Who’s Your Daddy?

17 Jun

June 17 – June 23, 2013

You guys. What do you think Kanye gave himself for Father’s Day? I’m actually pretty pissed that they didn’t tape the birth of Kimye’s baby for Keeping Up With the Kardashians because 1. there’s no way we’ve yet to see an ugly cry uglier than when Kim Kardashian is having a natural birth and 2. I would LOVE to watch Kanye function under that kind of kraziness. He seems like he’d be the kind of daddy-in-waiting who passes out dramatically in scrubs during the delivery. (Scrubs of his own design, obvi.) Either that or he’s just like, furiously writing rhymes in the corner while Kim is moaning bloody murder. And then he like, takes a step further than Jay-Z did with Blue Ivy and uses KIM’s screams instead of the newborn baby’s for the intro of his next track, tentatively titled “Big Baby Yeezus.” He gives NO fucks AT ALL. (Also: Whoever got to the “Kim and Kanye’s baby leaked a month early” joke first — You win all the fucks.)

Do you guys think Kim had an on-call Glam Squad? What kind of shading techniques do you use to reduce the appearance of a swollen vagina? Considering she wore leather and Loubs until the final days of her pregnancy, I’d be willing to bet that Kimmy K had an outfit change for every centimeter she dilated. C-Section? Perfect! So glad we packed that two-piece crop top set. I’ll give her one thing: She is not a basic bitch.

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I’m really thankful for my dad though. And I’m not just saying that because he recently found this website and now knows that I once ate $22 worth of Taco Bell. When I was a wee lil’ bitch, like 6 or 7, I decided that I was over my hair on a day I was left home alone with our housekeeper. This was also the day that my BFF was having her birthday party at McDonald’s. As a former fat kid, OM NOM NOM! Why did we ever stop having birthday parties at McDonald’s? Do you think they’d let us BYOB for my 29th if we promise to stay in the Playland? Homeless people do it all the time and they don’t even ask for permission sooo …. Anyways, before I got dropped off at the party, I took to the shears, Miley Cyrus’d the shit out of my hair and refused to be dressed. When my dad came to pick me up, he looked me straight in the face and scanned the crowd for a solid five minutes before realizing that the dirty little orphan in the corner was actually his daughter.

When my mom got home the next day, I obviously had to blame my dykey do on my dad — He cut off my rat tail! I was pissed. But he called me out on my shit and did not let me get away with it. From deep down in my stomach, I thought, with every inch of me, I pure, straight hate you. But goddammit, do I respect you! And he’s continued to call me on my shit to this very day, which I appreciate. That isn’t always easy for dads to do with their daughters. Especially nowadays, when calling kids out on their shit means catching them posting their tits on Instagram. So this week’s playlist is all about daddys. Thanks for keeping it real, Dad. Without you, I’d still be blaming everything on other people and may never have learned all the lyrics to the soundtrack of Cats.

 

MORE IN DADS:

If you thought your dad was long-winded, try being the daughter of Aaron Sorkin. (Time)

Senators skipped a NSA briefing this weekend to fly home to their families for Father’s Day because they already heard their wives mention steak on the phone to the butcher earlier in the week. (Boing Boing)

If Kanye’s daughter learns nothing else from her dad, at least she’ll know NO ALCOHOL BEFORE TATTOOS. (Buzz Feed)

Hate your dad? Don’t worry. So does Insane Clown Posse.(Jezebel)

This Father’s Day gift guide from Vice does not include drugs or prostitutes. Sorry, Michael Lohan. (Vice)

Speaking of terrible dads, whatever happened to Rick Moranis after he shrunk the kids? (Flavorwire)

No one likes to hear their parents talk about sex. So be thankful your dad isn’t Rick Ross. (GQ)

Arrested Development Father’s Day cards for the special Pop Pop in your life. (Flavorwire)

Hot Fun in the Summertime

3 Jun

June 3 – June 9, 2013

It’s been a long time (2 weeks). I shouldn’ta left you (left you). Without some dope beats to step to. Step to, step to, step to. Step to, step to, FREAKY FREAKY! You guys. It’s summer. I know this because it’s finally gotten so hot that I HATE my bangs. They get real greasy when my forehead starts to sweat and there is no amount of dry shampoo that can put those piecey hairs back together. Nevermind the fact that I spent the whole weekend indoors binge-watching Sons of Anarchy – It’s fucking summer. I don’t know about alla y’all, but I got sunburnt as shit over Memorial Day and couldn’t be happier. Now I’m ready to stop peeling and start freckling (I don’t tan).

