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So It’s Cold and You Got the Flu

So it’s cold and you got the flu. Gross. It’s single digits out and you’re helpless like a newborn babe. Oh no, oh no. WRONG. Here’s the silver linings playbook. Glass half full, bitches.


-Good. Remember when you were throwing back all of those nog and brandy’s over Christmas break with reckless abandon? Now you won’t have to even try to shed that holiday fat suit. A diet of soup and orange cuties are unzipping that thing right off for you. Devoid of effort.

-Good. Now you can watch the entirety of Freaks and Geaks without being INTERRUPTED BY ANY INTRUDERS. Outsiders should be fearful enough of your contagions to stay away from your cave of sickness and leave you to young Jason Segel in peace.


-Good. Now you don’t have to shave your legs. Yes, you need those legs covered up in fleece, working to make your bod chill the F out on the body aches and fever. Nobody’s coming near those legs. Grow that hair out so far that people allergic to human hair will sneeze until they die.

-Good. Now you can abuse Seamless without feeling bad about it. Just a magic button, and poof! soup is at your door. Sorry that it’s 0 degrees with wind chill out there, delivery man. Thanks for the grub, though!


-Good. Now you can wear your Uggs without the tidal wave of shame and guilt that you usually feel when you even think about wearing them. Your feet need those ghastly contraptions for purely pragmatic reasons. Wear them as if the Mayans were right and enjoy a clear conscience.


XXL tragedies from College

-Good. Now you can wear those giant fleece sweatpants that you got from the athletics department in college. Nobody can see you, they won’t know. They won’t see you looking like King Kong in your bed. Feel free, be free, this your time for the XXL fleece. Torn up from the floor up.

May your glass be full and your electrolytes plentiful.

What do you like to do when you get ambushed by the flu and a blizzard?

Robert Redford and Paris Hilton at Sundance

Robert Redford and Paris Hilton at Sundance. What anomalous event could have possibly transpired in order for these two persons of society to land in the same sentence? As you may have heard, Robert Redford told everyone that Sundance isn’t fun any more because people like Paris Hilton show up and “leverage their own interests”. He allegedly even asked everyone at the press conference to join him in a pact to ignore her. Hahahaha, awesome.

First off, we love an older gentleman with the cajones to speak his mind. Second, maybe he will ban Paris and then she won’t be able to get any more free bags of those awful white sunglasses she wears.


Robert Redford is our friend.

“She doesn’t have anything to do with the films. My question is, ‘What movie is she in?”

Excellent query, Rob. It’s called The Simple Life, bro.

Next, we imagine some of the things Paris was probably overheard saying in Park City:


“Umm, did you hear James Franco is in like a gay movie here?”

“Wait, who’s Robert Redford?”

“Can you imagine the size of Kim’s ass when she hits 6 months?”

“I love house music!”

“I mean I just don’t think the Kimye baby is going to be that cute”

“Can I get some adderall in my redbull vod?”

“You might know me from the major motion picture, House of Wax”

“I love these pink sparkle Uggs”

“No, you can’t kick us out! I know River looks like he’s 12, but he’s actually 21”


This has been an edition of  “Imagine what Paris Hilton Said”. 

Megan Fox in Esquire Magazine

It’s MLK day so of course we need to talk about Megan Fox in Esquire Magazine.


This article is a lot of fun for all as there is a truck load of crazy going on. In addition to Megan Fox jumping through hoops to sound as looney tunes as possible, we also have sycophantic writer, Stephen Marche, in the mix.

Let’s start with Marche. He compares Fox to an Aztec sacrifice, a thing so beautiful that the world has impulses to destroy it. AND SHE AGREES WITH HIM.

