Today’s special is a raw nori roll with Sudafed flakes, toluene vinaigrette and a little bit of AA battery acid shaved over the top.
Shufflin Dance
Tips, comments, questions: email me.
shufflindance at gmail dot com.
shufflindance at gmail dot com.
Top Chef: in which any grooming is too much grooming and sexy cannot be persuaded to come back, no matter how much you curse at it.
Funny/sad: the opening credits, or, gallery of losers. Who’s sad Valerie? Cartoonish Erik and his incredible death-metal jumping move? Happy Manuel?
For the love of god would you please. hold. the god. damn. grooming scenes. No thank you to Dale’s stomach. No thank you to Dale applying deodorant. No thank you to Stephanie plucking her brow. No thank you to shirtless Spike. No. No. No.
Aaaand the award for lamest and least-applicable use of the exhausted phrase “sexyback” goes to Padma, Hot Diabetes O’Malley and the salad quickfire. Also, if I knew that finishing close to the top of Top Chef season 2 meant coming back for a cameo wearing Abercrombie’s fall 2004 boy’s line wardrobe that was rejected by the Jonas Brothers as being too much of a suburban mall cliché, I’d have stuck my dick in the mashed potatoes and called it a day, H.D.
They should just re-name this show “With a little bit of,” because every cheftestant uses this phrase every time to describe the last ingredient in every single goddamn dish.
What do we think might be wrong with Spike’s head that he never allows it free and unfettered access to light and air? Bald spot? Tiny horns? Giant Masengil tattoo? Eczema? Psoriasis and its attendant heartbreak? A colony of scabies? A partially resorbed twin? He is Greek, after all.
Meth mouth Andrew says: wasabi helps with tooth decay. Also, what is up with his invoking honor and loyalty ad nauseum? Is this a friggin’ Scout retreat, Hattori Hanso Canteen Boy? Please pack your knives, your crazy, your pseudoephedrine, your ephedrine, your Reynolds wrap, your paper clips, your lighter, your Robitussin, your Sudafed, your Actifed, your acetone, your toluene, your Benadryl, your No-Doz, your tweezers, your fake metal cigarette, your Pyrex glassware, your matches, your forged checkbook, your baking soda and your application for Faces of Meth 2008. And GO.
Nancy Botwin would not approve.
“ According to documents filed in the case, Gonzalez, Jones and an unnamed juvenile on March 15 went to an Humble cemetery, dug up a man’s grave, left with the head and turned it into a “bong.
“3 accused of using corpse head to smoke pot,” Houston Chronicle, May 8, 2008
Rev. Billy versus the unnamed-in-this-video Danny Meyer. Shufflin’ attended Rev. Billy’s Sunday May 4 service, “Publicizing the Privatizing,” at the Highline Ballroom, and was left encouraged by the message and the show of dedication and all that talent—but also slightly troubled by the fact that there were only a few more people in the audience than on the stage. What Would Jesus Buy?, Rev. Billy and the Stop Shopping Gospel Choir’s funny and sad film that documents their Christmastime tour of a country in the vice-like grip of materialism and greed, is available on DVD May 20.
“ Ok, Here we go, We really wanted to roll out on April 20th! But it just didn’t happen. We are ready now! Please enjoy the site.
Aka “Because I Got High”: From the “press” section of internet dating site potpartner.com which advertises on the Village Voice website OF COURSE.
Bill O'Reilly totally has priorities, which are: his junk, a bottle of lotion, and teenagers.
This fucking guy (who married a nice girl from my hometown) has called for a conference of parents to address the pictures of Hanna Montana showing her bra strap or whatever. That is the asinine part; here is the part, from the estimable US Weekly, that will make you want to Stanley Steem your eyeballs:
“Look, we have so few role models, particularly for little girls in this country,” he said on his show Wednesday. “She is the main one. I hate to see this.
“Parents all over the country like this girl because she is clean-cut.”
In the photos, he said she “is kinda doing a teasy, peek-a-boo thing.”
OK. OK. The fact that adults ever indulged this type of entertainment—that is, a song about muskrats in love (or at least a song that likens human love to that of muskrats*) sung by an adult, illustrated by prehistoric graphics of other adults in chipmunk muskrat costumes literally acting out the words of the song and performing a Michaels and McElroy-style dance on the brim of the CAPTAIN’S HAT—this, along with Jonestown, is as much evidence as I need to believe that we might have needed the harsh plasticene ’80s after all.
*From Hinterlands Who’s Who; file under “Muskrats are charming”: The muskrat’s name is derived from the fact that the animal has two special musk glands—also called anal glands—situated beneath the skin in the region of the anus. These glands enlarge during the breeding season and produce a yellowish, musky-smelling substance that is deposited at stations along travel routes used by muskrats. Common sites of deposition are “toilets,” bases of lodges, and conspicuous points of land. The biology of musk glands has not been studied extensively, but the odour produced is believed to be a means of communication among muskrats, particularly during the breeding season.