Thursday, February 22, 2007

James Yap dog-styles some chick

"Duh... uh... ngggguh... huhhhh..."

So right now in showbiz, the only thing louder than Kris Aquino's mouth is news that her basketball player husband, James Yap, cheated on her with some nurse named Hope. Okay, fine, pretend all you want that you don't give a shit about this bit of gossip, but do continue to read this post for its entertainment value, LOL.

Well, for one, take a look at this article about the issue; it's the funniest shit I've ever read after Sammy's interview and my most recent post.

"Sa pag-uusap nila ng Startalk host na si Lolit Solis at entertainment writer na si Gorgy Rula, nag-ala-Monica Lewinsky si Hope nang aminin nito na literal na 'nilunok' niya ang lahat sa tuwing nagkakaroon sila ni James ng physical contact.

Si Monica ang intern na nagkaroon noon ng relasyon kay former US President Bill Clinton at nagdetalye sa media ng oral sex act niya sa asawa ni former First Lady Hilary Clinton." -from

The story already got me at "nilunok," but the whole explanation about Monica Lewinsky was a real hoot. Oh, and here's the best part...

"Hindi malaman ni Lolit ang magiging reaksyon sa naging sagot ni Hope nang itanong niya kung paano nila nairaos ni James sa loob ng isang maliit na kuwarto ang kanilang makamundo na pagnanasa. Ang sagot ng straightforward at honest na si Hope? 'Dog-style po, Manay.'"

How Xerex the way they wrote it! But you know, honestly, I feel bad for Kris. After all the shit she's been through, this is just way too much considering she's pregnant. And she's Kris fucking Aquino. Aquino! So, James Yap, let it be known that you're a fucking douche. Off with your cock!

But since castration is such an icky thought to end this post with, here's my theory on why James prefers to "dog-style" Hope. Well, if you look like this:

Then, chances are, you have no other choice but to bang chicks this way:

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Friendster subtexts

The grammar police was so hungry they ate punctuation marks

Let's all admit it, we never update our Friendster profiles for self-fulfillment. We never gain joy and shed tears of happiness from reading and rereading our useless profiles. The only reason we fill in those stupid blanks is to show off. We want to broadcast how cultured we are with our high-brow interests like, I don't know, poetry, landscape photography, old churches, the stars, sunsets, raindrops, and all that cheesy artsy fartsy shit. Or how smart we are because we read Milan Kundera and pretend to understand The Unbearable Lightness of Being just to compel others to ask, "Huh? What's that?" and laugh at them because they're so unintelligent unlike intellectual you who appreciates post-modern literature. Or perhaps we want to assert how cool we are because we think Hollywood movies are pure rubbish and everything indie is the shiznit.

That being said, if you're going to use Friendster to brag about how awesome you are, then for heaven's sake, do it well. Like these actual profile answers; I can only imagine what the hell their owners really mean by posting the following information:

Exhibit No. 1

Profile owner probably meant: "In reality, Dan Brown is Jesus. And in the same way that Jesus was able to walk on water and turn it into wine, Dan Brown made a retard like myself learn to read his holy words." On the other hand, this Dan Brown fan made me laugh—not at him, but with him:

Exhibit No. 2

Profile owner probably meant: "It's true; beauty and brains go together like fried chicken (thigh part) and a flat tire."

Exhibit No. 3

Profile owner probably meant: "I never get sex unless I pay for it, have the chick blindfolded in a non-kinky way, and cup my callused hands over her mouth."

Exhibit No. 4

Profile owner probably meant: "I thought the word 'fag' was spelled e-m-o."

Exhibit No. 5

Profile owner probably meant: "Sorry, typo! What I meant was, 'I thrive on eating books' because I'm a sad, lonely tub of lard with some sort of illness that makes think stacks of books are stacks of pancakes."

Exhibit No. 6

Profile owner probably meant: "My name is Erik Santos."

Exhibit No. 7

Profile owner (a man) probably meant: "I can go both ways."

Exhibit No. 8

Profile owner probably meant what she said, but check out this douche's testimonial for her:

Exhibit No. 9

Profile owner probably meant: "I mingle with sadness, I chase melancholy, and I romance loneliness all because I fucking lost my black eyeliner and black nail polish."

