I Heart Mom

So much in fact that I had to write something about how great her music/performances/general outlook is on Supreme Being. Click here.

The Boneyard

Back Yard Records in London officially launched their site which I'm writing for. Check it out here.

Sex Story

When chairs have a moment.



(Thanks Lucy)

Love Story

When meat gets down.



Via The Sexist

Scary Story: "My Vagina Fell Out"

I recently read a story about a lady named Allison Hardy. Her vagina fell out. Yeah, I know. But really, her vagina fucking fell out.

Washington The Sexist columnist, Amanada Hess, broke down the details of Allison's tale into bullet points after reading her testimony on Momlogic.com. I know what you're thinking, "How the fuck does a vagina just fall out?" I will explain.

First off it's not so much the vagina falling out, but the uterus and everything else a woman has in there. It's called a "uterine prolapse" and in Allison's case it was accompanied by a massive emergency appendectomy, gangrene, hospitalization and 15 weeks of endless bleeding.

"It felt like my insides were on the outside". Oh my god.

She also got "rectocele" which would explain why it felt like she "had a pitchfork in her butt". In this case, the walls of the vagina are weakened down and the rectum leans into the back wall of the vagina. Jesus H. Christ. So, Allison underwent major surgery where they removed her uterus and untwisted her bladder. I imagine this process is as simple as wringing out a wash cloth. Not. Allison went home and thought her nightmare was over.

Nope.

A week after her surgery, Allison was in bed watching a Disney movie with her daughter when her son came bouncing into the room and tossed himself on the bed. When Allison bent over to pick him up she heard a loud shredding noise. She looked down in pain as her bed filled up with thick blood clots. She was rushed to emergency where the doctor was so shocked by the gushing blood that he called Allison's family doctor freaking out because he had no idea what to do, "I'm killing her!" (Seriously, pull it together guy. You're an ER doctor.)

So, the doctor fixed her up and put her on an anti-biotic, which she later found out she was allergic to. She broke out in hives (this was nothing compared to the "pitchfork" anus situation).

Six months later, her body started rejecting the sutures. Finally, they had no choice but to give Allison a new vagina. A bran-spanking-new vagina. According to Allison, "the vagina of a thirteen year-old virgin, with a perfect labia, as a bonus."

Hess and I both agree that the grossest part of this story is not the rectum pushing, blood clots and gangrene but the fact that a grown woman now has a teenage vagina.

Allison may now have a tight new pre-birth pussy, but she is minus one uterus and plus one year of incredible, unreasonable pain. I guess sex might feel more pleasurable for both her and her husband, but if that was me that went through all that vagina trauma the last thing I'd want is to ram a dick in there. What if it shook everything loose again? I'd be over-protective of my vagina and fucking paranoid, might I add.

I'm sorry about your pain Allison and congrats on the new cooter, but no more 'teenage vagina' talk. Ok?

James Long UK

Sometimes it's really hard dating someone who is "fashion forward". I get fucking scared.

Needles x Pins

Needles x Pins (Macey, Tony and Adam) finally recorded. You can download all their pop-punk hits here.

Warning: Jawbreaker fans only.

Covers

Sometimes I think boys are pretty awesome.

ERICA

This is Erica. She is textile designer who lives in NYC and is probably the coolest mom I have ever met. Her husband, Sean, plays in the band Pollution. Erica has the oldest GERMS shirt. She told me her roommate used to steal it and wear it to the dish-washing job they both had. The shirt is now turning to floss, but she's keeping it around.

I don't know about you, but it made me pretty excited.

Swiffer

The bathroom at my work isn't really a bathroom at all. It's a storage space filled with bras, boxes, tools and hangers that happens to also have a toilet and a sink jammed in the mess. The sink is always filled with to-go coffee mugs and cutlery and in the order to flush the toilet, you have to reach into the tank and pull that little plastic tab.

I am worming my way through the mess of clothes and broken boxes to get to the toilet. I trip on an upside down plastic container and land into the wall. I finally sit down on the toilet with my pants around my calves, balancing on a stack of sealed-catalogs. So, I do my thing (not the first one, the other one) and I go to grab the toilet paper but there is none. There isn't even a fucking empty roll to wipe with. Now I'm scrambling because it's only me, there is no one to bring me paper towel, tissue, anything and I'm trapped in a storage room. Plus I can't remember if I locked the door to the store, so for all I know a customer could be cruising around or stealing every C-cup we have. This makes me feel guilty and insane, almost to point where I contemplate not wiping at all and just think about rushing out to make sure everything is okay. I don't. Instead I say, "fuck it" and stay put. I don't care. It's survival now. Plus, it's a matter of dignity. I need to wipe my ass.

Everything in the storage room is fabric or cardboard. I try to rip a piece of a cardboard box but I am too weak. Then, I realize that if I can't rip the cardboard, it might suck as a t.p substitute. As I search for an ass-wipe, I start thinking about all the things I've wiped my ass with in the past. A sock (Tony's house), newspaper (gas station), leaves (camping). I scan the floor for anything, paper, a napkin, a dead rat. Fucking anything really. Then, I see it. My make-shift pride: a swiffer sheet.

Hail Mary. Dignity.

Right?

Nicole told me the best joke the other night...

...Wing Wing Wing...

