So a village in Romania re-elected their dead mayor over a new guy. By a landslide of 23 decisive votes. Really not much to say about that, except that the loser must feel like the friggin’ village idiot.
“I know he died, but I don’t want change,” one astute voter said. You and me both, buddy. People are calling for a re-vote with a new (hopefully conscious and, at the very least, breathing) candidate. Watch out for the hanging chads, people! We all know what happened here in America! For all you political nerds out there, don’t lose track of this race, it’s shaping up to be a good one.
There’s going to be a new famous tot on the playground: this morning Jamie Lynn Spears gave birth to a baby girl, whom she named Maddie Briann. (Excellent spelling there.) You know what this means, don’t you? Britty is an aunt.
This morning, as I watched our country’s most legitimate television news show, The Today Show, Meredith Viera told me about a legal case that puts the McDonald’s hot coffee case of 1994 to shame. Fifty-two-year-old traffic cop Macrida Patterson is suing Victoria’s Secret over an injury she received FROM HER THONG. Her thong. Apparently, the rhinestone heart attached to Ms. Patterson’s “undergarment,” as her lawyer called it on the show, was attached by two staples. As Ms. Patterson was putting the thong on, one of these staples flew off and hit her in the eye, leaving her in “excruciating pain,” and in need of a dose of topical steroids. (By the way, the case was filed a full year after the incident occurred.)
Now, this story is funny enough as it is, but watching Meredith try to make a legitimate interview out of it was pure hilarity. And watching Ms. Patterson’s lawyer, Jason Buccat, trying to maintain some dignity while discussing the case was even better. (The defendant herself also seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face.) One of my favorite lines: When Meredith asked Macrida if this was the first time she’d worn the thong, Macrida replied with something along the lines of, “No, it was the second or third time I’d worn it. I have a lot of underwear from Victoria’s Secret so I don’t need to wear any of them too frequently.” The line that takes the cake, though, was from the mouth of proud lawyer Jason Buccat: “Victoria’s Secret does have its angels, but the devil is in the details.” How long do you think he spent working on that one?
I think the real lesson here is that rhinestone hearts do not belong on thongs (or on anything else, for that matter). If you’re rocking that kind of “undergarment,” you’re just asking for a corneal abrasion.
“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” [Kurt Vonnegut]
That is what my mother said to me this morning when I told her that Kathleen and I started a blog. The convo went a little something like this:
Me: “So, Mom, Kathleen and I started a blog.”
Mom [in hushed, dramatic voice]: “Oh Mal, I don’t like blogs.”
Me: “Sigh.”
Mom: “Can’t weird people, like, find you and get attached to you?”
Me: “Well, yes, but only if they find the article where I posted my social security number and home address.”
Mom: “Oh okay FINE.”
Me [in a display of maturity]: “Well, I’m just not going to tell you the name of it, then, so you can’t find it.”
Mom: “Is there something bad on it?!”
Me: “Yes, Mom. We’re running an amateur kiddie porn site. NO! We’re just writing about…you know, whatever we want to write about.”
Then I told her a little about the McCunt post, and the hilarious video to go along with it, and she laughed and said she wanted to read the blog. I think we’ve got a convert.
It might be slightly painful, but stick it out. If only to hear the ridiculous comments the hosts make. Ex- “I didn’t realize plastic could look that good!” Also, it’s one of the most watched videos online right now.
And by the way, this competition was totally rigged. If I were the other dancers I’d go all Luke Jedi knight and use the force on their asses.
As a full time blogger (read: unemployed and uninsured, so going out into the real world poses a threat to my health. I could get hurt!), it is my responsibility to creep around the internet at 4 a.m. looking for inspiration.
I stumbled across a video about silly, ornery, old John McCain. Apparently, he called his wife a c-c-c-c-c-cunt. I have trouble even typing it. Did Cindy McCain do something so terrible? Nope. She jokingly told him that he was balding. Um, hello, J? When you’re 300 years old, you’re bound to bald. Here is what he said to her:
“At least I don’t plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt.”
Wowie! So we know how he really feels. John and Cindy 4eva! I don’t particularly like Cindy McCain, but I would never call her that. I would call her a Stepford Wife, recipe-stealing, identity-stealing recovering drug addict, home-wrecking other woman, but never a cunt. That is NEVER okay. His excuse? He was tired. Um, fine. But as Wonkette pointed out, he’s going to be tired a lot if he becomes president.
The only time I have ever not been offended at all by the word was with James McAvoy and the infamous typewriter scene in Atonement. (Which incidentally, led to the infamous library scene. Rawr!) And even then, as he was typing, my mind kept wondering…Is he really going to type that? Looks like it, but they wouldn’t…oh no! OH MY GOD. HE DID! And for the record-James McAvoy, you can call me anything you’d like.
But I digress.
Barack gets called out for calling a reporter “sweetie”, which, he admits, is a bad habit. At least it’s a casual term of endearment. But nobody calls McCain out for being a complete cotton-headed-ninny-muggins (the worst insult among Santa’s elves, duh) to his wife. Why? I think this video does a really good job at explaining it:
What are your thoughts, you cunts? Did I say that? It’s late, I must be tired.
Apparently, while Pierogi Zbylut was collecting acceptances to every elite school in the country, said elite schools were busy rejecting the rest of the qualified students out there, those students with names containing less z’s. One of the elementary school friends from the Rockies game has a little sister who’s headed off to college next year, and this girl’s college-rejection story makes me truly furious with the way our country deals with college admission. My friend’s sister — let’s call her Emily — was rejected from Dartmouth. Nothing shocking on its own; I’m among the ranks of prospective Ivy Leaguers who was flat-out rejected from the Big Green. Emily, however, was the the valedictorian of her high school (one of those truly hard high schools that have difficult admissions processes all their own), was a successful two-sport athlete who was being recruited by Dartmouth, was involved in a million activities, AND had a father, sister, and several cousins whose brains were filled with knowledge in Hanover, New Hampshire. Now I understand as much as anyone that the college admissions process is a crapshoot, and that there are a ton of factors that go into it, but SERIOUSLY? If a girl like that isn’t a shoe-in, something’s wrong. Maybe Pierogi can pass his Dartmouth acceptance on to Emily, since he won’t be needing it at Haaahvahd.
For a speech class I took a couple of years ago, I spoke about kids growing up too fast (taking full-time language classes at age four, for instance), and I feel like the college admissions process is just part of the screwed up way we are forcing kids these days to do everything and be perfect. A high school student shouldn’t have to spend all of her free time studying for AP tests, captaining a sports team, working on a student government campaign, volunteering with refugees, and curing cancer just to get into college. Give ’em some time to breathe, America.
And to the Emily’s of the world: it’s their loss. Anyway, I hear New Hampshire’s like really, really cold.
He moved from Poland just 5 years ago. But whatever, kid. You might have gotten into the entire Ivy League and a million other good schools (for sure the University of Richmond, heyyyyy) but this doesn’t change the fact that your name (Lukasz Zbylut) is going to get butchered by every professor you meet- just like the rest of us!
I also suffer from post-college depression and am taking it out on this defenseless, but brilliant, child. Do not judge me.
Oregonian (Oregonite? Oregonese?) woman Jen Moss is pissed because people just don’t understand her need to bicycle around topless and are prohibiting her from riding in the Fourth of July parade. According to the AP, Moss is known for riding her bike “free and independent of all clothing but a hemp G-string”. In fact, she’s known as “The Naked Lady”.
I get the naked part (let the girls get some air), but the hemp G-string sounds questionable at best. You know, back in the day aka 8th grade, I was quite good at making hemp necklaces with cool beads and whatnot. I gave them as gifts to my friends. Maybe now since our tastes have matured, I can make them all hemp G-strings with cute little beads! AHHH! But back to business.
The Ashland Chamber of Commerce is in a battle right now over this. In Moss’ application she said she wants to lead a group of rollerbladers in her hemp booty floss, “blowing a conch shell.” Blowing what wearing what? Errr… Whatev, she sounds like an inspirational leader (those rollerbladers are bound to follow her, along with every creepy man within 50 miles) and America is all about leadership!
Clearly she is a great patriot and loves America. Come on people, it’s the Fourth of July. It’s not like your children haven’t seen boobs before. Let Jen parade!
six words to change the world. 