A Wholesome Start To August

This shit blew up over the weekend and I must say: fans of the oh-so innocent southern gentleman really crowdfunded $3K of their own money to access court documents in an attempt to further humiliate his ex-wife…only to publicly humiliate their saintly idol in soooo many, many ways. (Do I smell another lawsuit coming from the Derp camp?)

I’ll just keep it classy here.

And I think this ignorant AF trash (liked by Florence Pugh, whoever she is–I don’t really bother with Gen Z’s “stars”, but her name pops up in the gossip sites I read) needs to be revised last month. Greg (whoever he is, too) really should know that while you can’t keep a real good man down, an awful man just can’t stay up.

Bonus: reactions from the shipwreck

Parade Time!

I’m insane.

OK, maybe you already knew that from some of my previous entries here, but hear me out. Today was my day off, and the past few days I debated with mahself on whether or not I should go to this year’s Warriors Championship parade. I didn’t go to their first three parades (shocker, I know), and that all happened in Oakland closer to home when there was no pandemic. Risking my ass to Covid thanks to the potential big-ass unmasked crowds was the main reason why I initially was hesitant to go. When I woke up this morning, I had a choice to do one of two things: play with the Lelo, or suit up to go to a parade on the fly.

My decision was made!

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The Dubs Big 3: Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, and Draymond Green (with others)

Hey, I’ll always have Lelo at home, and Covid can’t stop my ass as long as I got a mask. (In my case, I double-masked and kept it on the whole time.) I can’t always experience a parade, and the last parade I went to was the SF Pride parade back in 2019. (The last sports one was for the Giants championship 10 years ago!) I didn’t have to wake up early to see the players, and though the trade-off was being ten deep in the crowd, the camera zoom on my Galaxy S21 Ultra (and the players being on buses AND the guy standing next to me who occasionally allowed me to stand on his step stool) made up for it.

You know what was wild, though? I don’t know who decided to take out the barricades off Market Street, but the parade wasn’t even over when they were taken out. That meant a lot of crazy-ass Warriors fans spilling out onto the parade route and walking with parade sponsors like the BART train.

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Yes, I was one of those crazy asses (not pictured), too. But it’s not everyday you get to walk the exact same path as Curry and Thompson did minutes before you. In a way, I was part of the Warriors parade!! I can’t say the same thing about the Giants parades I went to!

A Perfect Anniversary!

Has it really been TEN effing years since this game?!

I was at work, less than a year into my massage career. Only until I was done with the work day did I hear via radio that a perfecto was achieved at then-AT&T Park, by none other than SF Giants FOREVER LEGEND Matt Cain. And he pitched against those future trash can beaters to boot! To this day, that game remains the lone Perfect game in Giants’ franchise history (they’ve had plenty of no-hitters, however). And TIL via the Wiki that it’s been 10 years since the last-ever Perfect game. To the current MLB players: step up your shit. I wanna see another perfecto! (As long as it’s not done by the Bums against my team.)

Bonus footage on Cain’s Perfecto:

A trivial-as-hell side note: some people online were celebrating this anniversary yesterday. Unless if they were in a time zone where it was June 13th at their place when they posted, why on earth would they celebrate the anniversary the day before its actual date? *smh*

One Sign, One Song

This weekend I rallied for women’s abortion rights, didn’t get much sleep, worked a long day at the spa again, and did my laundry and cleaned my floors after working said long day at the spa so I can have another lazy Monday. But all I want to do is share the following two things:

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This superb sign from the Oakland Bans Off Our Bodies rally. I also got to see the mayor of Oakland speak, some women dressed as handmaidens from The Handmaid’s Tale (it’s not a pro-choice rally without it these days), some cute dogs, and a homeless but harmless drunk sitting with the crowd talking to himself while speakers shared their abortion stories.

My song of the week:

Why this jam? Yours Busy-as-hell will get to be lazy as hell till next Tuesday, for I’ll be taking a break from work starting today. I’m on Spring Break, bitches!

