Super New Uses for Mayonnaise

Dear Internet,

"Kim likes to put mayonnaise on her vagina because it makes her glow from within." Words of wisdom and beauty secrets from Khloe Kardashian. I wonder if Kim Kardashian wanted everyone to know that. I'm guessing she wanted to keep that a secret because that might be how she got that ass.

"Mayonnaise (often abbreviated mayo) is a thick condiment," according to Wikipedia. Wiki also says that "Worldwide, mayonnaise is commonly served in a sandwich, or with salad such as potato salad or canned tuna." Although it is used in many foods and salad dressings, apparently it can also be added to genitalia to offset dimming caused by paparazzi photography and reality television shows. It's good to know, especially now as I embark on a career as a socialite and celebutante.

I would like to know which brand Kim prefers the most -- Hellmann's? Duke's? Kraft Miracle Whip? I doubt you can use Veganaise, unless your vagina is faint of heart. I'm willing to bet she is a Hellmann's Girl. Keep your eyes peeled for Kim Kardashian Hellmann's Mayo ad in Vogue magazines near you.

So exciting. Keep keepin' it real, Kim.

Shelly

Track back: Keeping Up with Kim

Australian Open

Dear Internet,

I love Australians, I really do. And I love tennis. So, I was getting my Aussie Open updates thanks to you, and then I discovered the following quote from this article:

"Tournament officials will meet as early as next week to discuss crowd safety after ugly scenes at the Grand Slam including a gang of racist thugs who waved Nazi salutes, the indecent assault of a 10-year-old girl, a court invader on Rod Court Arena and a flare that terrified spectators on a show-court."

And then here:

"Security was tightened last year after men used covert cameras to film up women's skirts, and in 2007 a boy was dragged into a toilet and sexually assaulted."

I mean, they are rowdy in New York, but this is shocking behavior. WTF, Australia? You're living up to the stereotype, hate to say it. Way to ruin what should be a great sports event for all.

Discouraged,

Maxie Jean

Susan Sarandon

Dear Internet,

Did you hear that Susan Sarandon dumped fellow liberal, Oscar-winning actor Tim Robbins for a 31-year-old who opened a ping pong club? (Silly me, of course you heard - you're the internet!) They were never married, but Robbins is the father of her two kids. I guess Robbins got a little too old for her, couldn't keep up. I don't blame him - few could keep up with Sarandon. And I always said they stayed together all these years because they didn't get married. Oh, well, nothing lasts forever. Does this bode ill for other unmarried-with-children celebrity relationships? Will we soon see the end of the Russell/Hawn affair? I'm nervous for them.

Anyway, Susan is single again, is the point! It's actually unclear whether her relationship with this ping pong douche is romantic in nature, or professional only (she has a stake in the ping pong club). So, I'm putting on my best pair of pants and heading on down to SPiN to see if I can sweep her off her feet. I've been studying all her movies for the last week to prepare.

Wish me luck!

Maxie Jean

The Ravages of All-You-Can-Eat-Sushi

Dear Internet,

Chicago, January 2010. Five degrees Farenheit. Snow showers. Wind out of the Southeast at 20 miles per hour. Obviously sushi weather. As I walked down 53rd I had a sinking feeling that sushi may be the wrong decision, especially as I glanced at the Gyros Store. Perhaps a Hot or Polish Dog would be better... In any event, we made our way to the sushi restaurant.

Pushing against the wind and into the restaurant, the hot air warmed my face, making my eyes tear. I smelled Miso soup and I knew I was home. We were quickly led to a table, given menus, and offered ALL YOU CAN EAT SUSHI for $20.99 -- tax and tip not included. "What a deal!" I thought as I quickly computed how much it would cost to get what I wanted at ala carte prices. Well that's where I went wrong.

"All You Can Eat Sushi" is a scam. It's not all you can eat. You have to gluttonously eat everything you ordered or your bill at the end of the meal will be astronomical. Not to mention gaseous.

