Archive for the ‘Big Bitches I Wanna Be’ Category

As Promised, Tension At The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

April 18, 2014

Holocaust-interior_2344

This post should be an interesting attempt to relay an uncomfortable yet amusing incident whilst still maintaining an a modicum of respect towards the setting. Hopefully, this won’t come off as “yah, so we were at that Nazi place in DC and these bitches…” Knowing me, it probably will. Alas!

The other Mr. Harvey and I were in DC to celebrate his 40th birthday at the beginning of this month. He’s not one for big parties where people look at him (that was actually a concern he voiced once…people looking at him…when he doesn’t have his hijab on) so we thought a quick jaunt somewhere fun would be keen. Plus, we’re both currently unemployed (we’re the American nightmare) and had the time laying around and look, Jet Blue has a deal! Cherry blossoms and new bars in which to get intoxicated and new sidewalks to stumble upon while drunkenly abusing Uber!

Despite it being a birthday trip, there were some tourist attractions we had wanted to see that weren’t exactly going to be the ball pit at Chuckie Cheese (that’s not a gay sex reference). We had both heard that the main exhibit at the Holocaust Museum was a sobering must-see. We got our tickets online for our 1st day there so we could get the horror portion of the other Mr. Harvey’s birthday out of the way.

It’s an interesting space. I wouldn’t call it pleasant because it’s designed to evoke concentration camp imagery with a lot of brick and exposed girders. Another interesting feature? The staff, for the most part, are made up of some really extreme personalities. Most of the service industry members we encountered in our nation’s capital that trip were really friendly, laid-back and warm. I’m not sure why, but most of the staff at the Holocaust Memorial were WROUGHT. Witness our first exchange with the female human that womans the entrance elevators to the main exhibit.

We make our way in-between her velvet ropes (that came out dirty) but Scotty has us pause so we can call up our tickets on his phone. Please note in advance that there is no line behind us or in front of us. At that moment it’s just the Harveys. My husband has been searching and scrolling for maybe two seconds when she attacked.

Holocaust worker: Tickets?

Husband: Just calling them up on my phone here…

Holocaust worker (perhaps she didn’t hear him?): I said, do you have tickets?

Me: He’s just getting them on his phone.

Holocaust worker: Well, maybe you should move over there to find them so you’re not blocking the way, ok?

I look behind me and note the absence of any other people behind us. Just some velvet ropes. Air. Is this a fire exit? My husband, who does not suffer being spoken down to by fools, bitches, or maniacs, jerks his head up from his phone. Sometimes I feel like there’s a rubber band stretched to its extreme in his brain. That rubber band is marked “JUST TRY IT, BITCH.” I myself loathe confrontation. I’m the shrinking violet who nervously laughs when he forgets to hold a door for someone AND RUNS BACK TO DO IT because I want them to know I didn’t do it out of spite. It makes me look like a wackjob but it’s all designed to not get a dirty look or have anyone think “remember that asshole who didn’t hold the door for me at the mall” before they fall asleep that evening.

Anyway…

“I’M CALLING IT UP RIGHT NOW,” he said in a slow, emphatic tone. Oh dear. Before Officer Friendly could ignore that and ask for tickets again in a disgusted monotone, they popped up on his phone. She waved us through towards a bank of elevators with a chubby, indifferent hand. Another holocaust worker shot out of nowhere with blond curls and a peppy demeanor. She was the radiant ying to ticket bitch’s yang. You would have thought she was seating us at a Disneyworld character breakfast. She had obviously never read up on XYKLON-B or what they were making the lampshades with in Nazi Germany.

We were put in an elevator with a large, equally happy family. Mom was smiling widely as they bantered. She was standing directly in front of the elevator’s panel of buttons. Smiling. No button was pressed. Nothing was lit up. Nothing was moving. A couple of dreary pics of German soldiers added to my discomfort from above. Do I…move her? What do I say? Can I get in there? What if she thought I meant her ass? Her ass was almost ON the panel. NOTHING WAS HAPPENING. WE WEREN’T MOVING. There’s no switch outside they can press? It’s hot in here. They’re talking like it’s fine. Is this like the Haunted Mansion and we’re actually going down but it’s so mechanically deft we can’t feel it? Scotty didn’t notice. He’s looking at his phone and reading the walls. Swiss Family Oblivious are laughing and chatting like it’s the cherry blossom festival. THERE’S GONNA BE FOOTAGE OF EMACIATED CORPSES BEING MOVED OFF OF TRUCKS WITH PITCHFORKS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THOSE DOORS. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE. I made my move.

