When Unibloggers Unite

my story:



this past week i had the fine pleasure of visiting a few of our bloggy pals and former sf residents in nyc. it was audrey's 30th bday, so what better time to head out east for a brooklyn/boozy/friend/freezo fest. on friday night a bunch of us met up in williamsburg at union pool where project "hang out with colleen (our favorite little tornado) and try not to go crosseyed" took place. i have never been in a tornado. you see, i'm from california. perhaps if i'd done some research before meeting up i would have known that seeking refuge somewhere underground may have left me in better shape. but no. instead i handed the tornado $20, told her to buy me a vodka soda and whatever she wanted for herself. when i turn back around to see tequila town waiting for us i knew i was about to see the eye of the storm.



cab ride home is very fuzzy. i do remember waking up in audrey's room the next morning with an odd combination of her pj's and mine on. when getting up to look for my purse in all common areas and auds' room and not finding it i went into minor i'mafuckingidiotandleftmypurseatthebar-panic. claire (my former and audrey's current roomie) hollered that it was in her room. i went in to claim it and found it next to the pile of every article of clothing i was wearing from the night before. my panic attack was apparently all i had the energy for so i remained horizontal with no voice at all until 3pm when it was time to attempt to celebrate audrey's bday.

lesson learned: tornadoes are serious business. next time i will approach in a less amateur style. i will hunker down in my basement, curl up in my bathtub with a couch cushion over my head, or at least eat extra bread with dinner. luckily tornado colleen also comes with tons of hugs and laughs for days which makes all of the devastation totally worth it.

colleen's story:



After sitting at a bar bored to tears by a struggling musician, he and i (yes, i brought him. shut up.) head over the peach pit after dark (union pool) to meet up with "the gang". i spy stephanie and audrey and we bro-out for a bit and then before i know it, stephanie plants a jackson in my hand with free reign to do whatever i want with it!!! note to readers: if ever at a bar with me i do not advise you handing me cash. i pretend i'm a hilton and will ask the bartender what kind of bang i can get for my buck. all of my bucks. that aren't actually mine. so that is exactly what i did. and well, for twenty dollars you'll get a pabst, a vodka soda and two very large shots of tequila. i hope i left a tip. after i did half my shot and resisted my gag reflexes, i decided it was time to leave. i grabbed my "friend" and headed out.

once outside homeboy finally says something i can relate to, "i need a sandwich." so, we walk the two blocks to hana food and order some food. i gave him my cash and then went outside to smoke a cigarette on the bench and much to my delight there was a very sweet delivery man outside who was ready to chat. i'm not so sure what we talked about he but was "a total sweetheart" and just shy of 50 years old. when i was done with my cigarette i got up, took one step, or should i say misstep and fell face forward on the sidewalk. we're talking a full on face plant into cement. as drink drank drunk as i was, my reliable left hand was able to come inbetween me and a mouthful of missing teeth. i broke my fall, but just barely. no missing teeth, thank LBJ, but a large bump and cut on my eyebrow resulted, of course not until the next day, when i had feeling again. all i remember is the very nervous delivery man helping me up and asking if he needed to call 911.

folks, the moral of this story is don't fall on your face. and if you can't help it, hope that your hands will rise to the occasion and help you out on your way down.

Douchebag of the Week: Rick Perry

Since taking over the Governor's office of your favorite president and mine George W. Bush in 2000, Texas Governor Rick Perry has made some interesting contributions to society, particularly in the realm of capital punishment. Since the beginning of 2007 (that's January and February for those of you who are counting) the Lone Star State has "texecuted" (isn't that cute) seven people. In 2001 Mr. Perry also made the obvious decision to veto a bill that would ban the execution of the mentally retarded. Good work. I'm sure you're constituents are proud, especially the retarded ones.

bag-eye-nuh

i don't usually like to steal images from go fug yourself, but since i want to point out something entirely different than what they discussed, i felt like it was ok.

is it me or does KATE holmes cruise look like a giant vaginer?
and doesn't she also seem a bit timid or ashamed of her outfit?
or is she checking to see if another baby suri fell out of her labia?
did i go to far? sue me.

teen beat tuesday: oscar after parties

(LAURIN - the OC spoiler alert. don't read the first part of this post)

i've written about the hotness of the oc before. as you might have read in my eulogy to the OC, i was correct in predicting the earthquake, which did not send the OC babez into the ocean, but made sure that the cohens are now our neighbors to the east. i can't wait to stalk them. anyway, the OC is now gone, but not forgotten. seth cohen is now out on the town (seen below at the vanity fair oscars party), stoned out of his gourd and looking fine as sugar.

i'm not sure what kind of man can get away with wearing pleated 8th grade dance z-cavarichi civil war pants, but holy shits and giggles he looks like a bone-o-thon.

adam brody is out on the town looking so fresh and clean in promotion of his new movie, in the land of women, which me and my friends will be vaginating all over come april 20:

wtf of the day.

how is this woman who is married to the fresh prince and also the mom to that cute little brat from the pursuit of happyness...

...also this woman:

harry donger

under this leaf is a water weenie made of magic!

why does this remind me of "never ending story" and the horse that drowns in quicksand?

WTF kind of church has a seminar like this?

none other than san francisco's own journeysf, a casual contemporary christian church. sounds like a tag line for KOIT FM. i think i just found the lord and he's telling me to wear blow job lip gloss.

team RINKO!

nuff said.

Douchebag of the Week: Dick Cheney

We all know that Dick Cheney is the anti-christ and, true to form, even in the face of unprecedented low approval ratings for the President and the Bush Administration he continues to be a total fucktard. Earlier this week, Cheney criticized House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's opposition to Bush's Iraq war build up saying that it is playing into the hand of Al Quida. Seriously Cheney, its time for you to go ahead and tap out of life. No one is buying what your selling anymore. If you're really concerned with what is playing into the hands of Al Quida, then maybe you should take a long hard look in the mirror. Mother Jones reports that since the inception of the Iraq War--a war conceptualized, marketed and sold to the American public by Bush, Cheney & Co. to thwart terrorism has instead, increased terrorist attacks sevenfold worldwide. Chew on that Dick.

GNO: the aftermath

since it's a little slow in the "stuff to read" category around here, i'm going to give you something to look at. last saturday a group of us girls headed out for what's known as a GNO (girls night out, it has nothing to do with the gynecologist). we all scurried down to the marina to visit our newly remodeled favorite dance hovel called the hifi! if you don't live in san francisco, the marina is the spot where you live if you're 23 and move to san francisco to work at some kind of banking institution. or where you go if you're going to be 30 in a week and you want lots of sweaty men to talk to you and your friends. here are some of the specimens we encountered:

when lizzy drinks, someone gets to wear a backpack. in this case, he looked like a nascar driver.

tina and the singer of live were just chillin, with very aggressive mouths.

this might win the award for best photo ever. lizzy broing out with thom yorke and an italian soap star.

for some reason these guys didn't mind that i kept calling them harold and kumar. lindsay is stoked.

this is stephanie and someone i'll call vincent. i don't know if that was actually his name but he looks like vincent donofrio and he's wearing a turtle neck like artist vincent van gogh might have done.

this is blaine. his beamer is parked outside. later he will become werewolf.

remember in that prince song for batman called "bat dance" when someone (maybe it's from the actual movie) yells "THIS TOWN NEEDS AN ENEMA." exactly. and that other guy is just sweaty with razor sharp hair.

sorry the photos are so erin-heavy. i was holding the camera and was responsible for documenting the douchetards. here's vincent again. oh and the guy who tina ripped her arms off so she could him with them. see:

amputeena.

The first step is admitting you have a problem

Do you feel the need to constantly refresh your inbox? Are you clicking the send/receive button as often as you blink? It’s a major problem from which I’m sure many of my collogues suffer – email addiction.

Well, fear not my Gmail junkies and Hotmailheads. Say goodbye to those Yahoo yearnings, now there’s something to help: the new 12-step program for email addicts.

The first of the 12 steps is "admit that e-mail is managing you. Let go of your need to check e-mail every 10 minutes."

Every 10 minutes? Fuck that, I check email every 2 minutes. Or more. I’m ALWAYS checking my email. But I don’t see it as a major problem. And, whatever, I mean, I can totally quit whenever I want.

I guess I’m still in the denial stage. Perhaps it would help if I shared the story of my own personal struggle with email addiction...

It started out innocently enough, I got a Hotmail account in college. I used it to stay in touch with my long-distance friends, checking my inbox in the computer labs maybe once or twice a day. But after I graduated, I got my own computer, and I found myself spending more and more time on email, writing long messages to people I didn’t even like.