Invariably I order more food than my stomach can handle. So some Miso soup, edamame, a spicy tuna roll, a Philadelphia roll (even considering the impending battle the cream cheese would have with my stomach), Gyoza, one piece of Super White Tuna, a piece of Yellowtail, and green tea ice cream (not to mention the Sierra Mist and glass of water) later and I was ready to die. My stomach had filled with who knows what, flapping over my favorite pair of black skinny jeans, my leg warmers were suddenly tighter, cutting off blood flow to my feet, and the Clown Fish happily swimming along in the tank next to my table were angering me. Why do I do this to myself? I can barely finish regular dinner, let alone plate after plate of uncooked fish.

All I could think about was getting home and putting on sweat pants. This is truly an American cultural phenomenon. I don't know any Europeans who even own sweat pants, let alone any who press out into the cold, cold night to put a pair on. I was so full I couldn't even finish my Stella. And I passed out on the couch at 9:45 PM, waking up only to go to my bed.

So here's the deal. It's not even really a scam. It's a challenge being waged on Americans. Everyone knows we love food, sales, and cheap things. We love Target. We can't get enough of coupons. We go into orgasmic trance when we learn that if we get a new credit card we get 20% off whatever we bought that day -- forgetting we never had the cash to begin with and that a 30% APR is awful. (By the way, I got a 25% Off Coupon from The Gap for my birthday.) We are truly idiots, and everyone else knows it. This is how they are going to conquer us: food coma, clogged arteries, and sales. It's going to be like the fall of the Roman Empire, but instead of the Gauls or the Germans it's going to be food injected directly into our blood stream and clothes shipped to us just by thinking about them.

We need to stand up to this new form of terrorism. Otherwise, we're going to be confused, tired, and slow and we won't be able to fight it off. I can just see it now: people everywhere are trying to get their pants on and shirts over their heads and they become tangled up in themselves and the damn French swoop in and take Lady Liberty back. We cannot let this happen.

If you don't believe me, just read Saunders' latest Shouts & Murmurs piece in The New Yorker, Heavy Artillery. It's a vision of the future.

Regards,
Shelly

Keeping Up with Kim

Dear Internet (Bitches Everywhere),

As I gear up for tomorrow night's episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, I wanted to set the record straight. Even though I'm all for Bitches Talkin' Shit, I'm tired of all the hating on Kim Kardashian. It's getting ridiculous.

I'm going to be totally straight with you folks. The only reason people dislike her, especially women and girls, AKA Bitches, is because she's hot. If she were some bumbling ugly, like a normal person, she wouldn't be prancing down the red carpet, having her pornos released, or starring in an awesome reality TV show. But that is the whole thing. If any of us normal people could do that, we would love ourselves and everyone else would hate us. So here's the straight business on why everyone hates Kim:

1. She's gorgeous, has big boobs and an ass that most men would pay money to smack.
2. She has awesome clothes and buttloads of money.
3. She doesn't have to do real work, like go to an office or dig ditches.
4. Men love her.
5. You are nothing like her and have no porno hot qualities.

I personally love Kim. I think she's fantastic. I love her to the point of reading her Tweets and checking out her ad campaigns for Quick Trim or Forever 21. But the whole reason I like her so much is her mom, Kris. This woman deals with 20 million kids everyday and manages to not kill any of them. She doesn't even try to kill her husband, Bruce Jenner. Kris Kardashian-Jenner, or whatever she's calling herself, is a cool mom who tries to teach her kids values in rich-kid environment, and she succeeds on a variety of levels. But that's for another post. Back to Kim...

The thing is Kim is sort of unintentionally funny, I like her clothes, and she's starting to (ever so slowly) behave like an actual person. So in reality, even if our realities are as far away from her's as the moon, the only reason someone wouldn't like Kim is because they don't have all the cool stuff she has.

I am therefore retiring Bitches Talkin' Shit in terms of Kim.

Keeping it real,
Shelly

Stimulate This

Dear Internet,

In this time of economic recovery, I'm reflecting back to better times of stimulus checks. Where the F is my stimulus check this year? This is the time where I really need an extra $600. Whether it's to get a new pair of boots or to buy that creamy Tarte Cheek Stain I want. Maybe even both.

