Oh man. Just a bunch of dapper-dressed gents, dancing and lip syncing to their favorite doo wop tunes, and best of all? NO GIRLS ALLOWED! We should all be so lucky to attend such a super cool sausage fest. TGIF, y’all!
Much love to Videogum for this one.
I’m sorry, maybe it’s the beast of a week I’ve had, or maybe just me being that queen (very likely), but this video is an utter and absolute delight! I mean, Irene Cara’s “Flashdance…What a Feeling”! Who doesn’t love that song? (Nobody.) And Joan Crawford dancing! Who doesn’t delight in Joan Crawford dancing? (Bette Davis, Christina Crawford, fools who refuse the imperative to dance.) My point is that this video’s as marvelous a salve to the week as it is a start to the weekend. And best of all:
Now don’t let this picture fool you. The video after the jump of two strippers shouting profanities and beating the crap out of each other most certainly lacks the glamour of my above “artistic”interpretation. Also, unlike a certain movie I just can’t stop talking about, everybody manages to keep all their clothes on (well, all of their clothes being relative to the fact that they–strippers–often aren’t wearing any, but I digress), the fight does not erupt when someone is accused of f*cking the meter reader, and nobody ends up getting shoved down a flight of stairs. I know, I know:
Regardless of such shortcomings, though, this stripper catfight is still totally worth watching because have you ever heard of a catfight that’s not worth watching? I don’t think so. Anywho, it’s Friday, and we’ve all put in a hard week’s work, so let’s all sit back and enjoy the delicate beauty and irrepressible classiness of two strippers fighting:
(more…)
I’m not sure if posting this video on Good Friday counts as a religious no-no, but in my defense I’m also a terrible Catholic. Seriously, I’m eating beef stew on a Friday, I’ve never been confirmed, and the only time I ever saw Jesus was in a Magic Eye poster at the mall when I was 12, which I’m pretty sure does not count. Anyways, if your idea of blasphemy includes videos of British women possibly tripping balls and definitely insisting that Jesus was actually a psychotropic mushroom used in Sumerian sex orgies, then I highly suggest you DO NOT WATCH. Otherwise, enjoy:
Okay then.
At first, I couldn’t really decide which response if more appropriate: this one, or this one. But then I watched her performance of “Jesus Was a Mushroom”:
I’m pretty sure that–second to the video of the My Little Ponies sing showtunes–this is easily the most delicious piece of eyeball candy you could have all week:
I like how this video pretends that the worst thing about living in a magical world that looks like Candy Land as seen through an acid flashback is not having a boyfriend. HA, that’s adorable. We all know the worst thing about living in a magical world that looks like Candy Land as seen through an acid flashback is having to refrain from eating your neighbors, the singing strawberry and the dancing cupcake. I’m sorry, but when your psychedelic wonderland is like being stoned out of your damn mind 24/7, that is a world of self control that none of us have.
Much love to Vanessa for bringing this into my life.
Obviously, this video is perfection. Particularly the part when their outfits at the end of the video at various points remind me of Cyclops and Phoenix from X-Men and Katana from Mortal Kombat II, but I’m a nerd like that.
Oh, and as Lady Gaga would say: God bless the gays.
Much love to Queerty for this one.
Friday Fun Fact: Carol Channing will always be better than you, but she’s particularly better than you in this clip from the 1985 television adaptation of Alice and Wonderland:
Is it any wonder that she’s got her own ventriloquist dummy? No, I think not.
When you think about it, is there any better way to kick start your weekend than a NSFW conversation about about fake vaginas from the just-released-and-sure-to-be-camptasticaliciously-delightful Women in Trouble that stars Carla Gugino and other women who are also in trouble?
No, I think not.
I used to think that my loves for U2 and drag queens were doomed to be two disparate affections that only came together for a single, magical moment circa Achtung Baby:
The Ethel Merman Experience has proven otherwise:
