When you go out and party like it’s 1999, don’t hop behind the wheel of your car and attempt to drive home. Call a taxi, hire a driver, reserve a hooptie. I could care less how you get home, just stop putting people in danger and stop acting like you don’t make enough money for alternate transportation. Safety first people.
Oh sweet McDonald’s breakfast. Your perfectly constructed egg McMuffins and crispy hash browns haunt me. The problem is I’m never up early enough to enjoy them, but then again, who is? When exactly does breakfast end at McDonald’s anyway? 10, 1030 or 11AM? Does anybody know? Why such secrecy?
I don't understand why you can't serve breakfast until noon? Tim Hortons does it. Do you have any idea who your main breakfast eating market is? Obviously not, so let me enlighten you – it’s teens and hung over adults who aren’t going to sacrifice precious sleeping minutes to get up early and grab a hash brown. So please stop acting like you use magical equipment to make your breakfast sandwiches. But something tells me McDonalds just doesn't care.
In my daily boppings about the internet, I came across an article with President Obama's Spotify playlist. What I noticed was the only artist listed twice was Darius Rucker of Hootie and the Blowfish fame. You may recall deep in the 90's Monica on Friends got a hickey from a Blowfish. I assume it was the one with the really long hair. The only conclusion I can draw here is clear. Obama is a HUGE Hootie fan, not so much the Blowfish. And Monica is a Blowfish groupie (a 'grouper' perhaps, it goes nicely with the fish theme). There is a conspiratorial link there, and it involves secret Illuminati messages in Cougar Town, but I can't tell you anything else. Here is the playlist for your perusal.
No Doubt, “Different People” Earth Wind & Fire Experience featuring the Al McKay Allstars, “Got To Get You Into My Life – (Live)” Booker T. & the MG’s, “Green Onions” Wilco, “I Got You” The Impressions, “Keep On Pushing” Jennifer Hudson, “Love You I Do” Ages and Ages, “No Nostalgia” Ledisi, “Raise Up” Sugarland, “Stand Up” Darius Rucker, “This” Arcade Fire, “We Used to Wait” Florence + The Machine, “You’ve Got the Love” James Taylor, “Your Smiling Face” REO Speedwagon, “Roll With the Changes” Raphael Saadiq, “Keep Marchin’” Noah and the Whale, “Tonight’s the Kind of Night” Zac Brown Band, “Keep Me In Mind” Aretha Franklin, “The Weight” U2, “Even Better Than the Real Thing” Dierks Bentley, “Home” Sugarland, “Everyday America” Darius Rucker, “Learn to Live” Al Green, “Let’s Stay Together” Electric Light Orchestra, “Mr. Blue Sky” Montgomery Gentry, “My Town” Ricky Martin featuring Joss Stone, “The Best Thing About Me Is You” Ray LaMontagne, “You Are the Best Thing” Bruce Springsteen, “We Take Care Of Our Own”
Vegas is a veritable playground for the rich and the wannabe rich, a place where anything goes. A place where your room key is checked every time you access the elevators, in an effort to weed out the prosties. It’s as though the entire city is socially stuck in the 80s, still allowing excess and greed to reign supreme. It’s’ a place where Gordon Geeko would blend. During my most recent trip to the unholy land, I learned two fascinating tidbits: one a ritual and one a ruse.
The ritual – peacocking, when one dresses for attention. But it’s not just your run of the mill peacocking, this is bold, balls to the wall shit. We’re talking attention grabbing, young, scantily clad women, seeking filthy rich men. It happens by the pool, in the casino and right on the strip, regardless of who is around. These Vegas peacocks are after the almighty buck and have no limits whatsoever.
The ruse – the sponsored guest. I discovered this little secret when I was at the gift shop and tried to charge some items to my room. The super chatty clerk told me that after years of being thrown into the middle of couple fights, the hotel devised a plan to put an end to their involvement in the debauchery. So they created the sponsored guest. It’s essentially what every Vegas peacocker dreams of becoming. It’s a very classy way of describing any sexually based professional or mistress staying with a legitimate hotel guest. You know, like Vivian in Pretty Woman. All interactions with these guests are treated discretely, allowing what happens in Vegas, to truly stay in Vegas.
Needless to say, this prude was blown away. Although, I would have loved to be in the meeting where the difference between a lowly prostitute and a sponsored guest was determined.
I still can't stop laughing about this one. My parents recorded Van Wilder and watched it thinking it was Van Helsing. They wasted 92 minutes of their lives waiting for Dracula. He never came.
It’s been two years since our beloved P Swayze died. He passed away during a tumultuous time. Along with John Hughes and Michael Jackson, he was part of a trifecta of celebs that perished during the summer of 2009. Sasha and I decided that someone was trying to kill our childhood. I saw Dirty Dancing at the theatre 8 times when it came out. It’s probably the movie I’ve seen most in my life. Needless to say I mourned his passing. So last night, I was channel surfing and happened upon Point Break. I quickly informed my sister that it was on and we had a two woman tribute. So pop in your favourite Swayze pic and have at it.
Fun sidebar – as I was watching the movie I realized that a good buddy story is quite similar to a romantic comedy with regards to the relationship between the two lead characters. I dare you to watch it and tell me that Swayze and Reeves are not in love. The guy from Hot Fuzz agrees with me:
“Patrick Swayze has just robbed this bank, and Keanu Reeves is chasin' him through peoples' gardens, and then he goes to shoot Swayze but he can't because he loves him so much and he's firin' his gun up in the air and he's like 'ahhh!”
At a recent press junket during the Venice Film Festival, Madonna was given flowers by a fan. The kind gesture revealed her hidden rage against hydrangeas. She "absolutely loathes them". In an attempt to explain this rage, her sharp as a whip publicist released the following statement:
"She's entitled to like any flower she wants and she didn't want to hurt the feelings of the hydrangeas of the world. No disrespect to the hydrangea lovers of the world but she prefers different types of flowers."
This may be the best statement ever made by any publicist. She didn't want to hurt the feelings of the hydrangeas of the world??? Really, what the fuck! I didn't realize hydrangeas were so sensitive. I would love the world's hydrangeas and their lovers to band together and form a coalition against the Material Girl.
This only solidifies what we've all known for awhile now - Madonna is a complete and total asshole.