Don't get me wrong. Even though Congress is filled with a bunch of useless mongrels, I still have faith in Barack. After all, he is my Chicago brother. But I am thinking of by-gone days when the government fruitlessly and retardedly gave us money for no reason, AKA The Bush Era, as part of The Bush Doctrine.

There is a lot of junk I want. I feel like I need an iPhone. Just to navigate Chicago. Also for the cool apps, like Epicurious and Buster, the CTA Bus Tracker. Let's also not forget The Jersey Shore App. These are all things we need. Doesn't anyone get it? As someone who makes less than $250K, I would like a check to afford me the things that my salary does not. Perhaps a new pair of skinny jeans or even some fancy new leggings from American Apparel. Even an f-ing iPod Touch that isn't cracked. Maybe even something slightly more useful to Chicago winters like a new puffy coat, muffler, hat, scarf, chapstick, and lined boots?



I can't take it. Maybe I should just go with the flow, but obviously I can't. I want my money.

Don't Mess with Shelly.

State of the Union Address

Dear Internet,



I'm the President of Tappin' That Ass. Barack Obama, Barack Obama Baby.

Shelly

Hotties Can You Hear Me?

Dear Internet,

Please deliver me one of these as I've had a rough day. That is a direction.

Regards,

Oyasuminasai Colby-San

Dear Internet,

I'd like to say thank you for allowing me to research dog strokes ad nauseum. So now that I think I have a thorough understanding of puppy epilepsy and strokes, I think I can lay my pup, Colby-San to rest.

RIP Colby. I only knew you for two years, but the first time I laid eyes on you I fell in love. I hope you are running and skipping and chasing gatos around animal planet heaven, eating your favorite Purina cans, and stealing socks. Cleona Helmsley and Andy Pettitte Gatto will miss you too. XOXOXO.

Shelly

Scrappy Hard at Work

Dear Internet,

Per our earlier conversation here is an update: Scrappy is still quite hard at work today. Creating flow charts, writing emails, and of course, eating paper. All in a day's work as they say. How on earth, however, does one get Scrappy to lay down so that I can see at least one of two monitors?

Please advise at your earliest convenience.

Regards,

Conan talks about our blog!

Dear Internet from First and last name on Vimeo.

Dear Internet,

I'm so glad all our letters to you have gotten through, all the way to network television! Granted, it was Conan's final Tonight Show, so it didn't get very many viewers (a 4.8 rating, according to this interesting article), but nonetheless we are pleasantly surprised by our sudden success.

We will continue to do our due diligence, and we look forward to the road to success that is so clearly mapped out for Shelly D and myself. Thank you again, Internet.

Your pal,

Maxie Jean

Skinny Jeans ala Hipster

Dear Internet,


WHY?? Actually, why not? Thank you Look at This Fucking Hipster for making me remember why I wanted to punch people in the head on the L.

Regards,

Pauly D's Cat Uncle Petey

That's right. A cat spinning at the wheels of steel.

Excerpts from an IM, instead of an actual rant, because I just don't have the energy.

Maxwell Anderson: so ive figured out my next post
Shelly D: shoot
MA: white jeans on hipsters. seriously, WTF
SD: Oh jeez
MA: they are disgusting. its all the rage here
SD: ugh, they have no sense
MA: seriously. skinny dark jeans are annoying enough but you add the bright white color... i cringe... i literally have verbal reactions when I see them in the street
SD: lol... So where did this whole white jeans thing come out of
MA: why are people wearing white jeans? or why am i upset about it?
SD: i don't know. The whole thing is really stressful
MA: haha. well, to the first question: because they're morons; to the second question: because I have to see it every day (unless I choose not to leave my apt)
SD: yea... I am having some frosted mini bitches
MA: i just burped my lunch

Less Than Fist-pumping End

Dear MTV,

Seriously, what is the problem? Did you not have enough footage to make the series finale of The Jersey Shore a box full of tanning, creepin', and doing laundry? I'm really disappointed in the final episode.

First and foremost, where the F was JWoww during the entire episode? Aside from freaking out and pondering the next steps in obtaining some new Gorilla meat, she was relatively absent from the episode. For someone who speaks to my own heart, proselytizing on beauty and weight loss (thank goodness I can head back to Long Island and get a discount on a consultation), I didn't get much more than a few moments of her globular boobs and and sling shirts (are they even shirts??). Where on earth was she, and why weren't the cameras following? If I were a camera person, or even an editor, I would dedicate at least 12 of the 22 minutes to Jenni's ignition status.

