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FACEBOOK FRISKED

3 DAYS AWAY, SISTA

BETTER ABS THROUGH NEO-NAZISM

Thanks, Facebook. Always a pleasure.

I'M NOT BITING THE BAIT UNLESS YOU BUY ME A DRINK FIRST, PROGRESSIVE

World of Wonder Productions has one of the best blogs on the internet. It smashes pop culture, art, gay politics, and television in one medium. Granted, some of their pop culture musings are a little bit five minutes behind but, what they contribute to the television world, forgives them all interweb faux pas.

One thing I've noticed over the past week of perusing the blog (praying they'll post an entry for an office man servant), is a really peculiar Progressive Insurance ad of two old timey men posed for a portrait together. At first I was like "AWWW CUTE OUR FAGGY FOREFATHERS." But when you follow the ad, you don't really get anything, really: you get a small blurb about how Progressive is progressive and L-O-V-E-S gays. Powerful.

I was all like "BRB SWITCHING FROM USAA TO PROGRESSIVE TO GET MY GAY ON." But, when I requested the quote, I received a grossly exaggerated insurance quote and was greatly appalled. I'm sorry, support gays all you want, but this poor gay gotta save his pennies for better things.

That being said, Progressive, I have to tell you one thing: if you wanna be my insurer, you gotta please my dividends--make your prices lower and the gays will be your friends.

_____ IS THE END: WWW.BESTWEEKEVER.TV

It's official: BestWeekEver.TV is over.

For a long time, Kristen and I were BWE.TV frequenters who salivated, waiting for every new post. We anxiously awaited the new Celebrity Math, Conversations with Winehouse, and Project Runway Recaps and were always pleased with the results. Yet, the past few months on the blog have been marked by a distinct downturn into Not Funny Land.

We have many hypotheses as to what has caused the almost absurd turn but the main one is that Sara Schaefer, which has resulted in Death taking Dan Hopper and Michelle Collins by the hand and ushering them to a guillotine for beheading/killing their blog. 

With the introduction of the ghastly Blingee Wednesdays, BWE.TV entered an era of "We're trying to capitalize on things that happened 5 minutes ago." Along with Blingees, the site has forfeited its self-deprecating funny and has been replaced with "LOOK WHAT WE FOUND ON THE INTERWEB LOL (No, we didn't find this on DListed)" and Michelle Collins' shameless self-promotions.

Kristen and I have gone from checking BWE.TV every hour to maybe once a week (and when we do check it, it results in rants about how bad it's become). The final straw for us was the disappointing 90s Movie Madness competition. I have to admit, tis was a great idea, but when you put fucking Clueless in your final four and allow it to lose Clerks and go on to allow Clerks to win the title, something is wrong with your site.

I am saying it now loud and clear: BWE.TV is dead. It has become the Dane Cook of pop culture blogs. Pray for it to shrivel and fade away or for Sara's return. Actually, don't pray for Sara's return: pray for her to take over Jimmy Fallon's job.

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(Special shout out to my friend J-B G for the tip)

TGIGF

I'M STILL SICK OF YOUR PASSIVE AGGRESSION, FACEBOOK

You know, Facebook, I don't need your bullshite to try to help me get through the work week. Thank you very much.

FUN WITH GOOGLE PREVIEW

WHY 22 IS THE END: IF ONLY COMPLEMENTS WERE CURRENCY

As we've been droning away at work, Kristen and I have been noticing that complements have been pouring in from different directions this week. Here's a sample of a few:

- "Thanks so much! You're a STAR!"

- "Don't you look spiffy--have a date tonight?"

- "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU"

- "I like that you always keep me guessing. Keep it up."

- "You explain this best."

- "Keep up the good work."

- "Thanks for coming in late last night and fixing something I forgot to do because I am incompetent and use you as a means by which to cover my ass so I can look great and you can look bad."

Now, as you can see, many of these are directed at work ethic. Others are aimed at appearance. Yet, none of them refer to anything beyond "I see what you did there--and it was good. I'm going to tell you and no one else of your excellence." This is totally fine...if we didn't crave raises more than the expired "as is" food we eat from our respective low-level super markets (because we can't afford anything else).

We're not saying to ban complements--we're just saying that if we had a bruise for every time we got a pat on the back, we'd practically be paraplegics. And, that is reallllllly annoying (as we've been working our jobs for well over half a year and we are still regarded as farts in the wind).

I don't know about Kristen, but I'm opening up a savings account at the American Bank of Complements, so I can save up, accumulate interest, and--eventually--be able to afford a hug (which is worth at least fifty complement dollars).

TODAY IN IM: SPANISH LESSON

K: I WAS ALWAYS ON TEAM ENRIQUE NOT TEAM RICKY (ALTHOUGH I ALWAYS THOUGHT RICKY WAS BETTER LOOKING)
K: I WAS TEAM RICKY
K: WEPA UN DOS TRES UN KDFJSFJIDJ BAILANTE MARIA
K: OMG MY MOM PLAYED THAT SONG ON BLAST ALL. THE. TIME.
K: PUERTO RICO'S FINEST
K: WHAT DOES HE EVEN SAY
K: IT SOUNDS LIKE HE SWITCHES OVER TO CROATIAN OR SOMETHING I SWEAR
K: I NEVER KNEW
K: I COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND SPANISH WHEN SUNG
K: I WOULD ALWAYS BE LIKE "HOW THE HALE YOU UNDERSTAND THIS MOM?"
K: BECAUSE ALL I EVER HEARD WAS LIKE "BAILA UNO DOS TRES ILEJRTIHARDGUBANUHAOIHEORIALKNVILHEAOIERJAPOIE RPOAU ESPORU YAYAYAYAYAYA"
K: THAT WAS IT
K: WEPA WEPA WEPA
K: KJHKJFGDFJGIY j JSKDHF uifh IUDSF HG MARIA
K: I THINK THOSE ARE THE LYRICS
K: DONT QUOTE ME ON THAT
K: THATS PRETTY CLOSE
K: (YOUR ACCENTS ARE IN THE WRONG PLACE)
K: SORRY IM ON A PC

WHAT A WEEK

                               

__________ IS THE END: TAGGING YOUR FRIENDS

Following in the frightening footsteps of "25 Random Facts You Don't Know About Me," Facebook denizens have created a new layer of hell: "Tag Your Friends."

This extremely annoying exercise in GIVE ME ATTENTION has manifested itself in the form of tagging your the your friends as Disney Princesses, Gossip Girls, (not real) South Park characters, Pokemon (gotta catch 'em all), and--most notoriously--Mr. Men/Little Miss characters.

Now, I'm all for the Facebook and fooling around by tagging people as things they are not, but when all of your photos tagged are random incarnations of shoes that a "clever" friend felt the need to alert you of, it's time to stop.

This is a call to action for Facebookers: untag yourself and rid yourself of the eyesores of Facebook created by people who have no time on their hands and who still cling to the past expressions of social networking. 

Come one people: this is 2009--not 2001.

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(and, yes, we've been busy jackholes: we have jobs. 22IstheEnd still is alive.)

FOR ALL THOSE NOT T'ING G I F

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WHAT 22 IS THE END: YOU ARE FATIGUED FROM THE RESULTING TIME CHANGE DAYLIGHT SAVING BRINGS

This past Saturday night I attempted to watch a new horror movie I had purchased. It was the perfect cleanse to a crazy two weeks of non-stop, ridiculous, mind-numbing work and I was very excited to see it, as I had heard great things. As the clock approached midnight, the sounds of screaming and murder and highly-evolved-plant-life-massacring-humans sang me to a deep sleep. I woke up on my couch at 4AM, dazed and startled: I wasn't asleep for that long. I sidled my way across the living room floor into my bedroom and continued on sleeping.

