Dear Blob,
I have staved off Election Fever Ranting, due to being overwhelmed by the total Bullshit and Hypocrisy of it all, however, this morning I became fed up, upon reading the Republicans spent over $150, 000 in the past month, to clothe Sarah Palin and her family. It's understandable that the potential leader of the most pompous nation should be clad in platinum corsets, probably designed by the gay men, who's weddings Sarah opposes. However Sarah, if you're going to shop like Gengi Bluth, of Arrested Development, the best TV show in the world (see Ode to Arrested Development.mp3 on www.TheUkulady.com) stop gushing about your Wal Mart hockey momness! Wal Mart Hockey moms do not shop at Neimans and nor do they clad their retarded infants in $92 rompers. If you're going to Katie Holmes it up, Sarah, embrace it! Admit you are thrilled to buy Piper individual silken children's panties, rather than the economical 3-packs from Target. Admit Bristol's teen maternity smock is hand-made by Paris Hilton's theoretcial BFF.
Hypocrisy is rampant. Just yesterday I vocally yearned to be a lesbian in order to get the AfterEllen.com people to give me my own show. Yet this morning, I wished for my manpanion to kick it Sunday Worship style (see Sunday Worship on myspace Ukulady homepage) with me.
In other news, please vote NO on H'Eight! The California economy & my wedding-photographer sister cannot afford to lose the potential of unthrifty gay couples throwing The Best Party Ever! I want to go to fabulous gay weddings!
Love The Ukulady
ps: I voted absentee!
Showing posts with label Paris Hilton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris Hilton. Show all posts
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
LA Times & Firemen Stories
Dear Blog,
The LA Times is so lame they featured a color photo and 2 page story about the girl who received Paris Hilton's Old phone number.
Also, my friend's dad is a retired fire chief and I asked him the most interesting thing that happened to him during his fireman tenure and this is what he told me: someone called the fire station because his was penis stuck in a bowling ball. The firemen had to air-chisel the bowling ball apart and the bowling ball parts were then displayed in a glass case in the firehouse, and my friend's dad told his son that someone had gotten his "finger" stuck in the bowling ball. My friend only found out the truth last Saturday night, at his wedding reception/BBQ. My friend's dad looks like a movie-star detective.
Love The Ukulady
PS: The LA Times also reported that someone dressed up in a Tree Costume and robbed a bank. The Tree-Costume-Bank-Robber is far more interesting than some USC sorority girl getting Paris Hilton's party/club invites.
PPS: I wish Paris Hilton was forced to dress up in a Tree Costume while in prison.
The LA Times is so lame they featured a color photo and 2 page story about the girl who received Paris Hilton's Old phone number.
Also, my friend's dad is a retired fire chief and I asked him the most interesting thing that happened to him during his fireman tenure and this is what he told me: someone called the fire station because his was penis stuck in a bowling ball. The firemen had to air-chisel the bowling ball apart and the bowling ball parts were then displayed in a glass case in the firehouse, and my friend's dad told his son that someone had gotten his "finger" stuck in the bowling ball. My friend only found out the truth last Saturday night, at his wedding reception/BBQ. My friend's dad looks like a movie-star detective.
Love The Ukulady
PS: The LA Times also reported that someone dressed up in a Tree Costume and robbed a bank. The Tree-Costume-Bank-Robber is far more interesting than some USC sorority girl getting Paris Hilton's party/club invites.
PPS: I wish Paris Hilton was forced to dress up in a Tree Costume while in prison.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Paris, Pork Shows & Organic Ice!
Paris, Pork Shows & Organic Ice!
Dear Blog,
Poor fucking Paris Hilton! Not only did she totally miss out on the true prison experience, being released after only 3 days in jail, but she apparently has a medical condition which prevents her from being in prison; however, not from basking in gourmet cupcakes, which the LA Times reported, greeted her upon her return home to her mansion-condo. She probably had her period and God knows, that's a messy prison rape, for sure. Paris certainly brings out a peculiar hatred, in me, usually reserved for dark-side-evangelical-political-hypocrite-types.
Meanwhile, notes from the Comedy Book:
1. Busy & Picky - Sisters!
2. Pork Shows
3. Organic Ice
4. Hair Frosting; as in the '80's trend....
5. The Sneaky Teens! A band!
6. Sport Breath! A freshener.
7. Hot Rocks! A snack?
Love The Ukulady
PS: An Only In LA Moment: The other day I mistook a small dog for a cat. In a Snackery the other day, I saw this apparent cat, had an instant Concerned Moment, as I'm allergic to cats and then I realized it was a tiny dog that looked like a cat.
PPS: The news of Paris's prison release was on the LA Times front page alongside Iraq bombings and stem cell stuff. I bet Nicole Richie is fucking pissed at her publicist because she wasn't sent to prison for driving the wrong way on the freeway; which is equally bad as driving drunk around Beverly Hills, Paris's Oopsies!
Dear Blog,
Poor fucking Paris Hilton! Not only did she totally miss out on the true prison experience, being released after only 3 days in jail, but she apparently has a medical condition which prevents her from being in prison; however, not from basking in gourmet cupcakes, which the LA Times reported, greeted her upon her return home to her mansion-condo. She probably had her period and God knows, that's a messy prison rape, for sure. Paris certainly brings out a peculiar hatred, in me, usually reserved for dark-side-evangelical-political-hypocrite-types.
Meanwhile, notes from the Comedy Book:
1. Busy & Picky - Sisters!
2. Pork Shows
3. Organic Ice
4. Hair Frosting; as in the '80's trend....
5. The Sneaky Teens! A band!
6. Sport Breath! A freshener.
7. Hot Rocks! A snack?
Love The Ukulady
PS: An Only In LA Moment: The other day I mistook a small dog for a cat. In a Snackery the other day, I saw this apparent cat, had an instant Concerned Moment, as I'm allergic to cats and then I realized it was a tiny dog that looked like a cat.
PPS: The news of Paris's prison release was on the LA Times front page alongside Iraq bombings and stem cell stuff. I bet Nicole Richie is fucking pissed at her publicist because she wasn't sent to prison for driving the wrong way on the freeway; which is equally bad as driving drunk around Beverly Hills, Paris's Oopsies!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Lindsay VS. Iraq
Dear Blog,
I like to drink my strong-imported-from-San-Francisco-french-pressed-coffee and read the morning news made out of paper. This morning I discovered that these days I care very little about the latest bullshit from Bush, Baghdad and Barack. What compels me is the front-page news of Lindsay Lohan's cocaine 'n' alcohol Memorial Day weekend binge. I scan the Iraq Casualty/Hillary Clinton headlines, but read the entire article about Lindsay Lohan's fuck-ups. And I love it. I want more from Lindsay. I want Lindsay to wrinkle early, to burn visible cocaine holes in her face, to get fat. This is front-page news in America. I don't want to be sad and frustrated that poor kids who want to go to college on the GI bill are being killed along with thousands of darkies in the Cradle of Civilization. I want to feel good about myself. And knowing that Lindsay, Paris & Brittney appear to be empty vessels of insecurity, self-loathing and saddness, makes me feel good about myself!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm also compelled by the Food section. I like it when the restaurant critics hate. I like the expensive fussy-food restaurants to be ripped apart and the cheap taco trucks & pie shacks, celebrated.
PPS: Unfortunately Lindsay's latest debacle will only earn her more money as no publicity is bad publicity. If only she'd give some of her endorsement cash to the homeless junkies who can't afford the outrageously-priced rehabs; instead she purchases thousand-dollar tee-shirts to wear with No Underwear.
PPS: I just called Promises Rehab Center and they refused to tell me how much they charge per day. And their website does not offer that information. If you have to ask, you can't afford it.
PPPS: I feel like a real Beat Reporter doing actual blog-research to give my readers the price of Lindsay's rehab center! I feel smugly self-satistfied, pleased with my brief foray into real fact-finding.
PPPPS: I'll continue the rehab-price-research, but not right now.
I like to drink my strong-imported-from-San-Francisco-french-pressed-coffee and read the morning news made out of paper. This morning I discovered that these days I care very little about the latest bullshit from Bush, Baghdad and Barack. What compels me is the front-page news of Lindsay Lohan's cocaine 'n' alcohol Memorial Day weekend binge. I scan the Iraq Casualty/Hillary Clinton headlines, but read the entire article about Lindsay Lohan's fuck-ups. And I love it. I want more from Lindsay. I want Lindsay to wrinkle early, to burn visible cocaine holes in her face, to get fat. This is front-page news in America. I don't want to be sad and frustrated that poor kids who want to go to college on the GI bill are being killed along with thousands of darkies in the Cradle of Civilization. I want to feel good about myself. And knowing that Lindsay, Paris & Brittney appear to be empty vessels of insecurity, self-loathing and saddness, makes me feel good about myself!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm also compelled by the Food section. I like it when the restaurant critics hate. I like the expensive fussy-food restaurants to be ripped apart and the cheap taco trucks & pie shacks, celebrated.
PPS: Unfortunately Lindsay's latest debacle will only earn her more money as no publicity is bad publicity. If only she'd give some of her endorsement cash to the homeless junkies who can't afford the outrageously-priced rehabs; instead she purchases thousand-dollar tee-shirts to wear with No Underwear.
PPS: I just called Promises Rehab Center and they refused to tell me how much they charge per day. And their website does not offer that information. If you have to ask, you can't afford it.
