6.30.2005

Here's a tip.

Finally, a compendium (yes, another one) of the tipping habits of your favorite actors and actresses.

TV is for sexies!

Inside TV, some sort of magazine that has nothing to do with the inside of your TV, has proclaimed the 50 Sexiest Men on TV. Number one? Why it's Mr. Can't Buy Me Love himself, a-Patrick a-Dempsey. He can buy us love anytime, if you know what we mean! In conjunction with the upcoming double issue that will feature this horizon-expanding article, there will be a one-hour TV special on July 3 on which these men will be appear less glossy and more active. Please note, you'll still appear lonely in your Ben-and-Jerry's-encrusted "Playful Kitties in Wicker Basket" robe.

Being tremendously excited.

By "disgusting," we assume he means "fascinating and enlightening." We're sure he does. Positive.

Jenniffleck Bennifer Rambaldi Will Hunting.

Afflecks married Garners today. There are not many details available, but we can safely assume Elton John rewrote the lyrics to "Candle in the Wind" for the event. All in all, a triumphant day for as many as two people.

Mallflowers.

Here's our new most favorite Web site ever of the day: Malls of America. It's a compendium of photos from shopping malls of the 1960s and '70s. Some of us here at the NB grew up in South Florida, so we get a little teary-eyed when talking of malls. Unfortunately, the site does not have pictures of the late Boca Mall. No, not the glitzy, glamorous Town Center Mall (a SIMON property). The Boca Mall (now the site of Mizner Park). Home to Britt's and Jefferson's. There were never more than four people in it at a time. It was truly a bastion of sadness. Save for the wonderful AMC sixplex, where we saw Short Circuit, Willow and Jaws 4: the Revenge.

Nay. NAY.

This posting has remained entirely too cordial. Please visit it and help point it in the right direction. We would, but our huge Internet fame prevents us from doing so. Yet again.

Is Linda Blair available?

T.I.? New-New? Jellybeans? Roller skates? Musical? Are we dreaming?

The Nicole Richie Timeline.

Or, the Effects of Cocaine Rays on Dancing-on-the-Ceiling Adoptees.

I went to Spain, and all I got was this stupid legislation passed.

De nada, ESPAÑA.

Idina Menzel: defying arithmetic.

In the current issue of Entertainment Weekly, Idina Menzel, star of the upcoming film version of Rent, claims she is 31. Oh how we laughed. A quick jump to IMDb.com told us that Miss Menzel was born on May 30, 1971. So, Menzel, unless this is 2002, you are 34. You do not look 31, even with a green makeup hiding your shriek lines, so there's no need to lie. 34 is a perfectly acceptable age. And you are, at the very least, 34.

6.29.2005

Quotent quotables.

You've seen the pictures, now enjoy some of the best quotes from our 2005 Tour de France (and Spain):

"No possible."
–The taxi driver at the Barcelona airport upon hearing the address we were going to

"Why did you call? I told you I would do it later. When you saw me in here you should have known I was doing it."
–Sorina, our Seabourn cruise line stewardess upon finding me calling to make sure our twin beds were turned into a queen-sized bed, as requested via fax

"I bring water every day. You don't need to call me."
–Sorina, our $7,000,000,000,000-per-person-cruise-line stewardess telling us not to call her to bring a bottle of water to the room, which she had failed to do

"The chef is...uh...doing very well."
–Anthony, the petite French waiter, finishing his explanation of why dinner was delayed

"Is that a glass from the room? You'd better keep it. The stewardess would kill me."
–The room service waiter, upon picking up our dinner tray from our room

"HOW SWEET IS TO BE LOVED WITH YOU."
–An Eastern-European woman upon being asked to sing back a line from the James Taylor song during the audience participation segments of one of the onboard shows

"Are you the two gentlemen who I invited to my table and didn't show up?"
–The onboard lounge musician greeting us for the first time toward the end of the cruise. (We were not, by the way.)

Laverne in da HIZZ-OUSE.

Pimps, playas and hos, from the LG Mobile Phones BET After Bash, our girl...

Penny Marshall!

If everyone lived like you, we would need 3.5 planets. Asshole.

Because of the sheer inappropriateness of the last post, here's something very serious: a quiz you can take to calculate the size of your global footprint. In laymen's terms, that means the degree to which you are destroying the earth as compared to others around you. So the next time you spit on a homeless person, maybe you should think twice and shake its hand.

Combination #8.

We don't know what the context of this is. We don't know if it's fake. We don't know why it appears to have been shot in one car. We do know that it's not safe for work or for those who can't stand looking at naked Asians, or, Nasians (shut up—you know who you are). Click on the scared Asians, or, Scasians, for more.

Dope tower.

Finally, NYC junkies get the monument they deserve.

