Category Archives: Pop Culture

Let this be a lesson, Sad Sighers

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This afternoon, I come to share the news that honorary Sad Sigh writer Morrissey collapsed and was taken to the hospital, causes unknown.

Speculation abounds! What could have toppled the former Smith’s lead singer, responsible for lyrics such as “I’ve a shyness that is criminally vulgar” and “life is a pigsty” and “life has killed me”?

Grace: Do you think sorrow brought him down?

Kristin: I think he collapsed under the weight of his own tears.

That’s right!  We know what made Morrissey collapse!  And let this be a lesson to you all as well.  Sadness has its price!  IT HAS ITS PRICE.

Sports Nerd

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I watch too much hockey.  Today I found myself watching a game between that yellow and gold Boston team and that team that plays in Newark.  What are they called?

Anyway, point being… I’m a big ol’ homo, so I shouldn’t be this obsessive about sport, particularly about Canadian sport.  I realized this when I was listening to my new Lonely Island CD on my way to the gym, (where I watched hockey, natch), and a song came on that pretty much summed up my feelings on the subject.

Oh yeah, and I just spent the last hour reading recaps of every single game that was played today.  I’m that cool.

Old News, but still Sad!

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So I meant to post this when this was a relevant story to current events, but forgot until just now.

When I was but a wee thing (21), I decided it might be fun to live in Los Angeles for a year. I had no dreams of stardom (too fat, too smart, too pale), but I thought maybe just a little glimmer of celebrity would rub off on lil’ ol’ me. Just once.

And then it happened.  Lil’ ol’ me was going to have her brush with fame.

Stage-managing for a friend at a benefit comedy show in Hollywood I was told I would get to personally host a Famous Person ™, show them to their seats and generally take care of this person’s needs and wishes. 30 minutes prior to the house opening, I got word over my headset that the Famous Person ™ was here, and I was to go out and help the Famous Person ™ to their seat (apparently Famous People ™ cannot find their own seats in a 50-seat black box theater)

As I was about to enter the front of house to triumphantly display my mad skillz at leading Famous People ™ to their seats, I was pulled aside by my friend, the comedienne who was hosting the show.

“So, um, you’re helping us out with him, right?” she asked nervously. I still was unclear who “he” was, aside from a Famous Person ™. “Yeah,” I said. “Not a problem. I’m good at…leading people.”

“Well,” she paused then, and suddenly I felt a fear deep within me, “You just need to watch him. I mean, so that he doesn’t do anything…weird. And don’t, under any circumstances, let him go to the bathroom. Things…happen…when he goes to the bathroom too much,” she said. Not putting two and two together, I was forced to endure my friend miming snorting coke off a toilet seat before I realized what she was talking about.

“Okay,” I said. “No bathroom breaks.”

Then she laughed. “Congrats. You’re my new Andy Dick Wrangler.” She laughed again. Harder this time.

And that was my only brush with fame in Los Angeles. Being an Andy Dick Wrangler.  So belated hats off to you, Andy Dick, for doing what everyone in Hollywood, including me, knew you were capable of and expected of you. Namely, this crazy-ass shit:

Man or Fish? Um… possibly just gross.

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The New York Times is doing it.

Entertainment Weekly is jumping on the bandwagon.

Even the venerated elder statesman of the Blogeratti, Slate is sucking Michael Phelp’s dick.

I’m having a hard time with this.  I think a lot of it is based off of me not having really watched either of the last two Summer Games, and for thinking that breaking Olympic records isn’t something that should warrant the wholesale abandoning of the senses.  (It happens every year, people!)  But come on!  Everyone keeps calling the kid ‘Merman’, or ‘Part-Fish’, but I’m starting to believe that it’s all just a cover for the fact that when he switches from profile to head on, he completely disappears, which could easily explain why he’s so fast in the water.  My point being, a narrow pallete does not a pretty face make.

My mom – wise as she is – whenever the First Lady of California comes on TV, will say, without fail, ‘Maria Shriver is the ugliest woman on the planet!  Ugh!’  This is how I feel about Michael Phelps.  I almost want him to grow back that porn stache so I don’t have to look at his meth mouth ever again.

Does the porn stache help you filter the krill?

Too harsh?