Ugly Betty

Initial thoughts:

Wow, a lighting bolt! Am I ready to tell my partner that my vagina is also a superhero and that he or she shouldn’t be surprised one night when it gets up and puts its cape on and flies out the window?

In case I want to make perfectly clear that this shit comes with a premium and that they’d better provide cash or some serious perks if they ever want to see this again, there’s a dollar sign to spell things out.

And just in case I haven’t come to terms with the fact that I actually have a vagina and its related parts, I can sculpt a little flower down there to put myself at ease every time I accidentally see myself naked when getting into the shower.

And please, like a hippie would have the coordination to chisel a peace sign into some bush?

It’s always black-tie… in my pants! Dress to impress!

From guest blogger, Gregoire: “Turns out it isn’t our foreign policy that makes the rest of the world hate us. Strangely the first thing that came to mind when I saw this was the avuncular old man with a gray (not pink) beard asking me to please just give 50 cents a day so that little Maria can go to school and get her first look at clean water. And I thought, "Wow. This is perspective. People would actually spend the same amount or more making sure their important hairs were as neurotically manicured as Versailles. USA! At least all you have to pay for are the tools… the fountain’s already there.”

Oh, Come ON

Spotted on the street:You may have noticed, apart from the Hamburglar-inspired design aspect of whatever-the-hell-piece-of-furniture-that’s-supposed-to-be, that there is a young girl on all fours looking like she’s about to be nailed from behind. I mean, for really?

Yes, I understand that wardrobe-malfunctioning females are used to sell things. I live now. But a furniture company? This has crossed the thin red line. What’s next: half-naked, spread-eagle tweens used to peddle arch supports?

This furniture pimp-daddy needs to lose a homemade-knife fight with jail sistas. Their gang name: The Sofa Kings. SNAP!

Aging Thicket

I just picked up an old Allure belonging not to me, in a fit of excruciating boredom (and mild intrigue, related to an article about, and I'm paraphrasing, how to please my man with nothing but a seatless tricycle and a pickled jalapeño), and came across an ad for a product called Betty. After regaining consciousness, plus a brief Kit Kat break, I was finally able to wrap my head around the abomination: bush dye. Yep, that's right, a hair-coloring kit for da box. OK, for really, what is so wrong with an aging, au natural thicket? I mean, if your partner is complaining about a little salt 'n' pepa, then maybe it's time to upgrade to a human being.

This just hurts:Pink carpet?! Ladies, ladies, ladies: your crotch is not a Sno-Cone.

Go Big, Go Homo

Mario Cantone — I have nothing really to say about him in between these em dashes — suggested today that the only way these women will ever win an Emmy is if they try on lesbianism (not, say, try on journalistic integrity or the ever-elusive "tact"). My ass gagged on impact.

This is JACKED UP:

Ring of Terror

This is the scariest piece of news I've received since the demise of PB Max (peanut butter and chocolate piled atop a cookie foundation. Bliss!): There is something called a Divorce Ring. (I at first misinterpreted this as meaning there is a ring of divorcées running around, cutting bitches with shivs funded by alimony dough.)

But NO!

It's this:
D [For Divorce] Jewelery Co. claims the ugly-as-sin ring "symbolizes a point in ones [sic] life when some type of separation came, whether by divorce or legal separation."

That is gross. The end.

The View From... Down There

In between buy-gold-now-dumbasses and get-that-husband-smell-off-your-divan commercials, a recent "The View" featured, among lesser things, Sherri and Elisabeth vadging-out about the new "Sex & the City" flick.

Sherri: "It was just so great about relationships and it had some wonderful themes of marriage, of commitment… of fashion."

Dear sweet owl of knowledge, you are the Cliff's Notes to post-feminism!

Whoopi summarizes:

Branding

The first billboard that caught my eye: Pink emblazoned across a tween's ass.

This sinister clothing item, sweatpants (an item typically euphemistic for "Travelin' on the Kotexpress" but from the looks of the tell-all cut of these, I'm thinking more, "Who wants to upgrade to the dining car tonight, baby?"), with the aforementioned word stitched across the behind was purchased from the Victoria’s Secret Pink store. VSP has a pretty hefty arsenal of items that set back feminism to before the word existed.

Like this:


Why not just put a target on her?

And really, a DOG on an ASS?! Subtle!

(And: This item is described as, “Cheeky, guy-style details with a low-rise fit.” I am also sometimes described at this.)

(AND: These are on sale!)

Impetus

Now that the female ass is officially a billboard...


It's on, BITCHES!

Bring it!