Because of my tendency to burn faster than Alicia Keys (ba-dum-CH!), I’ve never been much of a beach person and therefore don’t FREAK OUT about it being summer. I mean, I’m excited and everything, but I’m definitely not the kind of person who’s going to earfuck the shit out of you in anticipation of 2-3 months of 90 degree weather. “UG. WHERE IS SUMMER? I NEED THE BEACH. I NEED TO BE TAN. I NEED MELANOMA.” (Circa January.) Don’t get me wrong, I definitely enjoy getting drunk by the ocean — But actively seeking skin cancer is kind of a downer. And I’m obviously not going to put on anything higher than SPF 30 because I can’t ALWAYS be the poor little pale girl.

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But I do love me some summer jams. There’s something special about music in the summertime. It takes on a different form, a different function. You never hear anyone say, “MAN. Bon Iver has THE song of winter, you guys. That shit makes seasonal depression feel like goddamn rainbows and glitter.” Summer songs, on the other hand, can totally make you forget how fat you look in your bathing suit or disguise the fact that laying out is actually really boring. I also love/hate how the internet has managed to make music a competition with the constant chatter about THE song of the summer. So far, I don’t think we’ve had any ripe contenders yet, but I also don’t listen to the radio so I don’t really know what the Black Eyed Peas have grinded out this week.

Oh, sorry in advance if you actually like the Black Eyed Peas because they are definitely not on this playlist. Actually, sorry I’m not sorry because I cannot handle song names with hashtags and internet abbrevs. Fucking inexcusable. I’m also not going to apologize for including Miley Cyrus and Carly Rae Jepsen, so get over it. That shit is infectious.

MORE IN SUMMER:

In case my playlist isn’t to your taste (or if your summer plans include popping bottles over bitches on yachts, boiiiii), Complex compiled THE rap song of every summer since 1979.

When I was at the beach last weekend, I could NOT put down Just Kids, by Patti Smith. I’m now convinced I’m doomed to fail as a writer if I don’t come close to starving and/or develop a drug problem. A good summer read can do that to you. Want some suggestions? Here’s a few from The Village Voice and Goodreads.

I don’t like getting sand in my vag, so therefore I don’t do sandcastles. But if you do, here’s how to build a better one.

This summer TV preview is especially amazing because I know the girl who wrote it. Also: BREAKING BAD, BITCH!

I’ve tried to fake the bake, but I always end up looking orange, streaky and as if I went tanning while wearing ankle boots.

So far my grand summer plans include the following: Get skinnier, eat lots of hot dogs, try not to feel like a beached whale in a bathing suit, avoid bathing suits, get my boyfriend to start dressing like Channing Tatum in Magic Mike.

I would straight rage if I thought I was getting photographed for my hot summer bod and instead discovered back hair I never knew was there.

IT’S GOOD TO BE … in a beach house that looks like it’s straight out of the 90210 college years.

Your Mom

13 May

May 13 – May 19, 2013

Yesterday was Mother’s Day! If you forgot, you either do not have a mother, conveniently hate your mother or do not engage in social media. Speaking of which, why and how do all of you assholes have vintage photos of your family laying around? We get it — You were kind of a cute kid and your mom had feathered hair and wore ankle-grazing Laura Ashley dresses with giant sailor collars. 10 bucks says all of those pics end up on BuzzFeed later today.

