Monday, October 26, 2009
On Saturday I was on a different kind of set. A film set for an ad. The difference between a TV set and a film set can be found in the crew, the equipment, and the overall coolness of a film camera.
I worked as an assitant director and -- you know what? I don't wanna go into lame details. I just wanna say that for the first time in a long time I was where I belonged. Between cables and lights and filters and cans of film and shooting plans and monitors and sharing with an amazing crew. I felt like I mattered, like I belonged there. I took pictures of everything like it was my first Christmas or something. Everything was so familiar and yet had a new feeling to it. I'm just so damn excited.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
I miss AlabamaPink. If I tried to explain this to an outsider they'd never get it, but I know my Pajiba pals would get what I mean. I miss her humor. I miss her strength.
You can find all sorts of shit in the Internet and it will be online forever. But it's good to know that some of those ever-lasting "things" will make you a better person. Amanda's blog is still out there for anyone who wants to drop by. I know her spirit lives in her son; an adorable little boy I haven't had the pleasure of meeting personally. But it's good to know that part of her is still out there. It's the only part of her I got to meet.
I'm the happiest I've been in a while. Things are good in my life and I feel strong. And whenever I think of will and my love of life I inevitably remember Amanda. AlabamaPink.
What a legacy you have left us, dear Amanda.
You're so cool, you're so cool, you're so very cool.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Monday, August 03, 2009
Anyway. Right now I'm writing a story that takes place in one night, and since the first rule of writing is 'write what you know' I'm using all kinds of real life stories that have happened to me or to my friends. They include barfing (duh), rescuing drunk peeps from odd places (double duh), showing up to extremely chic parties that turned out to be Peruvian salsa extravaganzas, sex on sticky and very public floors, 10-hour drinking marathons in family living rooms, out-of-control crying, marijuana-induced confessions, embarrassing making-out episodes in clubs, and grand life revelations at dawn.
I was wondering if you had any wild party stories you'd like to share with me. Just so I don't feel like I'm the only member of the Wasted Generation. Don't spare any details. We're all lost causes here.
Spill, people. Spill.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Whether we are willing to admit it or not, the Church still has a lot of power in our country even though our current president (and also the one that came before her) aren't Catholic, and don't even believe in God for that matter.
There are many people against the pill who say that women will use it as birth control, meaning women will have unprotected sex with no worries at all because they'll know they have access to a pill that will get them out of trouble for sure. This is bloody fucking stupid for many reasons, starting with money (the pill isn't as cheap as buying tic-tacs, for one), and it's not like we'll want to experience the side-effects of taking the pill every morning after we get laid.
I don't know which side is right. I come from a very conservative family but I have a liberal mind, but the important thing to consider here is the ability to have a choice. If I'm ever scared after having sex with someone I want to be able to consider my options, and to do that it is imperative to HAVE options. In the end, though, it's all about respect. So if you're against the morning-after pill, that's alright. You don't have to buy it or even be glad that it's finally legal. Just don't spoil the moment for those who have a different take on things, and don't worry, 'cause we won't use it as an alternative to birth control. Jeez...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Well, I've always loved that song and I finally found it. Here's my less than perfect rendition of it (I really need to work on my strumming skills):
Oh, and the not-so-artsy gag reel.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
This clip is a perfect example of how big a dork I am. Besides its obvious genius (turning Silence of the Lambs into a musical, and then turning said musical into a Lego extravaganza), there's a moment where I completely lose it. It happens in the 1:32 mark, when Lego Bill does a solo. It cracks me up. It's shameful how much it makes me laugh. It goes from silly giggles to roars that leave me in tears. I keep going back to that part and I start laughing all over again.
Yes, I'm a dork.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
I'm used to being adored by my friends' parents'. Some friends even invite me over to their houses more often than their other friends because they want their parents to have a better opinion of them. I say this very humbly: parents LOVE me. I'm convinced it all comes down to table manners. I give all the credit to my mom, who was always very strict about them (I usually neglect manners at home just to piss her off, but they blossom as soon as I enter somebody else's house) and etiquette as well. I always eat with both hands on the table, sit up straight, and won't start eating until everyone has their food on their plates. So it's all about manners and the ability to make small talk sound remarkably interesting.
