It's Come To My Attention

That this shit is hilarious.  Watch all the Chloe videos:

Chloe Sevigny

A Quick Poem

From the genius Elaine Carroll:

There once was a man named OJ,
Who got really angry one day.
So he got out his knife,
And killed his ex-wife,
And left behind some DNA.

Dangerous Wands

YES.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Very Mary Kate

I guess this is really old, but I just discovered it. This trick does a great version of how I would like to imagine Mary Kate is: Very Mary Kate. There are too many to post individually, so check out the site for her videos, but I'll post one below for a quick taste. I love how Ashley is supposed to be the sensible one, you know, because she does things like eat: "I have to go. I ordered a spring roll."


Very Mary-Kate: Moving Out from Mary-Kate Olsen on Vimeo.

Random RuPaul

With the wonderful Judy LaGrange:

Pity Party

Last night was the final of three shitty interactions in one week. They were sad reminders of a harsh reality I can't change, and I really felt like doing some crying. I have this problem where I can't just cry for myself. It started a few years ago, and I'm pretty sure I even know what triggered it. So I won't cry immediately when something terrible happens to me, but I will sob like a fucking baby while watching Disney movies. Something in me says it's okay to redirect it. I don't know how to fix this other than getting to that point and feeling it for myself. That's what I needed to do last night. It was late, so I didn't have the option of watching What Dreams May Come. I settled for the quick solution to bring the tears: the series finale of Six Feet Under. The last sequence gets me every time, and last night was no exception. I quickly burst into suffocating sobs. The kind of crying that literally hurt. Then I felt sorry for myself for a few minutes after that, trying to get it all out. I blew my nose for five minutes and went to bed. I felt so much better this morning and not nearly as melancholy. I've been in a pretty good mood today, in fact. I don't know about you chrome heartless bastards, but I recommend a good cry every now and then. Here's the last few minutes of 6FU, but if you don't already know what happens and plan on watching the show, skip it:

Gossip Sniz

Oh, Gossip Girl. How I love and hate you. I like to watch it and chat with my friend Brady about how awful it is. We have fun. So this shit show is back for a third season. There's not much to say other than everyone is in a heated competition for who can be The Worst. There can be only one (worst)!

Dan is still a douche. A gullible douche. And he needs a haircut STAT.

Chuck should have just died. Now he's fucking the actress who played Fleur Delacour in the Harry Potter movies. She bothers me. Mostly because I've seen her topless for some French movie. Not what I wanted to see.

The parents haven't had much of a chance to prove just how shitty they can be.

Nate is still pretty and just begging for a face full of cock.

Blair is still a cunt. Surprise.

Vanessa. Yuck. This gypsy bitch is still slumming around. GO BACK TO HAITI, BITCH. No one wants you here. At least she combed some of the dreads out. A bitch wears so much chunky jewelry, you can hear her coming from two blocks away.

Then there's Serena. Woof. First of all, she spent this latest episode dressed like a hooker extra from Night Court. See the above picture. That's really the only reason I wanted to write this post. Just. . . ugh. Just soak it in, and deal with that shit for a minute.

I apologize if you were expecting something more substantial here. My feelings can best be expressed by a still from an episode of Sex and the City:

Frosty the Snizman

Frosty the Snowman Gay porn. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Only homos. The dildo picture is the best, but I also appreciate the several typos spread across the pages.

Back to the Bitch List

In an archeological coup, the fourth page of the famed Types of Bitches List has been unearthed. Please enjoy:

The Affair

Mark and I will take tennis lessons from the one and only Novak Djokovic. You see, his uncle knows someone who knows someone who owes him a favor, you know how it goes. At first it will be considered a one-time thing, we'll take him out to lunch and the court; but then he'll see how atrocious our technique is and how charming we are, and he will offer more lessons. He'll quickly become a trusted friend, and Novak will relish the time away from the media. We'll watch movies together, packed tightly onto a sofa, the skin of our legs singing whenever contact is made. We will play fight and wrestle while wearing those cute tennis wristbands. After a morning of perfecting our backhands, we'll retire inside, sweaty. We'll continue our chatting as he showers. Those Serbians are not shy. Then one day he'll get a phone call, get a serious look on his face, and ask us in that sexy accent if we would excuse him for a minute. When he finally comes back inside, his eyes are pink, and he's choking back sobs. Mark and I will hug him and ask what's wrong. As we hold him, he will tell us that his girlfriend broke up with him. He was going to break up with her, but it still hurts. He will say that he's known for a long that time it wasn't going to work out and that he was trying to be who everyone expects him to be. This will of course bring on a fresh round of crying, and we'll do our best to soothe him. Eyes still wet, Novak will put on a brave face and insist that he's fine, that he knew it had to end because he was too different. When I ask how, he will look up at me shyly; and there, wedged with Mark behind him and me in front of him, he will kiss me. Our hands will start roaming, and Mark and I will kiss away his tears. Yada yada , double penetration of a tennis superstar, yada, jizz EVERYWHERE.