I am definitely my mother’s daughter though. Especially now that I have stemless wine glasses. I’m pretty sure my mom taught me the value of 3 Buck Chuck before I was legally able to drink, but I have mad love for my cheap palate. When you drink half a bottle of Cab every night, you can’t be bothered with depth of flavor and tannins and grapeskins and shit. I need it to go down easy, get me buzzed and not make me poor. Please and thank you.

I’ve learned other things from my mom, of course. Like how to TP-line a seat in a public restroom (lest you want to catch AIDS), how to spend 3 hours in Target and how not to drive a car in the fast lane on the interstate. It couldn’t have been easy to be my mom from ages 12 – 18 though. I was totally cunty. Not like, quite as cunty as grown-up Kim Kardashian, but still pretty cunty. Especially that time that I had one too many wine coolers in 9th grade, puked in a bathroom sink while sitting on the toilet and then told my mom it was because I had eaten like, 5 slices of pizza when she caught me. I mean, how fucking embarrassing to find out your kid was drinking wine coolers.

I also regularly called her mean names, yelled at her in front of my friends and scratched the entire left side of her car when I used it to sneak out with my friend Amy and clipped our house all the way down the driveway. To be fair, that driveway was WAY too narrow for a Land Cruiser. So Mom, if you’re reading this (which I really hope you’re not because I’m fully aware of how unladylike the word “cunty” is), I’m sorry, I love you and I know I’m going to get it back ten-fold when I birth my own small monster one day. I won’t blame you one bit if you laugh in my face when my child starts puking up Mike’s Hard Lemonade Lite or some equally terrible shit. So in honor of moms, this week’s playlist is stacked with some of the greatest mothers in music (great for their music, not for their mom-ing skills because, I mean, Courtney Love):

MORE IN MOMS:

Yo mama so stupid, she heard it was chilly outside and went to grab a bowl.

Being a mom is hard, says Victoria Beckham. Womp womp. Know what else is hard, Posh Spice? Your husband’s INSANE abs. Deal with it.

Then there’s this other crazy British bitch who forcefully inseminated her daughter because she couldn’t have more children on her own. And here I thought my mom was crazy for asking me to make my bed every day.

“Between your legs there are two soft, cushiony things, also covered with hair, which press together when you’re standing, so you can’t see what’s inside.” Anne Frank wrote this about finding her vageen in an attic while hiding out from the Nazis and a mother in Michigan is PISSED because she forgot her vageen existed until 50 Shades of Grey came out.

I watched 5 minutes of Teen Mom Farrah Abraham’s porno and I was neither turned on nor impressed. Oh wait sorry, it’s not a porno, it’s a “personal video” for which she hired someone to bang her in the butt at noon when the light was really good.

“It’s hard to grow up. Sometimes we just need moms. Moms to tell us everything’s okay.” And Kid President to tell us ALL THE THINGS, ALL THE TIME. So flipping cute.

BONUS: Here’s some songs about moms, including one from Mr. T:

“A Song for Mama” – Boyz II Men
“Mama Liked the Roses” – Elvis Presley
“The Biggest Fan” – Backstreet Boys
“The Best Day” – Taylor Swift
“Oh Mother” – Christina Aguilera
“Tell Mama” – Etta James
“Mama Said” – The Shirelles
“Mother and Child Reunion” – Paul Simon
“Mama” – Spice Girls
“Mama’s Song” – Carrie Underwood
“Sadie” – The Spinners
“Mama Said” – Metallica
“Motherlover” – The Lonely Island
“Treat Your Mother Right” – Mr. T [no joke]
“Mama Can You Hear Me” – Talib Kweli
“Look What You’ve Done” – Drake
“Mama” – The Dream
“Coat of Many Colors” – Dolly Parton
“Dear Mama” – Tupac
“Superwoman” – Alicia Keys
“Hey Mama” – Kanye West
“I Love My Momma” – Snoop Dogg

WERK IT OUT

6 May

May 6 – May 12, 2013

Not to be one of those obnoxious, delusional, “I know I’m not like, FAT fat, but right now I just really feel … fat,” people who’s all like, “It’s about to be bathing suit season and I need to lose 10 lbs STAT,” but it’s about to be bathing suit season and I need to lose 10 lbs STAT.

