Thursday, May 3, 2012

Celebrity Name Puns Of The Day

Love these. From Buzzfeed.














More here.

News Of The Day: TV Series Has Trouble Finding Real Breasts In Miami

From Yahoo.


TV series has trouble finding real breasts in Miami

by Taylor Bigler - The Daily Caller

With a wave of Hollywood’s magic wand, Dexter brutally bludgeons his victims, co-stars simulate sex and Tom Cruise looks tall.

But there are some things Hollywood can’t fake — or there are some fake things that Hollywood can’t make look real.

For the creators of a Starz series who wanted an authentic look for “Magic City,” a show set in 1959 Miami, it was nearly impossible to find local women with natural breasts.

“I’ve actually had better luck finding synchronized swimming groups than I did finding real boobs,” Bill Marinella, a locals casting director, told the Miami Herald.

“We were rigorous about everything across the board from music to architecture down to [the breasts],” Mitch Glazer, a “Magic City” producer and writer.

One of the casting notices read: “GIRLS HAD FULLER FIGURES BACK THEN. … SO NO SKINNY MODELS. ALL-NATURAL — NO PLASTIC SURGERY/BREAST IMPLANTS.”
 

Breast implants are the most popular plastic surgery procedure, and South Florida accounts for 16 percent of all of the country’s plastic surgery, according to research from the American Society of Plastic Surgeons. Miami came in third, behind Beverly Hills and San Francisco, for the highest number of boob jobs.


(continued here)

Trusting Wife Of The Day (vid)

Right after this he practiced shooting apples off her head with a bow and arrow.


Best YouTube comments:

"If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Still a better love story than Twilight."

Vid Of The Day: Best Racehorse Name Ever

The announcer had way too much fun with this one. Thanks, Emmi.

Open Letter Of The Day: To The Gentleman Blow-Drying His Balls in the Gym Locker Room

From McSweeney's Internet Tendency.

An Open Letter to the Gentleman Blow-Drying His Balls in the Gym Locker Room


Dear gentleman blow-drying his balls in the gym locker room,

You’re actually doing it.

I mean, we’ve all dreamed of blow-drying our balls out in the open, but you’re actually doing it in front of me and at least sixteen other people that just finished exercising at this pricey sports club.

Some of us will do it in private in our homes, or in a hotel room using a hairdryer a stranger might have just used to style their hair for that big business meeting in Denver. But not you. You are not confined to such social norms, norms that usually keep flapping, flag-like balls out of my eyes.

Does the courage to do this in public come with age? Perhaps it’s something a young man like me can’t understand. But you, you are on in years; gray and spotted like a ham in a paintball fight. Your scrotum reminds me of boardwalk taffy.

Maybe you’ve been building up to this day your whole life and I’m witnessing the birth of a phoenix. You are no longer a man that blow-dries his balls in secret. You have transcended that station and now fall into an elite group of Spartans that blow-dry their balls wherever they God damn please. If caterpillars emerged from their cocoons as butterflies with heavy, sagging testicles I’d imagine they’d feel the same as you might right now.

Maybe you’re making up for the fact that you no longer have any hair on your head that requires blow-drying. Is grabbing a hairdryer a rote, preening response from your earlier years when you and your majestic mane would say things like, “bees knees” to fresh-faced nurses at the pool hall while discussing the Teapot Dome scandal? Did they have hairdryers back then?

I think my ability to correctly recall history is being affected by the sight of your twin sperm fountains.

I especially appreciate the way you’ve got one leg up on the counter. Not only does this allow the hot jet stream of air a more direct passage to your gene- carrying duffel bag, it also gives me an intrusive view to the white fields of pubis covering your taint and beyond. It almost makes me think of Santa Claus, but I was not sexually abused by Kris Kringle as a child.

Speaking of Christmas, were the Adidas soccer sandals you use as shower shoes a gift from a grandchild?

Your actions disturb and inspire, and I can’t look away. I’m either swelling with physical repulsion or the joy a parent feels watching their child take their first steps. Only in this case the child is an 84-year-old man with a hairdryer aimed at his balls. Whatever the case, you’re an exemplar of bravery. So, please, shine on you withering diamond.

Thanks!

Ross Beeley

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