I woke up the next morning at 9AM and knew something felt funny. I had a busy Sunday and only realized at "2:30PM" that my clock was wrong: I was a victim of Daylight Saving Time. That night, I got home, ate dinner, and hung out with my family, but could not muster the will power to stay awake beyond--I don't know--10PM.

For the past three days, I've just been an absolute wreck from Daylight Saving Time. Recently, the slightest of changes in my sleeping patters eff me up. I can't stay awake for more than three hours without getting groggy. I frequently zone out and forget what work needs to be done: I am an absolute waste on many different levels from fucked up sleep.

At 22 years old, this is a problem. Every time I decide to watch the Colbert Report--I'm a mess. Whenever I go out and have some drinks with friends, costing me a midnight hour, I'll be a vegetable the next day. If I am at work beyond 9PM (which happens a lot)--I have to go home and lay my head on a pillow and sleep for many, many hours. 

Daylight Saving Time's beginning has disrupted my internal clock. And, like many adults, I have been introduced to a despicable culture of "tired adults," who find a bond in common misfortunes. Daylight Saving Time hits this nail on the head, reinforcing that--after a certain age--there is an unstated agreement that "Oh, something sucks in life: let us find a means to express our malcontent!" And, let me be the first to say: this malcontent is expressed in the most mature and progressive of ways.

Daylights Saving Time has helped usher in post-college life and has made me proud to be 22. Who wants to be lively, anyway?

TODAY IN IM: MONOGAYMOUS

K: I HAVE SWORN OFF ALL OTHE GAYS
K: WHY IS THAT
K: IM MONOGAYMOUS
K: I NEVER IMAGINED THAT DAY WOULD COME: I WOULD BECOME MONOGAYMOUS WITH A WOMAN
K: TELL YOUR MOM
K: THIS SOUNDS LIKE A GREAT "TODAY IN IM" POST

WHY 22 IS THE END: ZITS ARE FOREVER

I have been fortunate enough in my lifetime to have clear skin. I've never had to use acne washes or go see a dermatologist or even have to pop a zit or follow in the footsteps of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Jessica Simpson. I've always had clear skin and have always been followed by the envious eyes of pizza faces everywhere. My frequently pimple free face has helped me pass as a high schooler even at 22. It's pretty cool to get carded every time you try to buy cigarettes, alcohol, lighters, or even spray paint. It's never inconvenient. Never.

Kristen, like me, has also enjoyed the blessing of zitless skin and clear complexion. However, like me, she has suffered the same affliction: when you do get pimples, you get them bad. This was always the problem in high school: the occasional crater you didn't know how to deal with. A zit would come, attack for a week, and leave us on our merry way. We never had time to learn how to understand them or even befriend them enough to make it work for us (if that's even possible).

At 22, pimples are becoming more and more problematic because you aren't in high school and everyone notices and feels the need to make clever euphemisms about it ("Oh, looks like something bit you on your lip!"; "Where'd you get that fancy new beauty mark?"; "What? Run out of Pro-Active?"). And, every time I get a pimple, I'm like "EMERGENCY EMERGENCY HOW DO YOU FIX THIS WTF MATE" It makes me wish I had had terrible acne in my youth because then I would know how to deal with pimples. Now, when I get the occasional, unsightly face (well, eye)sore, I just scratch it and try to pop it, aggravating it to an extreme point where people look at you and only have "LOOK AT THAT ZIT" on their mind.

Maybe, at some point in the future, zits will stop trying to conquer my face once a month, a prospect that seems impossible. Until that point, I need to figure out how I'm going to deal with this when I am 32. Or, I'll just preoccupy my thoughts with trying to learn how to accept other things I don't like about my body, so zits will seem inconsequential.

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS...OR TEN

It's okay, Chris. We know Rihanna was asking for it.