No matter how fat you think you are, nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. Just kidding. I do not subscribe to Kate Moss-isms. Mainly because I cannot relate to any part of her life. If I had that much money, I’d be eating all gourmet cheeses, all.the.time. What I really meant to say was: No matter how fat you think you are, at the end of the day, all of us just want to be comfortable. And for me, summer comfort means not feeling like Gwyneth Paltrow’s character in Shallow Hal when she jumps into a pool and basically creates a tsunami.

So in an effort to protect those around me from drowning, I’ve started going back to the gym. I don’t mind the sweating part so much as I do the people part. For example:

1. Skinny people: The gym is for fatties, flabbies and average white girls with cellulite. You’re making us feel bad if we have to watch you  get “toned” while we try not to suffocate in a sportsbra.

2. Fatties: Gross. So red and sweaty! Nobody wants to see that.

3. Scented people: Have you ever gotten like, SO wasted one night and then briskly walked to brunch the next day, sans shower, and like, halfway through your jalapeno-infused egg white Mexican omelet souffle with wheat toast and turkey bacon, you get really hot and suddenly you’re sweating and your sweat smells JUST like the seven jalapeno-infused margaritas you had last night when you were like, SO wasted? Yeah? It’s not cute, right? Okay, well neither is your cheap-ass, designer-impostor Bath & Body Works Vanilla Bean perfume-spritz-shit when you’re sweating next to me on a treadmill. I’m gagging. Can you not see me gagging?

4. Anorexics: We get it. You’re working just as hard as the rest of us to be skinny.

5. Pregnant Kim Kardashian: Granted, I have never seen her at my gym, but I have seen enough photos of her chin-grazing cleavage in self-suffocating sports tops to last me from now until forever. I’m sure Jessica Simpson has a few spare caftans she can borrow.

After you get past the people part, the gym’s not so bad as long as you have non-see-through Lululemons and music to get your ass in gear. You’re going to have to deal with the glorified yoga pants on your own (or glorified swim trunks for dudes) , but try my treadmill playlist on for size this week and I DARE YOU to tell me that One Direction doesn’t make you run for your fucking life.

MORE IN GETTING SKINNY:

CrossFit has a class called “Tough Titsday” and people are offended. Shocker. People need to calm down, stop worrying about semantics and get their tits in gear. I could do without the slogan, “get your estrogen on” though. That just makes me feel weepy.

Here’s some photos of what 43-year-old Jennifer Lopez looks like in a bathing suit these days, in case you need some thinspiration to hang on your fridge next to that Dominos coupon.

This new commercial for a plus-size men’s clothing store leads me to believe that mixing plaids is every fat man’s dream.

SAVASANA, you guys. It’s good for your genes.

How cute is Ellie Goulding? So cute that I don’t even hate her for her bogus workout playlist picks.

Werk it out? Try TWERK IT OUT! (Just not in public)

Whoomp! There It Is.

1 May

May 1, 2013

 

Loves

In this interview with Ellen, Diane Keaton is like my mom with chardonnay during Dancing With the Stars. (Drunk.)

Everything Beyonce does is just a barrage of hair, hips and giant wing-flaps. Despite understanding this, I think I was just hypnotized into buying a bikini top with an attached cape from H&M.

“Luckily, the 80-year old had a colonoscopy scheduled,” and this is probably the only time a colonoscopy was lucky for anyone.

Khloe Kardashian is the only K from the Klan I could ever imagine being friends with and she looks GOOD, y’all. She could stand to get rid of the platform Timbs, but other than that, I would totally buy whatever non-FDA-approved diet pill she’s been using.

Brad Goreski gives fashion advice to the Game of Thrones characters. Who else wants to see Joffrey embrace his inner Liberace??!!