They say Hotmail is a transition service; it leads to the use of other, more hardcore email providers. And they’re right. Soon I created a Yahoo account, and before I knew it... I was on Gmail. Using it multiple times an hour. It all went downhill from there. I had more email addresses than I knew what to do with. I couldn’t remember my passwords for all of them NOR the answers to my personal security questions. What was my first pet’s name? I DON’T KNOW, GODDAMIT! I JUST DON’T KNOW!

Soon I found myself on the streets, begging for spare change to use in seedy Internet cafés. All I needed was to see an unread message in my inbox... I’d do anything for another email hit. I would lie, cheat, steal. Before I knew it, I was giving handjobs in parked cars in exchange for five minutes with someone’s Blackberry. If there was an attachment or video link, I’d throw in a blowjob.

That’s when I knew I’d hit rock bottom. I checked myself into the nearest email rehab facility, started going to meetings, and my life has been different ever since. Now when will they develop one of these programs for G-chat?

Burt Tijuana?

New Panther Video!

Check out Panther's new video: How Well Can You Swim (E* Rock Remix). It's off of his new album "Secret Lawns" that comes out March 6th on frykbeat. He's also playing in SF on march 8th at the Hemlock! Man, do I love this fella.

(thanks matt!)

Friday dating tip: Date a Hot Scot

Great news! I’ve come up with a solution to my waning ovary problem: This brilliant contest from Continental Airlines.

You may not be aware of my obsession with Scottish men, but let me explain that during my junior year abroad in Scotland, I basically managed to shag the entire country. My dating policy that year: If there’s a kilt, I’m under it.

They seriously don’t wear underwear underneath those things, I guarantee it.

I recommend that you keep that little factoid in mind when you peruse through this varied array of eligible Scots. I know I will tonight in bed while I watch each video clip and bring myself to multiple orgasms at the soothing sound of their husky brogue. I’m already excited.

My plan is to win the contest, travel to Scotland and nab me one of these Hottie-Scotties to be my baby-daddy. It shouldn’t be too difficult, the Scottish men love American women (we’re easy and can’t hold our whiskey). Then I can give birth to a baby in a kilt with a hot little accent.

And if there’s one thing all we women want, it’s a sexy baby.

(thanks for the link, Claire)

Farmer Mom

I don’t usually double up on posts between unibloggal and my other blog, but this one’s just too good to pass up.

As you all know, Valentines’ Day can be hard for people who aren’t in a serious relationship. As can turning 30, when you see some of your friends getting married and having babies, and you don’t yet feel responsible enough to get a puppy. But all this is made easier for folks like me who have such a caring and supportive mother.

I get home the night of Valentines’ Day, after watching a 3-hour performance of people reading out old unrequited love poems, break up emails, and rejection letters (all of which were hilarious by the way), to find the following email from my mother:

Dear Audrey,

You're going to be thirty soon, a big deal. It sounds pretty young to me now but it didn't then. So I feel like I should give you a big present. But what?

Maybe we should harvest your eggs now and not wait till later. You still have some good years left, of course, but this way there's no pressure. Maybe you won't meet Mr. Right till you're forty, and you wouldn't have to worry about fertility at all. Maybe you're thinking I'm crazy; maybe I am.

Well, it's just a suggestion and I won't be offended if you don't want to do it. What else do you want? See's Candy?

Love,
Mom

HARVEST MY EGGS?!? Because I’m so old and dried up and disgusting that it will be TEN YEARS before a worthy man wants to father my children?

A note to mothers everywhere: this is NOT what your daughter wants to hear on Valentines’ Day, ten days before her thirtieth birthday.

At least mom caveats it with, “You still have some good years left, of course, but this way there's no pressure.” Which I read as: “You still have some good years left...” As in: You’re not completely done for yet, honey. Some desperate man out there might want to have sex with you before your ovaries shrivel up into useless little prunes.

What? You don’t want to undergo a painful surgical procedure to capture what little remains of your fertile youth? How about a nice box of See’s Candy instead? Yes, that’s clearly the next logical choice.

Oh Mom, while I’m completely appalled because I know you meant this is utter seriousness, I’ve also enjoyed many hours of laughter since receiving this email. Thanks, I love you.

i'm not a huge fan...

... of ol' valentine's day. so full of mandatory flowers and ridiculous giant balloons. it's all kind of embarrassing. however, i will tell you what i do love about this day:
IT'S SWEET QUARBY'S BDAY, TOO!!
that's certainly enough to make up for all of the other silly b.s. that ensues on this holiday.

google stock plummets

because someone can't spell google.

