This came up on my Google homepage today as a spotlight video. A year ago I’d have ignored it and gone about my day but dammit if my hermana from another mister, the Vanilla Ninja, didn’t get me into K-Pop music.
I’ve figured out who Korean Sporty Spice and Korean Baby Spice are but I’m still working on the rest.
Picture it, Monday morning in my cubicle …
Me: I’m listening to Mariah Carey on Spotify and Honey just came on.
Do you remember the video? It was the beginning of her Ho-ification.
Korean Precious: She was trying to be a Bond girl right?
That needs to be us.
Me: In my brain just flashed a picture of us in that video. Living the life.
Being Bond hoes. Sittin’ on rappers laps while in helicopters.
KP: LOL. You just confirmed your #1 spot as sluttiest friend.
Me: Was there ever a doubt?
KP: Sometimes, but you slap that thought out with a quickness.
I watch a lot of crap TV but I don’t normally watch the Kardashians, well other than the last 2 minutes of episodes that my DVR regularly catches when recording Chelsea Lately. This week I happened to catch a preview for the next episode of Kourtney & Kim Take New York where Kris Humphries gets in an argument with PR mogul/reality star/Kim Kardashian coattail-rider Jonathan Cheban. The preview shows Mr. Cheban angry and arguing with Kris Humphries because Kris implies that Jonathan is gay. I googled Jonathan’s name and found that he was allegedly slapping Mr. Humphries with a $5 million slander lawsuit, at which point I tweeted the following statement.
Lo and behold my surprise the next morning when I saw this response.
So I did what most people do when a “celebrity” responds to them and retweeted his tweet along with another message of my own.
But then he…
And then he was like…
So then I…
And then he went and…
Now I’ll admit that I’ve never met Mr. Cheban, never hung out with him, don’t know anyone he’s slept with, male or female, and don’t have any personal knowledge of his business but one thing I do have is a finely attuned gaydar. Game recognize game and homo recognize homo.
It’s ok Jonathan, it gets better.
Sometimes the Internet brings you a video that you watch multiple times and still laugh as hard as you did on the 8th watch as you did on the first. When that happens, you can’t help but pass it on.
It’s like the circle of life, but with Internet videos.
I respect a woman who can’t even be bothered to remember her hater’s names when calling them out on her video. You’ve got to thank your haters, just not necessarily by name.
Comment directly on this page now using your same Facebook log-in. Click that comment button here.
I was already buzzed off at least 3 shots of Belvedere by the time the previews started. Plus however much vodka I added into my Cherry Coke and that still wasn’t enough to make the latest installment in the Twilight movies tolerable. Turrible isn’t even enough to describe this movie, mostly because NOTHING HAPPENED. I give you Breaking Dawn – A movie review in 4 parts.
Part I – In Which Bella Still Doesn’t Smile but with Nicer Hair
Once again we find Bella spending the majority of the movie looking pasty-faced and mopey. I will give it to the hair and makeup department of the movie though, they seem to have read my review of the last movie and given Kristen Stewart either a more believable wig or sprung for some high-end extensions ’cause let’s keep it real, that hair looked way too luxurious to really be Kristen Stewart’s natural locks. That hair looked like it belonged on a Fería commercial more than it did on Bella’s head.
Part II – In Which The Wolf Pack Refuses to Take Off Their Clothes
The only time in the entire movie where we see Jacob without a shirt is in the first 3 minutes of the movie. After that he selfishly remains clothed the entire time. He changes into a wolf and his clothes rip off about half a dozen times but he never changes back on camera. The producers of this movie made me almost throw up my lunch several times by showing me a shirtless Robert Patinson but they couldn’t throw me a boner by giving me more shirtless Lautner to counteract the sick feeling in my stomach? I call shenanigans. It’s such a shame too, because Taylor Lautner finally seems to have grown into his Cro-Magnon features. His forehead and nose really seemed to fit on his face better.
Part III – In Which There Is Finally Penetration
The big storyline for this movie was the wedding of Edward and Bella and more importantly the fact that after over 2000 pages the homosexual, sparkly vampire and the pasty-faced crybaby were finally going to be able to do it. Walking down the aisle Bella was crying and looked like she was in pain. It’s ok, girl. If I were about to marry a scrawny assed, sparkly vampire with yellow teeth I’d be crying too. Later on during the honeymoon in Brazil, she’s crying again, presumably because she’s about to be penetrated by that pasty English dick and it’s the only dick she’s ever going to get.
