Now, Isn't that SPECIAL?

Zac Attack!

Ok.

So, I am feeling a little uncomfortable because my completely natural, normal and healthy OBSESSION with High School Musical is reaching new levels of inappropriatey.  And all because of this:

DAMN you, Zac Efron!!!

I remained totally ambivalent to your aww shucks snuggliness on that horrible/amazing TV show, Summerland.

Although, I am sure that BOTH of us realized that every time you and that piggesque girl were kissing/hugging that the camera would focus ONLY on you and your sunny wholesomeness.

And when my friends were fawning over you in HSM, I was yawning.

Just look at you with your little sports-posse of FFA's (Future Faggots of America.)

And then these pictures of you and your co-star/girlfriend on vacation in Hawaii surfaced:

(Insert bent-over/doggy-style references here)

And my icy heart, as well as my loins, melted.
It is sooo precious that you are going out with little Miss Latasian in real life! Also, when did you grow a body?

After this onslaught of shirtless beach romping with your half Asian/half Latina girlfriend/beard, how could I resist all your perky charms?

I went to see Hairspray directly thereafter.

And *maybe* I bought the sound track just for your rendition of 'Ladies Choice.'

Zac, Zac, Zac. Why do I love thee so?

Could it be your devout love for Women of Size?
Could it be that you have accepted and chosen a half Asian lady to be your pet?
Could it be your conscious decision to make the cinematic genre of the 'Musicals' your forte?
OR
Is it just that you (very possibly) could actually be gay and fellow gays are always eager to embrace and fantasize about their famous fellows in faggotry?

WTF-ever. Just keep on frolicking half-naked and I'll be satisfied.
Oh, and for godssake, make sure your are wearing sunscreen to protect your delicate peachy skin!

Old Spice

So, I know that many of you may not share my OVERWHELMING enthusiasm for the up-coming Spice Girls reunion tour, but lets get real here.

The Spice Girls came onto the scene in 1996, the same year that Bill Clinton got re-elected to the presidency, Dolly the Sheep became the first mammal ever successfully cloned and I discovered commercial lube and it's usefulness in masturbation. 

It was also my freshman year in high school when I KNEW that I was gay and would ALWAYS be gay.  This time was special because not only are you dealing with all the joyful/scary shit that comes with being 15 but, as a homo, you are having one of your first (if any) major existential crises.  This is usually the very first point where LGBTQ people either choose to recognize and embrace their unique sexuality or live their lives with a certain degree of denial, shame and self loathing.

THANK GOD I embraced the Spice Girls and all they stood for!  Their brazen unabashed femininity was always backed up with a ball-busting sense of pride in the knowledge that they could do WHATEVER and be WHOEVER they wanted to be.  I would walk down the hall thinking I was the cool, calm and collected Posh Spice and suddenly become impervious to the insults and snickering.  Some of my best memories are dancing with the hot black girls at school dances to 'Say You'll Be There', winning 3rd place in the Women's History Month essay contest for writing about Victoria 'Posh Spice' Beckham and making out for the first time (!!!) to '2 Become 1.'

So yeah, I am a LITTLE fucking EXCITED about their reunion tour and in order to commemorate this miracle of life I give you:

The Spice Girls, a Retrospective on their Lives AFTER Spice.

Lets start with my favorite, Victoria Beckham:

'This Groove'

This was one of Vicky's last singles...her anthem to phone sex...with DAVID BECKHAM...a little bit on the cheesy side, but come on! She's sooo hot with her horse-hair extensions, am I right?

Click here to continue Reading 'Old Spice'

Posh-Bob

I have had a little hunch that Rihanna's newfound success could be warranted by a little more than the meth-like addictivity of her song Umbrella. The saturation of Rihanna in my life is getting intense.  Umbrella is the constant hot jam playing in my corner bodega, my ring-tone is Shut Up and Drive,  and just the other day, my MOM asked me if it was raining in New York and if so, did I have "umbrella ella ella eh, eh, eh?"

I Love Rihanna.  I love all of the songs on Rihanna's new album.  I love that Rihanna has one of THE GAYEST club banging songs, Don't Stop the Music, on said new album. But it wasn't until I actually SAW the European (aka cheap) video for the song, did my scattered thoughts cohere and I realized that the reason I am so SUDDENLY obsessed with Rihanna is because she has MORPHED into old school Victoria Beckham!

