Los Angeles
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Tuesday, February 4, 2014
The Too-Tight-Shirt Gender Bias
Look, I’m as progressive a feminist progressive feminist as the next progressive feminist. I reject the whole pink/blue thing and think it’s no problem if little boys want to play with dolls or little girls like trucks. Hells, I loved my Star Wars “action figures” as a kid, and who are we kidding. They’se dolls.
I also liked to wear dresses for a while in my early teens. And then again during a crazy period in my early 30s.
So don’t judge, I says. Let people be people.
But sometimes ya just gotta state some gender essentialism in life.
Too tight shirts on hotties = happy Jesus Buddha fondle
Too tight shirts on Brosephwanks = llama shtetl piddle
Don’t blame me. Blame the boobies.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014The Effete Sailors of Beverly Hills
I have a little poem I’d like to read in honor of this occasion, if I may. Spaulding, get your foot off the boat!
It’s easy to grin
when your douche comes in
and you’ve served all your drinks on the deck.
But the ‘bag worthwhile
is the choad who can smile
when his neckkerchief is too tight in the neck.
Okay, pookie. Do the honors.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013Honorary Douchebags of the Month: Anyone Associated with Big Budget CGI Animated Kids Films
I get it, Hollywood.
Cute creatures burping and farting their way through a perfectly calibrated three act structured world featuring a shitty Randy Newman song prints the cash money like Amanda Bynes trading ass findle for cigarettes outside the laundry room on a Tuesday.
Hells, you ad wizards don’t even need worlds anymore. Your screaming bratty three-year-old target audience can’t even read yet. Just big faces. And burps. And farts. And some heroic life lesson mixed in with lots of explosions and chases.
Just slap a generic adjective title on it, like Epic or Turbo, hire some b-list clowns to voice the un-characters, whip up an excuse for a chase sequence, and the bean counters will get jingly in their jibblies.
Yeah yeah. It’s entertainment “business,” not entertainment “art.” Yadda yadda. Kablooie blooie. And hotties by the pool with lines of blow carefully atop their tramp-stamp won’t pay for themselves.
Monday, April 22, 2013The Saddleranch: Still A Vortex of Suckage in 2013
So I had a meeting at the Starbucks next to Los Angeles’s infamous Saddle Ranch Chop House yesterday.
For those of you who don’t know what the Saddle Ranch is, picture a faux-cowboy pickup scene with bad 80s music blaring from the sound system. Add in uber-hottie bartenders working the paid-to-pose angle. Then toss in hordes of beefy douchewanks with jock itch who read somewhere that the ‘Ranch is where “the Los Angeles 10s hang out.”
Then factor in greasy-as bar food smear and an electric bull vibrator, and the whole place reeks of the stench of all that is crotch itch in the pukey nostalgia hued wasteland/dreamland of the infamous Sunset Strip.
This isn’t to say the awfulness of my proximity to Douche Mecca of Los Angeles was a complete waste of time. Side benefit: oggling the leg reveal trend of the Bleeths as they came into the Starbucks to get a latte. Many a giggle pooch presented itself for suckle thigh fondle prod.
So there are small victories in the abyss.
I smirk and I smile. The mock continues, albeit subdued these days as I grow older and more pensive. But mock onward, I will.
Thursday, March 28, 2013Overheard at Disturbing Los Angeles Herspter BBQ
”
“So, like, uhm, if you drop the bass with iTunes, is that still called ‘spinning’? Cuz, like, nothing’s actually spinning. What with the lack of record player. So like shouldn’t it be called ‘digiting’, or something? I’m just checking on, like, the proper nomenclature. Yo.”
Disturboboobs rattle with pensive aplomb.
And… scene.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013The Vortex of Suckage That Is A Los Angeles Herpster BBQ
Kelly’s accidental run-in with notorious Silverlake DJs Scrabblex and Parcheesix did not end well when her boobs decided to recoil in horror and her vageen donned sunglasses in the hopes that none of the other vageens would recognize her at the next Vageenas Anonymous meeting.
Yup. Stop making sense. And you may ask yourself, why does the DB1 need a coffee? And you may say to yourself, this is not my beautiful sheboyyyyyygen.
Jerry Lewis.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012Demetrius Sell You Rolex Good Price, Vomits on Boobies
Demetrius make you special price, bro.
Demetrius always take care of friends.
Demetrius wants to know if you want to come back to his hotel room and sip bubbly, relax, and maybe make sexy time with movie camera? No no, hah hah hah, Demetrius does not mean make sexy time with a movie camera! That would be crazy, bro! Only with camera running. And Demetrius doing his sexy time. You understand now, bro?
Thursday, September 27, 2012Those Hollywood Nights
Hollywoodland.
Where a no-talent ass clown not named Michael Bolton Christian Audiger can make millions by dressing people like clowns.
And by selling this.
Even Mickey’s in on the disgrace.
But still Hollywood sells its dream. The land where the boobies beckon.
But so does the craziness.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012HCwDB: White Party Frank Gehry Love Boat Edition
Why do I feel like the backstory of this pic involves a drunken Saudi Prince hoping to invest in the movie industry?
Thursday, May 17, 2012Doggie 'Baggin' Lives On
Still out there.
Still a perplexing decision when deciding how to pose for a photograph.
What next, culture? Congress of Cow?
