Wednesday, April 22, 2009

A punchline, does not, a celebrity, make.

So, my client had a book signing last night. The book store was a block from my apartment and, I figured, crappy day, not such a big name, she could probably use the support. So, I took my wife and daughter with me and off we went. (Little Floogin was with his grandparents). We got to the book store about 5 minutes into her speech. She wasn't reading from the book, I don't think. No, it seems she was simply talking about how she became the person she is today. The store was fucking packed. Tons of women of all ages. A few men here and there, most of them seemed to be gay (not that there's anything wrong with that). Ever seat was filled, people were standing in all the adjacent aisles and they were crowding around the fringe aisles as well. Who knew this woman was famous enough to draw this kind of crowd?

I've mentioned this before, my client is on the Real Housewives of NYC. I've mocked the show and the women before. It's mockable. These women are, for the most part, pathetic charicatures of what NYC women are supposed to be like. They are, for the most part, pseudo-royalty, trying to appear important when, in reality, they are actress and celebrity wannabes who couldn't hack it as actresses or celebrities so they decided to go on tv and humiliate themselves to gain their celebrity status. A punchline, does not, a celebrity make.

Kato Kaelin is not a celebrity.

I've never seen a whole episode of the show these women are on. There's no point. They aren't indicitive of New York City women. Not the ones I, or anyone else I know, knows. These women are indicitive of what the rest of the country wants to believe NYC housewives are like. Much like they all want to think Carrie Bradshaw and her crew are indicitive of the single NYC woman. Simply not true.

So, anyway, my client, who, I think, seems to be the closest thing to a non-joke on the show, introduces one of her cast memebers. This woman, Brittney I think, looks like a shaved door mouse. She's downright ugly. What's scary is that she seems to be an uglier person inside than out and she's pretty fucking ugly. The crowd still cheered when she waved to them. She's a staaaahhhhhh.

Towards the end of the speaking part of the evening, my client mentioned another cast mate, asking if she was there. The crowd gasped in unison. Could she be here? Here? In this very room? Oh....My.....Gawd.....


Not there.

Not yet.

So, on with the speaking. Suddenly, from behind me a whirling dervish blasts through the room. Some overdressed, over makeuped woman with an entourage of a few gay guys (not that there's anything wrong with that) comes plowing through the crowd. My client sees this woman and says "Jill's here!!!" and the crowd screams. It's like Hugh Jackman just walked into the room and whipped out his cock. The women are screaming, squealing. Flashes are going off.

Brittney comes up to podium with the other two and the woman swoon. Screaming and shouting and cheering and clapping their hands, the woman are going berserk.

These three broads, three veritable nobodies, one of which is good looking (my client), none of which is really "important" in a societal way, are creating a near riot in the book store.

These three woman are the A-Rods of push obnoxious D list celebrities.

Then one of the women says "this is her night, let's give her the spotlight"

totally fucking cool, totally selfless.

totally full of shit.

They then started giving out autographs - on my client's book.

Classless broads.

And now, some Brittney background. Brittney, it seems, was friends with my college roommate's wife. Brittney was at the wedding. I've run into her a few times. Mutual friends as a result of this connection with my old roommate. Anyway, one of my fraternity brothers took Brittney out on a date and she had him stop at a 7-11 (convenience store) so she could pick something up. He had no clue what it might be but, whatever. She comes out of the store swigging a bottle of fucking cough medicine. Now, I'm old so this dates back to when strong cough medicine had shit in it to knock you for a loop. she was swigging the bottle and she made a comment about getting ready for the night or something. This friend of mine is a bit of a freak. Dude's got porn with people taking dumps on eachother. He digs the smell of his own balls. He's got some frightening fucking habits and fetishes. He found Brittney to be too crazy for him.

That's my story for the day.


Laura said...

You really should watch a whole show..hysterical. No I don't wanna be one ever. (blogged on the show myself recently..a little self advertising if you don't mind)

And watching the way they treat each other her book on etiquette should be required reading for the rest of the wives.. and Simon too.

foxy roxy said...

I have to say it.

I'd rather have someone rip out my eyes and piss on my brain than watch that show. Or any others like it.

Then again, I have refined tastes, which proves deigning to view the show and said skull invasion would be unwanted, undesired torture- not a drunken night of deviant sex.

Floogin McNoogin said...

Roxy, tell me how you really feel. don't hold back. Don't sugar coat it.

let it all out.

foxy roxy said...


An orgiastic explosion of expletives?

Or just an orgiastic release in general?

Laura said...

Such refined tastes and you read Floogin... funny.

just kidding.. mostly.

foxy roxy said...

Refined Definition.
re⋅fined   /rɪˈfaɪnd/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [ri-fahynd] Show IPA
–adjective 1. having or showing well-bred feeling, taste, etc.: refined people.
2. freed or free from coarseness, vulgarity, etc.: refined taste.

To quote; "rip out my eyes and piss on my brain." I.E., vulgar, tactless and tasteless. Direct contradicting joke for sarcasm sake.

Though I am reminded of this little gem.

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I don't mind being misunderstood; usually a badge of honor. Albeit I aim for a wise consistency than a foolish one.
And foolish consistencies are easy to spot; they are void of humor.

Just kidding. Mostly.

Floogin McNoogin said...

Reading my blog is not for the refined? I resemble that remark.

I'm actually very refined. I don't shit where I eat - I will, however, eat where I shit.

I don't pick my nose and eat it. Not because I find it gross, the carb content of boogers is too high. Throws the atkins off, big time and it's hard to estimate booger size, given the consistancy and density fluctuations.

I only like the finest things in life. I also happen to like pissing all over them whenver I see the need for it.

So, yeah, mock my blog for being unrefined, that's nice. That would be using proper etiquette.

I wish I had emotions, I might be upset by that.

And Foxy, what the fuck was all that? If you move on to Keats I might have to start rhyming my blogs to show off my poetic skillz.

My name is floogin,
so beg for my mcnoogin

I got more juice
than doctor fuckin' seuss

Laura said...

So my sarcasm was a little weak, no need to quote the dicionary.

And being a girl I will keep my unrefined habits to myself.

As for your lack of emotions Floogin, I never noticed.

And didn't think you were into poetry (sarcasm)

Anonymous said...

I am the shit so just quit.

Floogin McNoogin said...

anonyrapper, how poetic. I take it your influences are more Eminem than Frost.

Anonymous said...

Floogin,I don't want to know how you could measure the carb content of boogers, or what in the world you would crave to eat whilst taking a shit.
I told you about Jill didn't I?
Did she have her "GAY husband" with her? Tell her about the carb content of boogers and perhaps she'll get that troll of a dog of hers to stop licking her nose. SICK.

Anonymous said...

You are seriously fucked up, but that's why we love you!

Floogin McNoogin said...

Anon, you seem to know a hell of a lot about the housewives and gay husbands. Something you want to tell us?