Dance With the one that Brought You: The Entertainment Smorgas-B
posted by B on 9/26/01
I've been sitting at my computer since Saturday afternoon, trying to put my emotions into words. I had a big loss in my family this weekend...Christ, who am I kidding, I lost a giant, bleeding section of my heart on Saturday morning so I'm finding it difficult to write about trite things like Burgertime or ExciteBike or my lame attempts at kindness intercourse with ex-girlfriends. I was trying to make a joke about Mr. Hot Dog the other day and felt like I was going to break down into tears. That's the second time that's happened in my life.
But I can't leave you guys hanging...throughout the run of this site I've done my best to always be around...to buck the reputation I'd built at other sites of vanishing for months, or never updating, or placing my social life as a priority before diatribes about Captain N. Sure, the world needs somebody to make them remember that King Hippo had nasty giant blue nipples, but I'm not your portal of nostalgia today.
Well...actually, I am. Whatever-Dude is the first place that has ever felt like "home" to me. Dave, Jen, Paul, and the whole staff have become my friends first, and staff writers second. They've all done a little things to make me feel better (and I'd like to publically thank Jen for sending me RAW Trading Cards in the mail...I got a card with Chyna in a bikini on it...took my mind off the troubles of life for the whole 10 minutes I was puking my guts out). So after this I should be back to normal...because if I'm not okay for my friends, how will I ever be okay for my family?
This is sort of me throwing down the sarcasm gloves and giving thanks to the sites that got me where I am today. Sure, this all sucks, but think about it...I suck anyway. I make fun of Full House and am gay (and a fan of Prince) because I don't like the "ladies of Moulin Rouge." I also can click here to see XXX PICTURES OF GIRLS PEEING CAUGHT EATING TURDS ANBALEEVABLE!!!!111 I'm so glad I believe everything I get in an e-mail.
There is something evil in the world.
TRL, or "Total Request Live," is the top 10 videos countdown of America, hosted by Carson Daly everyday on Mtv. The top 10 are voted by the viewers by email and phone, which means mtv has nothing to do with it. Sort of like how Janet Reno had "nothing to do" with those big piles of ashes that used to be crazy chicks in Texas.
TRL Audience / Fans
A bunch of Trl fans across the country are out in the Times Square everyday, where the Mtv studio is located, try to see their favorite celebrities or get on the show. Sometimes, Carson may pick some lucky person up to the studio from Times Square, and join the indoor audience to watch the show live in the studio! This person is quickly quarantined after the show, to prevent the wretched disease from spreading.
Also on TRL...
Instead of playing the top 10 viewer's choice every day, some artists, bands, or movie stars may also appear on the show. There are also world premiere videos, and mtv news on TRL. When Carson is not on the show, some of your favorite celebrities will guest-host TRL too!
This is where we join TRL...but this is no ORDINARY TRL!.................................................................................................................
Dave Holmes: Okay, that was N'Sync with their latest hit, "Poop-Shoot Humpity-Hump," climbing one big spot to the number two position. Definitely not the first move to the "two position" for these young talents and definitely not the last. I'm Dave Holmes filling in for Carson Daly, alongside my special guest today, making her twenty-seven hundred and fifty-first appearance on Total Request Live, the incomparable Britney Spears.
Dave Holmes: Britney, you look fabulous as always. And those bruises have healed up nicely!
Britney: Awwwww, Thank yooou! I love comin' to see you, all over my trailer park all the little girls are, like all jealous of me and stuff cause I get to spend the day with the sexiest man on television!
Dave: Why...why thank you Britney, I didn't know you thought that way about me!
Britney: I told you a MILL-YUN times....but Carson, you sure do look like a LOT different from the waist up.
Britney: And I TOTALLY thought you said you were the lead singer for Limp Bizkit!
Dave: It's just your imagination, Britney. When we found out you'd stop by again to our air-conditioned, plush Time Square set here at TRL, we decided to gather 10,000 of your biggest, craziest, most cynical fans outside on the sweaty New York streets to clog traffic and tell you what they think of you!
Britney: Do they sing for Limp Bizkit? They TOTALLY RAWK. (singing) I'M A DO THINGS MY WAY, IT'S MY WAY, MY WAY OR THE HIGH-WOWWW...OWWW... ... just like my mama says all the time when I try to have free thought! Ah-huh huh!