Nick Vergos: impatient millionnaire.

Please enjoy this letter we just sent to one of the assholes we were fortunate enough to vacation with. He co-owns this place in Memphis. We don't recommend it.

Dear Nick Vergos--

I would just like to thank you for bypassing the taxi line upon disembarkation of the Seabourn Legend in Monaco on June 26, 2005. We were all waiting patiently for a taxi, when you and your wife strolled up and took the first available one so you could get to your hotel in Monaco before everyone else. Your wife made some lame excuse about the hotel being neaby and that the taxi would return shortly, which it, of course, did not. Never mind that we had to catch a train in Nice—we were more than relieved to know that you and your wife (who enjoys namedropping, by the way—something extremely declassé) made it rapidly to your hotel. We hope you enjoyed your stay in Monaco and that you did not have to wait in a pesky line for any subsequent taxi on your vacation.

Thank you, Nick, for illustrating that, once again, the amount of money one has is completely unrelated to the amount of class one has.

Yours truly,
[name redacted]

P.S. I will not be eating at the Rendezvous when I am in Memphis. Your wife, believe it or not, did not recommend it.

A picture is worth 1,000 esponjas.

Here are some photo highlights of our Spanish/French adventure. Enjoi!





















Emerald-encrusted hangers forever!

Faye Dunaway...you are...the harlot.

Fully corroded.

We have no idea what's old, what's new, what's up, what's down, so here's a pic of Lohan with some shit in her teeth. It's obviously not food, so we're assuming it's a baby.



6.28.2005

A retour.

Hola, bonjour, hello. We are back. We were in Paris, Warsaw, New Jersey and New York today (New Jersey's still easily the worst). We are jetlagged. We have to get up at 9am. Please be gentle with us tomorrow and this week. We promise to do our best with our possibly limited resources. You can look forward to some highlights of our trip, in both word and picture form. We do not strive to make the NB self-congratulatory, so we promise not to talk about anything positive or charming that we may have experienced whilst away. As usual, we will stick to the humiliating, aggravating, and, of course, mediocre bits and bobs. And pictures. Pictures, pictures, pictures. We hope. If we have time. We're tired. You get it.

Alas, a big, hearty thank you to Ian and Rob Thurman who kept the site alive during Team NB's absence. Reading through what they've written, we could not be happier with their commitment to keeping the NB totally, completely mediocre. We salute them, and we hope you do, too. We did bring them gifts. Though we may have drunk them on the way home. It's so hard to remember. Because, as the drunk once said to the armchair...

Guh naht.

6.10.2005

Vacation, had to get away.

Dear readers, your faithful NB editor and his Havaianas are going on vacation until June 29.

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Because none of our interns speaks English (except for one and it's a kind of unruly pidgin English) you will be in the hands of two extremely able editors. Please meet them:

Ian—the basically-not-gay one—is an assistant editor of Details magazine for which he has written stories about army recruiting, lawyers in Las Vegas and Mercedes (the car, not the Top Model®, though he has been known to enjoy the ANTM). Ian's tenure here marks the first NB appearance of an actual, employed writer. He likes candy and things in packages with Japanese writing.

Rob—the gay one—is the creator and editor of recent Gawker-featured-site robthurman.com, a blog detailing his experiences in Arch-ful St. Louis. He is a contributor to Pop Culture Junkies and has been known to get on planes for dates. He likes hats.

They will be posting on the same weekly schedule as always through June 28. The NB is honored and thrilled, THRILLED, to have them filling in. Please enjoy their good work.

The NB will revert to its usual aptness circa June 29.

When free costs more than money.

If you live in the Los Angeles area, and you'd rather be tortured in person than via satellite, here's a link for free tickets to "Hit Me Baby, One More Time"! Also available: free tickets to other experiments in human suffering!

Mariah Carey and her trash.

This was posted a few days ago on a site everybody and their cat reads, but we really want to make sure no one misses it. It's a collection of fan letters, including pictures, sent to Mariah Carey and retrieved from where they belong, the trash. Obviously there are too many highlights to, well, highlight, but we can safely say that some of this correspondence makes the Zodiac Killer's communiques seem downright sensible.

It was really written beforehand? Really?

WOW! So much crap in such a small amount of space! Just like on Saturday night! And here!

The light, the heat. I am complete.

OK, we know we're inundating you with posts today, but look at it as a nice Friday gift. From us to you.

Anyhoot, we just couldn't let this one go unnoticed. It's another random forum post (don't worry, as with everything, the novelty will soon wear off on us) wherein some girl uploaded a picture of herself from Christmas for no reason. Here's the pic...



She didn't ask for opinions, didn't give any reason, didn't do nothing. She just uploaded the pic. Now, because people are hilarious, here's a resulting post...

why are you crossing your eyes?