Hates

If Twitter is the new resume, I hope potential employers aren’t offended by my affinity for CAPSLOCK (and/or the word “fuck”).

Stop trying to make Rita Ora happen, Gretchen Elle.

I hate this because I live this and in case you care, I’m currently in the final stages of West Nile Monkey Flu.

This is what you get for trying a healthy alternative. Poop. You get poop.

RIP George Jones and EL Konigsburg.

Do Me

Brooklyn Flea Record Fair (Saturday, May 4: 11am @ the Williamsburg Waterfront): Get there early while the picks are still pretentious!

Run the Cinco de Mayo 5K on Sunday (Prospect Park, 11am) and then go eat your weight in queso dip.

Orrrrr maybe just skip the run and go straight for The Thrillest Taco Knockout (1-5pm @ Villian in BK), where a $45 ticket gets you unlimited cervezas, unlimited micheladas & five tacos. Yeah. Skip the run.

Eat Me

Potato chip-covered mac and cheese: Creamy, crunchy, a super-tasty dish that I will undoubtedly make for my boyfriend while weeping over a salad.

Cinco De Drinko

29 Apr

April 29 – May 5, 2013

I can’t even begin to tell you how close I came to making one of the newsletter photos a Ford Fiesta. But instead I Googled “taco” and scrolled down for a solid 4 minutes before coming anywhere close to a vagina reference, which I found surprising. Not that I was ever going to actually use a photo of a vagina, but once I realized the possibility of my search term’s ambiguity, I obviously had to embrace my inner perv.

I digress. AYE, DIOS MIO! Another pretty much made up Americanized holiday is among us! Sunday is Cinco de Mayo and I, for one, will definitely be celebrating on Saturday. When I first moved to New York, one of my girlfriends used to date a guy that managed a boughetto Mexican place in the West Village. On Sundays, we’d all go play “Tequila Trivia,” which was a “game” where you got a cheap shot of tequila if you yelled out the correct answer the loudest. I say “game” because the guy fed us free tequila whether we got the answers right or not. I feel pukey just thinking about it.

In retrospect, I can’t believe I didn’t lose my job during that period of my life. Especially on the Monday after a particularly raucous tequila-infused Sunday when my co-worker tracked down my roommate on Facebook and messaged her at 2pm to make sure I wasn’t dead in a gutter somewhere. I wasn’t. I was in my bed with all of my clothes on — Dead to the world, but not in a gutter. Tequila does weird shit to everyone though. If you’re not sleeping through your alarm, you’re taking your top off or dancing on bars or puking in your lap and generally making poor decisions. But we continue to drink it anyways, swearing that whatever hell we have to deal with the next day will be SO WORTH IT for the fun we swear we’re having in the moment.

Can we talk about how weird it is that non-Mexican people celebrate a holiday that celebrates Mexican heritage and pride? That’s weird, right? I love nachos just as much as the next girl, but I certainly don’t need a holiday/excuse to eat them. Whatever. Sombreros are hilarious and I will probably be speaking Spanglish all day like every other asshole gorging themselves at Dos Caminos or Taco Bell. So Happy Cinco de Drinko, amigos! Here’s some spicy tunes to help you get your fiesta started right.

MORE IN CINCO DE MAYO:

My boyfriend once ate what appeared to be a taco in a bag at a street festival. I was mildly horrified. But apparently it’s a thing and it’s called Frito Pie and they’re everywhere?

If you’d rather eat a taco without the bag, here’s the 10 best places in New York to do so.

In high school, we had a maid named Margarita who insisted we provide her with more Peni-Sol. You can imagine my confusion. Here’s a collection of similar moments, brought to you by Consuela the Maid from Family Guy.

Now you can finally have that nacho-print maxi skirt you’ve always hoped and dreamed for.

What would Cinco de Drinko be without a bunch of fancypants Mexican-themed drink recipes? FYI, I do not condone the use of vegetables with tequila.

Mexico builds an Asshole Wall; Spring Break is over.

