Hold EVERYTHING!!!

Forget death and disease!
Forget natural disasters!!
Forget politics!!!

Forget EVERYTHING currently going on in any corner, crevice or crack of the entire and known thing we call THE UNIVERSE
because no event, no occurrence, no happening anywhere is anywhere nearly as interesting, as extraordinary or as singularly significant as what has taken place in that teeny tiny wee little underpopulated location we call China JUST this very weekend!!!!

Chinese Break World Mattress Dominoes Record

OHHH!
EMMMM!!
GEEEEEEE!!!

Is there no deed, development or feat of derring-do the peeps of the planet’s most populous place do not dominate?!?

Seems NOT!

It all went down in a Shanghai shopping mall on Saturday, where China state media approvingly reported that “volunteers, mostly domino lovers, first carefully arranged and leaned against 1,001 mattresses … being careful not to fall back and ruin the rally before it even started.

Can’t you just imagine the chaos if the group of Guinnes go-getters hadn’t been “mostly domino lovers”?!?
Thank GOD they left nothing to chance!!

Cheng Dong, an authenticator from the Guinness World Records, breaks it all down for us …

“For an event like this involving 1,000 people to succeed first time is not just about luck.”
::: Fuck no it’s not! :::

“All other conditions must be correct.”
::: Don’t even argue. They just MUST, OK?!? :::

“First of all, all the participants must fully understand the rules.”
::: Which are basically boiled down to ‘don’t fuck it up!’ :::

“Second, our volunteers were all very brave.”
::: Oh yes. A brave, brave battalion of cushion commandos, indeed! :::

Oh, but victory is fleeting and there is truly no rest for burned out bed bombers!

Because the challenge is born anew, bitches!!

Because just a scant few months ago, it was an American assembly of 850 pallet pilots from the holy grail of all things bed — La Quinta Inns and Suites — who were crowned the officially authenticated Guinness World Record holders for achieving the Largest Human Mattress Dominoes endeavor!

Do we hear 1001, America?!?!?

U-S-A!
U-S-A!!

Seriously?

Seriously.
::: meh :::

Today’s ‘No Shit’ bullshit story: Kids who play ‘choking game’ may take other risks, too’.

Seriously?!
Sadly. Seriously.

Someone went out, secured funding and got their study on to prove the obvious obviosity that the precious little snowflakes who find it just nine kinds of F-U-N to obstruct available O2 from finding their little lung units DO, in fact, find risky behavior MORE than nine kinds of rewarding?

Seriously?!
Seriously.

A group of APPARENTLYGOTNOTHINGBETTERTODOers over at the Oregon Health Authority spent some serious clock ticks surveying more than 5,300 eighth-graders to find out if they’d heard of the choking game, and if so, whether they had participated.

Twenty-two percent of children said they had heard of the game, and 6 percent had participated in it.
::: No word on what percent of  pubers lied about either, but I think it’s safe to say that when talking about teens it would be a not tiny tally of the sum total of ’em. Talkin’ truth here … ::: 

And this, gentle readers, is the part where you close your eyes, travel to your mental happy place and take deep, cleansing breaths as you try to block from your mind the reality that THIS WASN’T ALREADY OBVIOUS!?!

Seriously.

ALL HAIL BB!!

Yesterday bore witness to a mighty feat!

A Major Accomplishment!!

A MONUMENTOUS EVENT!!!

… and you missed it …

… a fact that would normally make me put on a big ol’ boo-hoo frowny face for you, except — this time — I don’t have to.

Because you were saved.

SAVED!

Saved by my Birmingham Buddette — who’s name shall remain a secret but who’s initials are The Most Magnificent Mom and Marvelous Motorist Extraordinaire To Infinity EVAR!!!!

SAVED!

Because she’s a hero like that.

ALL HAIL BB!!

Because while you and Flo Rida were gettin’ your collective ‘Good Feeling’ on, she was diverting DOOM by keeping her shit all kinds of together while witnessing nothing short of all-out hitchhiking hijackery — on her windsheild!

BEHOLD!

Questions abound!

How was the runaway reptile able to sustain the shanghai at speeds in excess of 70 miles per hour?!

How did my Birmingham Budette manage to operate her automobile under such dire circumstances?!?

How did that lizard stay latched on for more than 20 miles?!?!

How many of you motorists passed this public phenomenon – completely unaware you could have borne witness to one of the most treacherous treks in all of known history dating back to the  invention of the WHEEL in the most ancient of times?!?!?!

