Work O fArt
I'm shamelessly addicted to this show because I happen to prefer reality shows where contestants have to do something other than catch crabs from the other contestants.
Did you see it last night? Douche (Jaclyn) and Douchier (Miles) worked side-by-side! What an obvious combo: He coerced her to get buck naked and she always wants to get buck naked. It's plain to see the self-imagined-overarching-stringpuller is just giving her all this advice to get her closer to the finals so he can stop telling her what to do in the end and she'll fuck up and lose.
Do you think by season's end we'll be treated to some footage of Miles and Nicole bumping sweet natural carpets? China Chow's croc tears for poor literal Mark moved me to the CORE - not! The point of that was...??? As if we bore witness to any personal rapport she had with the guy throughout the season?
Tune in next week when Miles convinces Jax and Nicole to blow him in a complex-yet-simple grainy sepia video installation entitled, "Blow Up Dolls," or something equally inane!
Check out this scene where Nicole attempts to explain her concept of chaos to Abdi. It should be a PSA..."This Is Your Brain On Art School." Ey-yi-yi.
It's official: I'm in the wrong business. To make a profit in this day and age, you have to take a household product, add a few clips, and sell the prototype to As Seen On TV for a cool $MIL$.
Take the Cami Secret for example. It's a fucking napkin with clips attached. Can't decide if your date is cute enough for a lil' cleave reveal? Keep your options open with Cami Secret. Get a load of the heaving ta-tas in the opening scene - yowza!
Stupid Feeling Of The Week
To Be...A Hollister Boy
Each time I cruise past where Broadway meets Houston, I trip over a pair of ripped slacker white boys, clad in lifeguard shorts that skim their faint pubes, with zinc smudged across the bridge of their noses like a couple of urban surf warriors. Yep, I'm talking 'bout those HOLLISTER BOYZ. How much you think they get an hour to decorate the sidewalk like that? What do you think they take to endure it? I'm sorry, but even if I looked that good, no ration of muscle relaxers could coerce me to surrender my pecs and ass-cheeks to a relentless 8-hour stint of pinching from total strangers. Even my gays, as appreciative as they are to peek at path-to-penis indents, question the judgment of any college student who would willingly do this. How many blow jobs do you think they get offered a day? I'm taking bets - just comment below!
The Mad Mom
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