A Little of This, A Little of That…

Major rant coming on, then the news!

First, a word about blogging, blogs and their readers. While I love reading the blogs I subscribe to (they’re all so good in their own ways), I hate the arrogance that some folks on WP have with regards to allowing people to ‘like’ a post and subscribe to a blog. Some WP bloggers have disabled both options for reasons that I don’t quite understand, but I’m slowly beginning to see that it’s ego run amok. The author is forcing you to comment on a post you like instead of pressing the ‘like’ button–which to me–is classic passive-aggressive behavior. This is becoming more popular for some reason, and I’ve noticed that at least half of the blogs I subscribe to are starting to do this. It’s such a pain in the ass that I’m going to stop reading the blogs that I can’t participate with in the way I desire.

Why wouldn’t the author of a blog want readers to like a post they’ve worked tirelessly on? Why have the only option for subscribing to a blog via email? See, that shit drives me nuts. I don’t like clogging up my email with alerts from WP–even though I only do that for a select few. I like having all of my subscriptions in one place–in my WP Reader. Maybe this is done by some WordPressers because their worlds don’t exist much outside of WordPress and this is their way of controlling things. I don’t know. All I know is it’s so gauche, and I’m growing weary of it.

<<<END RANT>>>

It’s been some time since I’ve done a news round-up. Why? Well, the news has been a major doggie-downer as of late so the thought of writing about it was causing me to feel like I was going through heroin withdrawal. I’m not a huge fan of vomiting, writhing on the floor and soiling my knickers uncontrollably. If that’s your thing, then hey, knock yerself out.

But, I’m holding off on having those things happen to me until I’m at least 90 years old.

On to the news.

Have a piece of schadenfreude pie, Joe Francis.

Apparently, Mr. “Girls Gone Wild” and all-around douchebag, has his knickers in a bunch because someone stole his iPad that contained a sex tape that he made with his gal pal! Francis is quite steamed about it because the thief is currently shopping said sex tape around to the highest bidder. Waah waah waah!

Joe Francis and his co-star. (photo courtesy of LAist.com)

Joe Francis and his co-star. (photo courtesy of LAist.com)

Francis is the emotionally retarded chap who made underage titty flashing the new thing to aspire to for so many girls who consider “cracker” to be a term of endearment and who frequent spring break getaways like South Padre Island, Ft. Liquordale, and the like. Oh, and he’s been in trouble with the law–he doesn’t like to pay taxes, can’t comprehend the meaning of ‘consent’ and doesn’t quite seem to glean what ‘underage’ means exactly–just to name a few. Oh for fun, get on the google machine and type in ‘Steve Wynn vs. Joe Francis’ and you’ll read some of the best unintentional comic material ever.

 

Question: What comes with an $800 sex toy?

Also, I hate it when this happens. See folks, this is why I keep my sex toys in a locked box in my panic room.

Bravo to Spain for taking a stand on dog poop scofflaws. You know, in Chicago, I think we should have the option of smearing the dog feces on the owners OR smearing them on a Cubs/Sox/Hawks/Bears/Bulls jersey in front of the owner. It all depends on which team the owner supports, and the messier the poop, the better. That’ll never happen since our sleazoid of a mayor is too busy engaging in a circle jerk with no-bid city contractors and parking meters companies.

This made me smile. China Eastern Airlines is getting all of their flight attendants trained in the ancient Chinese secret art of Kung Fu, as a way to protect themselves against hijackers. Tis a noble effort and I had no idea CEA was a target for hijackers. I do hope they’ll channel the surprisingly un-Chinese looking Kwai Chang Caine whilst unloading a high-kick to a hijacker’s noggin.

(courtesy retroland.com)

(courtesy retroland.com)

However, I have a sinking feeling it’ll be more like this:

As for the ear worm, you’re welcome.

 

February Can Blow Me

Well, February did blow but not in the way we all know and love.

I got nothing out of it except that I got to celebrate the 18th anniversary of my 29th birthday with some friends/family (got an iPad out of it–SCORE), learned that I’m a reporter/writer/editor and NOT a research editor. and was provided with even more evidence that I need to live in warmer climes and take bets on hermit crab races.

While I was reeling after the latest shit sandwich of a temp job that ended up with me ‘not being a good fit’ (whatever the fuck that means), a few awesome stories almost got past my radar.

The first is my fave. I don’t know how else to describe this particular yarn except, well, to wonder why I am not a drug addict after reading such a tale.

From Oddity Central.

Indian Sculptor Makes Creepy Bust of Favorite Politician from His Own Blood

My head hurts now.

(courtesy of FooYah.com)

(courtesy of FooYah.com)

Apparently, some loyal constituent in the world’s largest democracy, decided it would be neato to pay homage to his fab fave politico by sculpting a bust of said pol. Nice and not that unheard of in this day and age. However, busts of this sort are normally sculpted out fo marble, or stone or clay. Maybe even shit if certain materials are not abundant.

But, this particular bust was made out of … wait for it … BLOOD. (Thank god my gag reflex has calmed considerably after my years of being bulimic because my computer would be covered in puke right now)

Read on…

“An Indian man known only as Hussaini has recently unveiled a shocking work of art – a bust of J. Jayalalitha, Chief Minister of the Tamil Nadu state, made from 11 litres of frozen human blood, donated by him and 32 of his students.

