She’ll unease you, indeed…
Here’s Steve Buscemi with Bette Davis eyes, because internet memes and 80s pop songs make for strange, ouroborosian bedfellows. So exquisite.
[White-hot glamour pic via Bobby Finger]
Call me Lermontov, but Greta Gerwig is so charming that I want her to never stop dancing, ever. She could be like the indie darling Victoria Page, except without that tragic mess with the train. But I digress…
The YouTube Music Awards aired this past Sunday, and I missed them. Mostly because I tend to spend my Sundays in the company of lesbians, but also because I’m an Old who does not like change. Besides, the Crotchety Old Queen Prevention Hotline (1-888-NO-BITCH) stopped taking my calls, so I can’t afford yet another award show leaving me bewildered by the popular zeitgeist. Nope and no thank you! Now fetch me my vegan and gluten-free prune juice!
Anyways, I nevertheless tracked down Arcade Fire’s performance, because when I’m not being an old lesbian, I’m being an old lesbian hipster. Greta Gerwig dances, Spike Jonze directs, and while it might sound like an all-you-can-twee buffet, it’s really quite delightful:
One might imagine that Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” and Nicolas Cage should go together like ice cream sundaes and sausage gravy, yet somehow this works…if your work is in sex nightmares.
And yes, I know I’m the last person on the interwebs to hop on this whole Miley Cyrus thing, but like a twerk monster to the flame of heavy machinery, I just couldn’t resist with this mess of a video. After all, much like a modern-day Oscar Wilde, I have the simplest tastes.
I am always satisfied with the worst.
Well what in the world got into her holy ghost?
Now maybe I’m a little too touched by an angel (as played by Joan Crawford), but ooh girl, this GIF is takin’ me to church! It’s like somebody turned the water into wine and that wine into GRAVY! Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits, ‘cos I’m eating it up!
The power of Christ compels you…to clutch your pearls!!!
[GIF via queerrilla]
Obviously this is a very important thing we should all (holida-ay!) celebrate, but whatever you do, girl, do not get her hydrangeas. You know how she feels about hydrangeas…
Happy birthday, Madge!
Oh, girl. Last night, I saw 1958′s Bell, Book and Candle for the very first time. It’s a bit of a trifle, but what a trifle it is! And it’s also apparently an allegory for pre-Stonewall homosexuality? Okay! Anyways, it’s about a witch who casts a spell on a publisher so he’ll fall in love with her. It stars Kim Novak as the witch and James Stewart as the publisher. Most importantly, though, it stars Kim Novak’s eyebrows as the world’s most clutch-your-pearls! perfect eyebrows. EVER:
DON’T YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN?!?!? PERFECTION.
Separately, Kim Novak’s eyebrows are like two oversized, painted silk pillows of exquisitely arched exaggeration; together, they’re a plush velvet fainting chaise of eyebrow eleganza handcrafted to cradle my weary heart.
As paradigms shifted swishily, it seemed only reasonable I have a series of visceral reaction. Shock! Delight! Giggles! Vapors! Intrigue! Ecstasy! Obsession! Love. You know, FEELINGS.
I was certain but nothing could top this eyebrow high, this highbrow, if you will. But then, like the space scientists in Prometheus or dinner reservations at Guy Fieri’s Times Square restaurant, I was wrong. I was so wrong.
You see, last night, I dreamt of Kim Novak’s eyebrows.
Don’t worry, y’all! When David Hasselhoff croons in this commercial that he’s thirsty for “love,” it’s actually a super sexy double entendre for “iced coffee,” so depending on how deep your river of feelings for the Hoff runneth, you’ll only maaaybe recall that one time in Düsseldorf so many years ago when too many espresso body shots led to you and a strapping West Berlin backpacker named Hans both doing things you promised each other you’d never do again. Mostly because he liked dudes, and you liked not pegging.
But I digress.
After the jump is a commercial starring David Hasselhoff for Cumberland Farms Farmhouse blend iced coffee, which is apparently available for any size at 99¢. I’m not entirely sure, though, because my brain broke from how utterly f*cking batsh*t this thing is. It’s like somebody tried to ferment a rancid Old Spice commercial in an acid bag of coffee beans. Case in point: the above screen grab of the Hoff blowing you a kiss while holding an iced coffee and riding a jet ski. In front of dolphins. DOLPHINS. And that’s just the tip of this iced coffee crazyberg! What I’m trying to say is that you should watch this thing. It’s glorious:
Should Joan Crawford’s face not say enough, why yes, I haven’t quite been myself lately.
See, for quite some time, I’ve been thinking about how–save for the infrequent post here or there–I’ve really been a terrible mother to this blog. Simply terrible. Like Annette Bening in Running With ‘Command X’, or Faye Dunaway in Tina-Bring-Me-The-Axe.Tumblr.Com. Oh, the guilt! Oh, the shame. It’s crippling stuff, darling.
More importantly, though, I recently came to a most important decision that a few small (or very big, depending upon the view) life changes just had to be made. Needless to say, I’ve found myself with a bit more time on my hands.
Sure, I’m no sissy when it comes to idle hands (I’m just a sissy all around), but I knew I needed something to do. Knitting isn’t apropos during a heat advisory, and I’ve seen Candy Crush Saga ruin people’s lives. (Seriously, that game is like a less gauche meth addiction. Now please excuse me while I clear all the jelly.)
Anyways, as I see it, there only ever was one choice: get back to this blog, and get back to it for good. Because writing it has always brought me happiness like white diamonds luck to Elizabeth Taylor. And because even if I don’t personally know you, you’ve found your way here by some shared interest, and that’s something that matters. I love this blog, and I love y’all, too.
(As for those here by Google search gone horribly, horribly wrong? I’m sorry. This is not the dick GIFs blog you’re looking for.)
Now, about Susan Sontag’s “Notes on Camp”: