When my boyfriend announced that he was getting Lasik surgery a few months ago, I was unnerved. Glasses are my thing—one of those obscure attributes that immediately attracts me to somebody, no matter how brutish or repelling the rest of his personality may be. For one of my girlfriends, it’s large veins on a man’s forearms. For another, it’s a defined jaw line (to the extent that she lists Michael Bolton and Ed Harris as her top celebrity crushes because of it). For me, it’s a hot pair of … lenses. Keep reading »
Lenny still looks young enough to be his daughter Zoe‘s brother. [London, 6/24/09] Keep reading »
I have to admit, before last night, I had never downloaded an app. I protested profusely against them for as long as I could, but now I find myself wanting to download more and more. (I went through the same routine with the iPhone, insisting that nothing could be more confusing and unnecessary than having a phone, iPod, and internet combined into one, but when I was given the device as a gift, I soon came to love, er, be obsessed with it.) Keep reading »
Creator of the infamous Body Worlds exhibitions, anatomist Gunther “Doctor Death” von Hagens, is the shock jock of dead peeps. While much controversy surrounded his displays with skinned corpses riding bikes and playing chess, his new show has an even more scandalous, ahem, position. In his most recent exhibit in Berlin, “Life Cycle,” there is a scene of two people having sex, reverse cowgirl style. But has he finally pushed things too far?
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Raphael Young’s uncle, Alexandre Narcy, spent the entirety of his working life designing shoes for Yves Saint Laurent. To this day, Narcy’s influences can be seen in many of the classic YSL shapes. His nephew, however, didn’t quite get the shoe design gene, as you can see from the monstrosity of an ankle boot above. We’re all for going without heels every now and again, but these are just trying too hard to be clever, don’t you think?
Pointed, quilted, metallic and weird as hell, Young’s heelless creations are a classic case of Too Much Going On and could definitely do with some paring down. Or maybe they’re just beyond saving…what do you think? [Fashionologie]
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I am completely traumatized. This morning I went to see an ear, nose and throat specialist, expecting to just have the big shot doc shine a light up my nose and then merrily skip off to work. Oh, how wrong I was. After sticking something scary looking up my nose, my doctor declared, “Yep, we need to cauterize your nose.” WTF? I avoided science in college, so maybe I was mistaking cauterization for something else. He couldn’t mean that Medieval procedure where “doctors” burn your skin with a fire hot poker to stop excessive bleeding…could he? Well, that’s exactly what he meant. I tried reasoning with him. Surely a procedure I am sure I saw done in “Lord of the Rings,” was not the most modern or medically effective. My squeals for help went unregistered and the next thing I knew… Keep reading »
Rachel Maddow just doesn’t give a flying f**k about “being pretty,” thank you very much. But she still has to put up with a lot of annoying busybodying. You know: “Rachel, if you just put more makeup on, why, you’d look so lovely!” Keep reading »
Well, well, well. She may have thrown Cop Without A Badge on the table on the “Last Supper” episode of “The Real Housewives of New Jersey,” and said that there were only two things true in the book—that she’d changed her name and that she’d been arrested. But it looks like Danielle Staub is a liar, liar, pants on fire. The Smoking Gun has done an extensive investigation and recovered the actual court documents from her 1986 proceedings. They are saying that everything in Cop Without A Badge is true, plus some. After the jump, the details of Danielle’s actual wrongdoings. Keep reading »
If it weren’t for the covers of women’s magazines like Glamopolitan, my time standing in grocery lines would be spent reading the copy on my frozen dinners. It’s amazing how reading “succulent tenderloins cradled by fluffy mashed potatoes” makes a meal squeezed out of a nozzle and flash frozen taste that much better. It was standing in line with my pathetic pyramid of bachelor food that I learned that there are, like, 1,342 different ways to drive me wild.
And here I was, thinking there was only one, 100% guaranteed way to drive me wild, and that was to touch my penis. At this juncture, I’d like to state that I’m also speaking for all of dudekind. Sweeping gender platitudes is what I do. So take the ice cube out of your mouth, the feather out of my ass, and go for the gold. Is there a Nobel Prize for sex advice? I’d like to thank you all. Keep reading »