Exhibit No. 10

Profile owner probably meant: "Exhibit No. 9 is my soulmate. But exhibit No. 11 is my twin brother whose mere existence embarrasses me enough to prompt me into throwing myself off a cliff and into the cold, black, hollow arms of the angel of death who summons the soothing riffs of destruction and pandemonium with just a snap of her black nail-polished fingers."

Exhibit No. 11

Monday, February 12, 2007

Shitty flooring

Actual news, folks. And I must say, I'm not shitting you.

"DETROIT - Home-buyers of tomorrow could find themselves walking across floors made from manure. Researchers at Michigan State University and the U.S. Department of Agriculture insist it's no cow pie in the sky dream.

They say that fiber from processed and sterilized cow manure could take the place of sawdust in making fiberboard, which is used to make everything from furniture to flooring to store shelves.

Bhobby refused to admit it was he who farted

I don't know with you guys, but it's probably not so bad having processed cow dung as your flooring. I mean, I could have parquet out of shredded pages off Cosmo's 69 Bachelors supplement or a torn 24x30-inch poster of this photo...

...with Sam Milby's spunk and a couple of his pubes on them and I'd just be as grossed out.

And speaking of my favorite skeleton-in-the-closet person, have you seen this Sunday's Starweek?

And I quote the accompanying article:

"For our interview and photo shoot, Sam came prepared with several changes of clothes and a make-up kit. He knew exactly what kind of make-up should be used on him."

Gee, I wonder why!

Thursday, February 08, 2007

I love you, Piolo! Sam, too!

Erik's center of gravity wasn't the only thing that confused him

Now this is the actual title of the news bit: "Erik chooses Piolo and Sam over Rufa Mae." I'm not shitting you. Now I don't know about you guys, but that in itself sets off a ding in my head that there's something quite suspicious about that Erik Santos character. Not that joining and singing ballads in a singing contest on national TV isn't iffy enough. But, anyway!

In the interview, he says: "Kasi kaibigan ko si Piolo at saka si Sam so I have to support them." Uhm, yeah, so you pick them over your girlfriend's concert performance. Your girlfriend with huge-ass funbags. You know, this girlfriend:

[Insert gratuitous vulgar boob-related witty caption]

Oh Erik with a K, only one word comes to mind: fairy. Or anal-loving-mayonnaise. I mean, people wouldn't think you were a fudgepacker if you had chosen, say, Vic Sotto and Joey de Leon over Rufa Mae. Or Mark Caguioa and Asi Taulava over Rufa Mae. Or even Steve Jobs and uhm, 50 Cent over Rufa Mae (whut!). Anyway, what can we do? You prefer these gaysguys...


"Tsup! Tsup!"

...which shouldn't be so surprising considering this is what you love to do:

Lock jaw: inconvenient

Sunday, February 04, 2007

John and Jessica sitting in a tree...

Edward Scissorhands forgot to wear eyeliner

So, apparently John Mayer and Jessica Simpson are fucking each other's brains out. Now if that first sentence is too uncouth for your goody-goody senses, what I meant was John Mayer and Jessica Simpson are dating. And probably fucking each other's brains out. Not that Jessica needs any degree of wild shagging to get her brains expelled by her body, but you get my drift.

For some reason, though, this bothers me. Because John Mayer scares me. And the thought of his fat ass crooning "Your Body Is A Wonderland" to Jessica in bed makes me picture nothing else but a sex offender about to get his filthy hands on a poor girl with a gag over her mouth. With her father (yes, the same guy who once said "[Jessica] just is sexy. If you put her in a T-shirt or you put her in a bustier, she's sexy in both. She's got double Ds! You can't cover those suckers up!") grinning, clapping, and stroking his balls beside a video camera on a tripod in the background.

I mean, can you imagine these two getting it on?

And don't get me started on how John Mayer is a talented musician and songwriter and all that fanshit. Those things don't mean shit in the sack, you know what I mean? Think of it this way: This is Jessica Simpson all oily on a really bad hair day...

And this is John Mayer being a talented musician and songwriter and all that fanshit on a really good day...