FUN WITH GOOGLE PREVIEW

WHY 22 IS THE END: NO ONE "GETS" YOU ANYMORE

Kristen and I met while we interned at a cable television channel while in college. We were in New York City for the summer, none of our friends were really in the city, and we had a lot of free time while at work. So, we spent most of our hours making LOL creatures to maximize LULZ instead of committing suicide in a cubicle.

Beyond that, one thing we realized that summer (and what brought us to be ~*~bEsTiEs~*~) is that no one we worked with understood us or got our humor. We were lone rangers, cruising through a desert on the fastest wild stallions in the West. People in our office couldn't keep up (At. All.). Most of the other interns couldn't even keep up. It got to a point where our bosses were like "We don't give you real work, so make us a Powerpoint presentation of current trends because you introduced us to LOL and Facebook, so you guys must be hip."

So, we blew their minds with YouSendIt and Amy Winehouse--before either were trainwrecks.

And, even though we made a fancy Powerpoint, no one understood what we were saying. No one "got it." Kristen and I discuss to this day if we presented drunk and spoke French. Really, we don't get it.

As foxy 22 year olds, Kristen and I have realized the same thing as we forge into the real world: no on gets us. We both make jokes, try to win people over with our killer fashion sense, and are hard fucking workers--but no one respects or takes our worth beyond face value. No one says "Oh, she's a spectacular, comedic, ironic writer" or "Oh, he is a greaaaat actor and entertainer."

No: all we get are jobs that have nothing to do with what we studied in college. Or, they have nothing to do with what we actually want to be "when we grow up." Either way: we feel like we're doomed.

Beyond predicting "David at the Dentist" or "Kittens Inspired by Kittens," no one has taken our cool hunting predictions beyond being strange, weird, and off-kilter. We have close-to-mainstream-taste, but no one takes us seriously (which is why we started a blog).

But, you know what: we've reached a point where we don't fucking care anymore. We'll watch "Bart is the General" and laugh at "Riding On the Bus with my Sister" and still love/hate Rosie O'Donnell and not care that no one "gets us."

Whatever. Excuse our beauty.

TODAY IN IM: ONE DAY WE SHALL SHINE

K: SOMEONE KEEPS PRITING ON COMPANY LETTERHEAD WHICH WHEN RUN THROUGH A PRINTER SMELLS LIKE YOU ARE BEING SUFFOCATED BY SAWDUST
K: EW I ACTUALLY REMEMBER THAT SMELL EW
K: POOL CHEMICALS AND SAWDUST
K THE KIND OF SMELL THAT MAKES YOUR TEETH HURT
K: THAT LAST DESCRIPTION DESERVES A LITERARY MEDAL
K: WHAT CAN I SAY IM A WRITER ON THE INSIDE AND AN ACCOUNTANT ON THE OUTSIDE
K: ONE DAY: WE WILL SHINE IN GOD'S LOVE

GOD ISN'T AS BIG ON FACEBOOK AS WE THOUGHT

One of me and KF's favorite facebook related activities is an IM exchange of friends' statuses with commentary. It seemed that God was having a big day on facebook. Examples:

Facebook friend is thinking just when i wanted to give up God came and saved the day!
Facebook friend is a winner in God's eyes!

That got me to thinking: What if God was one of us? Just a facebook addict like one of us? God would probably have sooo many friends. He would probably be tagged as "the one you can depend on."

Much to my dismay, God doesn't have a profile, but he does have a PAGE! I thought God must have so many fans, but he only had 2,934! Well if God isn't that popular, than Satan must have like 5 goth kids who only have 5 friends each on facebook right? WRONG! Satan has 3,628. To put this all in perspective, Boo from Monsters, Inc. has 2,160,642 fans. YES. A CARTOON GIRL FROM A MEDIOCRE PIXAR FILM HAS TWO MILLION ONE HUNDRED SIXTY THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED FORTY TWO FANS. Boo has about 736 times the amount of fans God has. I'm kind of indifferent on this whole situation though. Can I be a fan of indifference? Yes.

