Sit back, ladies, and await your roses on Valentine’s Day. That smiling delivery man will come to your home or office, hand over that fabulous bouquet, and fill your heart with delight as he does so.
Think not of the insanity that goes into that dozen.
Ultima Florals, in Jackson Heights, Queens, usually has 3 to 5 people working an average day. Continue reading
Listen here, you white-haired dough-faced serial-screwing alleged historian, you do not get to use Eye of the Tiger in campaign appearances. And I’m glad the guy who wrote it is saying No Way Newt. Continue reading
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmHvfkDZjgA
Steven Tyler keeps getting shit for singing the National Anthem.
You didn’t ask Justin Beiber to sing the National Anthem. You asked Steven Tyler, from legendary Boston band Aerosmith. Continue reading
Watch a horrible mistake unfold, and facepalm with me.
We don’t have to be first. My fellow journalists may be going into convulsions as I say that, but it’s true. We don’t. People are sick of that. It means nothing, in this age when information is almost instantaneous, and first means little more to an audience than a few seconds. Audiences care about presentation, about snappy writing, about looks and sound and branding, about reliability. Continue reading
ABC News is reportedly planning to air a interview with Marianne Gingrich, Newt Gingrich’s second wife (for all you keeping count of our good Catholic man’s spouses) tonight. There have been no clips released, and ABC is not discussing what the second Mrs. Gingrich may or may not have said in her two-hour sit down with correspondent Brian Ross. Here’s a little roundup of previous statements from the Washington Post. Could be something, could be nothing. Continue reading
I am very serious about my bedding. I will leave the house in ill-fitting jeans and in one of the fifteen identical black t-shirts I own every day, but the bed? The bed is my masterpiece.
When I first moved in with Mr. Bunny, I was appalled by his bedding. The man owned nothing but t-shirt sheets. These are unacceptable. If you own these, you must throw them away immediately or at the very least tear them into rags. To make matters worse, they were in the loudest patterns possible. He bedded me on my first visit to New York on terrible t-shirt sheets in a horrifically bright psychedelic pattern. I closed my eyes and thought of gingers. I vanquished those sheets the day I moved to New York. Continue reading
Because I am a fool waiting around with nothing else to do, I decided to download Android rip-off of the iPhone’s Siri, named Iris, and interview her.
Iris is a very strange woman. Continue reading
I’ll admit it: I did not write a single Christmas card this year.
Oh, I should have. I should have sat down like a good little girl and wrote out dozens of times “Merry Christmas! Love, Newsbunny!” However, I didn’t. I’ve had two biopsies in the last three weeks and I just didn’t feel like it.
My husband is another story. He is half-elf. He bought Christmas cards, carefully chosen, filled with as much glitter as possible, wrote a personal message in every single once of them, sealed the envelope with his own precious ginger saliva, popped a Christmas stamp on the whole thing, and dumped it the mailbox, mostly likely while Whos from Whoville gathered round him holding hands and singing songs while a gentle snow fell on his dark red hair. Continue reading
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kY84MRnxVzo
Sir Mix-a-Lot says you’re awesome just the way you are.
Hello, Fatso!
The holidays are over. O-V-E-R. So what are you doing, lazing about the floor, watching that marathon of Hoarding? You know what you’re hoarding? Fat. fatfatfatfat. You are a worthless jerk who will make less money all your life and never find love because you shop at Lane Bryant or at the Big and Tall store.
The commercials are all here to tell you that. Continue reading
Where were you when the war ended? Continue reading