All I can see is POSH POSH POSH! That video has POSH written all over it.

So, seeing as how Rihanna has ripped off her newest shtick from ole Victoria, when I heard that she had shown up at the huge TomKat "Welcome to America" party last night, I wondered if she was going to copy Posh just like Katie Holmes and Jada Pinkett Smith did:

It's as if on the invite it said "Only severe asymmetrical bobs and vermouth-free martinis will be tolerated." 

            FORTUNATELY good ole Rih-Rih went with a curly up-do, the very opposite of the Posh-Bob.
What a smart little doppelgangstress.

UNFORTUNATELY I am freshly reminded of the fivehead-of-doom that has been lurking betwixt the severe side-parted safety of the bob.

Oh well, can't win 'em all, eh?

Eh, eh, eh, eh.

"I can't wait, Paula, you always plan the GREATEST parties!"

What could possibly be better than the pubescent delight that is High School Musical?

The answer to that includes pre-pubescents, an interracial dance-off and our resident slurstress Paula Abdul!

It's Junior High School-The Musical!  Feast your peepers on this:

GOD!  The thing that makes Junior High School so SPECIAL is that although it is a musical and therefore a gaylicious fantasy, it still manages to keep it real. 

Example #1: The Villianess, Vicki, is a certified member of the Bad Girl's Club.  Smoking in the girl's room, plotting, conniving and just plain bossy!  She's a man-eater and a girl-beater. It would be the battle of the blondes if she and Sharpay ever crossed paths, and I have a feeling that Vicki would not be above pulling a few dirty tricks out of her bitch-bag.

Example #2:  All of the guys look like puny little kittens, completely defenseless against the more developed female gender of their species.  The girls are all fiercely horny and riled up while the boys are only mildly interested in girls and more benign in their blossoming sexual desires.  This, in turn contributes to a light air of homosezuality in the film.

Example #3:  May I present to you, the Itty Bitty Titty Committee:

These girls may not have any titties, but they DO posses what will REALLY get them far in life:  the dance skillz to pay the bill$!

Just ask Paula.  Take some warbly vocals and add an animated dancing cat and BAM you got yourself a career.

Just Another Manic Monday!

I feel like a high school quarterback on prom night with a roofie, some Anbesol and a bottle of anal lube...ready to do Monday night UP THE POOP CHUTE!

Monday is gonna be SO hot in all it's neon pink taffetaness, that it's gonna be hard for me to contain myself.

Reason #1 Monday is gonna rock your cock:  Posh Spice is coming to America, Y'ALL, and NBC done went ahead and filmed a TV special about it!   Tune in  or Sticky Vicky will EAT YOUR SOUL!

Reason #2 Monday is gonna rock your cock:  The blog that I have been writing for is launching on Monday!  Click the link below to see the cause that I have been a slave 4 (u) channeling the bizarrely banal thoughts bleating through Britney's brain.

Paula Abdul...NOT a Boozehound

Straight up, now...double vodka.

So Paula Abdul insists that she never gets drunk or takes drugs, but if the prediction of the cultural magic 8-Ball that is the iTunes Music store is correct:



Then apparently Ms. Abdul should be prepared to take a spill.

And whats great is that you don't even have to IMAGINE to conjure up images of the Abdulstress tripping, flipping out or generally being mentally unstable because FANTASY has become REALITY...or at least reality television.

If you haven't already experienced the magical carpet ride that is her show, here are a few clips to peak your interest:

(ugh....technology...click on the blue link at the bottom of the video)

Paula Abdul at Starbucks
Video sent by TheDlisted

Paula Abdul Makes Perfume
Video sent by TheDlisted

I Have One Thing to Say

SPICE UP YA MUTHA-EFFING LIFE, BITCHEZ!

God, I thought the reunion would NEVER happen.  Hahahaha, notice how the other four that AREN'T Posh are all "Ho hum...oh...yay...I guess. Is there food at this event? Wait, I think I see cheese pastries!" But OF COURSE the High Priestess of Poshitivity is looking like she is seconds away from eating your muthafuckin' SOUL and then washing it down with a goblet of chardonnay...with ONE ice cube, thank you very much.

And seriously.  Geri, did you not get the "Please pour your tits and ass into the nearest black sausage casing and affix with elaborate corsetry and staple gun, if necessary" memo from Posh? 