FINALMENTE

FINALMENTE E' VENDREDI' EVERYONE

WHY 22 IS THE END: YOU HAVE EVEN LESS MONEY THAN YOU DID IN COLLEGE

I work as a personal assistant and am pretty content with my just-outta-college wage. However, like every working man, working woman, and--if you are in Asia--working child, mo' money brings mo' problems. And, once you are in the real world, these problems all hit at the same time.

I've learned that with car payments, rent, student loans, phone bills, credit card, and the "cost of living" combined, you barely make ends meet. I am not understanding how people can be upwardly mobile if this is how "adulthood" begins. I mean, I don't even have that high of bills but I can't imagine them going up even in the slightest. Do adults secretly win the lottery? Do adults just quietly stew in their debt? Do adults all eventually become Willy Lohman? Please, adult readers who we do not have, answer these questions.

I cant figure out what I'm doing wrong (besides not listening to my weekly Buxfer.com report) but I cannot foresee and end to this madness. You would think I am just bank-bank-banking that dough but, honestly, I have no idea where it is going because I am banking nothing. Like, zero point zero zero dollars. Like, I think I'm actually paying my boss to work for him. Like, FML.

If I can get someone to pay for my alcohol addiction and my housing and my clothes and my car, then I think I will be able to bank some money and actually move on with life. Then, maybe, 22 won't be the end.

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS...OR TEN

Aren't they supposed to be hotter with their shirts off?

(Nick Jonas: You will always be beautiful in my eyes. I can't wait until we can make out.)

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WHY 22 IS THE END: BEING ON THE INTERNET AT 2:45 AM IS NO LONGER "WHAT YOU DO"

It's weird to say "back in college" but I haven't been to my Alma mater in over a year. So anyway back in college, it was perfectly normal to be up doing absolutely nothing at 3 AM, and then call your BFF who only lives 5 doors down to go to the C-store and get some snacks. Being up at all hours used to be just "what you do" but now it's "what you do when you are lame." Normally I don't ever make it to 3 AM unless I am out, about, and wasted. Otherwise I am in bed by midnight because I am too exhausted from my big girl job to even bother.

So what happens late night after Conan finishes (FOREVER as of tonight, but that's another blog post) in the life of a 22 year old? Well I did some regular weirdo "I live alone so I can" stuff like change my clothes in the kitchen and hold an impromptu yoga session in my living room. Now I'm online at a time where EVERYONE used to be online, but right now I only have one person on my buddy list, the same BFF who used to live 5 doors down on the 7th floor (that's another blog post on an entirely different blog). OH WAIT HE JUST SIGNED OFF.

AM I OLD? Brb planning my funeral. Or obsessing over how I am not married yet while acknowledging the fact that I don't want to be married yet. I think that's the next stage of life anyway.

TODAY IN IM: IMITATION IS THE HIGHEST FORM OF FLATTERY--UNLESS YOU DO IT WRONG

K: LETS PLAY A GAME CALLED "HOW DO I LOOK TODAY"
K: I LOOK LIKE SHIT AND I KNOW IT

K: HOW YOU LOOK
K: LET ME EXPLAIN HOW I "LOOK"
K: I WAS INSPIRED TO DRESS LIKE JEWELRY DESIGNER PHILIP CRANGI (WHO I WANT TO BE), SO I COMBINED THESE IMAGES:
phillipcrangi_assembly.jpg
00001f.jpg
AND crangi_2.jpg
K: BUT INSTEAD OF LOOKING LIKE THAT, I LOOK LIKE THIS:
393_bio_homepage_main.jpg AND THIS SALLY_JESSE_RAPHAEL1.jpg
K: MY HAIR IS RATTY AND IM WEARING AN UGLY BELT
K: O DEER

K: I WOULD SAY WE FAILED AT THE STYLE TODAY

PROOF THAT WE NEED TO BE BUYING ITEMS IN THE MICHAEL JACKSON ESTATE SALE

If you haven't heard, Michael Jackson is auctioning off all his items from the Neverland Estate. And if, for whatever reason, you thought you didn't want to get anything, the above is proof we all need to be investing.

