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Showing posts with label I'm Old. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm Old. Show all posts

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Busta Rhymes Fell Off A Stage, Because We're Too Old For This Sh*t

A video posted by Mess Kid (@messkid) on

Listen, Bus a Bus. Sometimes it's hard to accept the aging process. I totally understand that. It's like you wake up one day, and you've got hang-y down elbow skin. I feel you deeply on this.

But you know what you don't start doing when you realize you're getting old as shit and making rap videos/ads for minivans? You don't try to hang with the young dudes and turn all things all the way up near the edge of a stage. Especially when the last time we saw you, you looked like this:


It's okay, Busta. There's nothing wrong with staying home and diving into a great book with a single glass of wine, then calling it a night no later than 9:30pm. Or maybe catching a matinee movie. Let the kids be kids, with their drinking and stage dancing. Trust me, no one enjoyed several Crown and diets and a stage dance quite like me in the early-to-mid '00s, but it's time to hang our hats on those memories, B. Our time for such tom foolery has passed, and huzzah to that!


Let's just accept that we're too old for this shit and quietly settle into middle age gracefully. Call me if you want to start a book club. I'm still reading Amy Poehler, but I'm open to your suggestions.




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Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Oh, Hell Naw News Of The Day: Ariana Grande Is Remaking "The Boy Is Mine"

A photo posted by Ariana Grande (@arianagrande) on


This is the face of a person that thinks that they are above the Brandy/Monica laws of nature. I think not, ponytail! Ariana Grande and Jessie J ARE REMAKING "THE BOY IS MINE" AND EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY.



Ariana Grande is one of those people that seems to be just a general annoyance to me. I don't know what it is, I really have nothing to base these feelings upon, it's just a thing. Like an orange. It's just something that exists.

But this has crossed the MF-ing line into something that is personal to me. "The Boy Is Mine" is one of my songs. It came out in 1998, which was my junior year of high school. (Save the comments for your mom-ments, I don't want to hear about my elderly nature.) My friend Jodell and I learned all of the lyrics, and would play each part (I think I was Monica) and sing our faces off, long-ass acrylic nails waving in the air while we drove around in her teal Eagle something-or-other. (RIP Eagle something-or-others.) Here's a visual, so you can imagine me during that era:


Try not to jump off the nearest bridge in a fit of jealousy. You can clearly see why I don't want this time in my life tarnished by the likes of an Ariana Grande and her clip-on ponytail. Has Ariana Grande ever worn a Contempo Casuals sheer button-up top while driving around in her Honda Civic that she worked overtime hours for so she could get the gold accessories package? I think not. Homie didn't even live in a time before flat irons. I mean, look at my hair in that picture. Those are hardships.

I DO NOT co-sign this tom foolery. Leave the OGs to their OG-ing, Grande.


via vulture/my friend Kelly with the tip-off


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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

List Of Things I Can't Deal With Today: Paris Hilton's New Video For "Come Alive." End Of List.



Listen, P. We're pretty much in our mid-thirties, you and I. You are still very pretty and gamine and all of that jazz, but the floating-on-cotton-candy-while-coyly-spouting-sexual-innuendo-in-an-autotuned-baby-voice ship has sailed. Like, a solid ten years ago. It's time to move on from the Princess Baby strokes a unicorn pastures. And that's okay.

We're now the "gross old people" in the club. That's why I don't go to them anymore. (That, and rap music is not danceable anymore. I miss "In the Club" in the club. Or shaking it like a Polaroid picture.) Remember how much you made fun of those people?** That's us now. So stop trying to make club bangers happen.


Maybe it's time to take up something a tad bit more mature and less like what would come up if you googled, "what would a Lisa Frank porn set look like?" It's cool to let it go, Paris. It's not so bad. Remember how gross the early aughts were anyway? It was all dangly Playboy Bunny bellybutton rings and pointy-toed two-inch heels. You don't want to keep reliving that bullshit.

So let's take out those colored contacts and go get some tea. And maybe go to a bookstore, or something. It's time.



**The first time I went to a bar or club after graduating from college and moving to a non-college town, I literally said, "Why are all of these old people here? Gross."


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Monday, April 28, 2014

I'm Too Old For This World Music Monday: Cody Simpson's "Surfboard"



I don't know who this kid is. If I was forced to wager a guess, I would say that it's the test tube creation of Spencer Pratt and Puck from Real World: San Francisco. But, I do know that the video vixen (Are the kids still saying that? No? Where's Nelly?) is Yolanda's daughter, of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills fame. So there, mf-ers! I've only got one foot in the oldie grave!