Getting along with your best friend's mom is very much like getting along with your in-laws. You're with their child all the time and they tell you everything they don't tell their parents. You have to earnt their trust and let them know that their precious child is in good company. I feel I always had a little trouble reaching my best friend's mom. She's very quiet and I always thought her to be a little harsh. There was also the fear that she secretly wanted me to shut the fuck up for once and for all.
When my best friend left she asked me to check on her mom regularly, a task that seemed challenging at first because I didn't know what to talk about with her. The first couple of weeks I called her we had brief and very polite conversations. I talked to another friend who was also checking on her, asking her what else I could talk about with Aunt. She said, "I don't really know what to say to her either, so we just text from time to time." Brilliant. That was just what I needed to hear, the perfect solution to my problem.
I resorted to texting. That worked pretty well for a while, but then I thought about how impersonal texting can be. This was my best friend's mom, and she deserved better. If her daughter ever asked her if I'd kept in touch, I didn't want her telling my best friend that we'd texted a lot. I wanted to be a better friend than that. It was back to calling...
After a few phone conversations over a few weeks, I took a leap of faith and asked her to join me for a cup of coffee. She said yes, and when we met and walked to the coffee shop my mind kept telling me this was going to be awkward as hell. What was I gonna talk to her about? Shit. This wasn't good. We ordered coffee and when we sat down I asked the smartest thing I've ever asked in my adult life: "So, aunt, how was your summer?" The most extraordinary thing happened. She talked and talked and went on and on, leaving no room for me to make stupid small talk. I found myself laughing my ass off at some of her stories. And we barely talked about her daughter, my best friend. It was reassuring to know we had other topics of conversation besides her. It was all about her summer and how much fun she had with her friends and her job. I realized that she wasn't harsh. She's just dry, which means she also has dry humor. I love dry humor. How could I have missed this about her? We had a lovely time together, and I felt like I had finally earned her trust.
She called me a couple of days ago and she made me laugh a lot. She didn't think that what she was telling me was particularly funny and she was a little upset about it, which only made me enjoy it more. Her birthday is coming up, and I called her to save me a day of that week because I'm taking her out to dinner. She said "awww, darling" and suggested that we also had to celebrate my belated birthday. A dual celebration it shall be. I'm looking forward to this, and I'm abnormally happy about all the progress we've made during my friend's absence.
I just hope she'll never hear the words "I don't like that friend of yours" coming from her mom.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Anyway, somewhere along the way I stopped reading books and became an avid online article collector. I'd print interesting stories at the office and read them in the subway on my way home. One day, bored out of my mind, I ventured into amazon.com and started browsing books. Nothing too intellectual. Chelsea Handler. I added both her books to my shopping cart just to fool around, but then I found Nick Thornby and Rob Sheffield. I ended up with Songbook and Love is a Mix Tape in my cart as well. I've been the oblivious owner of a credit card for a year now, and I've never used it. I figured now was a good time to start. I ordered the books and forgot all about them a week later.
Last week I came home to find a box on my bed. I opened it and found my order. I immediately picked up Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands and finished it the next day. Before I started with the next book I wanted to finish The War of Art (a birthday gift from a friend), and after I did I picked up Are you there, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. I was done with it in two days. Then it was time for Love is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield. It just hit me that as of last week I've read four books. I'm still reading Love is a Mix Tape, and I don't wanna finish it because it's too damn good and oh-so very sad. I think I'll start Songbook on Monday.
Three minutes ago I ordered six more books. I realized that shipping costs amounted to the same money my four books were on my first order, so I decided to make the shipping costs worth it and squeeze them for all they had. This time around I ordered books I've always wanted to read. The titles are The Book of Other People, Fight Club, High Fidelity, This is Not a Love Song, King Dork and The Rules of Attraction.
What can I say? I'm catching up on my reading.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
The following excerpt can be found in Are You There, Vodka? It's me, Chelsea, in the chapter entitled Re-Gift, page 180, and I can only wish I'd gotten my hands on this baby back when people invented stupid e-mail chains about bad luck and love and angels and true friendship. Because everyone knows that if you don't forward one of those e-mails you'll end up alone eating your own toe nails.