Ohhhh, make no mistake about it, people!

THIS will undoubtedly go down as one of history’s GREAT mysteries!

Because the critter certainly has no comment and my Birmingham Buddette’s far too fly to divulge the deets before the book deal’s done!

… and you missed it

… ALL HAIL BB!!

This much I know

I am no Mr. Blackwell
::: but hey, technically neither is he, since he’s dead ‘n all … :::

I am no Joan Rivers
::: thank GAWD!!! :::

I am no Heidi Klum
::: but I pretend to be every Thursday night at Sammi … err, uhh, nevermind … :::

I am no high and mighty fashion critic.
I’m a fashion ICON!

As in ‘Icon see that shit and that shit ain’t right!’

And this shit ain’t right! —–>

It’s wrongness exists on several levels, but let’s not go into the granular details lest The Situation wannabe at my local LA Fitness who tormented MY EYES this very afternoon feel compelled to divert his rufie and hair gel savings and put it toward the kind of marrow-level in-depth psychoanalysis his entire being is so desperately crying out for.

No.
Let’s not do that.
We simply don’t have that kind of time.

But address the all-out fuckery that IS those shorts – WE MUST!

Because they aren’t shorts.
Or Pants.
Or Shants.
Or Ports.

Those, my friends, are culottes, okay?

Fucking culottes.

As in women’s fashion trousers circa 1978!!!

As in kinda ok these days for (women who do) yoga but not much else.

So stop it, douchebag.
Because it’s annoying to watch you try to be all testeroney as you priss and strut and flex and grunt while wearing those ridiculous things.
Because it doesn’t work.
Because it doesn’t make you look muscular, or masculine or, well, much of anything remotely, uhh, male.

It makes you look like my Aunt Carol.

‘Nuff said.

There’s a Sports Authority at Southern and 441.
Visit the men’s clothing section pronto because, DAYUM!

YEAH!!!!!

Because Bert don’t play, yo!

SOURCE: Break.com

And suddenly I feel all …

Well, seizurey for damn sure … but then I take a step back and ponder Scrawberreh Shoatcake a while longer and suddenly I’m all …

… nah, still seizurey.

I mean, I get it.
I know we can’t all be Sahar!
Hell, Sahar can barely handle being Sahar!!

But try, ‘kay?
Maybe just a little?

Because jammin’ your hams into a mess like that is among the wrongest kinds of wrongs.

That pank is stank, yo!

I’m serious.
Stop it.

Because perpetrating this kind of absolute rock-bottom fashion fuckery is ick and blech and ptooey and I’m pretty sure illegal in several states because of all of the aforementioned reasonation-type shit not to mention it hurts my fucking EYES!

MY EYES!!!!!!

So seriously — stop it.
Frealz.

Because landing your bedazzled butt on POWM or Poorly Dressed should not be your goal, your fallback position or your alibi.

So, like, seriously really — stop it.

Because some things you just can’t un-see.

THEY LIED!!!

All of those Sally Sunshines running around the last few months talking shit about how the New Great Depression is over lied!

It is SO not over!
In fact, we may be headed for mega monetary malaise right NOW!

How do I know?
THIS is how!
———->

World of Decor is soon to be no more!

They even say ‘The end is near’ RIGHT THERE on their billboard of DOOM!

People! Don’t stop buying decor!
The earth can’t survive with no decor and heaven knows I can’t get my decor at just any store!

Hell no!
It’s got to be from World of Decor. It just has to!
They’re not some dinky Decor Depot, Decor Den or Debbie’s Decor Delights (yuk).
No, my friends. This is WORLD of Decor — where they have everything you need to trick our your trailer, put the haute in your habitat and the couture in your crib!

You need them!

Dispossessed of decor, how will you appoint your abode (or cardboard box under the freeway overpass) to reflect the true beauty, elegance and sophistication that says cheap laminate ‘YOU’ to all who enter?
You won’t!

Divested of decor, how will you complete your lawn lion army?!
You won’t!!

Devoid of decor, how will you Louis XIV your living space?!?
YOU WON’T!!!

ACK!

I mean, oh sure, I can go anywhere to get my knick-knacks, tchotchkes and all-around dust-catchers. But when it comes to 15-foot-tall molded-cement statuary or gold-plated or velvet-covered anything – well I shouldn’t have to tell you that you can’t just pick that shit up anywhere, you know.

This is bad … just don’t make it worse by letting anyone from ‘Real Housewives: New Jersey’ know, ‘kay?