(or, proof that we all need paintings commissioned of E.T. fashioned in our own image)

WHY 22 IS THE END: NO ONE FACEBOOKS US ANYMORE

For the adult, checking Facebook once a week is a new sport you participate in once a week. For the high schooler, checking Facebook is something you do when you're not on MySpace or YouTube or LiveJournal or Xanga or AIM. But, for the college student, checking Facebook less than once an hour is a faux pas, social suicide, inexcusable: if you do not check your Facebook profile more times a day than there are hours you are awake--you're in trouble.

Speaking for two recent college graduates, we at 22IsTheEnd are still running on a schedule that requires our being on Facebook more minutes a day than we spend actually working at work. This isn't actually our fault, though: it is the product of having spent the past four years in college slaving over the art of Facebook stalking and replying tactfully to Facebook messages whilst drunk. But, the only difference in our Facebooking as "adults" versus our Facebooking while in college, is that people do not give a damn about our profiles anymore.

Recently, checking Facebook and going to our profiles is like taking an optimistic walk through a ghost town: you hope you're going to see something new but, inevitably, you won't. Your friends from school are either still at school or you don't talk to them because they are in a different city. Your "new" friends (if you are so ~*~bLeSsEd~*~ to have them) don't know you as a Facebooker but rather as an adult. Thus, the only people who Facebook you are you're best friends who always Facebook you. This is not a bad thing; however, when you log in twenty times a day and you've only received one message from your fellow blogger/business partner, you feel incomplete and like you want to take your profile behind the work dumpster and put it out of its misery (believe me--I've come real close).

Moreover, in our year removed from school, living the high life of the 2-2, Facebook has devolved into a wasteland where you:

1. Receive friend requests from people you don't care about;

2. Get frequent postings from relatives who should not be on Facebook

3. Or, are persistently sent resumes from people you knew in elementary school who know you work in the biz and really would like to get into the entertainment industry but have only worked as a waiter but know that entertainment is "where they belong."

Facebook for the 22 year old + crowd is a sad, hollow sham. It reminds me of those elderly people you see at tennis courts shuffling around the green pavement chasing tennis balls: the sport will never be the same for them, even though they try to force it to be. 

And, in 2009, maybe our Facebook profile's shifting toward obsoleteness is a good thing: who wants to be obsessing over an unnoticed profile when you have a shiny new blog? 

(And, Facebook gives you cancer, so fuck that boolshite--I'm gon keep blogging.)

EXCUSE ME AS I GET ALL PRETENTIOUS ON YOU WITH MY TOBACCOLESS ELECTRONIC CIGARETTE

I love smoking. I absolutely love it: lighting the cigarette, sucking in the nicotine, attempting to blow the smoke out in a "cool" way--you know, the juvenile reasons for smoking. I've never really been committed to the activity but I've always been in love with activity. I mean, it's so damn cool: you are putting something on fire in your mouth. There is nothing more badass about that.

I recently found a healthy alternative: the Luci, a tobaccoless electronic cigarette that claims to be "good" for you.

The cigarette looks really sleek and cool and like you are still a badass smoking a ciggie. However, the only drawback is that you look like a huge dickhead. Now, I have not been able to find any photos of anyone "smoking" a Luci or any proof that anyone actually uses the product, but I'm predicting you probably look like a pretentious, Eurotrashy doofus.

I'm really excited by this product but also extremely turned off by it because I know, regardless of who you are with and what they think of you're smoking a Luci, Luci smokers will always remind me of this:

That's right: light up that fake fag and fake smoke you're way to cancer of the brain, since you are already mentally handicapped to be a fake cigarette smoker.