"I understand if people want to e-mail me pictures of their babies by themselves, but there is no way I'm going to join Kodak's photo gallery to look at a picture of someone's pet standing by itself in front of Niagara Falls. This is not the first time this has happened to me, and I was actually pleased because I had gathered the materials necessary to respond appropriately. I clicked reply and sent Morgan a picture of my cleaning lady. Standing next to the toilet, alone. I attached a message that read, "Not interested? Me neither."
I was in the subway when I read this, and I exploded into fits of laughter. It was rush hour and I knew people were giving me weird looks, but I just couldn't help myself. I laughed and laughed and laughed until I started to sweat and I had to literally wipe my forehead and have some water because my idiotic giggles got out of hand. And let me tell you something: when I find something very funny my laugh is not subtle. It's loud and high-pitched and there's always some snorting to be expected. My body shakes and I bend over and back and I get all red, and for a while there are no real sounds coming out of my mouth because I'm trying to catch my breath but I still look like I'm laughing really loud.
I tried to move on to the next page, but my head kept going back to the above paragraph and I kept on laughing. I showed the excerpt to my dad and he laughed as well. I translated it to one of my friends and she immediately changed her Google Chat status to "Chelsea rules!!!" I can only hope this will start a series of dumb e-mails with my friends which will consist on sending stupid pictures to each other and write "Not interested? Me neither" on the body.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
And I choose happiness.
I'm not exactly there yet, but that's where I'm headed. I once heard the phrase "what happiness doesn't have in length it compensates in height", or something similar, and it touched me. I wanna be happy, and to do that I must take charge and let go of my stupid pride. So that's where I'm headed to. I have to be strong, and I know I can do it. I think all of us Pajibans can testify that the strength of the human spirit can move mountains, as evidenced by 'Bama's struggle. And I'd like to thank her for the lesson she taught me, the lesson she taught us all: be strong, and if you're going to whine, don't. Have a sense of humor about yourself and keep going. Life is too short to be a drama queen. 'Tis better to be a Queen of Hearts.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
Q: What’s the difference between Bono and God?
A: God doesnt walk down the street thinking he’s Bono
Q: How many members of U2 does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: Just one. Bono holds it and the world revolves around him.
From the best website ever.
Friday, March 06, 2009
You know when you see yourself through somebody else's eyes? And it really sucks? And you really wanna do something about it?
In geeky words, I'm reboting myself. I'm trying to make some changes. I don't know... I looked back on last year and realized that at some point I lost my compass and ended up becoming someone I don't particularly like, and I don't wanna think that someone is a natural progression of my personality. I wanna be better than who I am right now. I know I have it in me, deep down, somewhere I'm probably too scared to have a look or something.
Writing again has helped. Let me stop lying: re-reading old scripts has helped. It's helped me realized how much work needs to be done, and how I often end up going in circles, probably because I'm too damn scared to write that final scene. I hate final scenes. If it were up to me my scripts would be three hundred pages long. But I'm trying to be more mature about it and realize that all things, good or bad, must come to an end.
I wanna go back to the happier Sofi I used to be right before I "rented" myself to the system. I don't feel conflicted about my job at all; that old question of 'should I do what I love for a living or should I swallow my pride and do something else to reach a greater end?' isn't really a question for me. I just did what needed to be done, end of story. The thing is, I can't pretend it didn't affect me. I've become more... bitter, I guess. Pajiba's comment section was the perfect outlet for me to take all my anger and frustration and turn it into vagina jokes and stuff. Now I'm trying to regain my cool.
My guitar is a great companion, and I'll rock the Godtopus out of it every chance I get. But I also wanna be a better friend, and actually be there when I'm with my friends, which I think I did this summer. I'm slightly autistic, or so they say. I live in my own world, a world for Sofía, and I'm not good at letting people in it. Or if I do it, I let them in in a totally inappropriate way, or I get ahead of myself and start things backwards.
I wanna take my time. I wanna get to know people better, I wanna really listen to them and learn about what moves them and enjoy their stories. I love family and childhood stories, and people give me weird looks when I ask about them. Now I gotta figure out a way to make them feel more comfortable. I don't wanna be afraid to ask, "Seriously, what went wrong?" to an ex flame, or question people, not because I wanna judge them, but because I wanna understand them. I'm so sick of playing the victim in my family. I'm less and less afraid to talk to my mom about my stuff. I wanna make the most of the time I'll have with my best friend, and introduce her to some of the friends I've reconnected with during her absence. I want her to push me more bluntly and not as subtly as she's done it so far. I want us to be sisters again.