Happy Valentine's Day!

According to today's New York Times "Older folks are friskier than ever, and it’s never too late to learn about safe sex." Holla!

This article is amazing, on several levels, but most especially for the priceless quotes:

"As the teacher, Monique Binford, delved into an unexpurgated discussion covering issues from vaginal dryness to Viagra, one student's cane clattered to the floor, another student adjusted his hearing aid and a third fidgeted in her orthopedic shoes."

When talking about condoms:

Bella Cohen, an 89-year-old widow in the front row, scoffed, "Oh yeah, by the thousands." Then, she inquired: "We can only use it if we have intercourse?"

Ms. Binford replied, "We can talk later if you're thinking of other uses."

And finally:

“I came in thinking that sex is the furthest thing from my mind, it’s just not important anymore,” Mrs. Cohen added. “But, you know, we’re not dead. There’s still a chance to learn.”

Ain't that the truth Mrs. Cohen. You go girl!

The ego has landed.... in rehab.

Happy birthday, and happy sobering-up, Robbie!

How could someone this hot have a drug problem? It just doesn’t seem fair. Look at that intense stare. He looks like a man with many demons, doesn't he? Many demons that I'd like to rip the clothes off of and make out with until my mouth hurts.

I met Robbie Williams on the rooftop bar of the downtown LA Standard Hotel once. He touched my left boob. I haven’t washed it since.

on newstands now!

stephanie's favorite magazine:


sactown for the sacfree!
(sorry for talking a lot today)

any bids?

how much do you think this highly authentic chair is worth?

i found it outside of the ladies room at my place of business.

an ode to the motorboat

sometimes howard stern's website (sorry, i'm obsessed) is a great resource for comic relief and also education:



this is a topless artie lang motorboating some sick woman. i love motorboats.

teen beat: only the total opposite of that

this is chyna doll after an appearance on the howard stern show. i am currently facing an onslaught of issues after looking at this for several minutes on end. a few of them are:
1. if you're going to stuff large water balloons into your boob sacks, can't you also lift them up so they don't look like saggy boulders?

2. why does she look like axl rose in like 10 more years?

3. in 10th grade when i worked at judy's in the mall, that microfiber fabric with diamondy buckles was really hot. especially in colors like red wine, forest green and beige. i think she must have shopped at south coast plaza in 1993. barf tastic.

4. her hand is bigger than her whole head.

5. oh, she's just so gross, i can't look anymore.

favorite grammy wtfs?

1. since when is jerry springer the drummer for the police?

2. why is this bitch so lucky? (robyn troup won a chance to sing/dance with justin and ti, two of the hottest dudes EVER).

3. since when is ludacris a total fox?

4. will.i.am's silver blue tooth ear decoration.

(photo to come, i just can't find one anywhere!)

5. chris brown is apparently on par with smokey robinson and lionel richie. i'm not sure how that can be the case considering he didn't sing at all during his performance. but holy crap, that dude can dance. video to come. for now, look at this photo! my uterus hurts.

the video, as promised:

look at those cute little kids! like kitties, i wish they stayed that small forever.

Tragic - in life and death.

I hate to be the one to post this morbid story, but R.I.P. Anna Nicole.

This ain't looking too good for Trim Spa... side effects may include, um, death.

It's always sad when someone dies. Granted, it's not like, Crocodile Hunter sad. But sad none the less.

Noise Pop 2007: Opening Night Party

noise pop '07 is coming up at the end of this month and to kick it off they're having a free party on feb 27th at mezzanine. just put your name on this list and you're good to go. rad.

teen beat tuesday: make me dinner

i love top chef. i am kind of obsessed with it. i still haven't seen the finale of season two and while trying to find a picture of sam the raging babeOthon (slide show here), i found out who won. i'm going to punch someone. if i was a man, i would punch the clown while looking at sam cook. he wears tribal tattoo shirts with cursive douche writing all over them. he also has a headband and a ponytail with sunglasses on his head, but he's fugging hot. he's tall and kind of dresses like bono, but i still like him. he makes delicious treats and almost punched that little fudge named marcel. here's a little image and some more info on this foxy dumb dumb:

Age: 28Hometown: Charlotte, NC; Currently resides in New York City, NY Profession: Executive Chef in New York City Education: Johnson and Wales University

Sam is handsome and charming and is sure to make temperatures rise in the kitchen. After being voted one of the ten sexiest chefs in New York, Sam is ready to be known for his culinary skills and not just his good looks. Born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina, Sam incorporates his southern charm and love of food into all of his dishes as executive chef in New York City.
This self-described "arrogant" chef likes the finer things in life and has no problem saying he is like a girl when it comes to shopping and grooming himself. Although people will automatically notice his handsome appearance, few know that he has also been a diabetic since he was a teenager and has to wear an insulin pump attached to his leg. Sam forges ahead and is sure to surprise the viewers on this season of "Top Chef."

