Evencia, 8, T (me), O.J. and Twin re-imagined as adorable, Elfin dance troupe.
8 continued her one woman campaign to spread joy throughout the land by sending me the link here. There is a lot of boogy going on. It made me happy.
You should try to be more like 8 (and that applies to all but Blow-Up, another source of seemingly non-ending goodness).
I would have embedded the video here on the blog, as a courtesy, but the cost to download is a whopping $4.99 (Oprah in morning!) so.... Luckily we can watch it for free right here.
WARNING! These videos from the new hire, talent portion of our company holiday party are full of inside humour and thus boring to the common man. They are also sloppily filmed and edited but baby is busy (and visibly shaken by last nights Dexter finale...more on that later) but I didn't want to leave Stacy from Monterey (my gold diggin' ex-coworker) thirsty for fresh brew so these will have to hold her over until I can post photos and commentary later so she can talk sh*t about the persons still stuck here.
Todd, Christina and Bottom Boy (who's voice is so deep he sounds like Barry White with a lisp) went for broke and won. My plans to bend Bottom Boy over the appetizer cart hit a snag when he brought a date that was as tall as I...who also happened to be a woman. This led to accusations of "tranny!" from Perv.
With the exception of Ashley (who took off her shoes, proudly displaying dry skin, flat feet and prominent bunions, and then proclaimed, "My talent is that I can draw with my feet!" Not on this blog dear.), here are the also rans...
Bonus Blogging: That's Nice Dear
Angry Ken (an employee that's been here over five years) just happened to bring his guitar and exclaimed, "I didn't know how long the talent show would go but here's a song I wrote that I wanted to play for you!" UGH! How presumptuous and indulgent. Its a pet peeve of mine when people unexpectedly take you hostage by hoisting their singing and guitar playing upon you, forcing you to sit there with a plastered smile, uncomfortable and anticipating the songs end. As you can see in the video, I couldn't be burdened with holding the camera but since Angry Ken was actually good, I continued to record the music, as a courtesy.
Attend your company holiday party! As I'm excited to do tonight. Our company holiday parties never suck and No-Nonsense Laura has been working over-time to insure that tonight's soiree continues that trend (translation: we don't run out of food and their are centerpieces for me to steal afterwards). All persons hired in 2009 (and there were a lot) are required to participate in a "talent show" where each newcomer must display a "talent", and I can't wait to laugh at them. On my first year here, I read a dumb poem and bored everyone. I'm certain Bottom Boy will simply bend over and vacuum a few table cloths into that gaping vortex (while leaving everything else on the table undisturbed).
Reach your ideal bikini weight, as Kim Kardashian had done, and then boasted about it. If you have not reached your ideal bikini weight, try not to stand next to Kim Kardashian like her sister Khloe has yet to learn. I like Kim Kardashian because she knows she was put here on this earth to look good. She serves as a role model for those who have started to lose their way and forget their purpose like Twin (I told her to ease up on the pasta dinners after she waddled on stage during her last performance and made the floorboards creek) and Emo (Who has been pigging out and not working out. Emo was stopped while walking to his motorcycle, by a hair-stylist, and was offered a free hair-cut in exchange for being a hair model. Unfortunately the stylist gave him a pixie cut and now he looks like a stout lesbian). Yup, time for those two to remember why they are here before stage floor-boards are further compromised or the the only time they get stopped in a parking lot is to hear, "Hey Buddy, do you have an extra Snickers?"
It's happened to me. But I can rock a double-chin because people stopped expecting anything out of me, appearance wise, years ago. Others don't have that same freedom.
Get yourself a nifty X-Men T-shirt like Hot-Nerd Brian!
Find an anti-gay pep rally and then lighten it up with a bit of humour.
Back in 2001, I loved the song and video for Crazy Town. Now, I am absolutely humiliated to admit that I thought several of the band members were hot and I fantasized about them running a swarthy, heavily tatooed train on me. What the hell was I thinking? Now I watch it and think, "Who the hell dropped the Sears Craftsman bag in order for all those tools to spill out?"
On the other end of the spectrum from Mimi, Billboard lists the One-Hit Wonders of the Decade, rudely described as thus: They came, they conquered... they were never heard from again. After reaching the Hot 100's Top 10 with their very first singles, none of these acts managed to crack the Top 25 for the rest of the decade. But hey, four minutes of fame is better than nothing.
What was shaping up to be a sad, sad walk down the boulevard of shattered dreams came to an abrupt halt when I got to Blu Cantrell at #8, with Hit 'Em Up Style (Oops!)" a sassy, empowering, finger-wagging ode to spending a man's cash after he's been involved in "transgressions". This ditty is more timely now than ever, as we sit and wait for Mrs. Woods to take a shopping spree-ah, so I just hope Blu isn't sitting around broke.
Her timeless classic, Merry Christmas (initially released waaaay back in 1994 before she got divorced, went street, released the bomb Glitter, and had a nervous breakdown), will be played in heavy rotation (by me at least) from now until December 26. This album, which has sold over 17 million copies worldwide, has truly added to the stack of cash known as Mimi's Money.
Also helping, according to Billboard, Mimi had the most popular song of the entire decade with the co-dependent, We Belong Together. Yes, the entire decade. I wasn't able to look at the rest of the top 100 because peanut-head Usher was at #2 and I knew his peanut-head, white doppelganger, Justin Timberlake, was lurking on those charts somewhere and I didn't want to risk an upset stomach.
Thanks to drug abuse, the wonderfully named Baloo and Shere Khan cuddle instead of kill.
Interesting and heartbreaking (although many of you bleeding hearts will label it "heartwarming") article here about how three should be proud and mighty animals, a lion, a tiger, and a bear (oh my!) were rescued eight years ago during a police drugs raid in Atlanta, Georgia where they were kept as status symbol pets by drug barons. The cubs were barely two months old at the time, so one would hope they'd been rescued soon enough, but obviously the crack-cocaine and heroin cocktails, that I'm certain the drug barons forced them to ingest, had already done irreparable brain damage because how else could you explain why these three ruthless predators live together in a cozy, cuddly habitat, dubbed Noah's Ark in Locust Grove, Georgia?
An undignified tragedy I tell you. Someone should throw Knut the Polar Bear in there for a quick resolution to this nonsense. He'll swiftly clean up this embarrassing mess that the drug barons and their crack made.
According to the article, the maneless and obviously out of shape, Leo the Lion, simply sleeps all day. That is one lazy, fat-cat.
Powerful predators reduced to slouchy, kitty-cat behavior.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
I'm no fisherman but this blooper reel delivers a lot of mirth at the expense of others so I'm in.
Rarely does an owning of such great measure take place in the comments section, but thanks to affluent white male, Miss T was checked, called out, and thoroughly owned for producing a blog comprised of 90% food porn in 2009.
affluent white male said... I agree it is like porn for the fat
You know the restaurant is pricey when the bartender excitedly exclaims, "This is compliments of the chef" and delivers a soup bowl that contains a microscopic amount of tuna over what appears to be some Chex Cereal. Fine dining is a staple of The Stavvy Diet.
Last week while dining at Saigon in Hillcrest, I took notice that the very skinny Stavvy ordered chicken soup and then proceeded to eat only the broth and a smidgen of rice. I cracked a joke about it and threatened to write a book, "The Broth Diet" (for those that think the skim milk contained in the coffee only "Bobble Diet" contains too many calories) and thought little of it until I met Stavvy for booze, cluckin' and debate civilized conversation at a pricey restaurant downtown (I really like the persons that own the restaurant so I won't mention it by name in fear of scaring off any potential customers that don't mind tossing $$$ down the drain). Although I was right on schedule for my customary twenty minutes late arrival (CPT), Stavvy sent me a text that said, "Hurry Up! I'm Starving! This led me to assume she would be eating something of substance. Later, after I watched her nibble at a Braised Lamb Short Rib appetizer and eat three minuscule pieces of artichoke heart out of a ludicrously priced artichoke salad that arrived on a tea-cup plate (!!!), I realized the broth incident was not a fluke. If you are wrestling with your weight and want sure-fire results, I have listed the three main staples of The Stavvy Diet, as a courtesy.
1. Order flavorful, chicken and vegetable packed soup. Eat only the broth and give the chicken and vegetables to someone else (preferably someone homeless). 2. Drink most of your calories. Several glasses of wine daily will keep you happy while you try to ignore those pesky hunger pangs. 3. Go to absurdly priced restaurants that truly believe less is more. The smaller the plate the higher the price. I have placed a snippet of the menu from the restaurant where we dined (if you can call it that, yes I went to bed hungry so I'm still cranky) that outlines the price for additions to any steak. If a restaurant has the audacity to charge you $7 to add sauteed onions to your steak, then it is certainly worthy of The Stavvy Diet.
Bless you Diane for sending me the link to the hilarious STOP MAKING THAT DUCKFACE, web-site and then providing me with a photo of herself (shown above) after I admitted that I have been guilty of making the dreaded duckface. Duckface is described as thus: You know that face you make when you're about to take that perfect shot of yourself for myspace? You know, the one where you push your mouth out in that weird combination of a pout and a kissy face make it look like you've got big pouty lips and model-quality cheekbones? it's called "duckface" STOP DOING IT. IT ISN'T SEXY. YOU LOOK STUPID. REALLY REALLY STUPID.
Here are a few more of the guilty from the web-site:
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