Slow Adventures in Slothville

September 12, 2006

What week?

Filed under: Celebrity Whoredom, News, Shoes — shhville @ 9:08 pm

Ok, two posts in one day when I just said I don’t have time to post anything. But this is IT for the week, I promise. I just had to point out that this year’s New York Fashion Week is…….the equivalent of booking a hotel room at the Crowne Plaza in Manhattan, getting on the plane, landing in Jersey and finding yourself at a Motel 6 where it is revealed that your room is actually the dumpster between the motel and the landing strip.

What is GOING ON WITH THESE DESIGNERS??? Ok, I’m just going to give you a little fug recap since the fug ladies are actually THERE at the moment and are not, in my opinion, doing their jobs very well. To whit:

The problem with the [Luella] collection was that — despite including a dress that’s going to give you seven years of bad luck — it was actually kind of boring. After all, if you’ve seen one suit covered in big black and white letters, you’ve seen them all. And we saw, like, four of them.” Oh, good job ladies.
This was the snarkiest thing they had to say about a collection that included THIS:

Um, I don’t know. I think, if it were me, I’d say the problem is that the outfit is made out of the ugliest gift wrap that Goodwill ever agreed to try to re-sell and the pants taper to a MATCHING SHINY FLAT LACE-UP. That’s more than enough problems for one outfit. Oh, but there’s more. So much more.

There’s lots I want to say about the scrunched, tapered pink pants and the jacket and baq and the….everything, but I have to scroll down and stop looking at this picture now because the shoes are making me physically sick and I know you think I’m kidding or at least exaggerating but I swear, I’m not.

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Ok. So, they called Phillip Lim’s collection “cute in a floaty, ethereal way.” Um, yeah, I guess so, but it also happens to be phlegm-on-a-stick ugly.

It’s a mattress dust ruffle. Don’t even try to pretend otherwise.

Pockets? Really? Good one, Lim. Way to think it through.

Guess who was one satin bow away from being the butchest guy on the runway? Isn’t it amazing how one little piece of shiny fabric can make you the faggiest fag in gayland?

Two words: FANNY. PACK.

Two other words: NOT. OKAY.

Two final words: OHMYGODYOUSUCK. HOWDOYOUHAVEAJOBPHILLIPLIM.

Karen Walker’s collection is too easy a target, so I’ll just let this one outfit speak for itself:

I mean, with bonnets involved, commentary is totally unnecessary.

Things were looking promising with Prouenza Schouler:

Hummana!

But, alas….

This smooth awkward criminal came chicken-walking down the runway followed by…..

GAH!!!

A cruiseship cocktail dress made out of an Atari game. Holy fucking hell on earth.

I just had to say something. I mean, SOMEONE HAS TO SAY SOMETHING.

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August 8, 2006

Apocalyptic Omen of the Day

Filed under: News — shhville @ 4:43 pm

Cyclops baby born in India expected to live.

Sorry, people, no picture. I don’t want that shit on my website. You’ll have to click the link if you want to look at it.

Aaaaaaaaaand an update. Eesh.

July 5, 2006

Cop-In

Filed under: Celebrity Whoredom, News, Slothyness — shhville @ 7:40 pm

What? You were not all on vacation? I’m sorry, but when I go on vacation it usually means a vacation from my computer as well. I spent Friday through Tuesday in Maine, cooked many elaborate dinners, drank too much and rocked the scrabble.

I apologize that a more substantial post is not forthcoming, but as you can imagine I have days and days worth of celebrity gossip to catch up on. Did you know that Ice T is producing David Hasselhoff’s new album and that Mike Tyson and his face tattoo had a birthday party on a huge yacht in the Hamptons? There is IMPORTANT STUFF HAPPENING, PEOPLE.*

I will leave you with two things to entertain you:

1. A variety of reactions to Slothy’s latest hair adventure…

“Oh my god, I LOVE IT!!”

“You look GREAT.”

“Well, that’s…..interesting.”

“You look like a French poet.”

“What did you DO?”

“You look like you should be signing off on bank loans.”

“Hey.”

“WHOA!”

“Is that your real color?”

~raised eyebrows~

“Why the hell did you cut all your hair off?”

And my personal favorite, “I like it……..and it’ll grow back.”

Before and after pics as soon as poss, I promise.

2. Heidi Klum not superhuman goddess being, as previously supposed.

*Also, some dude named “Ken Lay” died of a “massive coronary.” I don’t know about you, but I’m going to trust my instincts and go with “massive suicide” instead.

June 27, 2006

Tuesday Cop-Out

Filed under: Boston, News — shhville @ 4:47 pm

Sorry everyone – between a day of training, classes starting, end-of-fiscal-year madness and having a cold, I’m all in for today. Until I can update (hopefully tomorrow) check out this article from the Boston Globe about the much-ignored ganglands of Boston:

To protect son, Roxbury minister moves family from neighborhood
By Charles A. Radin, Globe Staff  |  June 24, 2006
The Rev. Hurmon Hamilton walks along Roxbury’s Woodbine Street in the hot, early-summer sun, stopping frequently to point out weary apartment buildings and clapboard houses where mayhem has struck.

The sidewalk in front of number 14? That’s where a man was shot fatally while the pastor was hosting Thanksgiving dinner last year in his home at number 25. Number 9? That’s where police say Dominique Samuels was slain before her body was dumped and burned in Franklin Park in April.