To which, we get...

holy crap that was rude. Have you EVER heard of a lazy eye? I HATE when people say that because I myself have a lazy eye and you cannot control it, when I was younger I got 'are you crosseyed' all the time! That was uncalled for!

We have two things to say, in between the gales of laughter we're presently experiencing:

1)If you post a picture of yourself online, and you have a lazy eye, and no one asked you to post a picture of yourself online, you are going to be mocked. The original poster has not yet responded, so we're just saying this to the others who saw fit to defend the original poster.

2)It's nice to hear someone with a lazy eye admit to it. But please, if you post again, just tell us which eye is looking at us. We're dying to know. Thanks.

Clarification.

Before you purchase, please be aware that the diaper is not MADE from goose or duck, it's a diaper FOR a goose or duck. Thank you.

A horse of a different color.

Imagine our shock when this article...



...turned out to be about an actual horse.

Boy George still a bitter old asshole.

This really isn't exciting or surprising, but we love when someone "throws a strop." Or at least now we do, since we've never heard that expression before. WE LIVE A SHELTERED LIFE!

Strop it!

Cruise to Dakota.

For the love of all that is gay, PUT FANNING DOWN, YOU CRAZY CRAZY!

How to piss your guy friends off.

This random post on a forum we frequent is amusing us a little. The topic is "Post some of your guy friends," which has basically begun a chain reaction of teenage girls uploading pics of their teenage male friends. We have to assume these teenage male friends have no idea their images are being disseminated throughout the Interwebverse, and, obviously, we're DELIGHTED. We encourage you to pass this link on, post these pics in other forums etc. etc. etc.

Ming Dynasty House.

Here is your new house.
It made from pretty paper.
Hope it does not rain!

When rectangles attack.

Whammies!

So greedy, yet so hilarious.

Jonathan Lipnicki goes out of business.

Jonathan Lipnicki, everybody's favorite movie scamp of the '90s...



...who charmed the pants off you in Jerry Maguire and Stuart Little, is growing up! Here's what he looks like now...



Hope you haven't eaten yet!

Minute flava.

As we got done early with plucking our eyebrows and inserting bamboo under our fingernails last night, we had time to fast-forward through "Hit Me Baby One More Time." In case you don't know what that is, and you shouldn't, it's a show wherein five has-been pop stars/groups perform their big hit and a current hit, and then the audience votes on its favorite. Last night's acts were The Knack, Haddaway, Tommy Tutone, The Motels and Vanilla Ice. Except that the host is British and has a Robin Leach accent, so all night it was, "VANILLA RICE!"



Anyway, there's not much to say about this, except that obviously The Knack should have won because "My Sharona" is easily the best song by any of those artists (though the "867-5309" song is good, too). But, because he's hilarious and because he danced, the winner was...



VANILLA RICE!

TVGasm has the whole scoop, plus a clip of VANILLA RICE! dancing.

Up next week? Cameo, Howard Jones, Sophie B. Hawkins, Wang Chung and IRENE CARAR!

6.09.2005

24-hour photo.

The Photobucket bandwidth issue has been rectified, so you may now enjoy all mildly entertaining previous posts with their respective mildly entertaining visual aids!

Lisa Whelchel: a retrospective.

Here's a collection of pictures of Lisa Whelchel through the years. Well, at least until before she left actressing and went banaynays.

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Be sure to check out her weekly journal in the "Coffee Talk" section of the Web site. This week's gem?

The kids and I spent Wednesday at the Navy Pier. We took a SeaDog speedboat tour of Lake Michigan and we played in the Fun House and then Steve was able to join us for dinner at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Restaurant. (Remember from the movie, “Forest Gump?”)

There's tons more, but mostly it's about Christianity this and Christianity that and blee blee blee. Actually, we're going to write her an email to tell her it's "Forrest" Gump, not "Forest," just like the way it's spelled on the fucking sign on your table, Blair.

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Oh, and one more thing. What the FUCK is going on with this birthday cake? (Sorry about the un-Christian language. It's just that she's making us mad.) If we didn't know better, we'd say the devil made it.

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Meh.

We got nothin'.

_________. ________ ________.

Island Outpost and its Goldeneye resort in Goldeneye, Jamaica are apparently sponsoring a contest in which you can guess who the next James Bond will be and win a vacation if you choose correctly. The article says nothing about how to do this, and there doesn't seem to be any information on the Island Outpost Web site, so GOOD LUCK!

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I'd like room cha'i, please.

We can't WAIT to see the TripAdvisor reviews of this one.

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Catch Me if You Could Have.

Here's a link to some screencaps of a pirated Asian DVD copy of Catch Me if You Can, wherein the bootleggers (how Prohibition of us!) simply used the subtitle track of Minority Report for its translation.

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