This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things -- Terrible Infomercial Product Edition

Sh*tty eff, you guys, how have I lived this long without the Style Screamer? I can't believe that I've been able to walk to cars for over 30 years and made it out alive. Lady luck has clearly pulled me through by the skin of my friggin' teeth.

On the real real, if you were really in an effing life-threatening sitch, are you going to pull on your bedazzled-ass cluster tassel? Or will you be scraping a mofo's windows of their soul out with your Hello Kitty beer bottle opener on your key chain? Plus, I'm pretty sure good, old-fashioned, been around for 4.7 million years screaming yo' damn ass off would do quite nicely. I'm totally for protecting yourself in creepster situations, but this is just unnecessary.

Did you notice that 99% of the men in this video were just guilty of walking in the stairwell with a hood/kind of looking Jersey Shore-ish? But listen, if you're really freaked out by Pauly D types hassling your ass outside the Aeropostale, get a whistle for like $1. True story -- my mom bought me a pink whistle to keep in my backpack in middle school in case anyone tried to abduct me, and decided to give it to me on Valentines Day. I threw it out, because...

Thug Life. And middle school angst.

P.S. If you're reading this, Mom, please don't buy me this.









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It's Ryan Gosling's Birthday! Let's Watch Videos of His Ass. (Spoiler Alert: No ACTUAL Gosling Ass.)

Today is a day that should be rejoiced, you guys. It's Happy "Out of Yo Mama's Cookie" Day to that sexpot that we call Ryan Gosling. (Okay, so I totally stole that phrase from Sweet Brown's Instagram, but it's perfect. And, yes, I follow Sweet Brown on I.G. -- she's a friggin' treasure. )

In celebration of Gossie's big day, I've created an international viewing party of my favorite R.G. videos, so let our asses start the celebration. This first one shows Ry Ry stripping down to tiny underdrawers...



I don't think that anyone hated that, amiright? Let's now awkwardly move on to videos of yesteryear, back to when Ryan was just a wee, shiny bowl-cutted lad on The Mickey Mouse Club.



Justin totally tried stealing the scene with those lame ass (AKA perfect) overalls and gelled curly side bangs, but today's all about the Gos Sauce, so step the eff off, J mf-ing T.

And just in case you need more baby goose times (get it, Gosling? I'm such a wordsmith.), here's another tiny tot performance, featuring PANTS!



On the real, that dancing was straight dope.

Who knew that Chess King made luxurious silken clothes for tiny children?

I saved my favorite adult time Goss vid for last, even though I've shared this here before. But it's just so damn adorable that it should be cherished on this day of the 'Ling.



You know that your heart just grew three sizes just by watching that.

Happy Birthday, Ryan Gosling! Now go celebrate by popping bottles and doing models, or whatever thing it is you choose to do on your 33rd year of life.

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Sh*t Courtney Stodden Can Do Now That She's Single

As you may have read in my C Stodd-themed fan fiction entitled, "Dourtney Does Dallas," Courtney Stodden and Doug Whatever (I can't be bothered to google) are getting divorced. While this is a huge hit to those that believe in fairy tale love stories, this opens up (heh) Stoddie to a whole new world (of weens) of experiences as a single homegirl. Here are a few things she can now try on her path to being forever alone.

Dance to "Single Ladies" at her high school friends' weddings. Boo boo is DAMN 19 YEARS OLD, so she has roughly 20 more years of attending friends/acquaintances/dude that works at the neighborhood gas station's weddings. Time to get the Beyoncé hand flip perfected, honey.



She and this baby are roughly the same age, so this seems like kismet. I smell a collabo!

Double date with Kris Jenner or whatever newly divorced Housewife of Somewhere. The Stodd-ster LOVES the media, so it seems like this sh*t would go hand in Sadsville hand. Is Taylor from RHOBH still single? Danielle Staub?

I know, I went too f*cking far when I brought up the likes of Danielle Staub.

Make even better music videos. Now that she's single, CD can focus on important sh*t, like making her top-notch music videos that feature things such as:

Sexy candy shots on a nightstand!

Pharaohs!

These things are all fantastic, but you should always strive for more, so I'm hoping that future Stodden-ton vids go more in this direction:


via reddit

So topical and accessorized, sprinkled with near nip slips and white pantyhose! I think we should all pitch in and get Court a gift certificate for keyboard lessons for her Divorce Party, that she's sure to throw herself.

Love is a lie. RIP.








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Beauty On The Lam (Or When You're Moving And Your Life Is Crazy)

Oh hey, you sexy ass strangers. I've missed your asses (and/or faces, if you're prudish). I'm currently in my new place of living, which I can now tell you is Phoenix, Arizona. I'm staying in a temporary housing sitch until I get that real real place, so that's my deal as of this second. It's been a crazy ass week, and I kind of feel like this.

I've had to take care of a ton of beauty sh*t on the fly, so I bring to you the following tips, which would also work if you're some kind of badass fugitive person that Angelina Jolie would play in a TV movie. I'm assuming you're reading this on a burner cell phone with internet access.

The Bare Minimum (Just Trying Not to Frighten Children) Makeup Kit -- Just because I moved on Halloween, doesn't mean I'm trying to look so scary that dogs tuck their tails and cockroach-walk away from my ass. But you know that TSA doesn't eff around with bringing liquids on a plane, so I had to WAY whittle down my normal purse makeup wares, while still keeping enough sh*t on my person to not look TERRIBLE terrible.

I pretty much kept it to the essentials: something to even out my bleh skin (Kat von D Lock-It Powder Foundation, $34 from Sephora), a stub of my ride-or-die brow pencil (Maybelline Expert Eyes Twin Brow Pencil in Blonde, $2.99 from drugstore.com), a mini sample of any mascara, and a nude/clear lip gloss (Model Co Shine Ultra Lip Gloss in Strip Tease, $16). This little set has kept me looking mediocre, and for that, I'm thankful as hell.

Getting Away From My Roots -- I don't have a current hair person, home address or a life plan, but you know what I do have? White trash blonde(ish) roots with dark brown hair. And homie don't play that sh*t, so I have to do something about that awfulness.

nice'n easy root touch-up for dark brown, $5.40 (target)

Full disclosure, I just got back from Target, and I actually bought the wrong crap, so I haven't EXACTLY used this stuff yet. I've heard it's great for blending away roots, and since I can't order my regular go-to color, Couture Colour, due to not having an actual address, and because I have exactly zero leads on a new hair guru, this is what's happening.

It costs roughly $5, so I'm not expecting effing Blake-Lively-with-a-fresh-blowout-esque beautiful hair, but it'll do, pig. It'll do. I'll let you know how it goes on a scale of crazy 1940's era hobo to Connie Britton.

Lazy Weapons of Gross Destruction -- I told you mofos a couple weeks ago about my new favorite dry shampoo, and let me tell you, that b has been holding it down in these trying times. (House/apartment/I'll live anywhere at this point is exhausting, yo.) I've also been turning to another one of my quick fix products many a night, lately.

koh gen do cleansing spa water, $13 (sephora)

I love Koh Gen Do Cleansing Spa Water, like, a lot. I put it on a cotton round and rub that mess all up on my mug, and it's like using a makeup wipe deal, but it's really gentle and leaves your face soft as a bumble bee body (no stinger). It allows me to be one of those horrible "I don't wash my face at night" people without the whole sleeping in my makeup part. I usually follow up by washing my face, but sometimes that just isn't in the productive adult person nighttime cards. WHEN IN ROME, you guys.

So bottom line, I'm back, and stuff. I'll be moving into a permanent place later on this week, so it might take me a couple of days to get the internets, and such. But I promise I'll try to not be super sh*tty and post as much as possible via stolen wifi, or whatever. (Don't read that part, police or potential neighbor people.)

If you're a Phoenix-area person that doesn't enjoy stabbing people, let me know. I want to go to a concert this weekend, and I need friends.

Until then, I'll be doing a lot of this.

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I've Never Been More Jealous Of Another Human.

Buzzfeed alerted me to the existence of this amazing dude named Chris Koo, doing an "eff, yes" version of Beyoncé's "Crazy In Love." I'm not even close to what you would call a Beyoncé fan, but baby boo just slayed that sh*t, solid. I'm not sure if young Chris Koo's (hot name, BTW) body even contains normal humanoid bones, or if they're made of Billy Cosby-sponsored Jello.

I'm also lucky that I don't currently own a Flowbee, or I would be attaching that sh*t to my vacuum immediately and putting the "flouncy, bouncy bowl cut" setting on my mop.



Here's the O.G. (AKA boring, vanilla soft serve sans sprinkles version with 100% less Chris Koo) version, if you need a refresher. I'm off to get a straw for my super sized non-haterade, because I love this guy.




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Blogging Note: You're About To Be Real Tired Of My Bullsh*t.

Hey guys, how's whatever you're working with hanging lately? I wouldn't know, because I haven't even opened my laptop in days. Why? I'm currently the worst.

here's a glittery kitten graphic for your troubles.

I found out earlier this week that I'm moving (from Florida) to a far, far land in the contiguous United States in less than two weeks. I'm being annoyingly vague because my husband works in the entertainment(ish) field, and I can't even say where I'm moving until that sh*t is announced. But it's a shipping cars/dogs flying on an airplane for the first time/I don't even know what the eff I'm doing kind of deal, and that means that I hate everything on this Earth right now. Oh, and I'm working my retail job until the day before we go. I hate everything to Mars.

Bottom line, I'm not going to have an inordinate amount of time for blog effery. So please don't stab my eyeballs out with flaming toothpicks for being even more sh*tty than normal. Or maybe you don't have two effs to rub together about my lack of posting, I don't know your life like that.

So that will be my deal for the next few weeks. I will be trying to post as much as I can, so don't totally give up on this hot ass mess. And if you have helpful tips on how to make two terrible chihuahuas actually behave like civilized creatures, or know how to be an effective packing person or just life person -- let my ass know. Or send me a wine basket.

Keep up with my nonsense on my Twitter and Facebook, if you care to be in my bizznazz.





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My New Favorite Dry Shamps, When You've Had Too Much Champs

I was at a friend's wedding this past weekend, and needless to say, my ass shut that sh*t down. The red wine, champagne and dancing was flowing like The River Runs Through It, and I was totally partaking.

So when the next annoying as eff, sunshiny day rolled around, and I had to be at work in, like, ten minutes, I turned to my new lazy BFF. My newest enemy to oily, gross hair is the Macadamia Natural Oil Volumizing Dry Shampoo, that the nice people of Macadamia Natural Oil Hair people sent me a few weeks ago.

macadamia natural oil volumizing dry shampoo, $25 at ulta.com

There are a few things that I look for in a ride or die dry shampoo -- it has to actually work (friggin' duh), it can't leave white mess all up on my noggin, and it better smell good. Well this stuff knocks all three of those criteria right out the damn park.

I can't tell you how many "GREAT ON BRUNETTE HAIR" dry shampoos (from super reputable brands) I have tried that did absolutely nothing to my hair, leaving it still looking like a hot ass, oily mess post-spritz. Not cool, man. Or the ones that work wonderfully, but leave my dark hair looking like I have a George Washington-cutting-down-the-ol'-cherry-tree-sporting-wooden-teeth wig on. So when I find a dry shamp that works like a dream, smells like angel armpits (I imagine they smell delightful), and is truly invisible, 'tis a good day.

My only infant-sized gripe about this beautiful goodness? I wish it were a smidge larger, 'cause I'll be using up this can tout suite, with my oily ass.

You can check it out for yourself from Ulta, here.




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