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Showing posts with label I Hate Everything. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I Hate Everything. Show all posts

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Great. I'm the Effing Worst, Part 308430984: Justin Bieber Mustache Edition

You b*tches know there are very few things that I hold closer to my heart than hating on Biebs. (Basically, just koalas, unicorns, bacon, and wine.) SO THAT'S WHY I HATE MYSELF. I really, really, really wanted to make fun of Justin Bieber's non-stache today, as seen here:

via huffpo
We can all hash out that shower curtain liner-embellished, brought to you by the letter "Y" shirt at a later date, because here's another picture of the offensive three hairs:

via jb's instagram
And here:

bieb's i.g. again
I mean what IS that??? I had so, so many Kip jokes to make, you guys.


Like, a lot.


And the worst thing, ever, happened.

yep, still stalking the instagram
HE SHAVED THAT STUPID SH*T. AND PUT ON A HAT THAT I F*CKING WANT TO WEAR.


I hate everything.


I need to pet baby stray kittens (after vaccinations) and drink (more) wine.



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Monday, April 29, 2013

GUUUUUURL of the Day: The Non-Elegance That Is "Manicured Hands Holding Pearls."

I was watching Snapped last night, which is surprisingly boring for a show about murder, when I realized how much I really, really hate something.


This is a screen shot of the opening of the show, and there's my annoying nemesis -- "Manicured Hands Holding Pearls." I've always been confounded and irritated by the painted nails/multi strands of pearls deal, stemming from my mid-90's, teen talon (long-as-hell, chocolate brown, acrylic nails) days, when posters of this mess was plastered up everywhere and in every damn nail salon.

ugh. like i'm going to pay for this crap.
ohhhh. so glamourous and edgy.
bigger balls.
Listen b's, don't sue me for using these pictures. I'VE GOT TO DEMONSTRATE SH*T. I just don't understand what I'm supposed to feel when I look at this crap. Understated elegance? A reminder that I hate french manicures? Rich b*tches love clutching all of their pearl strands at once?


I give up on looking at things with my eyes.



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Thursday, April 25, 2013

In What Is Hardly Timely or Even Really News News: Tanning Mom Wants to Do Porn Stuff

You guys remember Tanning Mom, right?


Yeah, this hot POA that was j'accused of sending her little baby ginger child (that kind of looks like the girl from Jurassic Park) into a tanning bed. Now, I know what you're thinking when you see this picture -- "Damn, I'd love to see that b getting down in porn." No? Not thinking that? Neither is anyone else.


TMZ got their hands on an email that Tanning Mom (f'real name, Patricia Krentcil) send to the head of Vivid Entertainment, after the whole TEEN Mom -- holy eff, this is confusing -- Farrah Abraham porn thing came to light. This is the email, via TMZ:

"I see you are trying to buy this sex tape from this Teen Mom.  Well, if you REALLY want to make more MONIES, then I would agree to let you film me and all my hotness."

Krentcil, oblivious to shame, goes on:  "I am far MORE popular and WAY HOTTER than Farrah!"  And there's more ... "Men want a cougar and a real woman, not a teenybopper."

But sex -- and Krentcil -- do not come cheap.  She makes it clear to the Vivid honcho, "Contact me back if you're ready to talk serious cash and rock the world."


Sadly (AKA The friggin' entire world thanks you, man), Vivid turned her down. But that didn't stop ol' Patty from posing for such lovely photos as these on her own damn time. (Pics via Huffington Post.)

This entire story is just a big ass bag o' wrong. LADY, YOU GAINED NOTORIETY AFTER BEING ACCUSED OF DOING SOMETHING SH*TTY TO YOUR KID. It's time to go back to your "normal" life, whatever that may be. Stop trying to be famous. Stop trying to ride this faux wave of faux fame. There is NOTHING WRONG with working at CVS, or a bank, or a medical office, or whatever the hell it is that you used to do. STOP THIS ISH.
 
Same thing goes to all of the other reality show people that keep trying to stay relevant. Please, learn a trade of some sort. Go to ITT Tech. I don't give an eff. Just stop trying to make a life from doing nothing. And read more books.
 

I'm back, b's.




