“Yes, we had a baby. No, it is not Satan’s.”
This weekend was RIPE with insanity. I’m blaming part of it on the full moon, which was looking pretty freaking huge over the hills these past couple of nights. We could also blame it on the gradual dumbing of America, but that might be accurate and not nearly as fun.
- Beyonce and Jay Z finally have their baby, may be spawn of Satan?
Little Blue Ivy was born Saturday in New York, which gave me another reason to envy her. It’s not enough her parents are the two most powerful people in hip hop, she gets to be in New York while I’m stuck in stupid LA. Her birth also continues the pattern of horrid celebrity baby names. Apparently things like Sarah, or Lauren, or Molly are all to simple for babies that famous. You have to name them after plants, inanimate objects, or colors. I’ve been working on this for my unborn child in the event that I become famous and can’t name her Zoe Marie. The top names I’ve got so far are Mahogany Ficus, Indigo Crab Grass, and Lime Green Kitchen Aid Mixer. But I’ve also learned you have to be careful with these types of names, as people on Twitter may think your baby is actually named after Lucifer’s daughter. Now, I didn’t think Lucifer had a daughter, since Angels (even fallen ones) don’t have reproductive parts. But apparently everyone thinks Jay Z is in the illuminati and thus would want to name his daughter something even more stupid that he already did. I’m over it. Everything about this makes my head hurt.
- My One LA Thing for January is full of Strippers
As you may know, part of my New Years resolution was to do something new and fun in LA every month, even though I hate this God-forsaken suburban expanse. This month I decided to go to the Hotel Cafe, a cool music venue in Hollywood for up and coming artists. I had a friend playing there, and a bunch of us went out afterwards. As we were walking back to our cars at the end of the evening, three somewhat large women dressed in what can only be described as oddly positioned spandex hand towels strutted by. Two of them had pink hair. They all had open-back dresses which revealed all kinds of unsightly rolls. I didn’t count, but I think between them, a third of their teeth were missing. Then rolling up behind them was a dude in a wheelchair and his friend pushing him. Apparently, they were following these lovely ladies down the street because the guy in the chair wanted some action. Naturally we all stopped to watch, especially as each stripper took their turn sitting on wheel chair man’s lap. He even said the following to one of them: “You make me want to learn how to walk.” All those ladies made me want to learn something too: how to administer shots of penicillin. Let’s hope February’s one fun thing isn’t as full of ugly street walkers.
- Tebow and Broncos Win
Listen. I get it. He can be a good quarterback. That’s all fine and dandy. But can we all just agree, right here and now, that Jesus has more important things to be doing (i.e. helping the poor, the hungry, the sick) than winning freaking playoff games for some idiot from Denver? I understand the power of prayer; I pray myself at least once a day. You should thank God for all the gifts he’s given you. You should not, however, continue to let an entire population of fans believe that if you pray hard enough, you can win NFL games. Diehard fans are obnoxious enough as it is with all their insane rituals. The last thing we need is a whole subset of fans who break out into prayer circles in the middle of bars, blocking the TV screens. If you want to go to church before the game and light a candle, by all means. But maybe you should use some of that zeal to do something God actually cares about. Not a damn football game.