PPPS: I feel like a real Beat Reporter doing actual blog-research to give my readers the price of Lindsay's rehab center! I feel smugly self-satistfied, pleased with my brief foray into real fact-finding.
PPPPS: I'll continue the rehab-price-research, but not right now.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Banned from Canters!
Dear Blog,
The UkuLady has been Banned from Canters! I showed up for my final show on Tuesday, to the news that a Canter's patron called to complain that The UkuLady is Too Loud and Terribly Offensive. Someone hated me so much that they actually took time out of their day to use the telephone to bitch. Perhaps The Offended hadn't slept well that night with queries such as "Who Can we Hate Now that Saddam is dead?" and visions of Brittney Spear's cooter-meat being strapped into her panties-TheUkuLady-will-show-her-how-to-put-on, haunting his pastrami-digesting dreams That's awesome! Someone's meatwich was ruined by a diminutive cultural-Heeb playing ukulele! That's Power! Maybe as The Offended was biting into his 'wich, the pastrami swelled into view, a bright cooter-red, as I simultaneously sang the word Vagina or Fuck; although after my second censorship warning, I really curbed the Fucks, replacing it with Fuhh.... or F'ed.
My initial thought was Paris Hilton had been at Canter's and heard my new song about going to jail together and I got really excited. But I don't think Paris eats solid food.
So the news of no show was jarring, as I had a crew of supporters coming to the Kibitz Room to hear me play. Ultimately I used my adorability and Emerson College Interpersonal Communication skills and talked Bea into letting The UkuLady play her final show. I told her I would be really quiet and not say fuck or vagina. I tried, but towards the end of my set I just couldn't hold back and as I knew I wouldn't be returning anyway, I played Jenna Bush, the first censured UkuLady song and closed the show with a rousing "We're Taking Ecstacy on Sunday; Instead of Worshipping the Patriarchal God, We'll Have Oral Sex In Bed." I was a huge hit. People loved me. And probably some hated me. Good Times.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I've renamed my legs my Walking Arms.
PPS: The UkuLady is floored by the stupidity and blindness of the peeps who built and wholeheartedly believe in The Creationism Museum, where children are being taught that humans and dinosaurs co-existed.
The UkuLady has been Banned from Canters! I showed up for my final show on Tuesday, to the news that a Canter's patron called to complain that The UkuLady is Too Loud and Terribly Offensive. Someone hated me so much that they actually took time out of their day to use the telephone to bitch. Perhaps The Offended hadn't slept well that night with queries such as "Who Can we Hate Now that Saddam is dead?" and visions of Brittney Spear's cooter-meat being strapped into her panties-TheUkuLady-will-show-her-how-to-put-on, haunting his pastrami-digesting dreams That's awesome! Someone's meatwich was ruined by a diminutive cultural-Heeb playing ukulele! That's Power! Maybe as The Offended was biting into his 'wich, the pastrami swelled into view, a bright cooter-red, as I simultaneously sang the word Vagina or Fuck; although after my second censorship warning, I really curbed the Fucks, replacing it with Fuhh.... or F'ed.
My initial thought was Paris Hilton had been at Canter's and heard my new song about going to jail together and I got really excited. But I don't think Paris eats solid food.
So the news of no show was jarring, as I had a crew of supporters coming to the Kibitz Room to hear me play. Ultimately I used my adorability and Emerson College Interpersonal Communication skills and talked Bea into letting The UkuLady play her final show. I told her I would be really quiet and not say fuck or vagina. I tried, but towards the end of my set I just couldn't hold back and as I knew I wouldn't be returning anyway, I played Jenna Bush, the first censured UkuLady song and closed the show with a rousing "We're Taking Ecstacy on Sunday; Instead of Worshipping the Patriarchal God, We'll Have Oral Sex In Bed." I was a huge hit. People loved me. And probably some hated me. Good Times.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I've renamed my legs my Walking Arms.
PPS: The UkuLady is floored by the stupidity and blindness of the peeps who built and wholeheartedly believe in The Creationism Museum, where children are being taught that humans and dinosaurs co-existed.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Dead Gay-Pink Al Quada Guy (not a VLOG)
Dear Blog,
A couple days ago the front page of the New York Times featured a photograph of a dead Al Quada guy shrouded in a bright gay-pink sheet wraplet. He looked like a dead gay terrorist. It was a fucked up photo. The dead-guy on the front page part, not the cute pink shroudy-wrap. Queer eye probably gave the shroudlet a hearty Outfit Book Yes!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I broke up with my roommate and it went extremely poorly. Much worse than my awesome breakup with my awesome (seriously) ex Boyfriend/Current Best Friendsie.
PPS: Breakups aren't very funny. Too bad Brittney and Paris are laying so low. I could have used some celebrity downfall distraction today.
A couple days ago the front page of the New York Times featured a photograph of a dead Al Quada guy shrouded in a bright gay-pink sheet wraplet. He looked like a dead gay terrorist. It was a fucked up photo. The dead-guy on the front page part, not the cute pink shroudy-wrap. Queer eye probably gave the shroudlet a hearty Outfit Book Yes!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I broke up with my roommate and it went extremely poorly. Much worse than my awesome breakup with my awesome (seriously) ex Boyfriend/Current Best Friendsie.
PPS: Breakups aren't very funny. Too bad Brittney and Paris are laying so low. I could have used some celebrity downfall distraction today.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Dear Outfit Book!
Dear Blog!
I've been meaning to blog (verb and noun!) about The Outfit Book forever and now's my chance! What is the Outfit Book? This is it:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I looked so cute! I was wearing green capri's and a yellow shirt, the one with arm-sleeve stripes and everyone kept saying how slim and great I looked all day long! Love Thessaly
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I looked totally hot! I was wearing my new red dress, knee socks and mary janes! Everyone noticed how cute I totally am! Love Thessaly
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Low-rise jeans are totally out of control! Ass crack is not hot and neither is the Muffin-Top. Love Thessaly
PS: Today I wore a pink tankini and orange flipflops!
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I felt fat all day long and my underwear went up my ass all day. Please remember to throw away those stupid superman panties and never wear the cordoroy fatty-girl slacks. Love Thessaly
Love The UkuLady
PS: Dear Outfit Book!
International Party Girl, Paris Hilton wears the ugliest outfits! I hope she gets a yeast infection in jail.
I've been meaning to blog (verb and noun!) about The Outfit Book forever and now's my chance! What is the Outfit Book? This is it:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I looked so cute! I was wearing green capri's and a yellow shirt, the one with arm-sleeve stripes and everyone kept saying how slim and great I looked all day long! Love Thessaly
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I looked totally hot! I was wearing my new red dress, knee socks and mary janes! Everyone noticed how cute I totally am! Love Thessaly
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Low-rise jeans are totally out of control! Ass crack is not hot and neither is the Muffin-Top. Love Thessaly
PS: Today I wore a pink tankini and orange flipflops!
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I felt fat all day long and my underwear went up my ass all day. Please remember to throw away those stupid superman panties and never wear the cordoroy fatty-girl slacks. Love Thessaly
Love The UkuLady
PS: Dear Outfit Book!
International Party Girl, Paris Hilton wears the ugliest outfits! I hope she gets a yeast infection in jail.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Brittney & Paris, SlutWhors
Dear Blog,
The front page to the LA Times this morning featured a color picture of Paris Hilton and the headline, Paris Goes to Jail! I added the exclamation point! Blog and Readiers, I hope that whore gets prisonrapef***ed up the ass with a steel pipe. Seriously. I really kind of hope that happens to Paris Hilton in the Lynwood jail, where she will spend 45 days for drunk driving around LA for the third time. Perhaps it's awful and mean of me to wish such violence on another human being, but I so greatly dislike Paris and sickly, it would bring me joy to see her feel pain.
In other news, Brittney is doing secret Brittney shows at House Of Blueses around the globe. How boring. Do something interesting, Brittney, like get knocked up again by someone really repulsive or scandalous or do something self-destructive and summon Child Protective Services to your Malibu mansion again . Performing is boring. I hope Brittney and Paris release a lesbian sex tape.
Meanwhile, the UkuLady is back in LA, navigating traffic caused by drunked celebrities in beemers and illegal immigrants in mini-vans.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm so jetlagged nothing is very funny, so apologies for a somewhat boring blog. Sims session comedy-notes coming soon!
The front page to the LA Times this morning featured a color picture of Paris Hilton and the headline, Paris Goes to Jail! I added the exclamation point! Blog and Readiers, I hope that whore gets prisonrapef***ed up the ass with a steel pipe. Seriously. I really kind of hope that happens to Paris Hilton in the Lynwood jail, where she will spend 45 days for drunk driving around LA for the third time. Perhaps it's awful and mean of me to wish such violence on another human being, but I so greatly dislike Paris and sickly, it would bring me joy to see her feel pain.
In other news, Brittney is doing secret Brittney shows at House Of Blueses around the globe. How boring. Do something interesting, Brittney, like get knocked up again by someone really repulsive or scandalous or do something self-destructive and summon Child Protective Services to your Malibu mansion again . Performing is boring. I hope Brittney and Paris release a lesbian sex tape.
Meanwhile, the UkuLady is back in LA, navigating traffic caused by drunked celebrities in beemers and illegal immigrants in mini-vans.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm so jetlagged nothing is very funny, so apologies for a somewhat boring blog. Sims session comedy-notes coming soon!
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