Yesterday I went to Dos Caminos Soho. 1. They have really great service and salsa 2. Their electric purple Prickly Pear concoction was an exact match to my friend Ali’s lipstick.

Hey wait! Check back on Wednesday for some mid-week goodness.

Whoomp! There It Is.

24 Apr

April 24, 2013

Loves

New and Necessary Punctuation Marks: I can think of about 13 recent instances where I could have used Sarcastises and about every instance where a Morgan Freemark would be necessary.

Typical Coachella assholes acting like typical Coachella assholes. I had SO much fun at the Vaginal Revival Family Band, you guys.

This video of an adult son and his mother dancing together under water (with choreography, not like, freestyle flailing) made me cry before noon. It’s ADORABLE.

Ryan Lochte is the closest thing to a real life Zoolander this world has ever seen. And I’m real glad these news anchors are in on the joke.

I’m a sucker for books (so unique, right?) and movies about/made for teenagers. I do not feel like this is creepy or weird and OTHER ADULTS LIKE THEM TOO. Here’s a great list of teen movies based on books.

Hates

Kris Jenner is terrible enough to be the only thing I post about in this category this week. I do not care for her AT ALL and that is DEFINITELY the nicest way I could bring myself to say that. However, if she is, as she claims, the “Queen of Fucking Everything,” then I am also TERRIFIED of her vagina’s scepter and will Anne Frank myself in my apartment the next time she and her Klan of Krazy are in New York.

Do Me

Match Game ’13 @ The Canal Room (Thursday, April 25th @ 7:30pm): I might have to put everything about my life on hold to attend this event. Free custard, Jason Sudeikis (Ug. And my arch nemesis/his to-be-wedded wench, Olivia Wilde), Fred Armisen, TRIVIA and a Betty White look-a-like contest? I mean … You had me at free custard, but I’ll stay for the rest. (But on a serious note, the proceeds from this show will go to Dave Eggers’ writing program for kids and will be matched by Viacom, so please go and support young writers if you can!)

Pretend to be sophisticated and artsy and in-the-know by catching a flick at the Tribeca Film Festival. Don’t know where to start? Get informed here and for the love of everything holy, do NOT like a typical Coachella asshole. (April 17th – 28th)

Eat Me

Olive Oil, Saffron, Orange & Caramel Ice Cream: I feel like these things should never and always go together.

Slurp me, shuck me, fork me: Oysters! A tutorial on how to ingest those slimy little suckers.

HUNGRY, LAZY & PARANOID

22 Apr

April 22 – April 28, 2013

This is the working title of my memoir. Sike! I don’t get paranoid when I smoke pot. Not like my dudefriend who once took a giant rip from a homemade gravity bong, wrapped his arms around his knees and started rocking himself in a corner like schizo in a padded cell before announcing that his apron was strangling him. (We were baking banana bread. Also, he is a homosexual.)

The point being, Saturday was 4/20 and I forgot. Actually, my mom was in town, but that’s beside the point. What was my point again? Oh right — Pot! 4/20! The unofficially official holiday when people who regularly smoke weed get together with other people who regularly smoke weed and … smoke weed. Even if you’re not a smoker, you have to admit that a marijuana holiday celebration makes WAY more sense than whatever party would be thrown in honor of National Punctuation Day or like, Celebrity Doppelganger Day.

And like, Jah Bless for artistic freedom, right? Because there are SO many good songs about pot. 10,000 rappers can’t be wrong — That shit is delicious! At the very least, it’s better than bath salts. Nathan Rabin, the first head writer for The A.V. Club wrote that, “Like masturbation, pot is one of God’s great consolation gifts. Not everyone can experience non-chemically-induced happiness, but on the right night a few chocolate martinis and a couple hits from the bong can provide a more-than-passable imitation of genuine, non-chemically-induced contentment.” It can also give you the power to consume $22 worth of Taco Bell, but that’s another story for another day.

