This is how hot it is right now…
As hot as that clip. We have another heat wave going on in the North Bay, which is making me lazy. Which is fine, because I can look at that clip forever.
A couple weeks ago I went to Candlestick Park to check out the “Legends of Candlestick Park game.” I got to see all the greats of the San Francisco 49ers, and scored some good seats, too.
Initially, I was more into checking out the ‘Stick than going to this flag football game. The place is going to turn into rubble by the end of this year, so why not pay a visit to one of the most famous sports stadiums out there? Well, I now know why the Niners had to relocate. The place has undeniable charm and history, but lacked in things I’m used to having when going to other, more modern arenas/stadiums. Like a little museum space showcasing all the memorable things that happened at the ‘Stick (such as pictures, plaques, used game items, etc.). Or Wi-Fi, even at the ground level seats where I was. Or, for us ladies, an updated feminine hygiene product dispenser.
Some guy after the game asked me how to take a picture of the stadium without too much glare from the stadium lights. He was using his camera phone; I told him, because I was feeling honest that very moment, that maybe he should get an actual camera instead of using the one on his phone. And he had a cheapo cell phone, by the way. I wasn’t being bitchy to him, and I did help him out. But the fact that there are some people out there who snap away from their camera phones thinking they’re the next Avedon or Ansel Adams with their captures, only for their results to redefine the meaning of shoddy, never fails to awaken my inner bitch. I may have a good camera on my own cell phone, but it bows down to my Sony DSC-HX20V when I take pictures or video. Get a real camera, cell phone slaves! Some are actually cheaper than a cell phone these days, yet those cameras produce better shots than what you’d get from a phone. “Smart” phone, my grown ass. (I refuse to label a phone “smart” until it can teach me all levels of Spanish, do household chores for me, and cook me a mean steak.)
That term “rockstar” that’s being used to described not-rockstar things like “assistant managers” and “massage therapists” is one of the stupidest things going on right now. It’s as stupid as the people that use this label for things that don’t need it. Oooh, this iced latte is so rockstar! I’m a rockstar bathroom attendant! It’s right up there with the equally-nuisance label “awesome.” I may be a massage therapist, but don’t fucking call me a “rockstar massage therapist.” It’s not only fucking dumb, but it’s enough for this MT to maul you down worse than actual rock star from the 70s on booze and drugs.
There was once a time when I was, at best, cool with Miley Cyrus. And then, at a friend’s house, I read her cover story with “Elle” magazine, two months after the issue was out on newsstands. Out of curiosity; it was actually the first fashion mag released this year I bothered to pick up and look inside. I wanted to see if she was really as “edgy” as some people make her out to be. Instead, she ends up having the nerve to say that young girls look up to (get this) this piece of trash redefined because she’s got curves.
If that is what some young girls look to when seeking out a “curvy-figured beauty ideal” (not calling, and will never call K-trash that, now!) in the media, then it’s all the more reason that this current generation of millenials are FUCKED!!! How some of these young girls cannot see past the manufactured fakery full of Botox, implants, and bullshit and see that they are idolizing a no-talent fame-whore primarily famous for a godawful sex tape and not something of some substance and skill is mind-boggling. As if their generation is not flawed enough.
Oh, but those young girls also have Miley as their “rebel girl rock star.” I can’t shake my head in disapproval enough, and I’m not going to, as I may be too dizzy-headed to finish up this entry. Oddly enough, she still doesn’t bug me as much as Lady Gaga or Britney Spears (though one more stupid thing she says or does and she’ll join along those ranks). But…no, just no. You can’t be the voice of your generation, as well as think of yourself as a “feminist” when you see a setback of the women’s movement like Kim K-trash as a beauty icon to young girls. If anything, it shames the meaning of “feminist” and “feminism” all the more. Yeah, yeah, “feminism” means making your own choices while standing up for other women and their choices. But doing so brainlessly just takes the meaning out of “feminism,” doesn’t it? It’s like chanting “girl power” and siding with a hag that’s worse than a hooker who can’t stand up for herself and latches onto men (via sham marriages or “escorting”) for money and fame. You can’t be the priest and support the unabashed child-abusing pastor just because he’s “popular” in the church. And while you technically can be, just how fucked in the mind can you be to think you can have it both ways and not feel guilty about it?
Bye, Miley. Come see me again when your head is straightened out. Hopefully, with the rate you’re going, you’ll still be alive when that happens.
From trash to treasure, my newest crush…
Irina Shayk. (They spelled her last name wrong up there.) Count her as a summer crush that is blossoming. Why did I not notice this blue-eyed stunner in the first place when she made a splash on the cover of Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit issue three years ago? (Maybe it’s because I was all up on Tim Lincecum then.) Now this is who I wanna see more of on the magazine covers! Nice personality, has a significant job (this matters), the main reason why guys envy Cristiano Ronaldo, a great, proportionate figure (she’s got some hips!)…and she’s brunette, dammit.
I always wondered, given my preference for brunette girls, if, in a past life, I was a gentleman who preferred brunettes. The trait sure has passed down from one life to another. Sometimes I like to think my taste in women trumps that of the tastes of most of the men I know. Especially the guys that only dig blondes. I’d like to say there’s nothing wrong with that, but why stick with the same exact kind the whole time of your love life? At least someone that prefers brunettes have a variety of women they can hook up with. And I also don’t mind blondes in my love harem, but rarely do I go nuts over a goldilocks that comes my way.
Tee-hee, the fashionistas at The Fashion Spot have been borderline-obsessively wondering who will be on this year’s September cover of US “Vogue.” There are some people that still care about that reductive rag? It’s like some people haven’t learned a thing from “Vogue” after the trash that went down in late March. If only they took all that energy over wondering what model will be on that cover and used it towards getting Anna Wintour fired instead.
Speaking of shit on the webs, there is some really good shit found in the comments of Dlisted that reading comments on that site is becoming my new pastime. To wit, shit Dlisters say, on topics such as social media and the internet…
(A day since I read that top comment, and I still can’t stop laughing at it. Hahahahahahahaa…)
…and on the worst so-called “erotic” so-called “book” ever put out there to brainwash the gullible, sexless women…
Dlisted posts & comments >>>>>>> Buzzfeed posts & comments. Go check Dlisted.com out for yourself. You too will love (and get addicted to) the snark.
And finally, the most adorable baseball cards ever created.