stringy hooker Robin Antin, the choreographer who masterminded the Pussycat Dolls, and she looks like she rose from her grave, got some cheap extensions, and went looking for some brains to eat. It's not good that the best thing I can say about you is that at least you don't look like the tranny undead.
Are you that desperate for money, Kim? Because the only other explanation I can think of for why you would affiliate yourself with the Pussycat Dolls is that you read their name wrong and mistakenly thought they were called the Pussyeat Dolls. Being that I am very familiar with your music, I know that a prevalent theme of your music is the unending quest for receiving oral, and I can see how such a misinterpretation of the Pussycat Dolls' name could confuse and mislead you.
Also, why is another Pussycat Doll even needed? There are already six of them, and in my view that's six too many. They already have, from left to right, a chick who just came from an audition for "Red Shoe Diaries", a woman who appears not to have gotten over the fact that she isn't in junior high anymore, a wannabe goth vampire chick trying to look like the lead singer of Evanescence, an obvious fan of overusing self-tanner, a faux punk lesbian with entirely too much eye makeup, and an elderly M2F transgendered person. Is there some other variety of sorely needed costume-wearing slut that would truly improve this ensemble?
Furthermore, Kim, what are your qualifications for judging prospective Pussycat Dolls? Apart from your shared love for extraordinarily tacky, body-baring costumes and low budget hairpieces, you have little in common. Whereas you've directly addressed and revelled in your trampy ways, the Pussycat Dolls try to keep it under wraps. I went to their website today, and after the mind-numbingly painful experience of reading the girls' blogs, I realized that they are so concerned about avoiding profanity that they can't even write "grass", "competition", or "hello"without some well-placed asterisks to disguise the vulgarities within those seemingly innocuous words. They might include the odd sexual innuendo in their lyrics about pushing buttons and men looking at their "beeps", but I guarantee they never have and never will write shit like "somethin' I wanted, but I never was pushy, the motherfucker never ate my pussy", "I dug him, so I fucked him, it wasn't nothin'...he wanted me to suck him but I didn't, I ain't frontin," or "I ain't out shoppin' spendin' dudes' C-notes...I'm in the crib giving niggas deep throat." Your lyrical style is so inherently different that I can't see how you would possibly judge a Pussycat Dolls' song on the basis of lyrical content. Also, you are not the world's greatest singer. You are certainly capable of spitting lines concerning your "hard core flow that keep a nigga dick rock", but you can't carry a tune to save your life. God, there's one song on Hard Core where you can't even execute a sort-of singing imitation of Buddhist chanting. Although the existing Pussycat Dolls aren't exactly on par with, say the soprano performing in the Met's production of Die Walkure, they can at least butcher their bastardization of Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic "Swass" hook on key. What sort of experience (excluding that of the sexual variety) can you draw upon when selecting the next Pussycat Doll? It's not like you're Tommy Mottolla or Clive Davis or something. Christ, even when Diddy tried to do this the best he could produce was the caterwauling abortion known as Danity Kane. You're out of your league here, girl.
I know that you probably get letters such as this one regularly, so I'm sure this is not the first time a fan has questioned your career choices. Therefore I implore you to PLEASE drop out of this project immediately, hit the gym, cancel any appointments you might have with Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon (trust me, you DON'T need any more work done), get into the studio, and write more songs about your heroic quest for cunnilingus. If you insist on getting involved with a television project, then ask BET if they'll let you do another awesome reality show. RUN, don't walk away from anything having to do with these stank vagina-having drag queen whores. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for your fans, because it's going to be very difficult indeed to support you when you have a shitshow like this on your CV. I beg you to save yourself.
Skoal,
Razzy
Labels: celebrities, Lil' Kim, plastic surgery, rap, retard rage, ridiculous absurdity, TV, you're ugly
Monday, November 27, 2006
Fergie is weak
For some reason, some of my friends continue to argue with me about whether or not the shiteous, pant-pissing Fergie has had plastic surgery. In fact, she has had her face carved up like the (spectacular) turkey I made this Thanksgiving, and, I suspect, some gender reassignment work done on her plumbing. Regardless of what Fergie is rocking in her nether regions, thanks to her new solo album, the world is being tormented with an entire album's worth of her "music," which is a euphemism for "potent inducer of suicidal ideation." However, Fergie's increased media exposure, curse to humanity though it may be, has resulted in gems like the video below popping up on YouTube. This is from season five of the "Mickey Mouse Club"-ripoff show "Kids, Inc.", in which Fergie covers Belinda Carlisle's "I Get Weak" while wandering around a discarded set from Clash of the Titans in an outfit reminiscent of both Little Bo Peep and that chick from Gladiator who was torn between fucking Russell Crowe and (her brother) Joaquin Phoenix:
This pre-op video should definitively prove that Fergie did indeed spend copious amounts of time at Dr. 90210's office getting her entire fucking face reconstructed. See for yourself:
First off, the bitch absolutely had her eyes done. Note how preteen Roman aristocrat Fergie's eyebrows hang steadily, with a natural curve, on her brow ridge. Now look at post-op tranny Fergie's eyebrows, which look like a half-pipe between her eyes. THAT'S FROM SURGERY!