I guess I have a lot of work to do, and so many changes are ahead of me. Now it's just filling Visa forms, but soon it'll be hearing the question, "so, what are you all about?" and knowing what I'm gonna answer. Not just in Boston. Everywhere.
So I guess I'll meet you there. Reloaded.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I was four or five years old when I gave the exam. I remember the room and the test in my hands, and a teacher was giving instructions. She'd later become my very first teacher, and in a few more years she'd be the new inspector for everyone between kinder and the eighth grade. I was accepted, and on my first day I realized everything was in English.
I should probably mention that my school was founded by American nuns. They were from Philadelphia, and they all spoke Spanish, and none of them could roll their r's. Some were insanely nice, like Sister Christine. She loved baseball and sports, which was kinda sad because Chile is a soccer country. Sister Eileen stunned me with her kindness. She was already old when I had my first class with her, and she looked very intimidating. Cranky, that's the word. She looked cranky. Until you looked into her light blue eyes, and you realized she was a sweetheart. Curiously enough, there was a bitch of a teacher who kissed her ass constantly, and she was seriously mean. But they were friends, the kind nun and the crazy teacher. Maybe Sister Eileen was more forgiving, and she tried to see the bright side of things.
Sister Jane was scary as hell. She was of Irish or Scottish decent, I can't remember, but I could see her read hair through her habit. She once caught me throwing wet toilet paper to the ceiling. She appeared behind me, hands on her back, and said, "You'll have to bring a ladder tomorrow to clean that up." I can still remember how scared I was. I though they were going to kick me out of school. I ranted to my friends about how I was going to ask my parents to transfer me to another school, because I just couldn't deal with the crazy nuns anymore.
Wet toilet paper later turned me into a hero of sorts. We were all standing in line before class, and a few teachers spoke to us about how the bathroom's ceiling was completely clogged with wet toilet paper. They asked the guilty students to step forward. There was a long silence. I moved my foot, but hesitated. I did it again. Finally, I stepped forward, hands on my back, and stood next to a teacher. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "This is a brave girl." More people stepped forward, and we were taken to the principal's office. The principal was Sister Jane with the red hair and the ladder threats.
Discipline was tough. During Kinder and First Grade you had to freeze when the bell rang the first time. If you were running, you had to hold the position you were in until the nun rang the bell again. Sometimes she'd walk around, making sure we were all human statues. Once she was satisfied, she'd ring the bell again and we'd all have to walk to our place in line, hands behind our backs, lips tightly pursed. You were only allowed to wear red, white or blue headbands, and your pencil case had to be the one the school gave you. Your backpack had to be blue. If you chose to wear a scarf during winter, it had to be red, white or blue. Everything was red, white or blue in that school. You weren't allowed to speak Spanish during class, except for Religion and, well, Spanish class. Everything else was in English. Art, Music, Social Studies, Science class. I learned the Star Spangled Banner before learning Chile's National Anthem. But we celebrated both countries holidays, so we didn't have much classes during the year. We had lots of presentations and recitals that took lots of rehearsing hours, and there were father-daughter dances for the high school students. We had actual cheerleaders, and the Pink Panther remains the school mascot to this day.
It was a good school. It was too big for my tastes, but it was good. Some teachers were literally insane and some were very violent. One of them hit one of my sisters, other pulled my hair because I didn't understand something (I was 6), and other locked up a girl in a closet. I think it was the same teacher who hit my sister.
I was in that school until the fourth grade. My little sister and I were transfered to another all-girls private Catholic school, but it was very different. It was founded by Chilean teachers, and there was only one class per grade, unlike my other school, where there were three and sometimes four classes per grade.
My first year there was a revelation. We could use any pencil case we wanted, our back packs could be green or bright yellow, and English was seriously amateur. Fifth grade English in my new school could be compared to Kinder English in my other school.
But most important of all, we were small. Two hundred students in total. Nothing compared to the thousands of students in my other school.
I finally felt like an individual.