“Can I…” I advanced towards Denim Elevator Panel Ass, weakly pointing behind her. She looked at me, and then turned to see why I was invading her space. Her mouth opened wide and she began giggling.

“Oh! OH! We were just sitting here! I’m sorry!”

“Way to go, Mom!”

“Duh, Ma!”

I smiled nervously (“Oh, that,’s ok!’ I shrieked), sweat beads barreling down my ivory expanse of a 10-head. Social anxiety is the fucking worst. Button pressed. Nothing happened.

Nothing happened. We were in a hot elevator with nothing happening. They didn’t even give us a button light for assurance. Was this part of the show? That’s fine, we deserved to suffer. We deserved a portly ticket taker making us feel stupid. We didn’t go through what all those people went through. We deserve to sweat and feel awkward in this hell-avator.

The doors sprang open. Cool air rushed in. The happy Holocaust worker regarded us quizzically. Blonde curls bounced as she cocked her head to the side like a curious toy poodle.

“Well, um, wait? What happened?”

“I guess we weren’t going anywhere…” Denim Elevator Panel Ass Mom offered helpfully. Happy went to get Grumpy. She waddled over with a ring of keys and her usual stank face. Resentfully flipping open a little door on the panel, she shoved a key in, and pressed the button again with a girthy finger.

“This breaks…,” she announced moodily to no one in particular. She was never one for an apology.

The doors shut, the floor shook and hydraulics hummed. Up.

(more…)

I’m Going To Gay For A Second: The Mildred Pierce Remake

September 14, 2010

She better have the DOUBLE SLAP down...

Here’s the trailer for director Todd Haynes‘ remake of the classic Mildred Pierce. As opposed to a two-hour journey of dramatic sacrifice and shrewery, it’s going to be a five part miniseries adapting the novel (more closely than the original film I suppose) for HBO. Weird. Kate Winslet is stepping into Joan Crawford‘s very famous role, and Sophie-Anne the vampire queen of Louisiana is Veda Pearce, Mildred’s daughter who puts the “face” in “bitchface.” I don’t know what that means but I’m fraught with concern that this mini-series will wreck the movie for me.

The original is rad. I was never one to watch classic flicks. I can name on one hand the amount of black & whites I’ve ever enjoyed – Psycho, A Patch of Blue, the beginning of Oz, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf…see? But then my friend Joe threw a couple of get-togethers in which he ran old-school flicks that everyone should see. The ones that made a real impression on me were the one with the scary senior citizen lady governess who was lezzin’ for the dead wife and scarin’ the pants off the new one (I believe she showed off the dead ladies’ squirrel covers?) and Mildred Pierce. Mainly because it didn’t matter that it was black and white. Joan (who in real life was a big fucking mess) was MELODRAMA. Sacrificing herself for a BITCH daughter who hates that its her mom’s waitress job keeping them afloat and still gives her the business even when Mom opens Mildred’s theme restaurants all across Cali because Mom is still “common” and Veda has tentacles coming out of her because she’s from the 13th portcullis of Hades and then Mildred has had ENOUGH and you’ve heard of the double clap (?) well, Mildred hands Veda a DOUBLE SLAP because bitch keeps fixing her mouth to say hainty things.

Witness:

Despite the DOUBLE SLAP, Veda gets on the man Millie married to improve her social standing in Veda’s eyes and then someone gets shot and I’ve spoiled you enough on this film classic. It’s just…really, really good. It’s hardcore. And by that I mean the real deal, the big eyes and the 40s hair and all the sexy subtext and Joan’s infinite patience and pluck as our beleaguered heroine Mill. I know Kate can make this her own because she’s the shit and its Todd Haynes who made Velvet Goldmine. And I mean, Velvet Goldmine.