Apparently, nothing shows admiration for a person like making a creepy sculpture of them from human blood. At least that’s what Hussaini, a sculptor and archery teacher from Chennai, must have thought when he got the idea to create a bust of Chief Minister J. Jayalalitha out of his own frozen blood, for her 65th birthday. The noted artist wanted to thank the politician for being the “most sports loving CM of India” and for her support to his archery association, and since he had a few liters of his own blood stored for special occasions, he decided to put it to good use. You see, Hussaini has had his blood drawn at three-month intervals, over the last eight years, waiting for an opportunity to use it as a medium for his sculpture. But he only had 6.5 liters of blood, and this special project required 11. Luckily, his 32 archery students were more than willing to donate the extra 4.5 liters needed to complete the project.”

Oh no, not just Hussaini’s blood is in this masterpiece, but the blood of his archery students too. There are so many jokes there that my mind can’t handle the overflow, and my stomach is starting to churn, so the need to down Maalox by the gallon starts NOW.

I know you’re all probably wondering how the entire fuck he did this, so grab a pen and paper and write it down. Or, to really get in the mood, you may want to write in your own blood.

“To create his blood sculpture, the artist first created a made one from clay. He then prepared a silicone mold, encased it in a hard outer shell and filled it with the 11 liters of blood. The mold was finally frozen at -27 degrees Celsius, for two months. On the day of the unveiling, Hussaini revealed the other big idea behind his plasma artwork – blood donation. “If I can organize 11 liters of blood, then every other citizen can follow suit and save many lives,” he said.”

I hope Hussaini realizes that donating blood to make art is not the same as donating blood to, you know, save lives.

(Courtesy of New India Express)

(Courtesy of New India Express)

I hope the recipient has proper storage for this since India is not exactly known for its mild climate and low humidities. Ahem. Craaaap–can’t get that image out of my noggin. Fuuuuck.

On a somewhat happy note, the Chief Minister was none too pleased with this tribute and advised Hussaini to never do this again.

I hope he heeds her advice.

The parade of weird continues in the south Pacific.

Indonesian mother kills son over ‘small penis’

From Raw Story.

Apparently, whilst mum was prepping her darling son for his circumcision, she said “Fuck it, I’ll just kill him because his peen is so wee, he’s in for a lifetime of hell because of it.”

And she did.

Nothing else can be said about it by your’s truly here.

According to one of my fave websites, The Sartorialist, these are the penny loafers to own. Of course, they can’t be bought stateside, so you have to wing on over to Milan to purchase them.

(Courtesty of The Sartorialist)

(Courtesty of The Sartorialist)

Not your style, eh? Well shit howdy, at least they ain’t made out of blood–that’s enough to get me to buy ’em and I don’t even wear penny loafers.

Body shots

It’s been a while since I’ve done a ‘musings on random shit’ post. It’s not due to a lack of material because I’ve had some choice stories fly through my RSS feed. Sadly, I’ve been neglecting my writing since arriving in LA because of more pressing issues — both good and bad, of course. Today I decided it was time to dial up the snark and loosen up the reins. So, while I was browsing the news items earlier, I came across pieces that caused various reactions.

Have fun!

First, I love fashion. It may not look like it by the way I dress, but I admire those who design odd frocks that people want to wear. Wait … wait .. design EXPENSIVE, odd frocks that people want to wear. I understand that most haute couture pieces are works of art. I get it. I don’t admire those who wear these pieces — please. You’re not all that special. Those who deserve props are the designers. After all, they’re the delicate geniuses who came up with the designs in the first place. That, my friends, takes huge cajones.

So, imagine my surprise while I’m listening to the Dead and combing through fashion week photos on the Internets when I spied this lovely humdinger of a dress or … I … don’t … know …

Will someone please remind me to get my high beams checked? Thanks. Come to think of it, it IS a bit nippy outside today. BOO YAH! Does this dress make me look fat? Hey now! Time to pack my hips in ice. Whoa now!  I don’t know what else to say except that boobs are lost on some people.

And this photo reminds me too much of this shot. And no, I’m not cooking meth in my kitchen. Or snorting blow fish, I just have one of those types of imaginations.

Onward.

There are all sorts of fitness crazes out here. So far, I’ve run across the basics like yoga and boot camps, but I’m thrilled to see more and more MMA places joining the fray. Same with Pilates — not the fake, mat Pilates but the reformer, hardcore kind. However, during my travels, I’ve had fliers stuck on my windshield for different pole dancing schools in the LA area. Yep. My car. Not kidding. If the poor sap who’s being paid 8 cents an hour to litter cars with these brightly colored sheets of paper actually saw me, he’d probably run screaming from the parking lot and douse his eyes with bleach the first moment he had… just to get my visage out of his mental Rolodex. Can you blame him?

But I digress. I gotta give these ladies credit. It takes a lot of strength, flexibility and guts to do these moves. Couple that with being all nekkid and greased up, being pawed at by fat, married dudes from Rancho Cucamonga and you’ve got the recipe for major emotional fuckwittery. I’m sure what keeps these lasses going are the bills that get stuffed into their delicates, and the fact they get to wear some choice footwear. However, this little idea some uptight scaredy-twat is pushing inside the Beltway has bummed some of the ladies out big time.

Why didn’t I think of this?  Sometimes I don’t know where my head is at. Most electronic tablets only need one hand to use … yeah, you know where I’m going with this.

Next time I go to Florence, I’ll be sure to hit this museum because sometimes I’m not grossed out enough in my everyday life. Wonder which exhibit I’m speaking of? Here you go. Feel free to read more about it here.