So in honor of 4/20, this week’s playlist is all about that sticky icky icky. The ganja, the cheeba, the fattie spliffs, the Purple Haze, the Blueberry Yum Yum, the big fucking blunts, Mary Jane, Alaskan Thunderfuck, cannabis sativa, that diggity dank devil weed, the dope, the doobie, the grass, the green, the wacky tobacky. You get it. And if you got it, smoke it. But if you don’t, then just consider this an Earth Day mix.

MORE IN MARIJUANA:

Ever wondered why stoners celebrate on April 20th every year?

Ever wondered exactly how marijuana works?

Have you ever seen the back of a twenty dollar bill … On weed, mannnn??!

If you’re interested in helping your kids preserve their brain tissue, get them started smoking early. Just kidding! But it IS less harmful than alcohol.

Instead of operating a vehicle to retrieve $22 worth of Taco Bell and going from relaxed and giggly to fat and pukey, maybe try one of these easy, cheap stoner treats instead.

Or get your gourmet on with this recipe for Sour Diesel Long Island Bluefish with Weed-Yogurt Sauce, Greens, and Chocolope Croutons. Maybe don’t smoke first though.

And for the Sober Sallys in the house, here are 10 magical foods that will make you happy without drugs!

This sciencey lady at the National Institute on Drug Abuse wants to tell you that drugs are bad, m’kay? I want to tell you that OMG HER FOREHEAD! You could literally fry an egg on that thing.

BONUS: Here’s a (truncated) list of celebrities who have admitted to/been caught smoking pot. And yes, I am aware that I left off like, pretty much all of the rap population. There just aren’t enough hours in the day. Oddly, I still don’t want to be friends with most of these people (Ron Weasley is an obvious exception to that statement):

Michael Phelps, Woody Harrelson, Willie Nelson, Frances McDormand, Seth Rogan, James Franco, Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, Justin Timberlake, Kimora Lee Simmons, Nicole Richie, Paris Hilton, Snoop Dogg, Charlize Theron, Matthew McConaughey, Sarah Silverman, Barbara Streisand, Mischa Barton, Brad Pitt, Chelsea Handler, Zack Galifianakis, Bill Maher, Kristen Stewart, Justin Bieber, Rihanna, Miley Cyrus, Lindsay Lohan, Drake, Ryan Gosling, Kirsten Dunst, George Clooney, Susan Sarandon, Rupert Grint, Lil Wayne, Elijah Wood, Morgan Freeman, Natalie Portman, Kevin Smith, Adam Lambert, Whoopi Goldberg, Lady Gaga, Soulja Boy, Wiz Khalifa, Chris Brown, Bill Murray, Bill Clinton, George Bush, Barack Obama, Jennifer Aniston.

Hey wait! Check back on Wednesday for some mid-week goodness.

(Sources for Celebrity Smokers list include: Jezebel, Perez Hilton, 420 Magazine, Us Magazine, Business Insider)

HANGOVER HELPER

15 Apr

April 15 – April 21, 2013

I’m just going to go ahead and assume that while you are reading this, I am wanting to scoop my brain out through my ears with a wooden spoon in California. Since I’ll be there til late Tuesday, I’m setting this thang up in advance, so this week’s playlist was created in anticipation of what future me would want to listen to on a hungover Monday.

Sunday Fundays are pretty much the best/worst, right? My cousin used to work in an old folks home and said that a lot of her patients with Alzheimer’s used to go through what they called “sundowning” at night, which is basically when your anxiety level shoots through the roof when the sun goes down. #Xanax. I’m now thinking it’s possible that I’m showing early signs of Alzheimer’s, because I get that shit on the reg. Sigh. So anyways, the Monday after a Sunday Funday is always particularly painful in my old age and I basically feel like I’m going to throw up my heart at my desk if I don’t take proper precautions.

Proper precautions include: A#1: Bacon, egg and cheese on some form of carb, be it bagel, English Muffin or the cardboard that Dunkin’ Donuts calls flatbread. B#2: Dim lights, soft noises. If there’s a crying child on the subway en route to work or if it’s super sunny and you forgot your sunglasses, you’re gonna have a bad time. C#3: A slow build-up of temple-rubbing songs that won’t make me want to retreat to the toilets for a nap.