Is this a complete song derived from that one lyric in Beyoncé's song? Is that how we're coming up with content now? I didn't know that I could take a line from, like, "Who Let the Dogs Out" and just make a whole song about it. Seems kind of shitty in terms of songwriting, but what do I know? Not much.


Also, are we just putting all songs inside of one song now? Or did I just listen to this baby Max Headroom's entire album smooshed together in a three minute bundle?

Help me children, WHAT IS ALL OF THIS?

Love,
Gam Gam Shan


P.S. Send more Werther's.







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Saturday, March 15, 2014

Get That 90s Beauty Vibe, In Completely A Non-Tragic Way

They say, whoever the hell "they" are (Illuminati?), that fashion and beauty trends are cyclical, and everything comes back after about 20 years. That means we're smack dab in the middle of the 90s again. I've totally been there and done that, in middle and high school, and it was all terrifyingly terrible. With those feelings in mind, I've taken these boomeranged 90s beauty trends and given them a slightly modern tweak, so I can avoid flashbacks of the most awkward time in my life. Now I will be able to continue living like a friggin' human being, for the most part, without having to listen to a "Jock Jams" compilation album on repeat.

Chocolate Rain Nails


Yes, I used a "Chocolate Rain" reference in 2014. I know not what I do. The bad mofos at Floss Gloss sent me a sample of Blood, Suede & Tears a while back, and I have never gotten around to using it until now. There's a reason for my madness -- I have deep-seated issues with chocolate brown nail polish. It was my polish du jour (for every jour) in high school, so I'm almost still burned out on it. Like the Celine Dion Titanic song. It's all still filed under "too soon" in my brain.


But then I actually TRIED this polish, and it's pretty damn boss. I decided to top it off with my OPI Matte Top Coat to give it a more leathery look, and it looks 0% like my high school nails, but still has a hint of that 90s vibe. IN YOUR FACE, 1998!

Brows to the Max

my down ass brow pencil and well-loved anastasia brow powder
Okay, so maybe the 80s are the most known decade for big ass brows, but I refuse to think about sperm-y eyebrows of the mid to late 90s. I can't. I'm talking those lush-to-death Linda Evangelista brows that just won't quit. Those things are bad boys for life. (You know Puffy's going to try to sue me now.)


The biggest, boldest brows are built in two steps. (And in a day. Take that, Rome!) First, create the shape of the brows you want with an eyebrow pencil that's a couple of shades lighter than your hair color. Because this is the part that really shows on your skin, and doesn't stick to your hair, you don't want the pencil to be dark and super obvious. After you've penciled up, fill-in the stencil you've created with a slightly-darker-than-your-hair brow powder. Always follow the direction of the hair growth of your brows, to keep them looking natural and non-tattoo-like. Viva la bushy brows!

Kate Moss-esque Zero Effs Grunge Hair


The queen of 90s-I-don't-even-care-about-anything-I-just-happen-to-be-hot-and-my-boyfriend-is-Johnny-Depp hair is obviously Kate Moss. I mean, look at this picture. It's so meta 90s that you want to scoff your a-hole off. And Kate's like, "Wheeee! I just woke up this way! Next to Johnny mf-ing Depp in his sexy prime! I have quirky and adorable teeth! I kind of paved the way for Kirsten Dunst! I never got a thank you letter for that, but I'll let it go! Frozen! Adele Dazim! Isn't my hair so damn recklessly fabulous?"


Here's the best thing about this 90s hair resurgence: it's perfect for lazies. It really looks best with air-dried, messy hair, and this takes almost zero effort. And, really, second-day hair works even better, if you can stand it. I usually can't do second-day hair sans chapeau (thanks, seven years of French) but I treated my slightly oily hair here with the Jonathan Dry Dirt spray, which I was given a sample of, to sop up a little grease and add some texture and volume. My non-blow dried hair is limp as the limpest noodle (insert your own dirty joke, freak-a-leeks), so I've been using Dry Dirt on the daily, and it's the perfect mix of texture with a teensy bit of hold. The cherry on the 90s hair cake (that's disgusting) is a deep side part, so part it up. Okay, where's Johnny Depp? Side note -- how often do you think JD washes his hair? Twice a month, tops, I bet.

Gloom n' Doom Lips


Remember, like, seven paragraphs ago when I told you I was almost irreparably damaged in my beauty brain by my own brown nail history? I pretty much felt the same way about dark lips, man. As you can see by Exhibit A above, I really favored dark brown lips in my teenaged years. So when the dark lipped trend recently bared it's beautifully monstrous head again, I had to find a way to flip the script to let the darkness back into my life, without feeling like I was participating in a horrible Freaky Friday-like experiment.

