Feh.

From Our Archives: April 2005 - Feh Guide to Humanity

I've found over the years that just about everyone I've ever met can be categorized, more or less, in one of the four following ways:

1. Nice and Smart.

2. Nice and Dumb.

3. Mean and Smart.

4. Mean and Dumb.

Category one, signified by the color green on the 2x2 graph below, are the kind of people you want as your friends.

Category two, the pink quadrant, are the kind of people you might want as supervisors in the workplace, and often too make great friends, especially if you've known them since childhood.

Category three, the red quadrant, are the people you want on your side, say in the workplace or on your Capture the Flag team, but preferably not in a position to which you would be subjugate.

Category four, the blue quadrant, are the people you want nothing to do with under any circumstance.

Feel free to use this simple and useful system in your day to day life. It's fun, and what's more, it works!

OH, AND TELL YOUR BOSS THE PORCUPINE SAYS 'FUCK YOU!'

  MORE HERE

428 Years Ahead of Her Time

From The New York Times 'Weddings' Section Rejection Pile

It's a story as old as time itself: Boy meets Boy three years his junior. Boy gets boy. Four sweaty, injurious, Berlin-hotel-bound days later, Boy/Dad feels uncontrollable urge to proclaim his love for Boy/Son to the world, in a semi-touching, semi-repulsive, all-hiLArious declaration on a gay internet site. It's kind of like that DeBeers "I love this woman!" TV spot in the Venetian Square, if the rapturous couple had been sucking on a crystal pipe for 77 hours. (Click on screengrab to enlarge it.)

      

From Our Archives: April, 2005

April 5, 2005

Tribute to Il Papa, Fehshion Icon

Welcome to a long-overdue Feh. Fashion update.

The world said a sad farewell to the Pope this weekend. We all know he was a shining beacon of love and serenity, but he was something else:

A fierce, ahead of the curve fashionista!

Consider: Even from an early age, John Paul wasn't following trends, he was establishing them. In this A-line day-to-night camisole, the first, next and last words are ruffles, ruffles, ruffles. Hm, Monsieurs Dolce and Gabbana, I wonder where you came up with the inspiration for your Fall 2005 Women's RTW line...

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Not 6 years later, a Communion ceremony saw little Karol Josef in this cutting edge white-on-white Victorian Punk dandy suit with floral applique:

Nice try, Yohji Yamamoto, but I think the Pontiff beat you by about, oh I don't know, 80 odd years:

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A little later in his young life, Karol Jozef Wojtyla shows up his gradeschool mates in a formfitting black military peacoat.

Paging Mr. Jacobs! Paging Mr. Marc Jacobs....

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Finally, we here have a handsome, outdoorsy Pope in his 30s, shaving in the woods, wearing a well-tailored neo-prep cotton shortsleeve button down and black canvas sneakers.

Color-me copycat, Marc by Marc Jacobs!!!

The Factory Opens

“There’s a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity . . . I mean there is always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.”

                       -Roald Dahl, 1983.

I Don't Know...Are The Boots Too Much?

LOTS MORE FUCKING 'DECORER' PHOTO AND POOR ENGLISH AT MASAMANIA, THE BLOG WITH THE BEST TAGLINE IN THE UNIVERSE.

MINIPOPS DO SARS LOOK. HOT.

Rockstar:INXS VS Watching Your Parents Have Anal Sex: The Ultimate Cringe-Off

Dave Navarro, everyone's favorite desperate-to-be-on-TV-wispily-facial-haired female-to-male-post-op-transexual, has found the perfect outlet for his particular brand of Lookatmeitis in CBS’ newest reason to hang yourself on a hotel room doorknob reality TV sensation, Rock Star: INXS. Squatting high atop his box-seated perch, aqua blouse parted seductively wide, fingernails painted mysteriously black, gauntlet laced teasingly tight, fu-manchu waxed dangerously pointy, the Electra-penetrator gleefully holds court as 14 aspiring rock vocalists jump through poodle hoops to please him and the surviving middle-aged members of INXS in a search for their new Michael Hutchence (can you name one besides Michael Hutchence?) The performances range from decent to tolerable to ‘Please God Let Me Keep Touch, Taste and Smell, You Can Take The Rest.’ Common choreographic motifs include the ‘wavy snake movement with arm’ move, the ‘point index finger repeatedly at no one in particular’ move and its Yang, the ‘summon with index finger repeatedly at no one in particular’ move. To the fellow who performed ‘Take Me Out’, I couldn’t agree more with the title of your song choice; maybe try Cirque de Soleil—they love the faggy-ass theatrical windmill arm shit. As for the chicks: you sent me running for my Yeah Yeah Yeah’s records to profess my everlasting love to Karen O. The judges may also want to rethink mouthing along with every lyric, playing their corresponding air-instrument, and bouncing up and down along with the audience. It made Simon Cowell’s refusal to dance or even appear to be having a mildly good time on American Idol seem like the wisest decision ever made by anyone to have a television camera pointed at them.

A Little Bit About Me

MORE BEARTRASH HERE

Readily-Whipped

Don't get me wrong, I love sealing my puckered lips around the perforated plastic nipple of a Redi-Whip can and suckling down the sweet, sweet happy gas as much as the next guy, but this story on today's AP wires struck me as either hilarious or deeply upsetting, I haven't quite yet decided:

Police: eating disorder expert collapses after taking 'whippits'

July 12, 2005

WEST HARTFORD, Conn. --An expert in eating disorders collapsed in a supermarket after inhaling propellant from whipped cream cans, according to police.

Lisa G. Berzins, a prominent psychologist who has been on national television and radio shows and in newspaper articles, was arrested on a warrant Friday charging her in the May 29 incident, The Hartford Courant reported.

Berzins, 49, of Farmington, has a practice in West Hartford. She has written and lectured on eating disorders, female development, sex roles and self-esteem, according a speaker's biography from the American Psychological Association.

According to the arrest warrant affidavit, West Hartford police responded to the Farmington Avenue Stop & Shop and found Berzins lying on the floor and bleeding from her head. Berzins, the affidavit says, told police she did not know what happened.

Police interviewed witnesses and collected evidence, then determined that Berzins apparently inhaled from three cans of whipped cream containing nitrous oxide, known as laughing gas, the affidavit says.

Now I wouldn't be doing my journoblogolistic duty if I didn't do some legwork, and what I have found is that Ms. Berzins is no Sally Jesse Raphael yapping head living in a van by the river.  She is a respected PhD and indeed an expert in her field. The following is an exerpt from a speech she recently gave to Congress about female body image, the full text of which can be found here:

Okay, I've decided it's deeply upsetting.

The obvious question to ask is: how can someone with this much insight into the struggles young women go through to become accepted and respected by society could end up passed out in a supermarket, head bleeding and surrounded by depleted Redi-Whip cans. Clearly, a life's output of responsible, important work is now at great risk of going up in one great collective puff of laughing gas. Think twice.

GOTCHA!

If this brilliantly fun co-opting of 21st century urban paranoia makes its way to LA, I'm SO there. (ps Tom...you may want to watch your back!)

The Real Wedding Crasher World

You work in a dreary Santa Monica based office, surrounded by paper clip pushing desk meat (ha ha! Kidding guys!). Outside your windows is the Technicolor Oz-like world of the MTV Networks parking lot, where you can often spy a lineup of Pimp My Ride hopefuls ready for their turn in the turd-polishing spotlight. Today, the Emerald Car Park is full not of munchkins, but an army of equally adorable twentysomething hipsters of every race, hairstyle, and shape. Actually, not shape. They must have a no fatties hiring policy at MTV.

So you’re making a nose grease stain against the glass like some sickly violin-practicing kid in a back brace as two massive In n’ Out trucks pull up and a smaller army of decidedly less hip and attractive, but entirely less annoying, In n’ Out kids are handing out Double Doubles like they are going out of style. You notice from your cubicle/perch that there are two security guards at the main entrance, but there is a small wooded area that would be easy to penetrate using some PS2-learned stealth maneuvers.

Question. Do you:

a)      Go for it?

b)    There is no b), sillies. Of course you go for it!

After waiting a while for my Double² (worth every minute), and having downed some of the microbrewed beer on tap (I’m still drunk as I write this, if it makes no sense) the main event got underway. An eating contest! Eight MTV employees went Crazy Legs Konti crazy, stuffing their Real-World-Austin-Story-Editing-Pie holes with as many In N' Outs as they could get in (and in the case of that one Logo-T-shirted female contestant who puked in a bucket, out. To her credit, she kept on eating.) The big winner managed six in the allotted time. Very impressive!

I have a camera phone photo of the event, but there seems to be some technical issues in getting it emailed...so you'll just have to use your minds' eyes. If there's a reader out there who was at the event and could forward me a picture, please do!

Horrifying, End-of-Civilization Televised Images: Big Brother 6 Premieres Tonight

Ever wonder what it's like to be Les Moonves? I certainly do. In fact I play Viacom Honcho every night before I go to bed with my Fisher Price characters (Jeff Zucker is represented by a long-ago-decapitated and very naked Barbie doll).

Once a year, however, everyone can imagine what it's like to truly be Les: starting tonight, we get to spend approximately 11 live programming hours a week with his main squeeze Julie Chen, as she hosts the sixth incarnation of that Yearly-Breaking-of-the-Seventh-Reality-Seal, Big Brother.

Just look at her: the windblown hair, the smokey seductive eyes, the pearls as white as her pearly whites. This is what 8 gazillion dollars and all the power in the media universe buys you (is it any wonder I use a My Little Pony Butterfly Island Sunny Scent Apple Spice Pony as her playtime avatar?) For those who question whether these qualities can be 'bought', I direct you to Good Plastic Surgery's before and after Julie pictures.

Big Brother 6 has been billed as a "summer of secrets", which immediately evoked memories of Y Wooden Acres 1983, the arts and crafts shed, and a certain Counsellor-In-Training who shall remain nameless (Hey, J.T.! I'll never forget the pottery wheel!)

From today's Boston Herald:

The biggest "secret" consists of a pretty interesting twist on previous incarnations: This time, there are 14 houseguests in the "Big Brother" house -- the largest number ever -- but the contestants are not competing solo. Each resident is secretly teamed with a friend or family member, but contestants are supposed to try to make it through the competition without letting on that they are part of a team. Each team is led to believe that it's the only pair in the house.

If two members of the same team end up being the final two residents in the house, the overall winner of the show will get $1 million. If a duo does not make it to the end of the three-month competition, the winner will take home a measly $500,000.

Get all that? No? You lost interest midway through the explanation and stopped reading? Me too! Welcome to the magic of Big Brother! It's going to be a summer to remember people! You, me, Julie, headless Barbie, the 16 residents of the Big Brother house and the memories of our collective homoerotic sexual awakening at the Y Wooden Acres pottery wheel. Someone bring the Cheese-O's! The show's starting!

www.fehblog.com

The url www.fehblog.com will now direct you to Feh.
Easy to remember, looks great on a 10-karat gold necklace.

Kibbles 'n Bits, Tiny Mouse Tits, And I Love You

The Superficial turned us onto this photo of Mariah Carey and an unidentified homeless man taken by a paparazzo outside KOI the other night:

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Were we the only ones immediately hit with a paralyzing sense of deja-vu?

Yes, it was life imitating (genius) art as the classic Tracy Morgan/Kate Hudson SNL "Woodrow" sketch was brought to glittering, emancipated life by Mimi herself.

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Let's all sing together!:

Woodrow: "You know, when I'm scared, I have a song I like to sing, and I want you to sing it with me..
'Toasters and birds, little pigeon turds
Radio in my hair, it's really not there
Because I.. love.. you..'
Now, your turn.'

Kate Hudson: "Okay.
'Boogers and poop, dictionary soup
Run for the hills, we have to eat pills
And I.. love.. you..'"

Woodrow: "Now, both."

Kate Hudson: "Ah."

Together:
"'Mr. Rubber Face, I'm from outer space
Kibbles 'n Bits, tiny mouse tits
And I.. love.. you..
I.. love.. you..'"

Click here for a transcript of the entire sketch.

'War of the Worlds' Seen: Pants Sufficiently Pooped

Cruise Shmuise. While Tom does end up delivering the goods, this is really Dakota and Steven's picture, and the Precocious Pixie and Celluloid Jewgician scared the beJEEBers outta me last night at the Vista 9:45 showing. Akin to the world's most expensive and technically accomplished 'Raid - Humans and Pets' commercial, the chilling fog horn sound alone preceding every Stomp 'n Zap was enough to give me a serious spinecicle.