I have my doubts about Evan Rachel Wood. She turned the vampire queen who could have been glamorous and deadly into a minor character from Dynasty. And not even Joan or Linda…we’re talkin’ Stephanie Beachum. Your veil and poodleless skirt are overpowering your acting, Evan.

I assume this is going to be a whole different animal and won’t sully Joan’s memory at all. I mean, more sullied than a child-abusing alcoholic already has been by her vengeful daughter. Did mother have the last laugh? Did she?

This post has been brought to you by the letter GAY. DOUBLE SLAP!

Joan Rivers And I Feel The Same Way About Dancing With The Stars

August 31, 2010

I feel you, mama-san.

Joan Rivers told E! that the producers of Dancing With The Stars can “go fuck themselves” for never asking her to particpate. Old girl might be 77 and had enough plastic surgery that she’s transformed from Jewish to Asian, but she is up for the challenge!

“I would do it for the exercise,” she said. “Making yourself dance everyday for six hours a day I think would be so great.”

I only watched DWTS when Joey Fatone was on and bouncing that big linebacker ass around like he was sending me a message in morse code. That message was “Dot Dot Dash, J. Harvey take this ass.” Apparently, security at DWTS wasn’t apprised of his sexy invitation to me. Do you know that those Taser things have barbs and get hooked in your skin? Damn!

Back to Joan. This summer I checked out Piece of Work, which follows a year in Joan’s life documentary-style. And let me tell you this. While the rest of you are choosing between Value Menu Option #2 and #6 so you don’t have to cook when you get home, Ms. Rivers is trekking her ancient ass to the wastelands of Alaska to perform comedy for three loggers and a legless Inuit woman! BITCH WORKS! She hustles! Seriously, she’s in her late 70s and works EVERY SINGLE DAY. This is why the older generation has one up on us, their work ethic is pretty much unparalleled. Joan realizes she has to pay for her upkeep, because her apartment looks like Versailles. No lie. You expect Kirsten Dunst to run by holding her hoop skirt out while a Strokes song plays in the background as Joan shows off her hovel.

I grew to admire her. She was pretty much ahead of her time. Perhaps realizing that she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world, she decided to be the most honest. She was rifling off abortion jokes on daytime talk shows in the early 70s! You didn’t do that back then, especially if you were a woman. A lot of people find Joan to be a disgusting whore and well yeah, but still. She blazed a trail for ALL of these other funny chicks.

Plus I was thrilled when I noted that she keeps a library card catalog filing system full of jokes in her office! It spans a wall! Who doesn’t like a Dewey Decimal system of anal sex jokes told by a woman in her 70s?

Drew Barrymore Would Rather Not Talk About The Post-Gertie/Pre-Poison Ivy Years

August 26, 2010

Yeah, she did.

You might think lispy wonder Drew Barrymore is all sweetness and light and bad close-ups in Cover Girl commercials. Seriously, you know those ones in which she was like placing the camera directly on her forehead? I know she needs to sell the ShadowBlast Eye Shadow, but the director had her head-butting the camera and it caused me to rear back on my couch during Top Model because I was a’scared. Anyway, Drew has a line you don’t cross and that line is apparently when reporters want to talk about the fact that she was up in Studio 54 at age 11, doing Jagarbombs and blowing rails with Halston and Liza. Unless Halston was dead from the HIV by then. Look, Wikipedia means I have to open another tab and type in a search engine and I just don’t have the strength.

E! reports that Barrymore, who is currently promoting that horrible Aniston-looking Going The Distance with her boyfriend The Mac Guy, didn’t feel spiritual about a certain interviewer in London.

“You should have heard this bitch I had to do an interview with before you. God, I wanted to punch her, she would just not drop the youth thing. I have no problem talking about it. I am not someone who is ashamed of my past. I’m actually really proud. I know I made a lot of mistakes, but they in turn were my life lessons,” Drew vents.