I achieved this by pretty much living and dying by this picture of Lily Collins when it comes to dark n' lovely lips. Instead of a brown-ish based lip, I favor deep reddish burgundy, like Urban Decay Revolution Lipstick in Shame. For maximum impact, I keep the rest of my mug relatively on the down low and let my lips do the talking. It's like my old school brown lip game, with a new school twist. As for my choker collection, it's been put out to pasture. Sorry, world, I'm not ready.




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Monday, March 10, 2014

A Chronological Timeline Of The Beauty Lessons I've Learned From Birth To Current Times

Today is my birthday. Don't worry, you don't have to acknowledge that shit, I'm just telling you for the context of this article, or whatever you call this crap that I throw together. I've never been big on birthdays because I don't like the attention and, also, we all have one. It's nothing special. I don't really get the fuss, and I am a general curmudgeon. But I did learn that today is also Jon Hamm's (ween's) birthday, so I'll take it. It's Robin Thicke's birthday, too, but let's ignore that gross knowledge.

The point of all of this word effery is that I'm now 33 GD years old, and I'm not getting any younger. The upswing to this is that I have, from the time I was a little kid until this very moment, acquired some decent lessons on beauty and such. I lined up these bits o' brain juices (well, that's gross) for you in a chronological order so you don't follow in my gross habit footsteps. L'chaim!

Baby Years: Birth Times


Here I am, straight out the womb. Don't be crazy, I have zero tips on beauty at this point. I don't even know how to open my damn eyes, much less how to apply eyeliner to make your eyes look larger. I still have ink on my feet, for Chrissakes. But I did have dapper as eff taste in headwear.

Non-Angsty Childhood Years: I'm Just a Girl


Childhood: so full of wondrous moments of innocence and tiny pairs of acid-washed jeans. At this point in life, I didn't think about looks very much. Even when I begged to be in a kiddie beauty pageant, and my mom said eff to the no, I didn't think about what my face looked like, or how weird my jaunty teeth were, I just wanted a fancy ass dress. But looking back, here are the things I know with certainty:
  1. Sometimes the dentist will tell you that you'll need braces when you're, like, five, and sometimes those bitches will just straighten themselves out pretty well.
  2. Spiral perms.
  3. This is the pinnacle of your hair's color. Hopefully, an adult will capture these moments, so your mane can vicariously live through it again when you're an adult, and you can keep trying to recapture those natural highlights via chemical endeavors and experiments and fail completely.
Pre-Teen, Bleeding Into Teen Years: Everything's Terrible


I think we can all agree that puberty can seriously suck it. There are exactly zero things that are physically, emotionally, and whatever-else-lly more awkward than the pre-teen years of life. I was forced to learn a lot from this time in my life, due to sheer survival more than anything else. Seriously, if there's a hell, #1) I'm probably going, and #2) it's just living your pubescent years over and over again. I think you get the point. Here are my learnings from this tragic ass era:
  1. The first time you get highlights at the mall with money from your high school job, stop using your bullshit 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. Your hair isn't falling out because you have cancer (I DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY), it's because you actually have to take care of your head hairs now.
  2. If your skin is really awful and acne-prone, go to a dermatologist and get some help before it gets completely out of control and you are semi-disfigured. I know you're embarrassed, and everything is beyond embarrassing right now, but it can dictate your skin life forever, ever.
  3. Maybe don't have bangs. Bangs are kind of a rude bitch to deal with even for adults, and your hair styling skill level is not ready for that jelly.
 Late Teens to Early 20's: Is This Real Life? 


The late teens/early 20's years are almost like a second puberty. Life is friggin' hard, and this is the time you're trying to figure out what the hell you're doing. Let me tell you a secret that might save you some strife, early twenty-somethings: I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING, SO STOP FREAKING OUT. I'm sure I'll feel the same way at 40. We should all calm our figurative tits. This is what I learned about beauty from these turbulent times:
  1. Do whatever the hell you want with your hair/makeup/whatever non-permanent crap at this point in your life. This is the time to try weird shit. The only exception is telling your 50-something temp hair lady to "do whatever she wants" to your hair. She'll give you a sassy, flippy haircut that matches her own, and your Senior pictures will be straight-up (now tell me) awful. And you'll be forced to stare them down on your parents' mantle for the next 40 years.
  2. DO NOT TAN. You're going to want to, but don't. Your skin will thank you by not looking like a Slim Jim that's been pickling in a jar of vinegar later.
  3. Go easy on the eyebrows. Sometimes those mofos will up and quit your face, refusing to grow back. Tweeze with caution.
Late, Late 20's to Current Days: Zero Effs to Give