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Lol-han

Now I know for real that Lindsay Lohan and I are somehow cosmically linked.

She just dyed her hair raven dark dark brown AS DID I two days ago.

Some may remember way back when (last fall) when I dyed it black after being inspired by La Lohan:




Then she went to a transitional too-light sorta red:





As did I. Listen, I am not proud of that.  But unfortunately that's the color you get when you try to strip black hair dye out of your hair.  Well, that bitch Lohan is irish and a natural redhead, whilst I just looked like a ghetto-banging asian J.Lo wannabe for a day.

And then my personal favorite for easy breezy spring/summer, medium chestnut brown:



Now we are both back to an almost-black locks for the impending fall season. Whats bizarre is that only the initial midnight black color was me directly copying La Lohan. The rest were all chance and the fact that she and I are (for better or worse) cosmically linked somehow.

Just my luck.

Eye Spy a Queer Eye

So guess who just happened to sign-up at my little gym today?



Yes, it's Kyan Douglas from 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.'

As I was ascending the stairs I saw him in all his err...glory...he was really quite ordinary looking in person. I then proceeded to get on my fave treadmill and have a silent gay vs. gay cardio-race.

Kyan on elliptical vs. Kyle on treadmill.


It was pretty epic. My ass was very sweaty by the end of our mother-loving battle because I was prancing at a much faster pace than I usually do. If we end up being at the gym at the same time everyday, I am going to be one svelte-ass fatherfucker.

My next train of thought was, 'what the baby's fist is Kyan doing at my gym?', which is the nicest one in Williamsburg, albeit a far cry from a luxurious homo harem. I mean, there is only a small steam room which is usually occupied by only one very swarthy sausage of a man.

After 2 minutes of exhaustive internet research, I found that he lives with his gay rights activist lover-man in Brooklyn. So that explains it.

Now my big dilemma is, do I act like I have no idea who he is, thereby granting him the anonymity that he probably so dearly craves...or give into my girlish desire to fawn over him while he is alllll stinky?

AA

It's finally time, my friends.

I seriously need to cut the recreational drinking out of my life. At this point in my life it just makes me very irrational although prone to highlarious antics. Last night I was mildly frustrated and thus started having a few drinks at Laura's work place, Pure Food and Wine (which, by the way, is the place to go if you are in serious need of a BM, because they only serve raw, organic foods. Some of the most satisfying and earth shattering dumps I have taken have been the direct result of a night out at Pure Foods.)



Well "a few" turned into "a bunch" which turned into "Baartenderr giive meee anozer!" On the way home (and 2 pieces of pitty-pizza later) I decided I was going to go on and get even more blitzkrieged...alone...at my house...LUCKILY instead I just fell asleep right away and awoke an hour later with a clear mind.

My life is pretty awesome right now and me thinking anything else is a booze-influenced hallucination of doom.

SO THATS IT. I am not going to drink myself into oblivion because it always makes me either A) send naughty myspace messages B) eat raw hot dogs or C) create embarassing blog rants that contain confused mumblings that I have to delete later.

Don't look at me that way, I know I know...I am not quitting the bottle completely, but a girl can get her kicks without getting sick.

Following is a photo tribute to some of my more regrettable, yet hil-a-ious drunky moments.


This was the night of my last St. A's Pledge Formal EVER...the theme was Grimms Fairy Tales and I was the Golden Ball from the Frog Prince. Unfortunately, I drank waaaay too much (exhibit A: me desperately grasping both the bottle AND glass) and blacked out shortly after that pic was taken. I am told my ball/hat came to good use as a puke vessel tho.



This was the night Carucci, Jerch and Jenny crashed the Moat Party at some frat house, and after drinking straight gin for hours, I made it my mission to steal a pair of undies from each frat boy. (exhibit B: Big bag-o-undies)






Going in for the kill. One of many drunken games of spin the bottle. No heed. (exhibit C: Look into his sweaty pitts. That girl is mesmerized.)



Seemingly desperate consumption of both ciggies and pizza usually follows such a binge. (exhibit D: Cancer. exhibit E: Fat)



Anyone want to guess what happened that night? Probably all of the above. (exhibit F: bloated face, blood-shot eyes.)

Jeez...if thats not disgusting and unflattering enough to plant my ass on that good ole wagon, I don't know what is...oh wait, yeah I do:


The fear of turning into this drunky mcdrunkster.