Quote Of The Week

I know I’m supposed to heed the advice of Paul Anka and Lisa Simpson when it comes to “celebrity” oxygen thieves, but a friend showed me this over the weekend, and it was too good to pass up!

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This had everything: a glorious dragging of someone that deserves it, receipts brought out, and a bitchy read that made me get mah fan out. And according to those who saw that hobbit’s sex tape, she probably fucks like a rug too. (I haven’t seen the tape and I don’t like to waste my time.) If only all those media outlets that heinously kissed up to her instead called out her attention-desperate disorder-ridden lying ass like TMMC, maybe just maybe, this world would be a slightly better place. And hopefully TMMC doesn’t backpedal their words, because somewhere in heaven, the one and only Marilyn is nodding in approval over the scalping of Karen Rugtrashian.

True FASHUN

TIL that the irrelevant, overhyped, style-lacking suckfest for wannabe A-listers that’s the Mess, er, Met Gala is not only still happening, but is happening today. Didn’t that shit happen just a few months ago? Rather than get annoyed over how many dubious AF, talent-exempt who-dats got invited (which I’m sure will make up at least 90% of the attendees) and will show up in outfits that would make Fashion Nova seem high-end, I’d rather admire the past lewks of underrated fashionista João Paulo!

Back in 2016, João took whatever household shit he had and recreated some of the Gala’s most, ahem, memorable outfits. Who needs the couturiers of Louis Vuitton and pricey hairstylists when you can have your own celebrity-inspired haute couture and hair with some foil, duct tape, and wig from the Dollar Store?! I’m not sure if he recreated other outfits from other Galas after, and that he wasn’t invited to the 2017 event after his landmark FASHUN moment all the more proves how out-of-touch that withered barnacle with the bad wig known as Anna Wintour is. If anything, the Gala needs João more than he needs the Gala.

Pic courtesy of Dlisted, where you can see more of João serving real Gala-worthy style here! 

Monday Truth Bombs

Courtesy of these two tweets!

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Roland, Roman, Rapist Pedo, it’s all the same. Also, shouldn’t Mia Farrow, of all people, be aware of that?

By the way, I remember watching that ceremony that Miss Genie’s talking about. To this day, I still can’t wrap my head around the ugly fact that Rapist Polanski got an ovation–and won his Oscar before Martin Scorsese!while Michael Moore got booed for calling out W. Bush’s bullshit involving the Iraq War. But that’s Hollywood for ya.

And when many people are talking about the catfight between Fresh Prince and MC Gusto more than what film won Best Picture, that says something about both the Oscars ceremony and the movies being put out today, doesn’t it?

Finally, because some basics need to be reminded…

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The same can be said for the rest of her klan of useless, oxygen-thieving pustules that most of the media still enjoys shoving down our throats when, in a smarter society, they should’ve been no more than a mere blip on the radar back in 2011. (If that was the case, imagine all the over-filtered, duck-lipped selfies from insecure young women this world would have never seen.) Instead, not working and being a total Karen to those who make your clearance bin-worthy makeup is worthy of a Vogue cover these days. It’s fitting, however, considering there’s no prestige or value to being on Anna Wintour’s Vogue anymore. Gee, I wonder what killed it off…

Duckin’ Fabulous

After seeing these fashionably loud ducks serve up style and glamour at the recent Pied Piper Duck Show in Sydney, Australia, the runways of Milan, Paris, and New York once again need to step up their game. You know designers need to go back to the drawing board when duck couture is more appealing than whatever this mess is. (I guess the folks at The Fashion Spot haven’t seen their optometrist in a while because they think that look is a “hit”. *snorts*) Also, the pose game of these feathered catwalkers (or should I say, duckwalkers) is top notch. Linda and Naomi would be proud of those birds in pink, while the duck in blue is flaunting leg leg leg like they’re channeling their inner Nadja Auermann. To botch a lyric from RuPaul’s “Supermodel”, “you betta quack, bitch!”

Pic courtesy of Sad And Useless (although I first read about this show here)