Second, why on earth did you just brush over the arrest and aftermath of Ronnie? I would have loved to know if there were other Guidos within Seaside's holding cells. What were they in for? How did they fight? Perhaps they unleashed some potent hairspray and/or styling cream. Who knows? The editors were too busy following around The Situation and his efforts to make Sausage and Potatoes. I personally prefer my mother's own Sausage, Peppers & Potatoes -- she uses green peppers just like Mike -- but nonetheless I'm sure Ronnie and/or J had some pretty retardedly beautiful mantras to share with us about being locked up and missing the opportunity to sling breasts at Gorillas.

Damnit MTV. You are the worst. You have the splendid opportunity to share with me the last minutes of a summer and you blow it. I mean, of course Snickers kept it real, but what the F? I'm serious. You missed a golden opportunity to not only get me in the back of an Escalade for some more, but also to continue to find ways to identify with my somewhat buried Guido ancestry.

More importantly, especially because I was so upset about the whole finale, I felt compelled to watch The Reunion. This reunion, even with the fighting between The Situation and Ronnie, Angelina's unnecessary return, and the 'my business' bickering between Sammi and JWowww (she's earned an extra W because of her awesome website and posters) was lackluster. Until, of course, you idiots decided it high time to make people uncomfortable and decide you were the big loser pigs in the situation. Why in Marinara's name was it necessary to show old ass, "never seen before" footage of Sammi and Mike talking about creepin' and such when Ron and Sam are well on their way to Guido Matrimonial Heaven. If I had a St. Joseph's Cake or un cannolo (in America, a cannoli), I would have whipped it so hard and fast at the idiot host might have thought it was a big pizza pie, not amore. I don't want to see any of them so embarrassed and aggravated that they need to go to the ladies room off camera. That's not your job. Your job is to make me, your viewer happy and entertained, and I was far from either.

Even though we may like to objectify the eight cast members (roomies) of Jersey Shore, they are still people with feelings, issues, and of course, tans. (BTW, how the heck were the more tan in January than in the summer?). It was one of the single worst moments ever and you should fire that retard for even trying to pretend she cared. Freak shows you are great at, but giving us what we want and need from a team of people who we would have never otherwise would have had the opportunity to hang out with for 30 minutes (and during marathons on the weekend) you are terrible. I know what you were doing, and so did everyone else, but it wasn't funny. I was angry and I, more than ever, felt what I don't think you ever wanted from your viewers: empathy.

I will go on loving Jersey Shore and its members. From bitchy train wrecks met at Karma to fake boobs, spray tans, and juiced up guido brothers, they are mine to giggle and awe, but they are not yours to intentionally humiliate.

HONESTLY! Weird Snooki aggravation noise,
Shelly

OMG Craig Kilborn - But most of his time was spent on his one true passion... drinking in the afternoon... around two-ish.

Untitled from First and last name on Vimeo.

Dear Heidi Montag:

Seriously, of all the terribly retarded and useless things to do with your unearned cash, producing a crap-ass album shouldn't have been one of them. First of all, have you even listened to your single? Is it meant to be ironic? What exactly is the damn point here? Superficial is quite honestly one of the worst things I have ever heard. This by far surpasses Chocolate Rain, which was at least catchy and funny, not to mention Lindsay Lohan's Ultimate Music Video , which for all intensive purposes looks like a bad party on Long Island. (I can say that because I'm from there... so is she.)

Another thing. You looked perfectly fine before your ten surgeries. Not even just fine. You were cute. And now you're broke. What is the sense in that? Why couldn't you find a record company to pay for this? There's plenty of crappy ones laying around that would have taken your notoriety as collateral.

Well, I guess that's where it is. Not quite Britney and not really much of anything else.

Kind regards.

I don't care what Shelly D says...

Some Girl From Long Island from First and last name on Vimeo.