(i apologize that unibloggal has been so boring lately, we've got jobs, ok?)

Meet Weasel!

I'd like to introduce you all to Weasel, the earless terrier. You can read this article about this sweet pup for some lunchtime heart melting.

(thanks newagey!)

outline-of-weiner-guitar-gate

in additional superbowl news, last night prince performed the best half time show ever. there were some wtf? moments including the presence of this woman who looked like hollywood from mannequin dressed in a white sausage casing. aaaand this:

do you see that dong outline? it's really his guitar, but holy crap. i'm beginning to think that the superbowl douche wads are planning this on purpose. between janet's nipple and prince's dong guitar, i think it's deliberate. here's the full video, ffwd until about 7 minutes in.

dream job!

last night after the super bowl had ended, the seven layer dip and veggie pigs in a blanket had been devoured, the beers chugged and the jagerator defiled, we flipped the channel to animal planet where we discovered the best job ever. inventor of tv shows for animal planet, who last night aired puppy bowl III.

and if you missed last year's action:

next year i want to be the referee.

mama mia

Dear Universal Pictures,

Sunday afternoon we lost two hours of our lives. We want it back. It was a scary, painful, and nearly torturous experience. We want to warn you that your new picture, "Because I said So" may rob many more unsuspecting women and gay men from precious moments of their lives. This is a very serious situation and one that we hope you will address immediately.

Damn you, Universal. For mandy's acting with her eyebrows, for Mandy's searching for lines while waving her hands, for unnecessary song sequences, for random shots of the dog (leave him out of this), for the scene where Mandy Moore informs her mother Diane Keaton how amazing orgasms are, for... oh my god kill me now. No one should be subjected to that.

In an effort to save future movie goers from the pain and misery we experienced yesterday we recommend a disclaimer on all marketing materials...something like "this movie will suck the life out of you," or "this movie sucks so bad you'll want to rip your eyeballs out," or even "this movie will induce vomiting." Something, anything, please. You owe to us....you owe it to America.

Thank you and never, ever, do that again.

Sincerely,

Laurin & Billy

Those clever pornographers

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friday dating tip: ballz

with all of the talk about cisco adler's balls, i thought i would take this opportunity to make some suggestions that might lead to the world advancement of the self esteem of balls. these poor guys (i feel like they're totally gender specific) really get the shaft. haha. they have the WORST housing situation ever. stuck between two legs, unless kept sac free, always hidden. at the very least, they need a fan or some kind of moisture adjusting system to keep them happy and schmeg free. so, i'm naming today, national ball love day.

i really think we women and men who love men need to band together in order to praise these sometimes ignored jingley nuggets. there are a few things about the intelligently designed testical and scrotum worth recognizing. for example, have you ever noticed that when you blow on them, the skin moves around willy nilly? that's neat! they also have an internal elevator that knows when they are in hot tubs or chilly oceans. amazing!

away from features of design and onto scent. i was listening to sarah silverman on howard stern the other day and she mentioned that jimmy kimmel's balls smelled like bread. i have also heard from friends that their "output," shall we say, could be compared to sauteed mushrooms, crayons and possibly a little bit of chlorine. while we might prefer that this be not bread and the aforementioned nasal delights, but perhaps mangoes or butter rum life savers. however, marsala sauce would be nothing without sauteed mushrooms, childhoods would be pathetic without crayons and pools would be filthy without chlorine, so suck it up, ladies and gents. when life gives you fungi, make a delicious sauce.

lastly, grooming. as one friend reminded me, a shaved scrot can cause some weird chafing on all thighs and flesh that comes in contact. while hair might literally choke you up, do you want a rash instead? let's be honest.

so, i challenge each of you this weekend to find a pair of balls and coddle them with the depths of your being. they deserve it.

"i love the roaring"

i am posting this because i know how much stephanie loves both panther and american idol.