According to the UK’s Daily Mail, a new law called Farewell Intercourse was allegedly proposed by Egyptian parliament (not be confused with George Clinton & Parliament Funkadelic; although, anyone who looks like this might be on board with this law) that would give husbands the thumbs up to do the porno version of Weekend at Bernie’s aka bone their dead wife for up to six hours after her death. Newsflash, Egypt: NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE ABOUT YOUR DICK, so tell it to go sit its ass down (yes, dicks have asses during this rant) and watch Charlie Rose and learn something.
Exciting News!!! Due to the popularity of my Girls post, the New York Times asked me to weigh in on television and race in their section called Room for Debate. This is my second article for the Times; the first one was about Bridesmaids being snubbed for the Best Picture Oscar. You can read that here. At any rate, it’s always nerve wrecking writing for them, because it’s the Times, hello! They’re an institution and you don’t want to be a dud when you’re featured in the Gray Lady. So you can imagine how thrilled I was to be asked back. I was doubly thrilled to learn that my blog post re: Girls was read by them, so they wanted me to chime in one more time about the show and race. People at the Times read my writing? Heart boner! Now, I’m sure you can imagine how horrified I was when I was alerted by one of the editors that they were cutting a joke from the article because, fair Blaria, referenced the word “pussy.”
Ay dios mio! Lately, there’s been more melodrama in stand up comedy than a telenovela and, sadly, 100% less attractive people in habits (seriously, like every nun on Spanish soap operas is an undercover Sofia Vergara). And all the drama makes me feel like I’m strapped down to a chair a la Alex from A Clockwork Orange and forced to watch this on an endless loop:
Recently, articles, podcasts, and interviews have been tracking and analyzing stand up comedy’s every move. Even the NY Times got in the mix by having writer Jason Zinoman, who may have written like five sentences about me once (#MeanToBrag), cover stand up and its nuisances like preparing a late night set for shows like Conan. This positive attention means more exposure for comics. However, when comics air their dirty laundry, that also gets attention and the in-fighting can look like the kind you’d find on The Jerry Springer Show. Hence the melodrama.
For instance, one of my all-time favorite comics, the hilarious Bill Burr, launched into a NSFW six minute crunkalicious and intentionally over-the-top rant on his weekly Monday Morning Podcast a month ago about alt comics versus club comics and Huffington Post, Laughspin, Splitsider, to name a few, picked up the clip. Take a listen:
This is taking the saying, "I ready for my closeup, Mr. DeVille," to a whole new level. Put some clothes on, gurl!
This past weekend, supermodel Alessandra Ambrosio (it’s like her parents knew she was destined for hottie greatness. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a supermodel named Phyllis? I still maintain that my mom’s mere suggestion that I be named me Phyllis, a suggestion my dad rightfully so vetoed, totally vag blocked me out of the hottie counsel of the universe forever.) posed butt ass nekked for Brazilian jewelry company, Vivara.Is it just me or has there been a serious uptick in the number of pregnant celebs/models posing nosed for pictures?
It goes without saying that if “empty void” was in the chorus of Joan Osbourne’s mid-90s song, it wouldn’t have been a hit. Sure, “God” is catchier, but it’s Joan’s sentiment that struck a chord with listeners. The lyrics are great and she’s a good singer. When the song comes on Pandora radio, I’m blasting it, yet I don’t believe in God. That’s right, y’all, Blaria is an atheist. Always have been. Which is weird. Most atheists weren’t raised that way, rather; through some sort of religious questioning within themselves, came to that conclusion. I mulled over writing about this for Blaria with a friend via Gchat. Here’s an excerpt:
This show should’ve been called “Self-Absorbed & Privileged White Girls Who Live in a Practically All White New York City, You Know Like How The Real New York City Is,” but that’s just not a catchy title.
FUCK. THIS. SHOW.
That’s not a particularly eloquent sentence; however, it’s how I felt after watching the pilot episode of HBO’s Girls, Lena Dunham’s first TV series. Seriously, I was so angry that I immediately turned on DMX’s Who We Be so I could rage dance, which was basically just me flailing around my apartment in a t-shirt, sweats, and white Hanes Her Way gym socks until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror where I became simultaneously hypnotized and horrified by my rage dancing that I did the following:
Memo to others: don’t wear Hanes Her Way gym socks when rage dancing. Or in life. Continue reading →
Ooooooh, child, I don’t know if ya heard, but eleven members of President Obama’s Secret Service detail were busted for being“trifling, good for nothin’ type of brothers” when, allegedly, they went on a prostitute binge like they were college students who came home to their dorm room and discovered a box of Entenmann’s cookies that their roommate left on the kitchen counter. Silly college roommate, you don’t leave cookies sitting out. You hide them underneath your mattress next your DVD collection of Felicity because bitches love cookies and finding out if Felicity chooses Ben or Noel.
Anyway, last week, before President Obama’s scheduled arrival to Cartagena, Colombia on Friday, the eleven Secret Service members were fraternizing with prostitutes at Hotel Caribe until the situation turned into Operation: Hot Mess when there was a dispute between a prostitute and one of the officers over payment, so she put on her comfortable hooker heels aka New Balance sneakers and went to the police, who then notified the State department. Not only is this an embarrassing scandal for the Secret Service, but it has subsequently overshadowed Obama’s diplomatic mission to Latin America. Obviously, all the men involved were immediately fired. I sincerely hope that each member of the Secret Service detail, after getting relieved of his job, left the office like this:
Getting fired doesn’t mean you lose your swag. Let your former boss know that you’ll be a’ight and leave that office a la Beyoncé (while wearing shoulders pads that only Joan Collins could love) like you don’t give a fuuuuuuuuck.
Afternoon, Blarians! I’m in Portlandia, listening to Gotye’s Somebody I Used to Know. YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO CUT ME OFF! So glad this song didn’t exist when I was in high school because anytime something crappy would’ve happened to me, I would have blasted this shit. I didn’t even have to date the person. I would’ve been like, “Oh, you don’t want to go to Panera Bread after class anymore because you have Speech & Debate practice?” YOU TREAT ME LIKE A STRANGER AND THAT FEELS SO ROUGH! SOMEBODY! Never underestimate a teenager’s flair for the dramatic.
Or flair for stupidity as in the case of three 14-year old girls who were expelled after Jon Lovitz posted pics on Twitter of his friend’s driveway, which had been defaced by them:
No!!!!! Y’all, it just got really real: Seal & Heidi Klum have ripped off their wedding rings like wigs in a 2am drag queen fight and are officially moving forward with ending their marriage. Yesterday, Seal counter filed Heidi with his own set of divorce papers, thus ending any chance for a reconciliation. My reaction upon hearing this news:
That’s right, I dramatically turned Days of Our Lives-style to the camera that isn’t there aka the other side of my tiny ass cubicle at work and poured out an imaginary 40 oz. in honor of their fallen marriage. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not celebrity obsessed nor am I living vicariously through them by reading gossip magazines. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that every time a famous interracial couple breaks up, I have a sad porn session (that’s when you do things to make yourself intentionally depressed like trying to put on skinny jeans when you’re bloated, or listening to Boyz II Men’s It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday while texting a dude who you know won’t respond, or, if you’re a guy, wearing headphones while watching actual porn because you still live at home with your parents). Fact is I’m sensitive to interracial couples breaking up because I identify with them being that I’m in an interracial relationship myself.
@LCaCera_PR Yo, I'm almost halfway thru seas 2 and Spencer needs to sit her nosy ass down. She gonna get killed e'erybody & herself killed. 21 hours ago
