So, I normally don’t do these kinds of things with Randomness entries. But so I don’t get blamed for getting your ass written up at work, if you want to know what I mean by “celebrity skin”, how ’bout you check out the next page. There’s also non-NSFW stuff there, if you give a shit about it. And if you were wondering, yes, I like seeing a hot boy tied up. Don’t know if he’s a “celebrity”, but when he looks like that and is in a bind, does it matter?
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.
Since my last bout of randomness, I did some interesting stuff. Like, attend my very first hockey game–Penguins vs. Sharks, in San Jose last week.
Some Penguins fans in the sea of teal. There were plenty more than what I captured.
Look at that sign above the Pens’ bench!
My zoom lens did pretty well here. I use a Sony DSC-HX20V, which has a zoom up to 20X for clear close-ups, and beyond zoom for blurry shots. But this one above was at around, I think, 25X, and it looks fine (would be better if the netting was out of the way).
sidney sidney sidney sidney ❤ ❤ ❤ (Again, the netting just had to be in the way to muck things up.)
I was a little hesitant to attend this game, by the way. I know the Pens’ track record at the Shark Tank (I am NOT calling it the “SAP center”, as it sounds lame) is dismal, though only until later did I find out how viciously shark-bitten the Penguins get in SJ: 10 straight losses. They only come to SJ once a year, so that’s 10 years in a row! That first period looked like they were going to change the course, going into the 2nd period with a 2-0 lead. If only the game ended there. Then, somewhere in the 3rd period, shit started coming downhill. (If I was an emotional big baby, I would have been bawling at the end of that game.) Even I still can’t believe how it ended, though I shouldn’t be shocked. It still blows.
Nonetheless, I was still happy to finally see my favorite hockey team in action. I just wish they held on to their lead and gave me a win. And, of course, when I don’t watch them in person, what do they do? Win elsewhere. Of course they would.
I actually took a few days off from work last week. Girlie needed it, and, the day after that hockey game, I shook off the meltdown loss with a trip to Santa Cruz. Excellent, warm weather that day, and the drive to there wasn’t too bad, either–also a surprise considering I went there on a Friday, and expected a snarl on that south 17.
Work sucks. Beaches rule.
I’ll tell you this, if I had a bikini body right now, I would have gone out there and worn a high-cut thong on the shores. You know, just to show the other girls how to wear a bikini the right (and flashy–pun intended) way. It was the one killjoy in my trip to SC–seeing some girls in those ugly, low-risers. They didn’t even have the bodies for them in the first place; not that they were pudgy, but who finds a long stomach and stumpy legs sexy? Yeah…
There–that’s how you wear a bikini, girlies of today.
The one funny thing about my trip altogether, though? Traveling on the day when Daylight Savings Time happened. That’s two times for me, now. When we fell back an hour last year, I was in L.A. for my birthday. When we went forward an hour, I was in San Francisco, enjoying myself. And then I looked at the time on my phone, and 1:59AM went to 3:00AM. It’s not fun partying when you lose an hour of it. And when I got back home, it was five in the morning. I didn’t get to bed till seven, and, I swear, that night/day, 7AM looked like 4AM. Bullshit this DST! They took away an hour of sleep from me, and the sky doesn’t look the time it is. It’s a good thing I don’t work on a Sunday.
I’m finding myself watching more trashy talk shows on my weekdays off. I’ve been watching more Maury than Jerry, but only because I tune into NHL Live at 2PM, the same time Jerry comes on. But I caught a bit of Jerry earlier today, and it’s still the same ol’ Springer. Fights, fights, and, uh, watermelon eating. Unless if those guys were perfecting the art of pussy-eating, that bit was unusual. I feel like I’m in danger of losing some brain cells when I watch Jerry, but at the same time, I don’t mind subjecting myself to this every now and then. (It’s like wanting to eat a handful of Cheetos, when you know more of it is gonna give you more flab.) Just catching glimpses of it–not really watching the entire segments, because two girls fighting after one of them slept with the other’s husband is actually old hat to me. Mind you, I watched Jerry when his act was something new and interesting back in the late 90s. And while it still is kind of amusing to see, it’s more fun watching hockey players fight on the ice.
As for Maury shows? Dude is the king of paternity tests. There was this one episode where this mother of two kids tested seven(!) guys to see if one of them was the father. And guess what? NONE of them were! (And some call a girl wearing a thong on the beach slutty). Now, I’m not sure if that–or anything else on Maury’s and even Jerry’s shows–was staged. But I’ll still be watching it. They advertise their shows as drama, but it’s more like comedy to me. And, by the way, why do the majority of these guests sound like they’re from the south? Almost all the guests on both of these shows, they sound like they’re from there. I’m not trying to link foolish behavior with the southern lifestyle; I’m just saying. Hell, there are morons where I live; I just have yet to see them on these talk shows.
The funny this is that whenever I watch either of these shows, I become a little more thankful for being single. All their stuff on cheating lovers would get me paranoid if I was with someone. I’d get suspicious with my man, if I had one, after watching Jerry!
No, I did not watch the Oscars last week. Not in its entirety. I caught bits of it, but I can’t bring myself to watch the show when it’s on. I still think the 2003 show (awarding the best in film of 2002) was the best of them all. Why? Three reasons…
By the way, at this time, Scorsese has yet to win an Oscar (got nommed that year for Best Director, but lost). Eleven years later, Eminem’s still got one more than Leo DiCaprio. lol
Sigh. The exact moment I fell in love with that man.
My new source of hilarity? Besides trashy talk shows? Reading negative feedback of eBay sellers. Here’s a sampling from one seller I recently bought some items from…
If the feedback up top and the one second from the bottom doesn’t make you LOL, then you must be soulless.
I don’t have three favorite words of the moment right now. Instead, I do have my hot male backside of the moment:
When Timmy was hot. I miss those days. If only he can bring that ass (and that hair, that long hair!) back, and get rid of that lame mustache. I think I’ll be making hot male butts a new theme around here.
I know. It’s late. I should be sleeping right now. I got work ten hours from now. Think of it as me being devoted to give you more of what’s on my mind. Actually, it’s fucking windy outside as I type, and that shit keeps me up.
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