And I would like you to know that I have taken these matters into consideration, given them my due dilligence, and come to the following conclusion: back the fuck off, dude.
First of all, you don't know me like at all. I fucking hate LOLcats, and I can has NO cheezburger.
As for my computer addiction, so the fuck what?? I'm also addicted to:
But I didn't get any goddammed intervention notes about any of that shit?!
And, believe me, the world does not miss me. The world is sick of me. The world wants my ass to shut the fuck up (you read those Michael Phelps haterade comments???). And the world especially does NOT give a shit if I show up to a motherfucking meetup group or not.
So, thanks for your note...and for your concern.
(EPIC FAIL)
rubba dub dub dub (dot dear famous asshole dot blogspot dot com), me
Dude, you're seriously onto something...like for really reals.
I love the shit out of almost everything on your site, so virtual fist bumps from one foul-mouthed blogger bitch to another. But true confessions: nothing brings me quite as much joy as your semi-regular Photoshop Awards posts.
For those that might be unfamiliar, Photoshop Awards pays homage to the latest and greatest photoshop feats of fabulosity in the world of celebu-tainment. Generally, we're talking mag covers here, but album covers, publicity photos and the like are also in the mixx.
My affection for the Photoshop Awards, I think, stems mostly from the fact that despite my overtly jaded, bitter and mostly unforgiving outlook toward celebs, I'm genuinely surprised when you point out that Mariah doesn't actually look like this in real life. I'm a smart girl, really I am--but somehow I'm always left thinking, wow...photoshop?? Really?
I mean, like take Jennifer Hudson here. Who knew you cold go from pretty (but pleasantly plump) to this with a few choice clicks:
Deep down, I think most girls are thinking: "I'd photoshop my ass up all day, all night and twice on Sunday in order to look as good as these bitches." Duh. I mean, obvs, we all want to always look our best and, so that got my wheels spinning: maybe....just maybe photoshop is the answer to all of our problems?
So, here's what I'm thinkin: Photoshop Phreaks 4 U dot com. It's catchy, right?
We can hire a team of Indian personal photoshop assistants who will be standing by 24 hours a day to take any normal photo from flab to fab in 2 to 4 hours or less. We can charge--I don't know--$19.95 a photo?
I mean, we'd be offering the world-at-large a public service by basically ensuring that everyone on the planet looks way better than they actually look in real life. If we do this right, we could single-handedly wipe out ugly and/or fat once and for all!
As an experiment, I took the following original photo of my next door neighbor Lisa:
Then I sent it off to PhotoshopPhreaks4u.com and clickity-click-click, here's how it looks now:
As you can see, the results are nothing short of spectacular!
Like a born again Christian Evangelist, I have seen the divine magic of photoshop firsthand. And I for one don't ever wanna go back.
I have just sent off all of my wedding photos, yearbooks, baby pictures and photo ID's to immediately be photoshop-ified up. I asked for the platinum "Mariah Carey" bikini package (this is where all photos are reworked to include you in a bikini, no matter what the circumstance or setting), so I hope to enter a few in your next batch of Photoshop Award contenders.
Anyway, Michael, give it a long hard think. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure this idea = gold.
Yet again, Kanye has just T-O-T-A-L-L-Y made my motherfuckin' day!
True Confessions: I've gotten a bit of a reputation recently amongst co-workers, friends and family, for my over the top KanYAYing (for those that don't know, this is the act of heaping relentless praise on any Kanye condoned product, song, idea, or hot semi-naked bitch that may or may not have recently been featured on his blog). Just the other day, for instance, I was involved in an intense game of Connect Four with some dude I met in front of Nathan's at the food court in the South Street Seaport Mall, and he was all: "If you're just gonna keep Yay-ing Kanye all day, then I'm gonna be on my way, honey" And I was all: "Uhm, you sound like an idiot dude...its KanYaying, not Yay-ing Kanye."
Anyway. Uhm, I wanted to just report to anyone else out there who was taking on the BE MORE LIKE KANYE challenge, (and I truly hope that I'm speaking to like hundreds of millions of you), I've been taking the BeKANYE tablets now for a couple of days and I'm feeling fucking phenomenal!
