I was walking home from happy (four) hour(s) tonight and happened to be checking my phone (while still totally being aware of my surroundings, and being very tall and intimidating to robbers and rapists) and I saw that I was tagged in a photo. And it was a Cry Face photo. And it’s Wednesday. And guys, it was a sign. So for this week, and hopefully for a while, I’m resurrecting Hump Day Cry Face. (I know. You don’t believe any of my promises anymore. But for at least this week, I swear I’ll stick to it.) Thanks to the Yangster, here you go:
See that? See how Cry Face ruins the whole photo? That’s power, man. And you know what else is power? Being able to get the entire cast of a teevee show to do Cry Face:
That’s right. Cry Face is officially famous. They ripped me off, but it’s okay because I finally started watching Modern Family and that shit is GOOD. (“This is my Vietnam. And I was IN Vietnam.”)
In other news, I got the mail just now and happened to notice that the latest issue of Health (which my mother sends me, thankyouverymuch) has Hilary Duff on the cover. HILARY DUFF! She was famous like ten years ago for Lizzie McGuire — a totally awesome show, clearly — and has been riding that wave ever since. It’s all very confusing for me, and that means it’s time for me to get in bed.
Goodnight, children…we have a few things in the pipeline, so don’t give up on us yet!
Okay, so I’m 24 hours late on this — criminal in the world of social media — but can we talk about the VMAs for a second? And can we talk about how fah-reaking awkward Taylor Swift’s performance was? I want so, so badly to be Team Taylor. (After all, last year at this time I proclaimed myself FIRMLY on her side.) Kanye was a douche last year, no question, and I certainly still can (and often do) belt the lyrics of a Taylor Swift song as loudly and proudly as the average nine year old. But the girl needs to learn how to perform live, and she needs to get over the Kanye thing. If she hadn’t performed that horrible emo ballad that I’ll probably grow to love, she would have come out on top. She’d have been the bigger person. Instead, she gave us all the impression that she spent a year channeling her rage into a single song that she hoped would blow the world away last night. And sadly, it was a huge misfire. No one cared, and then Kanye came onstage and sang an awesomely tongue-in-cheek (I think?) song that I already have stuck in my head. Round two goes to the douchebag.
T.Swift, please pull yourself together. It’s starting to get embarrassing to publicly support you.
As much as it pains me to give one more second of publicity to the Jersey Shore kids, I feel obligated to post this… I did chuckle a bit. And as BuzzFeed put it, “Snooki’s acting shows way more range than Kristen Stewart’s.” See for yourself, readership!
Happy Monday, readership! To kick off your work week, here’s a fake TV commercial from 1998. According to its creators, it was “made in 1998 for a series of educational shorts about action figures based on historical figures. Its educational value was somewhat suspect. It was never aired.” Bummer. Best part? THE BRONTESAURUS! RAWR!
As a side note, I know a girl from Massachusetts that would have given ANYTHING to have these dolls growing up…
Oh FINE. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve seen it (and certainly heard it) by now, but here is everyone’s Uncle Joe dropping the F bomb on live TV.
I think he’s the greatest. He’s just so lovably inappropriate! You know he was sitting there thinking to himself, “What powerful words can I say to B that he will remember for the rest of his life?” Well, he certainly found the words to say. Perhaps he just forgot that there were 250 hot mics around. Regardless, I’m glad it happened, and here’s why: it’s been lightening up the health care debate and people have been having some fun with it.
I tuned in to watch the end of the USA v. Canada gold medal hockey game, and while Canada technically won the gold medal, USA totally kicked ass in the Olympic sport of Hot Beards. And hot dudes in general. And hot dudes named Ryan. (Seriously. Like 11 of them are named Ryan.) I present the following evidence:
Ryan Malone of the Tampa Bay Lightning:
Ignoring Malone’s ill-advised tattoos, here’s another one:
His teammate Ryan Kesler, of the Vancouver Canucks, is also my new fake Olympic boyfriend:
Not that I’d turn Sidney Crosby down if he came a-knockin’ at my door. (Is that creepy? How old is he?)
And I swear, I’m not usually this much of a girl. I do like sports for sports, but throw in that many beards and I’m bound to get distracted.
It’s almost Valentine’s Day and that can only mean ONE thing. Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman’s Kay Jeweler commercials are back! Please, find me one person who watches this commerical and DOESN’T think about Jane Seymour as the motor boatee in Wedding Crashers. Here it is: