Monday, April 6, 2009

Laughing By Myself


There's a health fair later this month. Today my boss asked us to think of catchy phrases or slogans we can use on a board for presenting at the fair. The theme is Mardi Gras, jazz, blah blah blah. This is what I came up with:

"Jazzercise Your Right to Choose. Get it? It's an abortion joke!"

Lindsay Lohan Makes It Too Easy

This is the background picture of Lindsay Lohan's Twitter page:



Let's focus on something:



The jokes her are so obvious, it just seems wrong to make them. Suffice it to say the picture neatly sums up her existence to date.

Oooh Baby Let Me Fix My Weave


(Kudos on keeping it real, but if that's how you roll, be prepared for many wtf? looks)

Whenever I see hair like Tyra's or Oprah's I ponder what their real hair looks like. I like to imagine what it looks like at that very moment with those wigs sitting on their heads. Not sleeked back and chic, but cornrowed. And not these fake ass chunky Lil' Kim cornrows,



but keepin it real-style.





I'm talking about busted-ass, frizzy, utilitarian cornrows a bitch would do knowing ain't nobody gonna see em. Oprah has said that she wears hairpieces and wigs, and her hairline is constantly showing, but her people do a great job of making it look like it might have grown from her head. Unlike some people. . .



The amount of time and thought I've put into Oprah's hair is sickening. Last week Star Jones was on Oprah (don't EVEN get me started). Oprah was wearing her best Pocahontas hair, and my coworker insists it was all her hair. If by "her hair" you mean she owns it, then yes, I agree. There is no way she grew that shit herself. I think maybe that was part of Oprah's deal with the devil. She gets fame, fortune, power, and good hair for a lifetime in exchange for her soul and those of as many little African girls as she can provide (Hello? Her school is so fucked, it might as well be called Lindsay Lohan). An article in Star magazine last year had an item from some woman who claimed to go to the same gym as Oprah. She said Oprah's real hair was cropped close to her dome and bleached. I would die. DIE.


On a related note, this reminds me of a girl I went to high school with. She was nice and sweet, but she was a little, um, what's a nice way of saying "ghetto?" Anyway, she was a white girl with pale skin, freckles, and chin-length blonde hair. One day she decided it would be a great idea to get braided extensions of the dookey variety. They started at the halfway length of her natural hair and looked horrendous. Best part? THEY WERE FUCHSIA.