“Deep in her house, Megan Fox and I are discussing human sacrifice. I tell her about an Aztec ritual practiced five hundred years ago in ancient Mexico during the feast of Toxcatl, when the Aztecs picked a perfect youth to live among them as a god. He was a paragon, beautiful and fit and healthy, with ideal proportions…

“The sacrifice’s year was filled with constant delight, I tell her. He danced through the streets adorned in luxurious clothes given to him by the master, decked in flowers and incense, playing magical flutes that brought prosperity to the whole world. He had eight servants and four virgins to attend to his every need and could wander wherever he pleased. But at the end of the year, when the feast of Toxcatl came around again, the perfect youth had to smash his flutes and climb the stairs of the great temple, where the priests would cut out his heart and offer it, still beating, to the sun.

“Megan Fox is not an ancient Aztec. She’s a screen saver on a teenage boy’s laptop, a middle-aged lawyer’s shower fantasy, a sexual prop used to sell movies and jeans.

‘It’s so similar. It totally is,’ she says quietly.

At the end of the year, the beautiful youth had to go up by himself. He had to go up willingly. That was part of the deal.

Now she is shaking her head. “Not everyone understands that that’s the deal,” she says.

Megan Fox will not go willingly to have her heart cut out.”

Okay, bro, let’s tone it down about 7,000 notches. I think your austere historical references might be a touch heavy handed. But, the absolute most awesome part is that she unabashedly agrees with him. “Yes, Stephen, I’m too beautiful. I am exactly like an Aztec sacrifice.” 


And just a few Megan gems for you to sink your teeth into:

Megsies on her ability to speak in tongues.

“The energy is so intense in the room that you feel like anything can happen,” she said. “I have seen magical, crazy things happen. I’ve seen people be healed. Even now, in the church I go to, during Praise and Worship, I could feel that I was maybe getting ready to speak in tongues, and I’d have to shut it off because I don’t know what that church would do if I started screaming out in tongues in the back.”

Meggy on her preference to confrontations with fictional monsters over a trip to the cinema.

 “Would you not be so much more interested in finding out that Big Foot existed than in watching a really good movie? I believe in aliens…Loch Ness monster—there’s something to it…There’s the Bell Witch…What distracts me from my reality is Big Foot. They are my celebrities.”

This article is just a great time all around.

Hey, Megan, you should go have a soda with Suzanne Somers.



What To Do After a Breakup

So, you severed that shit. You’re mom’s calling to see if you’re okay and you’re having bogus “coffee dates” with people you haven’t talked to in a year. Here’s what to do after a breakup.

1. In any period of tumult, it is essential that one maintain perspective. Mentally tattoo this in your brain: At-least-you’re-not-Lindsay-Lohan. Suddenly the world erupts with all sorts of shit to be grateful for and the air smells of fragrant opiate wildflowers.


2. Have some self respectThe Carrie Diaries is NOT on the Peter’s Hate Watch approved list. Watching Carrie’s early scarring is not going to buoy you to the untouchable state that you’re on your way to now. Besides, do you think that little pre-pubescent’s nose has anywhere near the character of the original gangster, SJP’s? No, it doesn’t, get out AnnaSophia.

3. Eat sushi. Why? Because it’s full of weird nutrients and mineral properties that give you freaky good skin and heart health or whatever. And if you don’t order the crunchy roll or baked scallops then you’re going to be riding the low cal train to skinny jeans nirvana. Every breakup should be followed by a state of irreproachable ketosis. Ummmm why do you think Kim K. exclusively orders the tuna sashimi in every one of her post breakup sushi restaurant scenes with Jonathan Cheban?

4. Wear black. Not because you’re mourning, but because you are suddenly a ferocious force of a tycoon who has been re-released into the wild in order to do with this planet what you will. Black is simple, keeps shit looking tight, and has just the right amount of F you.


5. Banish all Top 40 music from your music playing sources. You don’t need to listen to the 20 out of 40 songs that you and your ex-dude designated as “your songs”. This is an essential part of taking over the world and becoming like super alternative and cultured from subsequent exploration of new music. Also, Frank Ocean and Colbie Caillet are banned for obvious reasons.

