Category Archives: beauty

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Christmas Snooze

Meerkats. Behind every conspiracy theory of the last two thousand years. Fucking meerkats.

Meerkats. Behind every conspiracy theory of the last two thousand years. Fucking meerkats.

Yes, I’m in a bit of a mood, and my internal editor who whispers “perhaps you could rephrase that in a more positive way, perhaps by deleting the word ‘motherfucker’” is AWOL until I get my strength back, and yes, I’ve been insulting people’s cats left and right (I don’t think they mind, actually, but HELLYEAH the people sure do, even though I’m pretty sure cats can’t read, except Abyssinians), but even so I’m not sure I have enough bitter gall within me (impacted or not) to do justice to the following video.

WARNING: repeated viewing could induce diabetes.

This makes Alvin and the Chipmunks sound like Pantera.

It makes Thomas Kinkade look like Anselm Kiefer.

This is the Christmas song for people who consider Enya “bad*ss.” And spell it that way.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is “The Christmas Shoes“. Apparently there’s also a tv special, and what they put in it to stretch it out to an hour is anyone’s guess, because basically what you’ve got here is dumbed-down O. Henry run through a White, Middle-Class American Who Admires Black People Especially Oprah and That Other One, Oh Yeah, the President, filter. Production values by Vaseline, Inc.

Yes, that sentence parses, by the way.

I suppose, now that I’ve pondered awhile and self-medicated with repeated viewings of Christmas in Hollis, I suppose I can find it in my worldview to picture a meaningful, even beneficent, role for this song: as an emetic, to bring sweet release and relief after a toxically-enthusiastic consumption of holiday treats. To that end, I present the lyrics, downloaded from (where else?) CowboyLyrics.com.

It was almost Christmas time
There I stood in another line
Trying to buy that last gift or two
Not really in the Christmas mood
Standing right in front of me
Was a little boy waiting anxiously
Pacing around like little boys do
And in his hands he held
A pair of shoes

And his clothes were worn and old
He was dirty from head to toe
And when it came his time to pay
I couldn’t believe what I heard him say

Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus, tonight.

He counted pennies for what seem like years
And cashier says son there’s not enough here
He searched his pockets franticly
And he turned and he looked at me
He said Momma made Christmas good at our house
Though most years she just did without
Tell me Sir
What am I gonna do?
Some how I’ve got to buy her these Christmas shoes

So I layed the money down
I just had to help him out
And I’ll never forget
The look on his face
When he said Momma’s gonna look so great.

Sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful,
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.

I knew I caught a glimpse of heavens love as he thanked me and ran out.
I know that God had sent that little boy to remind me
What Christmas is all about

Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight

I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight

And she will, if I have anything to say about it.

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Research paper of the day: snot otter sperm

le otter du snot

snot that important, really

So apparently the Snot Otter, aka Hellbender aka Devil Dog is endangered. “Very little reproduction has taken place in recent years.” Well, looking at one, I can believe it; he’s totally let himself go. Get that salamander to a gym, give him a good skin care routine and equip him with a few dance moves and next stop: PlentyOfFish!

This was an addendum to a research post about hipsters linked to by Gawker, but thank god for once I read right to the bottom. It is possibly the most interesting research notation I’ve read since the Journal of Irreproducible Results posted the Psychology of the Necronaut.

From Miller-McCune Magazine:

“Dr. Agnew and Dr. Carleton’s expertise and equipment were invaluable in helping us validate and document the results of our initial cryopreservation trials with the hellbender semen.” — Sally Nofs of the Nashville Zoo, on efforts to develop conservation techniques to sample and freeze sperm from the last surviving hellbender salamanders — the largest kind in North America — which are also affectionately known as “snot otters” or “devil dogs.” Note: We made none of this up.

I believe you.

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Blanket Octopus Unicorn Chaser

Blanket octopus and NO THAT IS NOT A MICHAEL JACKSON REFERENCE

Blanket octopus and NO THAT IS NOT A SNEAKY MICHAEL JACKSON REFERENCE

Been way too much celebrity around these parts for comfort lately (not that I’m not grateful for three rt’s from John Cusack this morning) so I thought I’d flush out the pipes with this gorgeous beast, surely as lovely in its own way as Paul Newman in his, although far less likely to send underprivileged kids to camp or manufacture (excellent) salad dressing, and far more likely to serve as an entree in a Greek restaurant.

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Avatars of Feminine Power: Bad Role Models

Endora was the shizznit and don't you even TRY to say different or I'll turn you into a newt. A special-needs newt

Endora was the shizznit and don't you even TRY to say different or I'll turn you into a newt. A special-needs newt

One of an ongoing series featuring Angie Dickinson, Suzanne Pleshette, Catherine Deneuve, Catwoman, Britney Spears, Mylene Farmer, Vanessa Paradis, an Iraqi police woman in training, Rembrandt’s Pallas Athena, Barbie, and now, Endora from Bewitched.

I always wanted to grow up to be her, and I think I may have finally succeeded. Now to get my hands on that wardrobe!

Pucci Galore!

What I like about her is…seriously, everything. I even dyed my hair red for a couple of years! She takes no prisoners, takes no shit, takes names and kicks ass, and she was right: her daughter married a total dork. Derwood was a feeb. I’m sorry, all you Derwoods or Darvins or Dickwads or Whatevers out there, but you’re just not good enough and it would be cruel to let you go through life in a fog of self-delusion, correct?

Endora would NEVER stoop to psychoactives. Other than Martinis, of course

Endora would NEVER stoop to psychoactives. Other than Martinis, of course

Do you know the Sedona Method? Its aim is to give insecure, dweebish people a feeling of accomplishment. Regardless of whether or not they have, in fact, accomplished anything.

You can see why Endora and I would have a problem with that, yes? [clue for Derwoods: say Yes]

So, from Endora I have taken my vociferous contempt for the inferior, my belief that if one is magical enough one can get away with anything, and my taste for earrings of true splendiferositude.

Endora enjoys Champagne mainly on the plane over Spain

Endora enjoys Champagne mainly on the plane over Spain

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Endora and me: can we help it if we're fabulous?

Endora and me: can we help it if we're fabulous?

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Icons of Chick Power: Mylene Farmer

Now, I don’t like to brag (as all my millions of fans know) but I’m kind of a big deal on Twitter, and you may make all of the one-eyed-man-in-the-kingdom-of-the-blind references you like, but it won’t change the fact that I’m the queen of the 140-character realm. One of the reasons for my vast popularity and nearly unstoppable power on the platform of choice for the short of attention span is this video: Mylene Farmer‘s L’Amour N’Est Rien or Love is Nothing.

If you clicked to play the video, then how it contributed to my sudden popularity will come as no surprise, for it is nothing less than a striptease in which the chanteuse gets her kit, as they say, if not her rocks, entirely off. For those of you who did NOT click to play the video, we’ll wait while you rush back to do that.

It’s not the first time we’ve featured the Divine Miss MF around these parts (nor even, it seems, the first time we’ve posted this video, although the other version is down). What elevates this from mere cheesecake to feminine empowerment? It’s a fine line, and Farmer walks right up to it, puts her toe across and then snaps it back in a Fosse-like flourish. To me, what elevates it is, as always with Farmer, the lyrics; she is happy to play on her looks, which she knows are exquisite, and use her body as honey to draw the audience in so it’s at least minute 3:20 before they realize they’ve been listening to a song about how women don’t need to be trapped by the old fairy tales of chivalric, perfect love, or the new ones of political correctness. They’re both cages: one gilded, one woven of hemp, and she doesn’t need anyone’s permission to say she’ll have nothing to do with either of them. She is free to say what she wants, free from the need to apologize for it.

Contrast and compare avec: Vanessa Paradis:

And the lyrics: L’amour N’est Rien

Obsessed with the worst

And not very verbose

The least of my sighs

Turn metaphysical

I have in my heaven

Tons of stars

Hanging on my wings

And down falls the angel Gabriel

Obsessed with the worst

A little too physical

The desire to quiver

Is pharaonic

Fed up with asceticism

My life is wrapped in darkness

For me without the tongue

Wihtout sex I get weak

Love is nothing

When it’s politically correct

You like one another

You don’t even know

when you hurt them

Love is nothing

When everything is sexually correct

You get bored

You yell for it to stop

Life is nothing

When it’s lukewarm

It consumes itself

and shakes your blood

In cigarette ashes

Life is good

It’s made of honey

When it’s acid with dynamite

Those who love me, follow me

Obsessed with the worst

And not very verbose

The least of my sighs

Turn metaphysical

I have in my head

Tons of pirouettes

The leap of the angel

Doesn’t seem strange to me

Obsessed with the worst

And not very verbose

To share my laughs

Rather plutonic

I have in my sphere

A greenhouse effect

My blood’s boiling

I’m seething about everything

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