I can’t help you get dressed (which is arguably the hardest part), I can’t help you efficiently drown out the smell of alcohol on your breath and I DEFINITELY can’t get you to work on time. Punctuality is not my strong suit. But what I can do is help you ease into your day while you’re Gchatting, BuzzFeeding and Redditing with your eyes crossed. Here’s hoping that you’ll be having an Orange Mocha Frappacino party at your desk by the mid-afternoon.

MORE IN BOOZE, BREAKFAST & HANGOVERS:

So, The Hangover Part III is happening and here’s the trailer for it. This doesn’t look funny or drunk and it mostly makes me yawn-y. I imagine it makes Zack Galafianakis yawn-y too, as it’s kind turning him into an Adam Sandler-type. YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS! Bradley Cooper, not so much.

If Hamilton Beach would like to send me a breakfast sandwich maker to review, I swear I will make it look sexier than a room full of yoga asses.

I like the idea of a “Benjamin Button-style” weekend recovery process, but if it turns the clock back to tween time, I’m going to be PISSED.

After over 100 years, Shiner Beer is coming to New York. *shrug* My gay dude friends won’t let me drinks carbs in the summer anyways.

Speaking of carbs, the Everything Bagel: “It’s brash, aggressive, over-the-top, and utterly polyglot, both an emblem of New York’s immigrant past and a vehicle for its culinary future.” I don’t know about all that but, I don’t want, anybody else. When I think about you, I touch myself OOOOoohhh.

THE Papa John likes enjoys his pizza and his sporting events just like the rest of us. Reeeal drunk.

Hey wait! Rain check on that mid-week goodness this time around. Love ya, mean it!

Whoomp! There It Is.

10 Apr

April 10, 2013

Loves

Pick it, PAC it, fire it up! Two bros in Oregon have organized a Super PAC for the legalization of marijuana.

More proof that Mr. Rodgers was all things good. He gives all the fucks.

The Morning After Pill: Now available for everyone without the judgey looks!

David Sedaris is one of my literary idols, a fellow North Carolinian and someone I want to be friends with. His new hobby is picking up trash. Read this interview about said hobby and why he’s fine with eating horse meat.

I am totally going to watch this new Animal Planet series about river monsters. And then never get in the river again.

George Carlin was pretty much the best. Reddit unearthed this interview between him and a pre-Daily Show Jon Stewart (who is also pretty much the best) in 1997 — Right before Stewart started looking at things ON WEEEEED, MAN.

Kelly Oxford might just be my new spirit animal. If my spirit animal had kids and a husband. And a tan. (She has a book out.)

Hates

Hide yo’ kids, hide yo’ thighs: Twinkies are back. Ug! I can just HEAR you getting fatter, America.

OH GOD CANNOT UNSEE. Walt Jr. is trying to get his sexy on. Aunt Marie is still pretty freaked.

This was almost a “loves,” but I don’t need hate mail yet. C is for Crappy Day, which is what Cookie Monster is having after he shoved a small child in Times Square when the kid’s mom refused to tip him. Shame!

A fake Exxon Twitter account was shut down after Exxon told the teacher that they were getting made fun of for spilling SO MUCH OIL in Arkansas. If there’s one thing I hate more than someone who ruins everything, it’s Exxon. I mean, a tattletale.

On the real. Seriously. Stop tanning. Find another T to add to your GTL routine like, “Talk to friends” or “Try to touch toes.”

Do Me

Five Boro Story Project Presents: “I’m Tawkin’ Here!” (see also: “Get da’ fuck oudda heeyyyyeeeaah!”): Storytelling with a New Yawk accent. Coming to a different borough every Wednesday this month.

Eat Me

GET IN MY BELLY, bready, cheesy, pizza burger! You will be mine.

Egg muffins. Eat your heart out. And not even in like, a quasi-literal way because they are healthy.

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