6. Freak your friends out by showing creepy, unbridled emotion. Nobody knows what to do during this seriously awk time frame. They are not used to you being a blubbering guppy and haven’t a clue how to navigate the situation. You have no idea what to do either, the nakedness, the bewildering absence of your always pervasive verbal domination. You get like a few weeks or something and then its time to grab your balls and get awesome again. You’re not going to meet your Bill Hader by being a hum drum bummer, COME ON.

7. Move your ass. You should go to the gym and produce the natural chemicals that all of the new world’s drug culture is artificially producing for ravers. If you don’t feel like sweating, go for long walks and listen to podcasts on your iPhone so you get like even smarter and more interesting.

We’d like to thank Lindsay Lohan for the inspiration and also wish to send her a “Hey, keep your head up, good game out there” ass slap.

Suzanne Somers Gets Kooky

Last week, Suzanne Somers came out and said something to the effect of “In regards to the Newtown shootings, everyone’s pointing to guns and I’m like what’s their diet like?!”.

Okay, Suzanne, we get it, you think diet soda is bad. It is, you know, unsavory I guess. Pelegrino would be much more refined. But girlfriend’s gotta screw loose if she thinks Diet Dr. Pepper has the same power as an assault weapon. Can you imagine if you were her kid? Say goodbye to Gushers and birthday cake. Jesus, somebody keep her away from the drive-through window.

The Queen of Versailles


I first heard about The Queen of Versailles on Slate‘s Culture Gabfest this past week when the show’s film critic, Dana Stevens, referred to it as the best documentary of the year. So, obviously I called my mom to ask her what she changed the Netflix password to this week, and then headed to my cave to see it for myself.

The film chronicles Jackie and David Siegel, owners of Westgate Resorts, as they set out to build the largest and most costly house in America, and the subsequent crisis that ensues as the US economy collapses.

We first meet Jackie and David while they are on top of the world. They’re all smiles and braggadocious about their overflowing wealth. Jackie is a 43-year-old, former model (calendar or beer maybe?) who loves her husband, eight children, 693 pets, and $17,000 crocodile shoes. Her very exposed bolt-ons are shocking and distracting as we try to get to know her – we’re talking Heidi Montag jumblies post plastic surgery meltdown, big boulders that look painful and hard like skin forcibly stretched over ceramic bowls. Despite this, Jackie actually seems very sweet, if not just living in another universe, i.e.: bragging about her $1 million dollar a year shopping stipend. Even after they start to lose everything, she is remarkably calm and dazed and happy-go-lucky, like in that pain-killers type of way. Still, she insists that she loves her family and will be fine, rich or poor. By the end, I kind of thought she was a brave and tragic character (I’m sorry, but it’s confusing! You want to hate her for being such a dum dum with her money and hubris, but then you see that she is really just this sweet little naiveté!).


Her husband, David, is another story. He boasts that he’s on his third wife and that he “loves beautiful women and the Miss America Pageant”. Ew, he’s like 75. Asked why he is building a 90,000 square foot replica of Versailles in Florida, he simply responds with “because I can.” All cocky and shit. When he starts to lose everything, and the interviewer asks him, “Do you find comfort in your marriage?”, he looks the camera in the eye and says, “No, it’s like having a 9th child.” Dude is hard to like.

Some of the quirks of the Siegel family are quite shocking. THEY STUFF THEIR DEAD DOGS AND PUT THEM ON DISPLAY IN THE HOUSE. Also, Jackie would buy 8 sets of one board game for her kids. Like she bought a Yahtzee and Monopoly set for each kid at Christmas, does she know that you can’t play those games by yourself? Not to mention the creepy baroque, French decor everywhere, totes made me claustrophobic through my laptop screen. You know some weird shit goes down in the Siegel house.


On the whole, Lauren Greenfield’s documentary is quite good. The Economist described the film’s greatest achievement as its ability to inspire both compassion and Schadenfreude (pleasure derived from the misfortune of others) in its viewers. It is also described as one of the most powerful film depictions of the Great Recession, blah blah blah. Anyways, there’s a lot going on in this film and I think you’ll like it.

Hit or Quit it Verdict: Hit it.