March of the Train Pigs

Dear Genius Who Created Train Pigs:

You are an uncommon genius. The creation of the Train Pigs website is seriously one of the greatest things ever. You should win a Nobel Prize for it.

First off, no one should ever eat on a train, bus, commuter rail, or anywhere that doesn't include a table, or in rare occasions, a park bench. If it doesn't nauseate you to see some pig (totally accurate) sloppily dining on an egg sandwich, hamburger, bag of french fries, falafel,or worst case scenario, beef with broccoli, then there is something seriously wrong with you. Why must you smother me with your disgusting acrid smells, emanating from bags made of partially recycled paper or wrapping made of Reynolds Wrap. Your hands are greasy, sliding up and down the hand rails, doors, and straps that adorn our buses, subways, and tram systems. Although I hate watching people eat on public transit, I am ecstatic that someone has liberated me from quietly condescending.

Kind regards.

Letter to NBC

Dear NBC Late Night audiences:

I know you aren’t a homogeneous mass. There are 2 camps that need to be addressed here. There’s the camp that has always thought Leno was a joke, that he’s never been funny, and that at this point it really has gotten embarrassing for NBC executives to release statements like “Jay Leno is one of the most compelling entertainers in the world today.” These people are incredulous that the loyal, ever-the-bridesmaid Conan has been treated like a doormat while Leno, who’s dull routine is killing 10pm, and perhaps all the shows after it, is treated like royalty. This group is overrepresented on the internet because of how the sampling skews.

Then there’s the camp that favors Leno to Conan. I don’t know how to describe this camp without risking the charge of xenophobia. However, they clearly have clout, at least in the minds of dollar-conscious NBC execs. NBC nearly got Conan to walk, and he may yet, in search of the ratings Leno generated in the (recent) past at 11:35. These people do exist, clearly, and they haven’t made the switch to Conan.

My message to both camps is a simple one: None of this really matters, because all of these people are forever chasing the long shadow of a pioneer host of the Tonight Show. Not Johnny. Jack. Paar. If you’re in NYC, do yourself a favor and walk on over to the Paley Center for Media and watch some of the classic episodes of the Tonight Show he hosted from 1957 to 1962 that forever influenced late night television. Or, you can rent Jack Paar: Smart Television. (You won’t find much on the interwebuals) He was truly urbane, spontaneously funny, respectful and intelligent. Neither Leno nor Conan hold a candle to him.

Sincerely,

Maxie Jean

PS -- I also loved and miss Craig Kilborn.


-- Via Shelly

On Brand

This has probably already been reported and commented on ad nauseum by every blogger, critic, marketer, and news site thus far. But I wanted to take a look St John's decision to replace Angelina Jolie as the face of the company's advertising campaigns with Karen Elson.

I suppose people around the world, with little else to do I guess, were shocked to learn that the superstar beauty Angelina Jolie had been replaced by someone less famous. And then to hear that the reason Jolie was replaced was because she was "overshadowing the brand", well maybe that was too much.

St John's CEO Glenn McMahon has stated that Jolie was replaced because she "overshadowed the brand". Interesting concept, since originally Jolie was presumably signed to represent and act as an ambassador to the brand. The issue (at least I don’t think) isn't Jolie's contract, but why St John thinks that she overshadowed, or in more realistic terms, diluted the brand. How so? Didn't she provide it with a face, a lifestyle, a symbol for what you get when you purchase any of St John's items? St John is synonymous with luxury, wealth, and perhaps, fame. And doesn't Jolie represent each and every one of those components? Of course she does.

I realize that St John certainly has brand image as top of mind, but perhaps the response isn’t “overshadowing the brand” as redefining it. Elson represents an entirely different demographic – although beautiful and a member of fashion’s elite, she certainly can lay claim to the rock and roll vertical, of which St John may very well want to capitalize upon. So releasing Jolie from a much sought after contract may not really be about dilution or “overshadowing”, but expanding business beyond what the brand itself may have been considered, and re-defining the brand itself.

In general, my take away is that I would have moved on to Elson too, assuming I couldn’t get Jack White to do the line first. Jack White and his monopoly on rock and roll via The White Stripes/Raconteurs/Dead Weather would be my first pick, and if I can’t get him, who better than his wife?