Getting older is some kind of witchy weirdness, man. On one hand, it's a medium-sized bag of poop, because we're all crazy youth-obsessed and want to look like sexy teenaged elves until we're 60, and that shit ain't real. But, weirdly, something cool happens when you start jumping up that age chart. You start to not care about stuff so much. Remember when Oprah (or some person) was all, "Don't sweat the small stuff'?" That actually becomes the truth.com after 30. Here's the deal, for real:
  1. Let your "Who gives 1.5 craps? Not me!" flag fly on occasion. The 25 year old me would never even check the mail without glitz pageant makeup. The almost mid-30's me goes to dinner, movies, food truck rallies, bacon buying excursions -- you get the point -- in a bun and zero makeup sometimes. It's just your face and semi-dirty hair. It's all cool.
  2. Actually take care of yourself, even though that mess is boring. The older we get, the more what you actually put into your body and working out and stuff matters. Even when it comes to skin and hair, it makes a huge difference. I know, so boring.
  3. Take your skin care routine all the way down to chesticle town. We have to fight the good fight against the wrinkly chest-in-between-the-boobs deal as much as we can, you guys. Together we can win(ish) the fight.

That's it. I'm all out of years (thank Jesus), and I've poured out all of my brain's non-wisdoms for your eyeballs. The bottom line is, wherever you are in your lifespan, enjoy that shit. You'll never get it back, so live it up. Sorry for the cheese, now pass the nachos. And the margaritas.





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Friday, January 31, 2014

10 Fierce Hair Times in Beverly Hills, 90210 History

Real talk -- I formed roughly 99.9% of my opinions in life from watching Beverly Hills, 90210. There are so many amazingly horrible things to soak up from the ten years of that show, that I could fill an entire blog with all of the wonders of that world.


One of the best and worst things about 90210? THE HAIR. Now, click through so we can talk about all of the glory and the madness that made up the best moments in 90210 hair history.


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Monday, November 25, 2013

8 Times The AMAs Made Me Realize I'm Too Effing Old For Pop Culture

I don't know if you guys peeped the scene of the American Music Awards last night, but I did, and I noticed that something f*cking terrible happened. No, not Pitbull's boring ass, dry toast hosting skills. I'm talking about the realization that I'm getting friggin' old. These are the moments of clarity that lead me to this sad sack conclusion. (I'm sure I have very few moments of clarity before my mind starts to go, so let's cherish this time together.)


 #1 -- I was all, "Damn, Fall Out Boy got old, " then realized that some of them are younger than my ass. I need to check Craig's List for a hyperbaric chamber.


#2 -- This One Direction dude's hair. No really, what the eff is happening on this guy's head? Insanity, or I'm just elderly, that's what.


#3 -- Man tunics. Jesus, take the wheel.


#4 --WHO THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE?


My eyeballs have never rested upon any of these humans before, and it might be time for me to retire.




#5 -- Rihanna was wearing the same accessory sh*t that I was wearing in 1997. Shout out to Contempo Casuals.


#6 -- Lady Gaga's performance only made me feel like I was watching "Trapped In The Closet, Part 374: Politico Edition."


#7 -- I totally related to OG members of TLC. My knees and back are struggling now, too, y'all. Poor T-Boz and Chili's dancing consisted mostly of glorified walking with some light hand clapping. My suggestion? Get rid of Lil' Mama and bring in Betty White in Left Eye's place. You guys will look young and flexible as hell.


#8 -- My favorite performer of the night was a CGI cat crying diamond tears into a spider web. And for the record, I totally would have scooped up that two-piece leotard if I made a cat dancing workout video in 1992.


P.S. If flared(ish) capri pants are making a comeback, I'm not sure I can be of this planet anymore.

via ny daily news



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Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Old People, These Celebrity Happenings Are For You.

You guys remember Corey Feldman, right?

80s chauffeur meets sexy airline pilot chic
Yep, that Corey. He apparently has a new music video, called "Ascension Millennium," in which he looks to be reprising his role in The Lost Boys, because homeboy is looking undead lite. Keep eating those pancakes and maybe up your Flintstones Vitamins intake, boss, because you are looking a bit like a tepid glass of tap water. I feel concern in my cold, dead heart.


via fishwrapper

I am feeling those baby gloves, though. I just wish that Corey's music video made me get more of this kind of vibe from The Lost Boys.



Tell me you're not hypnotized by that oil field of a chest/Home Depot chain combo. It will be a damn lie.