If you are already on medication, however, and are at all concerned about whether these BeKANYE tablets are right for you or not, I completely understand. I spoke AT LENGTH with my GP regarding whether or not these were a good fit for me in light of my currently vast prescription cocktail. Luckily for you, (i mean, like just in case you're too poor to afford a real doctor), they have a handy readiness quiz on the BeKANYE website that you can take to see if this program is a good fit for you:
Don't tell me what your answers were (!), but how did everyone do??
Like, here's some shit that's happened to me since I've been snarfing my BeKANYE tabs...facts are facts:
*I was on the subway this morn and some dude got up, freeing up his seat. This older woman started walking over and frontin' like she was gonna take the seat and I was like: BACK THE FUCK OFF BITCH, THAT SEAT IS MINEZ. YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM!? *I had this big deadline at work yesterday, and like right before all my shit was due, I walked right the fuck out of the office, got myself a mani/pedi, then sat at Starbucks for my free two hours updating my Myspace page. *Some homeless guy said to me: "DAMN GIRL, you got it goin onnnnnnnnnn to-day!" and then tried to lick my cheek.
And that's been like just the past two days!! You do the motherfuckin math...seems like BeKANYE is the god damned way to be.
I'm guessing you've probably all heard about Perez Hilton's new subscription phone service by now, but just in case, let me fill you in: basically you send that fat, pink-haired, annoying punk $5 a month, and then he calls you every once in awhile with an annoying, screech-filled recorded gossip news flash.
In case you're wondering why the fuck you'd pay that douche for something he gives you for free on his own damn website every day, you're not alone.
However, as committed as we are to remaining on the front lines of the latest technology trends, Dear Famous Asshole decided to launch a competitive service to Hilton's "Gossip on the Go" program which we are fondly calling "Eh, Whatever, Blah, Blah, Blah."
Always looking towards the needs of you, our loyal readers, our service is far more in depth and comprehensive than Hilton's. In fact, we will call your asses up to 8 times a day (Perez only calls you 8 times a month, losers). We won't be using any special sound effects, are not at all down with enthusiasm or fake screechy queen-isms, and can't promise that we'll actually give a shit about any of the stuff that we're calling you about. But at least you'll know what's up when someone at your staff meeting says "Hey, does anyone know what Jamie Lynn Spears named her stupid baby??"
Best of all, this shit is totally 100 puhr-cent FREE.
You can even take a taste test by clicking the blue arrow on our handy mp3 player below:
[UPDATE: We gave Eh, Whatever, Blah, Blah, Blah a good old college try and made it through one whole day of riveting gangsta gossip messaging. Then we started getting barraged by emails from all of our homies on Facebook who were pissed off that we were neglecting our ongoing Scrabulous games...and so we decided to suspend the service. No need for a money back guarantee, though, since you never paid us shit to begin with you cheap ass motherfuckers.]
I'm not being sarcastic or snarky either...I mean it. You're like a living, breathing marketing experiment and the world is your willing puppet. Your name is Brian and you grew up suburban fucking Ohio. Mix one part pancake make-up and black eyeliner with two parts naming yourself after a serial killer and, voila...you're a superstar. Throw in some anti-christ BS for good measure, talk about blood a lot in your "songs" and stop eating = e-d-g-y. And now you're making fucking Absinthe?! Absinthe made in Switzerland in some dark, dank castle I presume?
Totally.
Brilliant.
Let's list your qualifications for Absinthe maker: you are weird, dark, scary and wear black smudgy make-up. I'm sure you booze it up constantly, so I will spot you that. Based on this formula, I'm volunteering myself to endorse and/or develop my own line of the following products: Spanx (chubby thighs, check!); Goody hairbands (constant ponytail, check!); the SAT's (I'm smart, uh huh!); Pinkberry flavor (ob-sessed!).
Anyway, let it be known, Bri-guy, that Mansinthe is both completely ridiculous and Shear Genius.
Not to brag or anything, but I was like 24 years ahead of this glasses trend thing. I was rockin' these puppies in fourth grade. FOURTH grade. Mmm Hmm.
Just sayin'.
Give me a jingle if you're ever looking for a new trend spotter.
* =A verified card carrying asshole ---------------------------------------- ** = Not necessarily an asshole all the time, but sometimes and/or usually an asshole ---------------------------------------- *** = Not an asshole at all. In fact, I may like this person. Maybe a lot. Like, more than a friend. ---------------------------------------- *? = I don't know this person well enough to rate their ass-hole-i-ness
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