Sunday, 22 November 2015


I'm not usually one to take a bold or inappropriately lewd stance on anything unless I'm tipsy, which is always, so let's just start all over again, shall we? (That whole sentence was my editor's fault. He's an utter moron but he makes a damn fine martini.) This photo is admittedly cheekier than my usual tasteful work, but there's a reason for that. And that reason is "combat."

I bought these camo-pattern pants at Forever 21 yesterday, bringing my camo-pattern-pants total to a new high of five. In other words I needed a new pair of camo-pattern pants like I need another martini ... *pauses expectantly* EDITOR! I SAID I NEED ANOTHER MARTINI! ... but I spied them on a rack in the changeroom and loved them on sight.

"Is someone trying those on or are they up for grabs?" I asked the salesclerk. 
"I guess they're up for grabs," she said. "The other girl said they were too tight."
So I tried them on and they fit like a camo-pattern glove. I was still twirling in front of the mirror when the salesclerk knocked on the door. 
"Uhm, that girl wants to try those pants on again," she said.
"Well she's going to have to come and peel them off of me," I retorted. "They're mine now."
The salesclerk frowned. "Sorry," she said firmly.
"But I thought they didn't fit her fat ass!" I squawked.
"Ma'am? The pants?"
"Fine," I huffed as I slid them off and handed them over, "but can you grab me another pair please?" And that's when she told me they were the only size 28 left. I tell you, hand to God, had I known that while I still had them on she would never have taken them alive.

And now that I knew I couldn't have them, I wanted them even more. So I lingered in the changeroom, hoping Kim Kardashian would realize my pants and her arse were a bad match and give them back to their rightful owner.
The salesclerk saw me hovering and arched a brow. 
"Has she made a decision?" I asked. 
"She hasn't come out yet," she replied coolly. 
"Huh," I said. "I'll just wait a few more minutes then ..."
"Whatever," the salesclerk said, and began examining her nails in that "I'm ignoring you" way.

I hovered a few moments longer ... I mean, really, how long does it take to try on a pair of pants? ... until even I could tell it was getting weird, and then finally, I gave up.
I flounced out of the store in a huff, vowing to call head office and complain about the shoddy service, wondering when another shipment of those pants might come in, on and on and obsessively on and then, finally, a glimmer of sanity: perhaps I could just try another Forever 21 store. The goddam things are everywhere.

So I drove to Mississauga's Square One, found a Forever 21, found a pair of size 28 camo-pattern pants and made a beeline for the checkout.
"Would you like to try those on?" a salesclerk asked.
"Ha!" I barked, breaking into a run, "you think I'm gonna fall for that one?"
So yes, the acquisition of these camo pants turned into a huge flipping ordeal that vastly outweighed their paltry $30 pricetag and yes, I am feeling a bit combative and guerrilla-chick about them, so when you look at this photo I hope you see the battle-scarred tenacity and courage and triumph it embodies. Or maybe you just see a gratuitous photo of my arse. At this point, I really don't care. I have the pants: I won the war.  

EDITOR'S NOTE: All this for a pair of $30 pants? They'll probably fall apart the first time you wash them!
MY NOTE: I'll thank you to salute when you address me.

Monday, 16 November 2015


Not one to sit by and watch Lamar Odom snatch all the good manwhore headlines, Charlie Sheen has granted an exclusive sit-down with the Today Show's Matt Lauer in which he will announce that he is HIV positive. A development that he seems to think is shocking, despite the fact that his entire adult life has been a flaming, illustrated guide to "HOW TO GUARANTEE YOU WILL DIE OF HIV." Think of one way, any way, of the many ways in which one can contract HIV and Charlie Sheen has done it. Usually while banging nine-gram rocks and/or tatted slags who will later become his lawfully wedded goddesses. Even for a tiger-blooded warlock, that shit's extreme. I mean really: all I did was TYPE what Charlie Sheen does on an average Tuesday afternoon and I've broken out in a rash. Are cooties contagious? Jesus! I'm crawling with them!

RELATED It's pretty bad when even Rihanna finds your antics distasteful. 

Thursday, 5 November 2015



You don't hear much about Kim Kardashian lately, for a couple of reasons. One of those being that she's eight months pregnant. Another of those being that her youngest sister, Kylie, is surgically and relentlessly making herself over in Kim's image, so why bother with the older version? Not one to be trumped by her own damn sister ... or fetus ... Kim Kardashian has cunningly implicated herself in a Photoshop scandal by allowing some lackey to "accidentally" post an unretouched photo of herself kissing Kanye at little sister Kendall's 20th birthday party. (Which of course featured a photo booth, because Kardashians.) 

According to the carefully scripted reports, Kim and Kanye posed in the photo booth and then one of Kim's assistants put the photo on Kim's Facebook page before Kim had had a chance to slenderize it or shave it or whatever it is the beautiful people do to their photos these days ... I don't know; for the love of lard, people, I call it a good day when the wine bottles are cropped out of the background. 

Anyway, as you can see from the GIF, above, which shows both the before- and after-Photoshopping (and I sure hope you guys appreciate the amazeballsiness of my handiwork, because by God, if I learned anything from this post it's that GIFs are hard), aside from missing the obvious opportunity to Photoshop a smile onto Kanye's perpetual bitchface, the "scandal" appears to be that Kim removed a few stray hairs and shaved a dollop of blub off her jawline. Let's caption this one: "OMGEEEE! THIRD WORLD PROBLEMSSS!!! #MADEYOULOOK"


gwen stefani, blake shelton, the voice,
Which confuses me, because seriously, did anybody ask? 