Speaking of my old school people, Melissa Joan Hart, who I will always see as this literal hot mess in my mind:


Is coming out with a tell-all book entitled, Melissa Explains It All. (See what she did there?) This serious piece of literature is not, sadly, about how to make a ball gown from strawberry-flavored Fruit Roll Ups (I would totally read that sh*t), but about her "wild" lifestyle in the late 90's. According to Life & Style, Melissa said, “I experimented with weed, Ecstasy, mushrooms and mescaline for about a year and a half. " She also said that she made out with a girl in a limo, or something.


Boring. Holla back when you're ready to say that you made out with Salem the cat from Sabrina the Teenaged Witch. Or that you did bath salts with that dude that climbed through the Clarissa window, or something.

Step up your game, old people. You're making us look super non-scandalous.


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Monday, September 2, 2013

And In "Holy F*ck, I Feel Old" News, Spencer Pratt JUST TURNED 30.

via buzzfeed
YOU GUYS, HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE THAT SPENCER IS JUST NOW 30 YEARS OLD? HOOOOWWWW? I feel like The Hills was on MTV roughly 2 trillion years ago. Is time somehow going by really and and really effing slow at the same time? Is this an episode of Quantum Leap???


Oh, by the by, Spencer, just because you're now 30 doesn't mean you have to stock up on shirts from the Men's Warehouse Two and a Half Men collection. You're thirty, not disgusting.


 Oh, yeah...
via mrhankey
We're still not that into you.





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Monday, August 26, 2013

My Open Letter to the VMAs

Hey MTV,

How's it been going for your asses lately? I'm pretty well-outside your target demographic, so I don't usually watch your sh*t much, anymore. (Except Catfish. Get Slow Clap from last night's episode his own True Life, immediately.) But I did DVR the VMAs to see if there was anything that my old ass gave one f*ck about, and here's what I noticed.


Every b*tch on the block is super up-in-arms over Miley Cyrus' "risque" performance, to which I say, mullet, please. Homegirl is 20 YEARS OLD. Do you know what my trash bag ass would have been doing on a stage at this age? Thank you, universe, for no cell phone cameras in the early 00's, or I would have proof of my skank antics. I'm not impressed.

I do have two issues with Miley, as of late. First, I know that I'm as old as sh*t, but what's with the tongue thing? You have a long tongue area. Yay?

via mylifethroughkristenwiig
My other problem with MC is this:


Boo Boo Thang thinks she can dance. And you, MTV VMAs, are encouraging that effery. Listen, Miley seems like a nice enough, albeit kind of annoying, young lady. But I have f*cking had quite enough of this world collectively pretending like this baby Pinocchio can twerk. It's not good, Miley.


By this time, I'm sure you've seen Rih Rih's (and her friend that looks like Monica circa '99) unimpressed c-face over Miley's performance. But, here's the best reaction from the crowd:


I feel you, sir. It's all very, very confusing. Let's move on.


Next, I need to holla at the costume department, because you guys need to get your sh*t together. Most of the "older" (Heeeey, dudes my age. Whaddup?) guys' clothes were WAY TOO F*CKING TIGHT and unflattering. We ain't in our 20's anymore, Robin, and stretchy suits only stretch so much. Lycra isn't a damn miracle worker.


Then the angel of my heart, and the star of the VMAs showed up, right in the middle of JT's 2 hour long concert.


No, not all of 'N Sync. (By the way, can we talk about what an awful name 'N Sync is for a boy band? It's the cheesiest. Sorry, Kraft Mac 'n Cheese.)

I'm talking about this magnificent unicorn:


Chris Kirkpatrick, in all of his ill-fitting suit glory. (RIP, multicolored Chris Kirkpatrick braids. My weave wept for your passing.)


I mean, look how OUT OF SYNC he is with his dance moves. IT'S EFFING ADORABLE.


 And his "super try hard" face. Or, it could have been his pants ripping, because like I said...


Sh*t was tight last night in the mens' suit department. But the best second of the night was this moment:


K-Pat's all like, "Damn, I don't know if my nearing-middle-aged ass can keep dancing. ARRRGGHHHA. What's next? 'Bye Bye Bye' hands?" And then JT's like, "Are you serious, man? It's 30 seconds. Try mall walking on Sundays, or something, dude." NIGHT OVER.

So, listen, MTV. Just let Chris Kirkpatrick come out with a dance show, or some sh*t. But let the man's suit out a damn inch or two.

Love Always,

Shannon

P.S. This sh*t was awkward for all, JC.


Your singing portion was over, time to take a seat. Stop trying to make a solo happen. This isn't an episode of Glee.




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