I'll stick with my real cigarettes--if I choose to smoke them.

THERE IS A GOD

PREPARE THINE SOULS:

It's going to look something like this. And, at that point, 23 will be the end. I'm so excited.

TODAY IS THE DAY I HAVE OFFICIALLY BEEN AFFECTED BY THE FINANCIAL CRISIS

As a lowly media worker I may not get paid much (YET YET YET) but I am pretty much guaranteed to be able to drink my salary's worth of Diet Coke in the office, effectively doubling what I make which in turn makes me feel a lot better about myself. Yesterday I went to go grab a cup but a clear substance came out. Maybe some pranksters or dub room ghosts replaced it with Crystal Pepsi. FOOLED AGAIN. It was water. BLEH! I calmed down, took a few deep breaths, and went to Walgreens to make sure I could sustain my addiction another day longer. Today however, put my cup under the fountain and STILL NO DIET COKE. No one else seemed too worried so I carried on with my day until THIS HAPPENED:

"What financial crisis?" indeed! Boy, when it hits, it hits hard. I walked all the way up ONE FLIGHT of stairs to swipe some and scurried back down before anyone noticed I actually went to another floor to get some soda instead of just having some Flavia time. When I got back, I had an email to join the company Weight Watchers meetings. Are you trying to tell me something, Employer? Now I know those stairs will do me good but its DIET COKE.

PS - Is it just me or has this blog been really girl wearing a skirt as a top lately?

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NINA FLOWERS HAS BECOME VITAMIN C

Now, we here at 22IsTheEnd have had smiles on our faces LOVING Ru Paul's Drag Race and feel that if you are not or have not been watching--something is wrong with you because you need to be watching it.

This week, the ever fab Nina Flowers literally became Vitamin C (circa As Long As You're Loving Me)--and no one else seems to notice. Bloggers have been all "NINA SAID H-I-V LOLOLOL" and "AKASHIA SUCKA-SUCKA-SUCKS"--but no NF/VC comparison. Even Ru herself seemed to be unaware: she just made a Madonna joke.

Didn't see it?

I mean, are you effing blind?

Look--Nina Flowers:

 Nina, ERR, Vitamin C:

Vitamin N:

VITAMIN FLORES:

Case to the closed: Ru Paul's Drag Race is fabulous and Vitamin C is F-I-E-R-C-E. 

YOUR NAME + MAJESTY = YOUR CHILD'S NAME, TOO

If you were Jermaine Jackson and you had a son, what would you name him?

Thanks to The Insider--and my good friend Mia for alerting me--Jermaine Jackson's son name is JERMAJESTY.

WHY HASNT JERMAJESTY BEEN FRONT PAGE NEWS FOR THE PAST EIGHT YEARS???

I really don't get this and I really don't get why more people aren't using the tried and true formula: YOUR NAME + MAJESTY = BEST NAME EVER.

Some examples:

Kristen + Majesty = KRAMAJESTY!!

kf + Majesty = KFAJESTY!!

Mia + Majesty = MIAMAJESTY!!

Jermajesty + Majesty = JERMAJAJESTY!!

Can anyone come up with a better combination?? I feel a Blingee coming on.

PRIDE FLIP FLOPS: NOT SO PROUD AKSHUALLY

Perusing my favorite gay blog--Towelroad--this afternoon, I discovered an advertisement for a product called "Pride Flip Flops." 

Once I followed the ad, I realized why I need a pair: flip flops that illustrate your gay pride by your covering the symbol of gay pride with your foot so no one can see that your Pride Flip Flops are actually proud of anything (and that you are actually stomping out your pride and the fact that you are gay). I need a pair.

Check them out:

              

These are perfect for me: I can't wait to buy these and wear them around with Ted Haggard and our wives as we galavant around Arizona. My mother will be so proud when she sees my new flip flops.