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Monday, April 22, 2013

Blogging Note: Imma Be a Minute


If you follow my boring ass on Instagram or Twitter, you might know that I'm moving/just moved. And because all things are boring and annoying, I haven't had internet at my old place for the past few days, and now that ish isn't working at my new place. Doy, like that WOULDN'T happen. So I won't be posting until that nonsense gets fixed, or whatever. I'm not a wizard. So I'm leeching up free wifi right now at a coffee place with all of the other nerds, because all of my neighbors have their wifi on lock down. That includes someone that named their wifi "Grenade Free Zone." Ugh, OF COURSE. See you b's on the flip side.




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Friday, February 22, 2013

What Kind of Effery is Anne Hathaway Wearing on Her Dome Area???

Listen. I know that there is a large(ish) group of mofo's that straight hate Anne Hathaway. I am not one of those people, I think that she's just fine -- in general. But this...

pics via daily mail
I can't go for that sh*t. Homegirl looks half a grandma, half a turrible craft project gone awry. And this hat is CLEARLY her straight jam right now, because she's wearing this mess multiple times. Annie Boo Boo, whaddup? It's not protecting your lovely porcelain skin from ish, and crap's making your hair look super wig-like underneath. Believe it or not, no matter my pro-fake hair stance, that is NOT complementary. And don't you b's even start telling me that this glorified Gam Gam's upside down hanging flower pot rip off is haute couture, or whatever. I don't give a damn. It's gross.


Not doing this sh*t with you, Hatha-path. Take it off. (And let me burn it.) It's for the good of humanity.







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Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Thank You, Fun Ruiners of the World, for Ruining Everything I've Ever Loved.

There are very few things that I really, truly adore in life. And over the past few days, TWO of those things have been completely ruined for me.

via buzzfeed
 This b*tch. I have always wanted an eyepatch. Not out of necessity, born through terrible tragedy or anything, but just to wear. Kind of like when you're a kid, and you straighten out a paper clip to pretend like it's a retainer. (Why in weird kid brains did we do that crap?) So like that, but I'm in my thirties, and still pretending weird nonsense.

UNTIL I see Scott Disick, who is Kourtney Kardashian's boyfriend, if you are blissfully unaware (oh, how I envy you), wearing a MOTHER EFFIN' EMBROIDERED EYEPATCH. Can I have nothing in life that is important to me? Now I will NEVER be able to stroll along a wandering boulevard wearing my bedazzled eyepatch and jauntily swinging a cane that has a silver skull/bird's head/something else I haven't even thought of yet. Because every schmoe that passes will be thinking, "Oh, will you look at at pathetic b. She's totally pulling a Disick. What's next? Suede loafers on the beach?" When in the past they would have thought, "Cool eyepatch."

But the fun ruining horrors do not end there. Even KOALAS ARE NOT SACRED IN THIS WORLD.

via reddit
This is a web posting from a man trying to sell his koala bear. Which sounds amazing, because I love koala bears more than 99% of humans. Until you read the "bad" list of things about said koala bear. He raped and murdered a cat?!? He likes Vin Diesel movies?!? He puts shiny things in dog's asses?!? He's a racist?!? Between this and the crazy koala mask, I feel like all of my dreams and aspirations have been crushed. Never will a koala and I frolic on the beach together at sunset, while we spin around together in slow motion, because apparently he will attempt murder on my literal ass.

Does anyone want to ruin anything else for me? Is Ryan Reynold not hot anymore? Is wine not delicious now? I give up.




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Friday, October 5, 2012

Pictures to Peruse While Listening to Jock Jams

Ugh. Remember this disgustingness?

That's a badass b rollin' deep right there.

Oh, No Fear shirts. Never have charm and trash collided in such a way.

Does this even need a caption?

I had this exact crimper. Y'all ready for this?

I had these shoes, too. Flawless. Thanks, Spice Girls.

Get that Guts agrocrag, honey.

Please tell me you guys remember Pumps. Why the eff do we need air to tighten the shoes, again???

Okay, so you should probably listen to grunge for this, but tell me you don't want that earring.

Seriously, why?


Who loves sweaty feet with dirt particles stuck to them?

I once cried because of this show. I was 15.
This is way after Jock Jams, but exactly WHAT THE EFF IS THIS?


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