The sex is supposed to be so intense that Edward breaks the bed. More than likely it was shoddy Brazilian craftsmanship that caused the bed to break. The next morning Bella is once again crying and bruised up. “Why can’t you see how happy I am?” she asks him. Probably because you’re crying, bruised up, have the acting skills of a statue and your face always looks unhappy, bitch.
Of course, like so many Christian girls that save their virginity until the day they get drunk off 3 Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers and do it in the backseat of their boyfriend’s parent’s car, she gets pregnant the first time out of the gate, and proceeds to spend the rest of the movie looking like she’s dying of SuperAIDS because her demon-spawn is eating her from the inside out and can only be satiated by blood drank through a straw from a Styrofoam cup. Why the Cullens, who live in a fucking mansion and drive BMW’s have a Styrofoam cup just lying around their kitchen is beyond me.
Part IV – In Which Other Stuff Happens but I Don’t Care Because I’ve Run Out of Vodka
There was not enough vodka in my water bottle to keep me interested in this movie. Bella cries some more. Edward talks about his love for Bella and how if the demon-spawn kills her he won’t be able to live on. Bella awkwardly tells Jacob how much she cares for him while staying with Edward. The other vampires fight there werewolves who still refuse to take off their clothes. Then the demon spawn is born and actually looks cute and manages to do the one thing that I’ve been hoping would happen since I got 10 pages into the first book, the baby done killed Bella. But then they turn her into a vampire and her hair becomes even more luxurious.
End of Part 1.
If anything, these movies have taught me that Stephenie Meyers is a genius. She went after an untapped market with tons of disposable dollars – Lonely, Single Bitches. I’ve decided that for the next and final installment I’m going to attend a midnight showing, dressed in my Harry Potter outfit and interview some of these lonely, single bitches. If I’m lucky I’ll find someone who has a tattoo just like this one.
I never bother making Christmas lists because whenever someone asks me what I want I say “nothing.” 5 years of working retail at Northridge Mall left me traumatized and hating Christmas. It took 4 years of being gone to finally be able to listen to Christmas music without having an adverse physical reaction to it, I only bother buying a Christmas tree if my nieces are coming for a visit, and I still refuse to go anywhere near a major shopping center on Black Friday. But this year I think I’ve finally got something I want for Christmas. I want a midget little person.
Now before you get all up-in-arms about human trafficking, that’s not what I’m asking for. I’m just as against human-trafficking as you, I even bought the ribbon for it. What I want would be more akin to a human timeshare. Hear me out.
I just want a sassy, black midget little person to be my part-time BFF and go on adventures with. She’d be small, sassy and we would shenanigate like nobody’s business. I’d name her Little Precious and we’d go on road-trips and learn to line-dance just like in the new Footloose remake.
On weekends we’d be posted up on my couch eating fried chicken and judging the latest batch of reality shows. No, I’m not being racist and assuming she’s going to love fried chicken just because she’s black. I’m being a fattie and assuming she’s going to eat fried chicken with me because there are few things I love more in this world that some serious fried chicken.
We’d snuggle together under the comforter watching Fashion Police. It’d be like watching it with my cat except instead of looking at me with a face that reads “I like that you talk to me like I’m going to answer even though I’m a cat, you ass,” Little Precious and I would discuss the fashion trends and blunders and whether or not George Kotsiopoulos believes any of the bullshit that comes out of his own brown-nosed face.
See, wouldn’t that just be the Christmas gift that kept on giving? Besides, how am I supposed to be the gay Chelsea Handler without my own little nugget of a sidekick?
One of my favorite songs off Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream album was “The One That Got Away” because from the first time I heard it it reminded me of sophomore year at Soledad Christian Academy and Freddy Clark. Oh man was I in love with him and to this day my only regret in life is not having the balls to try and make out with him on the last day of sophomore year.
Tall, blonde, Pastor’s son, skateboarder, abs of a Greek god that he had no problem showing off, and with an affinity for Calvin & Hobbes boxers – this boy had it going on. If anyone has any info on him send a bitch an email. I don’t know that I’d go all Charlize Theron and try to break up a marriage (I don’t know that I wouldn’t either), but I’m just curious as to what he looks like now and I grossly underestimated how many Freddy Clarks there’d be on Facebook.
I mean isn’t that what the Internet and Social Media were created for? Stalking your exes and former crushes?