If you will recall, before Drew got relevant and respected, she did the tacky wherein she pulled two rehab stints at a very tender age and then wrote a classic about it called Little Girl Lost. Firestarter didn’t burn so hot, and it was a long time before she was fucking on her best friend’s dad in Poison Ivy. And by the way, how hot is THAT movie? Psychotic Drew rides an erotic rope swing to seduce Darlene from Roseanne and then wears the mother’s gown to get the Dad on her? Yes, please.

Lisp-o-tron Drew went on to act like me when I realized we were never going to have Hostess products in our home again due to Scotty’s diet.

“It’s actually good to get it done young and have a great life later. But yeah, man, I wanted to rip this woman’s face off. She just would not shut up about it.

Justin Long must move into a hotel when it’s Tampax time.

I think we need more face-ripping-off in fame victim land, so go, Drew. I can think of about 25 celebrities right now who could use someone using their nose as a pull tab, can’t you? I’m thinking of a certain freckled wonder in dirty leggings with no respect for the law …

Apparently Julia Roberts Is A Huge Bitch

August 13, 2010

I'm going to have my own party in your party so you feel shitty about your party.

America’s Sweetheart (apologies to Sandy Bullock) Julia Roberts is reportedly in no way reluctant to flip the I’m A Star, So You Can Die switch. And here’s the thing…I can’t really fault her that much. She’s Julia Roberts. She’s one of the few real movie stars left. And when I say “movie star,” I don’t mean amazing actress. Julia is no Meryl. Hell, Julia is no Jodie. Or Annette. Or Julianne. She’s just charisma. We love the big mouth, and sparkling eyes, and the infectious laugh. Unfortunately, Julia REALIZES she’s one of the last real move stars left and it’s gone to her head. Someone needs to remind her ass that she once played second fiddle to Justine Bateman. Mallory, get over here!

So, Julia’s new epic Eat, Pray, Drugs is out..and ok, basically the gist of why she’s a bitch is that she went to the premiere party and then commented that it was “tacky” and threw her own party within the party and excluded a lot of people (including the author of the book) and people had to like abandon family members to be able to enter and it was really shitty of her. The rundown is over on Lainey Gossip (a very good gossip blog) and there are even more instances of why Julia is a huge bitch. Especially THIS one in which it’s evident that the people around her basically tell her she’s a goddess all the time so when she gets whiff of criticism, she goes berserk because she’s a STAR, damnit! A NEELY O’HARA-SIZED star.

But what I decided I wanted to post about is how everyone loves Eat, Pray, Drugs and a friend (who senses I’ve been in a questioning spiral of what the fuck? for decades) RECOMMENDED it to me because she thought it could help. Which was nice, but after reading the book jacket and seeing the trailer for what looks to be an eh-type of movie I’m left with this one thought:

THAT BITCH CAN GO ON A SOUL-SEARCHING WORLD TRIP AND EAT COUNTRYSIDES AND MEET AMAZING PEOPLE AND EXPERIENCE DIFFERENT CULTURES AND DRY-HUMP ELEPHANTS BECAUSE SHE HAS THE MONEY TO DO SO!

Bitch is like a high-powered editor or something! She has riches! She can just jet around the world. Regular people who are lower middle-class who are depressed and questioning why they’re even here can’t just hop on a fucking plane and make like some sort of entitled Carmen Sandeigo (sp.)! I can barely afford to find myself and commune with our world in the ice cream freezer down at the Tedeschi’s!

It’s a big slap in the face to those of us who feel they aren’t fulfilling society’s expectations of “successful.” Howabout a popular memoir and movie about two queers in an apartment who are barely making rent and have job woes and the puppy is barking REALLY loudly and what’s on the DVR and the only thing that anesthesizes at this point me is a Golden Girls re-run and microwave risotto. The meds aren’t working. It’s hot in the city, and sometimes I sit on the edge of the bed in my towel after showering in the morning (control your boner) and I have to physically summon the effort to get up and get dressed and go out the door into this shitty world. I can always wear a sari or something to give it a more multicultural flavor for the film version.