Second, regarding Fergie's mouth, I have just two words to say: LIP ENHANCEMENT. See how markedly larger Fergie's bottom lip has become? Lips don't get bigger as you age unless you go see a nice doctor who injects them full of collagen.
Also, note the lines around Fergie's mouth and nose. I'm-an-extra-in-the-cast-of-"Rome" Fergie's face has only the natural lines that occur when you smile or talk. However, old stank ho Fergie has ditches in her face large enough to pass for a castle moat. This occurs because of more prominent cheekbones stretching the skin. Since cheekbones also don't increase in mass between the ages of sixteen and forty (or however old Fergie's broke ass is now), I'm putting my money on major cheek implants. This is indisputable; it looks like she has shoulder blades on her face, for God's sake!
There are also marked differences in her chin. See how young mythological Fergie's chin rounds to a point? I'm guessing that as she grew older and decided to reinvent herself as a maddeningly annoying self-proclaimed hip-hop artist, she decided that her chin was too long. Undoubtedly she couldn't feel confident singing aural holocausts like "Fergalicious" unless she had Gargamel from "The Smurfs"'s chin.
Finally, we get to the piece de resistance: Fergie's nose. Originally, her nose was not particularly attractive, and somewhat similar to a pig's (or, alternatively, a Chingy!'s) snout. While there wasn't much for the surgeon to work with (last I checked, they haven't invented nose transplants yet, otherwise Michael Jackson wouldn't be frightening away all the children he's trying to molest with his scary schnozz), Fergie definitely had the bridge of her nose shaved down and trimmed on the sides. That shit has rhinoplasty written all over it.
I'm not even going to get started on all the bodywork Fergie's had done except to say that prior to being on her chest, her tits were probably previously stored under airplane seats for use in case of a water landing. This bitch has had so much surgery, she makes Joan Rivers seem like a natural beauty in comparison. I think that the debate about Fergie's surgical status ends here, and I win. She's had LOTS of it. And she'll probably still have more, right in time for her next album to drop like the turd that it is.
This pre-op video should definitively prove that Fergie did indeed spend copious amounts of time at Dr. 90210's office getting her entire fucking face reconstructed. See for yourself:
First off, the bitch absolutely had her eyes done. Note how preteen Roman aristocrat Fergie's eyebrows hang steadily, with a natural curve, on her brow ridge. Now look at post-op tranny Fergie's eyebrows, which look like a half-pipe between her eyes. THAT'S FROM SURGERY!
Second, regarding Fergie's mouth, I have just two words to say: LIP ENHANCEMENT. See how markedly larger Fergie's bottom lip has become? Lips don't get bigger as you age unless you go see a nice doctor who injects them full of collagen.
Also, note the lines around Fergie's mouth and nose. I'm-an-extra-in-the-cast-of-"Rome" Fergie's face has only the natural lines that occur when you smile or talk. However, old stank ho Fergie has ditches in her face large enough to pass for a castle moat. This occurs because of more prominent cheekbones stretching the skin. Since cheekbones also don't increase in mass between the ages of sixteen and forty (or however old Fergie's broke ass is now), I'm putting my money on major cheek implants. This is indisputable; it looks like she has shoulder blades on her face, for God's sake!
There are also marked differences in her chin. See how young mythological Fergie's chin rounds to a point? I'm guessing that as she grew older and decided to reinvent herself as a maddeningly annoying self-proclaimed hip-hop artist, she decided that her chin was too long. Undoubtedly she couldn't feel confident singing aural holocausts like "Fergalicious" unless she had Gargamel from "The Smurfs"'s chin.
Finally, we get to the piece de resistance: Fergie's nose. Originally, her nose was not particularly attractive, and somewhat similar to a pig's (or, alternatively, a Chingy!'s) snout. While there wasn't much for the surgeon to work with (last I checked, they haven't invented nose transplants yet, otherwise Michael Jackson wouldn't be frightening away all the children he's trying to molest with his scary schnozz), Fergie definitely had the bridge of her nose shaved down and trimmed on the sides. That shit has rhinoplasty written all over it.
I'm not even going to get started on all the bodywork Fergie's had done except to say that prior to being on her chest, her tits were probably previously stored under airplane seats for use in case of a water landing. This bitch has had so much surgery, she makes Joan Rivers seem like a natural beauty in comparison. I think that the debate about Fergie's surgical status ends here, and I win. She's had LOTS of it. And she'll probably still have more, right in time for her next album to drop like the turd that it is.
Labels: Fergie, plastic surgery, pro-apocalyptic zeitgeist, retard rage
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