Monday, February 23, 2009
My sister was still intrigued at how strongly I felt about my best friend. In the end, and like all our arguments, my sister realized she and I feel things differently. Obviously. Still, the whole thing made me laugh. But not to her face. It sure was a fun thing to watch, though; my oldest sister trying not to be too suspicious of my sexual orientation. Sometimes she'd try to find evidence to back up her maybe-theory in the oddest places. For instance, we had a conversation that went like this:
Sister: Why did you choose a black Mac? (Subtext: Not only are you gay, but you're the guy in your secret lesbian relationship)
Me: It just came in that color.
Sister: But... why not a white one? (Subtext: Why didn't you get a girlier color?)
Me: It's not a new Mac; I bought it from somebody else.
Sister: So you didn't specifically pick the color? (Subtext: You're not gay?)
Sister: Oh, I see. (Subtext: YAAAAAAY!)
To make sure she'd drop the issue entirely, I added:
Me: I wish they made pink Macs...
And she stopped questioning me. At least until two days later.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Until I had the first sip. It was love at first taste.
I'm talking about Kunstmann's HonigAle. It's beer... with honey. I'm one of those chicks who drinks beer like a sailor, so I really didn't need the marketing dudes to make it more appealing to me. Seriously, is there anything more girly than sweet beer? Living in a chauvinistic country I couldn't help but feel a bit judged every time I downed a pitcher all by myself. Now I have sweet beer on my side. Whenever I order one I hear guys say, "that's such a girly drink." Why, yes it is, and you're green with envy because you feel guilty over ordering one for yourselves. You'll probably ask me for a sip, and then another one, and then another one. That's okay. The more the merrier. Not only am I drinking more beer, but I'm feeling like a girl while doing so.
So, thank you, Kunstmann's people, for my lovely new summer romance. It'll probably live through fall and winter, too. And I'll definitely sneak a pack or two into the U S of A.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Now it's different. I have three weeks to myself. This first week I exercised a lot, but i's weird, because the more I exercise the bigger I feel. I must be allergic to healthy things. For the next couple of weeks I'll go to my mom's house and talk nonesense while we drink vodka tonics together. I'll probably walk the dog and try to get him to join me for a jog. I'd also like to visit my sister in the country side. Her house is seriously awesome. Then, on the 28th, I have my sister's wedding, and my dress is so cool that I just might have to post pictures. After that I'm going back to work, and I'm quitting on April, and then I'll move on to another job.
I'm also acquiring my Visa during my vacation. I'll try not to act too single so they give it to me without any problems. Boston is only a few months away now. I wish I could go right now and take this wonderful sun with me. First I gotta lose a few pounds, 'cause I just know I'm gonna gain a few over there.
So yeah, it's pretty obvious I'm on vacation. Nothing interesting to say, and whatever I say is dumb. What is not uninteresting or dumb is that I miss my best friend. She's been away for over a month, and if she plays her cards right I won't see her until May.
Fuck TV, man....
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Say "hi" to Susana.
Go to my desk.
Look at pictures of my family on my wall.
Look at my two Gods: Paul Auster and Godtopus.
Stick my fingers together with double contact tape.
Wonder what Judge Judy would do.
Look at my Chaplin posters on the wall to remember why I'm working here.
Sneak up on Paty.
Wake Jimmy and laugh at his startled face.
Go out for a smoke.
Look at the street.
Take pictures of my reflection on the glass, then walk inside.
Stare at the yummy things my boss ordered to celebrate the birthday of the dean's secretary. Focus on the ice-cold champagne.
Drink champagne (3 glasses, in office hours. Yay.)
Admire the yummy sandwiches and cookies.
Look up pictures of skinny self from years ago after consuming sandwiches and cookies.
Admire the sneakers my boss pretends to ignore.
Nap on the desk.
Stare at the ceiling.
Doze off on my chair.
And tomorrow it starts all over again.
Monday, January 26, 2009
My vacation starts next week, meaning Friday is my last day of work. I'm fucking sick and tired of coming to the office and do absolutely nothing.
I started doing Pilates (thanks, youtube) on Saturday and everything hurts, but it feels good. I figured I needed to be healthy, considering I've been losing about 2 pounds a week for no reason whatsoever. Bullshit, I know what it's all about. But I'm so tired of talking about it I don't even wanna go into specifics. OK, fine. I miss my best friend. Boo-hoo, poor me.
I wanna go hohohohohohohohohohohoooooome..........