In the surest sign it's the slowest celebrity news day since that time I posted about Avril Lavigne's retarded Hello Kitty collection, freshly divorced Gwen Stefani has confirmed that, yes, yes she IS dating freshly divorced Blake Shelton ... you know, Blake Shelton? The country music star and coach on The Voice? Yeah, that Blake Shelton ... after months of denying it when absolutely  nobody, ever, asked if it was true. Stefani apparenly coyly "confessed" when pressed by Ryan Seacrest (Jesus Christ, if I have to type one more inane celebrity name my hands are going to explode), tittering: "I'm not going to answer that but I think he's hot, don't you?" 

Well I hate to break it to you, dear, but no. Nobody thinks Blake Shelton is hot. In fact, I'd argue that thinking Blake Shelton is hot is a five-alarm clue that you are having a post-divorce meltdown and aren't in your right mind. Let's test this theory by looking at some photos of certifiably not-hot men, shall we? Answer truthfully, Gwen: does this one make your pulse race? How about this one? And this one? Yes? Jesus. It's official.

Wednesday, 4 November 2015


halle berry, david justice, eric benet, olivier martinez
Halle Berry's exes David Justice, left, and Eric Benet are shitting all over her on Twitter, demonstrating in 140 characters or less why she divorced them in the first place.

Barely one week after Halle Berry announced that she has filed for divorce from Olivier Martinez, her  previous embittered exes are working themselves into an orgiastic frenzy of misogyny on social media. In case you haven't checked Twitter lately (Congratulations! You're smart!), Halle's exes David Justice and Eric Benet are publicly slamming her, calling her everything but a white woman. "Me, Eric, Gabriel and Olivier were all her 'Knight in Shining Armor'  until it ends ...Then we all become the worst guys in history," David Justice tweeted Monday night. Eric Benet swiftly added a tweet of support, illiterately noting: "My man is tweeting some truth dis mornin'!"  

Never mind that these shitheads are variously alleged to have hit her and cheated on her, these dudes are ganging up in classic "Bros Before Hoes" formation and nothing, least of all  decency, will throw them off the scent. It's a tactic driven by the aggressively patriarchal urge to put a bitch in her place, an urge so goddam powerful and pervasive I'm beginning to think we bitches ought to just flat-out steal it from them. (Equal rights, I think it's called? Somebody give me a post in Justin Trudeau's cabinet!)

And so, although I don't know Halle from a hole in the ground, I hereby pledge my support for HER side of the story, no matter what her story is. GIRLS BEFORE CHURLS, bitches! Get it tattooed on your mons pubis. *recoils in horror as moron editor approaches with oozing tattoo gun* Ouch!!! Not mine, you idiot!

RELATED Remember when Halle's current ex turned her other ex into a Picasso? Some people shouldn't get married. 

Wednesday, 28 October 2015


piggly wiggly, jian ghomeshi, lucy decoutere, trailer park boys, sex allegations, kevin donovan, toronto star, halloween costumes, bombay sapphire,
Just throw your best family-sized chocolate bars at us and concede trick-or-treat defeat. 

This. This adorable face. The joy, the innocence the sheer PIGGLY WIGGLINESS of it — this is exactly the tonic I needed after a solid week of trauma that included the funeral of a national hero and the explosive news that Jian Ghomeshi's private life is no longer a mystery, it's a horror movie. (Click here to read the latest shocking allegations, but I warn you, they are both NSFW and unfit to share blog space with a precious nine-month-old cherub. No one will compare ME to Mama June!)

This photo of my granddaughter taking her very first Halloween costume for a test drive is like a shot of overproof sunshine. It's even more adorable considering that the poor little pudding just got over her first cold … and  in the nick of time too because I am really counting on eating all the chocolate she gets when she goes trick-or-treating. 

We won't trouble ourselves with the niggling issue of just what the hell is she dressed up as (A kitten? A zebra? Big Ears Teddy?) because when your cheeks are this goddam squeezable it doesn't matter. The candy is going to pour into that trick-or-treat receptacle like Bombay Sapphire into a bucket. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Isn't that how everyone drinks it? Yes I tipple a bit but I'm an excellent grandma, you assholes! *slaps pasties onto bared drunken bosoms* HALLOWEEN! Whoohooo!!! Two more sleeps, Piggly Wiggly! 

Tuesday, 27 October 2015


An apparently sober Samantha Fox as she looks now, seen here with some "Turkish fans." I'm sure these guys have no clue what she's famous for but wouldn't be surprised to learn it's hooters. 

Anybody remember '80s pop tart Samantha Fox? Congratulations! You're old! Nobody has thought about Samantha or her shite songs or her famous "page free girl" hooters in years, but today she pierced that blissful reverie by getting booted off a flight for being drunk and abusive. The Daily Mail reports that Fox became enraged when she was denied priority boarding on a flight to Lithuania (!!!), ranting "I shouldn't have to queue with these people!" (These people: We feel the same way, you old slag.) And while I shudder to think at how often I danced on the edge of this sort of behaviour (but never fell off), I do like to think I would have the good sense to stop dressing like a 29-year-old strumpet when I was a 49-year-old strumpet. *checks watch* Which will be any day now.