No one’s going to buy that, huh? Julia is pretty and even if her character doesn’t have her shit together, she’s representative of the people in the world who actually DO. The people who seem like a conundrum to me. Whom I ask “how?” about…

Anyway, as for Julia being a huge bitch, so be it. She’s got money. Though I am reminded of what Cher supposedly said about Madonna back in the late 80s. “I think she can afford to be a little more magnanimous and a little less of a cunt.” Dude, when that happened, did all the gays spin and die? It’s like if you were in Ancient Greece and Athena threw some shade at Hera.

J. Harvey Salutes Runaway Flight Attendant Steve Slater!

August 10, 2010

Hero


Not Steve Slater but you get the gist

We have a new American folk hero, kids. Eff John Henry and his hammer! Screw Johnny Appleseed. And Jared can suck it. Because JetBlue flight attendant Steve Slater had enough of the bullshit and quit that bitch in the most stylish, stunning “you can blow me, lady”- way possible.

Mr. Slater was at work at his shitty job on a JetBlue flight at Kennedy Airport on Monday, when an asshole passenger (we’ve all seen one and know what he endures) refused to sit down when asked to by  Slater. The entitled dick went for his bag in the overhead compartment anyway. Slater confronted said asshole, and then got hit in the head with dude’s bag when he pulled it out! This was it. This was the spark that finally reached Bonnie Tyler’s powderkeg! Slater read the passenger, then he went up, got on the mic and read the entire flight! THEN HOMEGIRL OPENED THE DOOR, TRIGGERED THE SAFETY SLIDE, GRABBED TWO BEERS, AND SLID TO FREEDOM! Bitch went right to his car and drove home in time to catch Judge Judy hopefully.

YES! YES! YESSSSSSSS!

The two beers is my favorite part. It’s so American…he didn’t want to have to stop at the barroom and he EARNED those pops!

Unfortunately, what Mr. Slater did was illegal (because we live in a fascist society) and he was arrested at his home in Queens, NY. J. Harvey will have full coverage of the FREE STEVE SLATER celebrity telethon that is sure to take place.

Everyone who has ever just wanted to sprout the middle finger and take to the safety slide because their job sucks salutes you, baby! Let’s raise our Starbucks’, Xanax bottles and hip flasks this Tuesday morning and celebrate Steve Slater. I’m activating my own safety slide as we speak!

On a personal note, I had my own Steve Slater moment earlier this summer and actually DID sorta activate my safety slide. And while it hasn’t been an easy ride, I’m sorta glad that Steve Slater and I can both demonstrate to you that there is no need for a human being to have to endure ridiculous psychotic cunts and their bullshit for a shitty paycheck. When someone hits you with their carry-on? You swipe it and hit them back! The revolution will be blogged about!

Update: And this is so awesome. Well, we knew dude was gay (he’s a flight attendant, let’s be real) but NBC says that he was reportedly licking up on his boyfriend when the po-po showed not to flash their sirens in celebration of his achievement, but to arrest his ass. Did they even let him wash off the lube? He had some beers and then he got some! Here’s a clip of his smirk when he did the perp walk. Why wasn’t someone throwing glitter and confetti in admiration? Doesn’t he have any people?

Antoine Dodson Looks To The Future

August 2, 2010

Some douche decided to “rape errybody out heah” (aka the Lincoln Park projects in Huntsville, Alabama) and Antoine Dodson and his beautiful sister were on hand to halt the assailant who is “snatchin’ people out their beds.” Antoine has become a touchstone of mine, someone I wish I could turn to for comfort and wisdom, rosemary and thyme.

He’s also become a viral sensation, and the news team that delivered him to us like a gentle kiss on the lips went back to ask Antoine about what his future holds. I love this guy. I also love that he’s going to kick the shit out of the would-be rapist and blow up 911’s cell at the same time. Probably while still holding that baby. This needs to be a movie.

Watch This: Antoine Dodson WILL Take A Snatch Out Of Crime

July 30, 2010

The streets of Huntsville, Alabama WILL be cleaned of criminal elements, y’all! Feast upon this blessed business. Antoine Dodson helped his sister beat off a rapist, and then he and sis took to the cameras to inform Mr. Sinister that grossness like that will not be tolerated. This is what Kick-Ass shoulda been (with the exception of Hit Girl, she should be in everything). Screw the green bodysuit, all you need to fend off evil-doers is a do-rag, a popped hip, and some shade. PRANCE, Antoine, PRANCE. Ganked from Crunk & Disorderly.

p.s. It gets better. Antoine’s sister knows she’s pretty, thank you, but she didn’t need some fool climbing up in her window in the LP. Thanks.

