Everyone knows that black babies are the most handsome infants in the world. That’s reason one for why I went to the KBXX Family Fun Day and reason two is obvious; Lil’ Flip, En Vogue, The New Boyz, and Dourrough.
Fashion in the UK has been split in two. Over here you can't get much nearer to style's summit than new mega-zines LOVE (which is on its second issue) and the newly relaunched POP. The latest issues of both magazines came out within days of each other and everyone is trying to work out which is best. See, Katie Grand, editor of LOVE, used to edit POP, and when she left, rumour quickly spread that working for POP from now on meant you would be banned from working for LOVE. Now, only someone with truly enormous fashion balls or nothing to lose would be willing to risk a clash with Katie's untouchable in-crowd, so enter Katie's old boss and POP co-founder, Ashley Heath. Heath was forced out of POP by the corporate types years ago, and so being asked back to rescue the title must taste sweet.
Nothing says summer like roller coasters, ferris wheels, water slides, and hordes of 12-year-olds making out and groping one another. And I don't mean regular making out--I mean an experimental lick-fest. But what is it about tween love that's just so gnar-gnar? Is it their child flesh on the verge of rotting into adulthood? Or the chub-acne faces? Perhaps it's just their really awesome personalities. I think a tween love make-out and rub-down is twice as disturbing as 2 Girls, 1 Cup. Don't believe me? Well, a recent trip to Six Flags provided me with more than enough evidence to make my point.
Sometimes there are certain clubs you just can’t join. Even if you consider yourself to be the fun exception or an amusing anomaly, there is a bit of decorum one must respect in established circles of humans. It can be very frustrating at times, and you might feel a bit left out and lame, but love it, set it free, gaze from the standpoint of a besotted admirer, and gather some inspiration. This is how I feel about the Bear scene.
Holy fucking guacamole! This installment of Hey Ron! addresses a man who thinks he’s discovered that the lady he’s engaged to has sex on film for money. Ron sets our buddy straight and manages to teach us a thing or two about the ways of the heart in the process.
Do you see what happens when gays get rights? All those fat, ugly, angry, loud people carrying signs and that weird symbol of two sticks crossing at right angles with a dead guy hanging off it were totally right: homosexuals are all perverts who will fuck anything and should not be allowed to get married. Because then shit like this happens...
My girlfriend's always bitching about how I’m not romantic and I never surprise her, so a little while ago I decided I’d kill two birds with one stone: a romantic surprise. I hid in her closet and when she got home from work I jumped out.“I love you!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. But did it make her happy? Nope. I’m a great boyfriend, so I keep trying. She'd told me that as a child, Mickey Rourke had always been her favorite actor, so I recreated a few scenes from some of his most romantic movies, all for her arousal and sensual delight.
If the daily hundred-degree heat in Madrid this summer makes me crack and I decide to go on a killing spree, you can rest assured that it won't be primary school kids or heads of state that get shot up. No. The outlet of choice for my homicidal rage is those street performance artists who clog up anywhere you'll find a steady flow of tasteless morons who don't understand the value of currency that's not in notes (aka tourists).They are, quite simply, a plague. If Estonian prostitutes don't get paid just for standing on the street looking like a trolley dash in a Maybeline factory, then why should I give money to a gay cowboy painted silver with a duck whistle in his mouth?
This last week marks the 100th time I’ve heard a girl say, “I wish you would have warned me that you’re like this.” I mean, what does that even mean? The idea is to get people to sleep with you and want to continue wasting their time with you for as long as possible. If in the first week of seeing someone I was to come out with something like, “You know, I know that I am amazing-looking and always make plans for good stuff to do–but eventually I will start making you cry and not let up until you’re a shell of a person,” I would never ever have boobs in my face again, and that’s just not a price I’m willing to pay. In my tumultuous years of dating, I have absolutely NOT learned how to be good at relationships. I have learned how to make people fall in love with me and then ruin their lives. But the subtle art of not making a girl puke from grief on every major holiday? Nope, too hard. One relationship skill I have down is how to take a beautiful thing and just really fuck it up. In case you don’t know how to do this yourself already, follow these simple steps.
The big excitement of my first high school trip to New York was the eager buzz concerning who would be the first to find a crack vial on the sidewalk. I don't think I saw anything but ground the entire time we were supposed to be admiring all the civilized fuss. On the bus, heading back home to West Virginia, this one gal continuously trumpeted having found that empty vial. She failed to cough up the evidence though, pleading that if she procured the sacred curio, she'd be facing some stone cold jail time. And we were all like, Bitch, you know you'd be dangling your vial on a necklace string if you had the shit. Despite all the cool things I had seen, and the energy, lights, and people, I still felt completely gypped by my New York experience not rewarding me with true druggie grit. I wanted to smash my new Hard Rock Cafe shot glass in brutal disillusionment!