Just around the corner on Blue Hill Avenue, a young man was shot dead in January, right after he confronted Hamilton’s son and dared him to come along to shoot someone. Around another corner, on Warren Street, a man and girl were surrounded by a crowd and stabbed repeatedly three weeks ago while they were buying pizza.
Hamilton — a prominent preacher and social activist who has physically and spiritually rebuilt historic Roxbury Presbyterian Church over the past dozen years — could stomach the blood in the streets.
He could handle the possibility that one day the blood might even be his own.
But he could not bear the growing possibility that, with youth violence in Boston spiraling out of control, the blood could be that of his 15-year-old son, Jonathan.
So this spring, the 41-year-old minister and his wife Rhonda, a physician, decided to give up on their 20-year commitment to living among the people to whom he ministers. On Wednesday, they moved the family to a house in Woburn.
“We had feelings of great contrition, feelings of guilt, feelings of embarrassment,” said Hamilton, who will remain the minister of the church.
“At the end of the day, our conclusion was that it is heroic to want to stay on a street that is designated a hot zone with a 15-year-old who looks 19 and a 2- year-old who wants to play in the yard,” he said. “But it is even more heroic to figure out how to keep them alive.
“I realized I could not bear for my son to be murdered as the price I paid to demonstrate my commitment to this community,” Hamilton said. “I could not imagine sitting at his funeral having people tell me how heroic I was. That is not a story for me. I want him to make it.”
Hamilton is not the only preacher-activist changing his family ‘s routine to get a young man out of harm’s way.
The Rev. Eugene Rivers, who lives in the Four Corners area of Dorchester, adjacent to the house where four people were fatally shot in December in one of the city’s worst mass killings in years, said in a recent interview that he has told his son Malcolm to stay this summer in the comparatively safer city of Cambridge, where he is a Harvard University undergraduate.
“I told him he’s only coming home when I pick him up, bring him home, and drive him back,” Rivers said. “People need to get a sense of how scary it is out here.”
Rivers said the climate on the streets is worse than that in the early 1990s, when Boston experienced a huge surge in gang violence that Rivers and other black ministers played critical roles in quelling.
Jonathan Hamilton, as his father said, looks much older than his age. Though he just graduated from William Barton Rogers Middle School in Hyde Park, he is taller than his father and more powerfully built. His moustache and chin whiskers also are starting to come in.
He is quiet, mannerly, and frightened. He thinks moving is a good idea.
Jonathan’s first memory of violence on Woodbine Street comes from the third grade, when his father tried to arrange the surrender of a fugitive in a murder case. The young man killed himself after being cornered by police in the apartment building next to the church. Mean while, Jonathan sat in the family’s home half a block away, asking his mother whether his father would come back.
For years, Jonathan said, he has feared that gunfire would erupt from passing cars. Even when his father deems it safe to send him to get something from the car at night, Jonathan walks from the house to the vehicle in a crouch and turns the dome light out so he cannot be seen inside.

“I erase the memories when I sleep,” Jonathan said, “but they pop up, and I try to erase them again by doing something fun, like biking or rollerblading.”
Even these simple pleasures require strategy to assure safety. He rides in the mornings, when fewer tough guys are on the streets, and chooses routes that are in the open to make it harder for someone to lie in wait and jump him. He does not feel safe parking the bike at the big supermarket near the church. Instead, he rides to a variety store where the proprietor lets young people he knows bring their bikes inside.
The beginning of the end of the family’s time on Woodbine Street, where Roxbury Presbyterian pastors have lived for at least the last 40 years, was Jan. 13.
That was the day a teenager asked Jonathan to back him up while he shot an enemy. Young Hamilton said no and started to walk away. The boy became angry and reached in his pocket. Jonathan, fearing a weapon, ran home, shaking. That same day, the youth was shot dead.
“We started then to understand that we were not immune,” his father said, and the parents’ concerns grew as neighborhood incidents proliferated.
When Dominique Samuels, whose mother worked at the church, was killed, “that sealed it for us,” Hamilton said. “We know Edwina [Dominique’s mother]. She protects her kids, and this could happen to her baby girl.”
Finishing up a walking tour of the neighborhood, Hamilton pointed out two more bad spots.
“In this area, there is significant drug trafficking,” he said, “and more recently, there is significant prostitution over there.”
He then warned his son and a reporter not to look directly or point at the houses as he gestured toward them with his eyes and head.
“It wasn’t always like this,” Hamilton said. “I’d like to confront it. But not with my family sitting right here as targets.”
Charles A. Radin can be reached at radin@globe.com.

June 21, 2006

Po folk, hot folk. Not the same folk.

Filed under: Celebrity Whoredom, News — shhville @ 2:43 am

Oh, you KNOW I'm watching Anderson and Angelina right now as I type.

It's all lips and hotness and posturing and poverty and Anderson's walking BAREFOOT in a dirty river – hello schistosomiasis! This is surprisingly moving and although it's the exact same thing that Wisconsin-sized Sally Struthers has been trying to make us pay attention to for aaaaages, I will openly admit that (as shameful as this is) the message comes across like a hammer to the head when it's transmitted from a set of enormous, shiny, pillow lips.

And, holy shit!! Hem has a song in a Liberty Mutual commercial?? Well…….good for them. They deserve some recognition.

Mo laytah!!

UPDATE: Ok, a whole section of this show was just devoted to stories of Sudanese refugee camps solely devoted to rape victims, many of whom were raped for days or weeks on end before being stabbed or shot between the legs when the militia men were done with them. There are lots of babies there and lots of colostomy bags. 

Jesus. 

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