My god, another shockingly accurate internet quiz! The implications are terrifying; imagine our deepest secrets laid bare at the whim of anonymous, random Blogthings!
You Are Coffee Bubble Tea
You are a delightful contradiction. You’re always trying to have the best of both worlds!
You defy convention and expectations. You do things your way just because you can.You are energetic and unapologetically enthusiastic. You always have something to be hyper about.
You go nonstop until you crash. You’re pretty good at wearing yourself out.
I saw this embroidered Marilyn Monroe quote done by Rosie Geissler on TheDailyWhat and decided it went perfectly with my Mylene Farmer post from yesterday. Monroe was never the most independent of women, but after a very rocky youth, she did develop a strong sense of self and in her maturity if she chose to be dependent on men, well, it was her choice to make.
Goodbye Norma Jean, we never knew you embroidered at all
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.
So much better than the Skytrain, even if they are starting to put liquor stores at the stops. When they get a bar car, call me. I’ll probably be off the diet by then.
The Cthuloid Cabazon Floyd; now it all makes so much sense!
Many warnings have we uttered. Many Cassandra-like cries have we cried to the oblivious masses. Not once, not twice, nay, not even thrice have we attempted to spread the truth about these malevolent, trembling mole-rats. We have shouted from the rooftops and twittered from the back alleys yea unto an thousandtimes, but have ye listened?
The Hell ye have.
we must strike back in the daytime, while they are trapped in purses around the globe
Let me give it to you straight, people: Chihuahuas are not simply evil, snappish, inbred yap machines, they are the spawn of the Great Old Ones themselves, come to Earth to subjugate mankind.
The woman dropped off 33 chihuahuas on Wednesday and nine more on Thursday morning. One of the chihuahuas gave birth to a puppy on Thursday, bringing the total to 43. All but six of the dogs are under the age of two…
and all but two of them needed spaying/neutering, and, in true Cthulhuonic fashion, they were deeply inbred, with all the revolting mental and physical deformities that go with that unspeakable aberration. But, right, I already TOLD you they were Chihuahuas. What’s most alarming is the number of commenters to whom the same descriptors can be applied.
You rarely see Rottweiler people getting pissy about people who don’t like Rotties. When was the last time you saw some undersexed, overmedicated chainsmoker screaming at someone because that person said their Labrador was “not a dog” eh? EH? The Labrador, you see, is a dog, as is the Rottie. As are the mutts at the pound, and the surly curs of Cairo back alleys, but as are not the tiny, fanged demons known as Cthihuahuas. They have obviously infiltrated the minds of the unwary, or the weak, and seized control
Long have we known, but been unable to prove to the doubters (a situation with which this far-ahead-of-its-time-and-incidentally-overhyphenated blog is all-too-familiar). Now, finally, from a remote Antipodean outpostnot terribly far from the last reported sighting of The Great Cthulhu comes photo proof:
raincoaster 