Extra Help

Sorry guys. I've been blogging more here.

Semi-Charmed Kind of Guy

Today I found this site called 'Style Like U' which is basically a blog that chooses select "cultural figures" with "style" and takes a virtual peak into their wardrobes. The camera follows the "style icon" of that week through their closet as they dribble about the uniqueness and beauty of each item.

Today the feature "style icon" was none other than Stephen Jenkins, the front man of Third Eye Blind. I'm sure the last time you saw Jenkins it was in that "Semi-Charmed Life" video. Remember that hit? They still play it in most sports bars, followed by the "Sunscreen Song".

All music aside, Jenkins is clearly a style icon. I don't know who else can master the black on black look. It's pretty original. As Jenkins takes the camera crew on a tour of his wardrobe we find out many interesting things about the poetic rock star.

First off, Jenkins throws down the big guns right off the bat equating clothing to "shields of armor, or like, you know, like points of identity". Heavy.

Second, we learn that Jenkins can't multitask. While fiddling with a garment he attempts to formulate a full sentence about Gandhi's style, but he ends up sounding like a stoned cheerleader ("It's like, completely, whatever, like as, like non as possible..."). Then, Jenkins informs us that coats are spiritual. So spiritual in fact that they can "pull energy in" and spit it out. Well, not all coats. Just Bumpkin Coats. Well, his Bumpkin Coat. It is magic, apparently.

Third fact about Jenkins: he doesn't like shoes, he prefers sandals. And he only owns one type of sock. Oh yeah, he also has toe nails that have been manicured with black nail polish. But wait, he has "an affinity for shoes". Clearly Jenkins and my three-year-old cousin are on the same level of knowing what they like in footwear.

And the last amazing thing Jenkins leaves us with? It's a real zinger. After trying on yet another black item of clothing (a blazer) he smiles, winks and coos, "It's just so cool". Then, he sticks his tongue into his lower lip and gleefully snaps his fingers like a key-swapping swinger who just walked out an orgy.

Stephan Jenkins Closet from Stylelikeu.com from Stylelikeu on Vimeo.

p.s - Check out the Buddha Jenkins has in front of his fireplace. I wonder who Jenkins thinks has more spiritual power? Buddha or the Bumpkin?

p.p.s - I'm going to have sex with Stephen Jenkins.

The Amazing Emanuel

It might shock some of you to know that I was a full-time figure skater during my youth. From the ages five to fifteen, I spend 70% of my time at the ice rink trying to perfect my double lutz-double loop combo. This schedule of skate-or-die worked well for me until I hit puberty and realized that my changing body had not only fucked up my t-shirt size, but also my skillful moves. So, by the age of fifteen I was fed up and done. I quit. Anyways, I still follow figure skating because it makes me feel all warm inside. When I see some fourteen-year-old Russian girl nail a perfect triple lutz, I tear up a bit. I can't help it. Landing a perfect jump in competition is kinda beautiful. 

Today I was watching "So, You Think You Can Dance Canada?" and noticed a familiar face pirouette-ing in front of the judges. Was it really him? Emanual Sandhu? The figure skating wonder boy from Vancouver who twirled his way into the spot light with his famous quad toe jump? Yes, it was him. And according to the narrator on the show, it was his second time auditioning to be a dancing star. 

Emanuel was known for his shitty attitude in the figure skating world. I think Rod Black even called him a "diva" once. It seems like a bad rep will follow you everywhere, even onto reality television.

 

Here is Emanuel doing what he does best, neon green shirts and sparkling stretch pants:

I also learned that Emanuel has become a singer. Combine this to his dancing and figure skating and in Hollywood, they'd label him "a triple threat".

And in case that wasn't enough talent for one single man, this video also teaches us that Emanuel is a fashion model. Most recently, he was featured in a Japanese magazine as 'Man of the Month'. 

Need more Emanuel? Click here to find an entire photo gallery devoted to his greasy abs, free streaming of his hit tracks 'Burn Up the Floor' and 'Purple Rain' (Note: he spells fellow Canadian pop star, Avril Lavigne's name as 'Levign') and lastly, a novel about his rise to the top of the ballet world. 

Princess Boothy goes to grad school

My friend Matt Booth is extremely talented. I'm not one to throw around the word genius, but he is. If you know Matt, you know this. Matt moved to New York yesterday to join his talented lady friend, Jody Rogac in their quest to be the ultimate artistic power couple. Oh yeah, he also was accepted to the graduate program for photography at Yale. They take like 10 people every 100 years.

Matt may be a genius, but he sucks at packing. We all do. Nobody realizes how much shit they actually have in their apartment until they have to send it to another country. Last night myself, along with some other friends, aided Matt in his quest to clean out his apartment and prepare for his new life in NYC. He was getting rid of a lot of stuff, a lot of s-t-u-f-f. I fucking cleaned up.

I got:

- Matt and Jody's bed (I dream of genius)
- a TV and VCR (finally I can watch Newsies and Empire Records)
- numerous cooking spices, teas, vitamins and cold meds
- frying pans
- vacuum
- shit tonne of books
- DVDs
- a shelf
- his old I PHONE (jshksjfh uew&&&knfskj!!!!!)

Boothy Clause made Christmas come in August.

Thanks for the gifts Booth and I wish you all the best.