Is this for swimming? Or wrestling? Or some bizarre combination?
In any case, jump in to see how snugly this get-up fits. But I warn you, it ain’t pretty.
Continue reading ‘Please Identify What Type of Uniform This Is’
Monthly Archive for June, 2008
I am driving myself crazy…(more of a putt, less of a drive) and not in a good way. It seems that I had a stroke recently and the part of my brain that controls the learned and repeated behavior of “drying myself off after a shower” has been irreparably damaged. It would appear that the neurons designed to help me get the fine, napped cloth of my cotton towel to effectively remove the water from my pasty, white Irish flesh have completely retired - packed up the Winnebago and headed for a Conway Twitty tribute show in Branson, MO.
For the past few weeks, I have been finding myself damp - nay soaking wet - like freshly drowned babbo whose inability to cover the vig forced his shylock to fit him for some concrete penny loafers. This isn’t a slight mist, appropo for a jaunty sea tale…no this is The Wet.
As I leave the shower, I am aware that I need to run the cotton-softness of my Egyptian blend towels over my alabaster flesh…and I do. But minutes later, I find that my entire back and underarms or hair and feet, or turntables and microphone are still completely dripping wet. There is no pattern. There is no rational, logical drying off schedule that keeps missing a stop in order to make-up time and get these day-travelers home. No, it is random and always in sets of body parts.
Except for one thing. No matter what I leave glistening with warm droplets of water, my beard is full of water. It is like a sea sponge filtering plankton and spewing its water waste minutes later…after I have put on my shirt. This sucks. I have no explanation. I simply have disdain, worry and mounting anxiety about my post-shower drying off sessions. UGH!
What is going on?
Absurdly yours,
Holmes
Pam Anderson called Jessica Simpson a bitch and a whore on an Australian radio station.
Just let the irony of that settle in for a second.
Pam Anderson has probably slept with more people than Jessica Simpson has even MET in her lifetime.
David Beckham is full on grabbing himself, and the entire spectating audience appears to be concerned with basically everything else in the universe EXCEPT David Beckham and anything remotely related to soccer.
In fact, blond girl with the full beer is simulating shooting herself in the mouth. She is THAT bored.
I’m not totally opposed to parents dressing their kids in clothes that match them on occasion. Like, for instance, when my husband and our toddler dress up in the same Lands End red plaid flannel shirt in the winter - ADORABLE. So adorable it makes my heart hurt. But when Katie Holmes wears sheer leggings and red shoes and what appears to be a tattered nascar checkered flag and puts her daughter WHO IS WAY TOO OLD FOR A BOTTLE in a matching jailhouse shirt and refuses to cut her bangs?
HATE.
Today, Mockarena, Dame and I sat under a vaulted ceiling, in a room decorated in vivid oranges, blues, purples, yellows and reds. We chortled away as the servers toiled over plates of burritos and arroz con pollo, as bus boys (chicos del autobus) delivered baskets of fried tortillas. It was at this local mexi-rant that we looked fondly back at last Wednesday’s extravaganza, looked at today’s workload and pockmarks, and to our future endeavors of dining, working and playing.
As we dined, we covered topics such as long, black moustaches on 4-year-old girls, keeping quiet when your kids are with you in a hotel room, ear-Tron things that make businessmen and women completely chodely, and emergency phone calls.
As this fine experience came to a close (much like the middle class has done under our current economic leadership), we found ourselves making a list together. Each of us blurted out with aural dissonance:
Tacos
Toothpaste
Cats
Hot Pants
(I blurted 2 because I don’t follow rules well…such rebel)
After the list was done, Dame simply stated, “They all kinda have something to do with each other.”
Can any of our astute readers figure out what we were listing?
According to notoriously wrong gossip Cindy Adams, it’s possible that even Rosie O’Donnell’s own wife is sick of Rosie O’Donnell. It was only a matter of time. I cannot STAND Rosie O’Donnell. She has one of those voices which makes me seriously consider whether or not the ability to hear is actually worth it. And I hate that she writes “poetry” which is really just an excuse for her to not use punctuation or capital letters or really anything that could be recognized as English when she writes. And I hate that you now know I’ve actually read her blog sometimes. Forgive me, mockdockers.
HATE.
What exactly is she doing here? Besides being a total bee-yoch.
According to this, the “transsexual community” is all pissed off at Victoria Beckham because she’s a fan of Christian Siriano - who won some TV fashion contest and who also happens to look like a mosquito.
Mosquito-boy is gay. This isn’t something he even needs to bother to confirm (although he has) - because look at him. Anyway, he apparently is the person who coined the phrase “hot tranny mess.” He also reportedly said the following:
“If you think of heterosexuals, they have white trash women and trailer parks and we have drag queens and trannies.”
This has ENRAGED transsexuals all across the country. And now, because Victoria Beckham supports Siriano, transsexuals are furious at her too, one of them even saying, “She’d better be looking over her shoulder when she steps out in public from now on. She might not have to worry about physical attack but boy is she going to be embarrassed when 50 of us turn up at her next public function and tell the world what we think…No one’s designs are going to do anything for an emaciated stick insect with sparrow legs like her. She might as well stick to the kind of ho-bag outfits we usually see her in. Come to think of it, she’d probably fit in quite nicely in a trailer park.”
So here’s what makes me giggle about this whole thing. It’s the fact that this whole debacle makes it sound like there is some ARMY of transsexuals out there. Like there are just thousands upon thousands of people who were born feeling like they have the wrong body parts, and they are all collectively furious at Victoria Beckham. I may be totally wrong about this, but isn’t true transsexual gender identity disorder kinda rare? Like, if you look at the whole US population, which is about what - 400 million or so - wouldn’t it stand to reason that there is probably only around 15,000 transsexuals TOPS?
Victoria Beckham probably has that many HETEROSEXUAL people mad at her on a daily basis. It’s kinda dumb to think she really needs to worry about the hot tranny messes being mad at her.
Transsexuals - I totally feel for you. It would suck to look in the mirror and not feel right about your sexy parts. But for crying out loud, if you’re considering lopping off a penis or adding a fake one, I’d say you have bigger issues to worry about than what fashion designer Victoria Beckham likes.
Amy Winehouse elbowed and then punched someone in the crowd while she performed this past weekend in the UK. And what’s totally awesome is that someone got it on video and then super slo-mo’d it and put it on repeat play. LOVE.
She’s on the verge of death and totally crazy and all, but I have to give her snaps for calling Kanye West the c-word, which she also did during this performance. At least she has SOME sense.
Enjoy.
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