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I read the whole thing and stumbled upon many "I slept with my bf/gf's best friend - my best friend's gf/bf" stories. I'm not passing judgment, but I'm curious about this. Whenever one of my friends start dating a guy he immediately becomes a Ken doll to me. He's completely asexual and off limits. If they break up they remain asexual Ken dolls. They're just not an option. I may have wondered what they look like naked, but I do that with every guy that passes by. Besides, whenever I catch myself thinking about them naked I immediately picture them having sex with my friends, and that is just too much for a recovering Catholic like myself to handle. Friends, naked, having sex???? I try not to say "eww" very often, but, gosh darnit, EEEEEHEHEHHEHEHHEEEEWWWWW!
It's not that hard for me to apply the asexual Ken doll rule. I don't really have to think about it; it's more of a reflex. But, hey, you never know for how long you'll stay on your high horse. Hopefully, when it comes to this particular issue, I'll never fall off.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
So, I had lunch with her last Sunday and afterwards we chilled on her bed and watched the movie. As the minutes went by I knew exactly when she'd laugh, cry, and make that "tsk-tsk-too-doo" sound moms and dads do when they dance. Turns out I was right every single time. Whenever an "emotional" scene would take place I'd glance at her and notice her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She cries with EVERYTHING. She's that lady that cries with soap operas she doesn't even watch. Oh, and watching When a Man Loves a Woman? Forget about it; she's already crying by the opening credits. I'm not exaggerating.
I love watching Terms of Endearment with her, too. It's not just a movie I enjoy, penned and directed by one of my all-time favorite writer/directors, but whatching it with my mom gives it extra value. I gave her the movie Venus for her birthday, but I didn't watch it with her. She said she'd enjoy it.
My mom is pretty cool. She's a very good and generous mother in law, too. And she's well aware of this. She's constantly saying, "is there anyone more charismatic than me?", half kidding, naturally. The thing is she is pretty charismatic, and people immediately warm up to her because she's very receptive and goes out of her way to make people comfortable, something that has rubbed off on me. My dad is more about being master and commander: whatever he says goes and isn't questioned. My mom is more willing to bend the rules to make somebody happy, regardless of what people may think.
I'm planning on spending a week with her this summer. We'll do fun stuff and talk and drink and eat fine things. She's an excellent listener, so I expect us to have lots of late night conversations. I'm looking forward to it.
Oh, and check this out: this is my mom when she was in her very early twenties. Can you say Classic Hollywood?
Friday, January 09, 2009
I loved "Volver" and I think the poster kicks ass. I was also thinking of mocking all those movie posters that look like this:
But then it'd only be pictures of me. Lame. Or self-indulgently funny? Or maybe we should have everyone pick 12 movies we all like and use those as references.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
It's been a lovely couple of days. I must thank everyone involved for typing "tacky" on Google and taking the time to classify tackiness. Because it can be classified and ranked and scored, as Miss Nosek will do tomorrow.
Now that that's off my chest, I present to you..........
The contest will end this Friday, and we must pressure Stacey Nosek to be the judge. She MUST post the winner on Pajiba Love.
Here's my newest find. I don't know if it's tacky, but it sure is original. I have four words for you:
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
You think you know tacky? Ha! Whale tail + Tramp stamp = Yo' mamma.
Need help around the kitchen? Worry not, lady! Fisher's here to help you. With his long (but not thick) rod.
And last but not least... Tired of being the only girl in your posse whose camel toe just won't show? We have just the thing for you! It's... Camel Toe Cup*!!! Just put it over your hoo-haa and get ready to turn some heads!
I've got more, but I'm saving them for later.
*Yes, this is a real product. There's mild, medium and cougar. I wonder which one CoCo uses?
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
So, I've come up with a better contest, and I'm sure I will win this time. If I don't win, then at least I'll know we made each other laugh, and that's good. (Yes, I'm not really that competitive, which explains why I'm so happy.)
So the contest consists in finding the TACKIEST thing (dress, table, ornament, etcetera...) around the internetsssss and post it on your blog.
Here's my submission:
Why is this tacky? Well, first of all, it's a unicorn.
Second, it's a unicorn with... cheetah fur.
Third, the cheetahcorn is wearing eye shadow.
Fourth, believe it or not, this is a calendar. Imagine 12 months of chetahcorns! You know there was a siamese cat/unicorn in there somewhere.
Start googling, people. It's on.