Get Yo Gown On!

I love me some period dramas, people. That's when my inner drama queen and my fashion whore get together and make sweet sweet lavish imagination babies. My recent fix has been Downton Abbey on PBS.



And because there's one more part of me that I would be happy to add to that baby's genetic makeup, it's that delightful British comedy I love so damn hard.

Hooray for Red Nose Day! Bringing you...

Uptown Downstairs Abbey!





I just imagine myself back in one of these little fashion and fainting couch ensembles and ignore the fact that, seriously, if I had lived in those times, I would be the poor bastard getting slapped in the face by the cook for not cleaning the fireplace right. It could be worse, though. Even the chambermaids are brilliant because the actresses are brilliant. And, hey, look at Kim Catrall, getting her period on!

Okay, that just sounded gross. Plus we all know she's about eighty, so that's scientifically impossible anyway.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go feed my imagination baby some Upstairs, Downstairs.

The Cash Will Rise Again!

Money is trying to keep the black man down. I have proof:






THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN! Just ask the fine (fine = delusional and racist) ol' boys over at Dixienet! They took a few hours off from making those silly little ghost costumes to learn how to cobble together a website! Then they decided to make a little rubber stamp of a confederate flag and get all creative with their wrinkled twenty dollar bills. Before spending them on a carton of discount smokes. Because that's just good marketing.

I'm sure when they got done with their little craft project, stamping happily away on whatever change they had in their pockets--I bet doing the pennies was tricky!-- they all sat back, cracked open some beers, sighed happily, and pretended that little flag was fluttering proudly above the real White House. Then they went home to their double-wide trailers just in time to watch their favorite shows. Oops. Guess President Obama has a televised speech tonight. Sorry, buddies.

I take great delight in using this racist money to support the business of a nice Mexican man.

The Return of the Return of Crazy Shower

To recap: Meet Crazy Shower. It is made of bits of what I assume is PVC pipe and wood glue. It wants to bathe your nether regions, and it isn't ashamed to shout it loud and proud. In traffic.

I love Crazy Shower Car. Crazy Shower Car is the Sasquatch of North Hollywood. These frantic, traffic-dodging camera phone pictures are my version of the Patterson-Gimlin film. Minus the whole "actually a hoax with a gorilla costume" thing*.

Enough jibber-jabber. On to the Shower!





Shh. I'm sneaking up on it. I have to be cautious. I'm waiting for the time I pounce upon my elusive prey only to find Mr and Mrs Shower surrounded by all their belongings, having lost their home. Not because the Crazy Showers weren't selling, because that would be nuts. No, no, I'm referring to their compulsive need to re-wrap their truck with completely different advertisements every few months. Pimping their ride is what will bankrupt these crazy, showery dreamers, reducing them to a life spent sleeping in the back of their truck on a bed of bidet-parts and burlap sacks. Crying.





This season's theme seems to be Spanish. To lure in the bilingual clients. Yep, the problem with the last banner was too much English.



So remember, kids: Toilet paper leaves you dirty. If by "dirty" you mean "not having lukewarm toilet water blasted at your anus".

In related awesome cars I've seen today news, check out this awesome car what I saw today! If a giant had roller skates, this would be one of them! Hooray!



*Dear baby Zeus and Athena, let Crazy Shower Car have a fake gorilla next time.