The Real Highlight Of This Debbie Gibson/Tiffany Catfight is The Hot Piece In The Deputy Uniform

July 27, 2010

Vodpod videos no longer available.

gatoroid, posted with vodpod


Bitch, please. I have the same reaction to Teri Hatcher too, Kathyrn. You just want to club her like a seal.

The above footage are outtakes from a cat scratch fever brawl between TIFFANY and MUTHATRUCKIN’ DEBBIE GIBSON on the set of Scorcese’s Mega-Python Vs. Gatoroid. Pies, cleavage, Tiffany’s now juicy juice ass and plastic champagne sippy glasses from Izzaparty (there’s a LOT of financial backing behind this SyFy masterpiece) go flying in all directions. Homegirls end up wet in a swamp (because of the swamp, this is a family film) but the real deal is that broad with the shocked expression on her face representin’ the popo! Mrs. McCluskey, I see you!

That’s hot character actress Kathryn Joosten, who plays the evil (and by “evil” I mean “the only reason to watch that show since they killed Edie”) neighbor to Felicity Huffman on Desperate Housewives. I know they sorta hint that she has a heart of gold, but I used to love to watch her scare children and irritate the yentas up on Wisteria Lane. I often wanted her to cuff Teri Hatcher one in the Botox. Just on principle.

Ms. Joosten needs to pay that condo note, so she will appear in a whole bunch of silly shit. And bring class to every occasion!

So not only is this shit going to have bad CGI, dueling 80s pop queens in bad prom dresses from Cache’s 1992 collection, and what I pray will be softcore porn actresses in bikinis being chomped on by radioactive animals…but Karen McCluskey is the sherrif! She’s the sherrif. My DVR is going to give me oral out of gratitude!

I Was WAITING For Mercede Johnston To Give Us Her Opinion!

July 16, 2010

Mercede had to lie on her FB or the government would steal her thoughts.

As you may know, I am a fan of Levi Johnston’s sister Mercede (someone blew the “s” off with a shotgun blast while aiming at a caribou). And I am a HUGE fan of her no-nonsense blog in which she dances delicately around how much she hates her brother’s babymama (you can just smell “that douchebag” wanting to pop out from in between the lines), and accuses the government of stealing the valuable state secrets that are on her Slipknot-stickered laptop. This week, Mercede’s dumb brother announced he had gotten engaged to the mother of his child, Bristol Palin. Yeah, Bristol is daughter of failed vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin. And Sarah is the politico pin-up girl for conservative closet cases. She ain’t that cute. I waited to write about the engagement until I heard what Mercede (her mother used the “s” to try and club the Down’s out of her other child) had to say. After all, bitch is at the center of this maelstrom! And by “maelstrom,” I mean “Sarah Palin spreading those fame legs in time for the 2012 political season.”

On her blog, Mercede lets us (and her brother and future sister-in-law) know what’s what.

“I do wish you guys would take a little more time with this decision. I certainly do not understand why you are rushing things. Unless of course there is some reason for the hurry.”

(ed. note – this is where Mercede accuses Bristol of having a baby in her womb. Or is just calling her fat. Slick, Mercede.)

She also says that she hopes the engagement “is a sincere decision” which “will bring you happiness.”

Oh my god, does she hate that bitch, huh? There’s going to be a lot of gum-snapping and side-eyes up in that church. And I’m talking about Sarah Palin as well as Mercede. Then again, Mercede is a refined lady. She will cover that tramp stamp for the occasion, only carry a pearl-handled revolver in her clutch as opposed to the usual .45, and perhaps even wrap a napkin around her PBR at the reception. You be that example, Mercede (the “s” busted out of there when Sarah told it Russia could invade at any second across the frozen expanse and a mortally wounded Jennifer Grey would pull the pin on a live grenade to take some Russkie troops with her. WOLVERINES! It’s Sarah’s favorite movie.)