Dave: Nobody ever accused you of NOT being Tracy Flick. Who've we got outside with a question for Britney?
Ewok #1: What's up, I wanna request Sugar Ray's "Every Morning," because being a forest dweller doesn't give me the opportunity to contemplate suicide that often.
Ewok #2: We came all the way from Endor and waited outside in the blistering sun so we could vote all day long and see 30 seconds of our favorite video! WHOOOOOO!!!!!!
Dave: Do you guys have a question for Britney?
Ewok #1: No you stupid fuck, we're Ewoks.
Ewok #2: I WANNA REQUEST "HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME" BY BRITNEY SPEARS CAUSE SHE'S GOT BIG FAKE BOOBIES AND I'D LOVE TO HIT HER WHOOOOOOOOOAAAOOW!!!!!
Britney: Okay, like, things like this really make Jesus and my mama totally sad, y'know? Cause, like, the media and junk have all tried to make fun of me and like, make me feel bad but y'know I did NOT get breast implants. I'm like TOTALLY for real and junk.
Dave: How DID you manage to go from a 32 A to a 38 C in two weeks?
Britney: I hurt my knee cause I'm such a great dancer, and then, like, I went to the doctuuuur, y'know, and like he told me I needed surgery so I got my knee fixed and then they just grew! Cause I'm in like totally like puberty like and like junk like like like like. Like.
Dave: That doesn't make any sense.
Britney: I think it's cool how they like, stay sticking straight up when I'm laying on my back, that's TOTALLY something normal ones don't do, y'know? And when my boyfriends beat me into submission and pound away they just like, pop right back into position! A-huh-huh that's TOTALLY funny, y'know?
Dave: Britney, did your boobs just get bigger? Britney: What're you talkin' about?
Dave: ALL RIGHT, it's time to go to our number one video here on TRL, this video garnered 21% of your e-mails and 24% of your calls. Let's look at what your e-mails had to say about number one.
Britney: Ev'rybody's so MEAN to me on this show, y'know, it's like, just because I don't wear no clothes don't mean I wanna have SEX or anything.
Dave: Speaking of which, you recently revealed to the world that you're still a virgin in your late teens! Congratulations!
Britney: Yeeeeeah, aaaaw, thank yooou, I know Jesus and all would be all like "NO WAY GIRLFRIEND."
Dave: Yeah, congratulations on bringing the biggest pile of horse spunk on the planet. Look at me, I look like Eddie Izzard!
Dave: I mean, seriously, come on, Britney, do you think ANYBODY outside of your parents and Bible-belt 12-year olds believes you're still a virgin?
Britney: I ain't Christina Aguilera! Look!
Britney: The Lord Jesus Christ Our Savior I Am The Sheep Provider sayeth that a girl shouldn't get her self sexed up before, like, she finds true love y'know and since I ain't found a guy that hot or popular, y'know, I ain't had NOOOOO intercourse.
Dave: You went on tour with N'Sync, right?
Britney: Yeah, but, like, you got it all wrong, see, like, like, like, I never had no kinda intercourse, y'know, cause that's against the Bible and stuff. I mean I never had more than three of them in me at once, so it's like...
Dave: Wait...you had THREE of them in you at once? WHERE?
Britney: I didn't say that!
Britney: Listen, I don't know WHY you make me feel all bad and stuff I mean it's Christina Aguilera that's to blame for all the bad media and junk! TOTALLY I swear!
Dave: Besides Fred Durst, Enrique Iglesias, Carson Daly, some gay backup dancers, the ladies of Moulin Rouge, and the Oakland Raiders what has SHE ever done?
Britney: Uh, HULLO CARSON? Are you there? DERN IT I mean, what about all those Jews back in the forties or the fifties or whatever?
Dave: You mean the Holocaust?
Britney: She was TOTALLY the cause of that.
Britney: How else do you explain a Hispanic girl with blonde hair and blue eyes? OH, and then those Japanese or whatever? The ones that bombed that harbor with all the pearls in it? HULLO? They've got Nuke-u-lur missiles pointed at our great capital buildings and they don't even BUH-LEEVE in Jesus, y'know, like I don't know WHY everybody keeps supporting Christina! Think of the children, y'know?
Dave: What the hell are you talking about? This is gayer than Say What Karaoke. You're a waste of life. You never should've been born.
Britney: OH, and come see me this weekend, I'll be playin' outside in the Wal-Mart parking lot in Cameron, North Carolina. Bye y'all!
Dave: One last caller before we go to the video, caller, do you have a question for Britney?
Caller: I hope you like the job, Dave.
Dave: Excuse me?
Caller: I said I hope you like the goddamn job Dave.
Carson: You better recognize. If I didn't have Mandy Moore doing laps between my legs right now you'd be back on the bench with Jesse Camp and that hyper bitch from Karaoke.
Dave: Carson, I didn't...
Carson: Yeah, I KNOW you didn't.
Carson: If I was there right now we'd be through the Britney video TWICE and half way into MTV fucking Jams. But what do we have instead? Your sorry ass carrying a network of bad TV shows about pissy teenagers. When I come back, I'm gonna climb to the top of the MTV tower, throw down with furious vengeance, take back this network and turn it into what it was always meant to be! Not TV shows, not half-assed cartoons, NO REAL WORLD.
With me and everybody under 18! FEAR ME.
"Twister of Fate" - The Definitive Hardy Boyz fan fiction
This story wasn't even supposed to BE on W-D...but it IS!!!11
Lita eased her head through the door to check and see if anybody was coming. Quickly, she ducked back into the room, and, removing her STP hat, began to question the validity of what was about take place.
"Matt, are you shoor we should be doin' this? I mean, what if somebody comes in and finds us? We'd be plum outta luck Matt!"
"Lita, I am a Hardy Boy," said Matt, angrily placing a white sheet of plastic on the ground beneath them. "I wasn't even supposed to BE in this room, but I am. I worked harder than anybody to get here. So tonight, me and you are gonna play Twister. Or we're gonna die trying." So powerful. He tossed back a stray lock of poorly-frosted hair and waved his fist at the redhead, as if to taunt her, or to swat away a fart.
"Awright," Lita agreed, spitting a big wad of chaw into a nearby spitoon. "The last time I played this with a boyfriend he grabbed me by the hand, bounced up and down on the bed, and tossed me through a window." She began nodding her head excessively. "If I won't so 2 XTREME I woulda been up a creek. A huh huh!"
"Lita, you weren't even supposed to BE here today, but you are." Matt sounded cold, and from the sticks. "And pull down your pants some, you look like one'a them northern girls!"
The collagen-implanted diva adjusted her pink carpenter pants and positioned them just below her buttcrack. "Thar," she exclaimed, "now I'm ready to go!"
"2 XTREME!" said Matt, grabbing the Twister game spinner and hoisting it high into the air. The eldest Hardy began shaking his unoccupied fist, spun around, and hit the spinner. Slowly, it came to it's stop. "Right hand, blue." Hardy threw his arms up. "AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!"
"That was EXTREME!" commented Lita, before taking off her shirt and putting her right hand on blue. I don't know WHY she took off her shirt, these people just randomly do that some times.
"2 XTREME!" corrected Matt, pointing imaginary guns at his head to show how suicidal he was being by putting his hand on the correct color. As he hit the mark, part of Lita's hair brushed his shoulder, sending him flailing across the room and upside down into the wall.
The Twister game carried on late into the chilly Cameron, North Carolina afternoon. Each player was determined to get the upper hand! Lita, in times of doubt, hit the hurricanrana predictably several times! However, Matt was ready for her, and shook his fist repeatedly. Things were getting hot and heavy when a knock resounded from big brother's bedroom door.
"Who is it?" yelled Matt Hardy, pointing imaginary guns at his head to show how suicidal he was being by asking a question. He took off his shirt. The girls down the street screamed from their rooms.
"It's me, Jeff. I'm a free spirit."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!" Matt bellowed. "Jeff, you weren't even supposed to BE here tonight, but you are."
Jeff pulled up his flared sea-otter print cargo pants and shrugged. "I no how daingaruss it is out hare...xtremes not a mood matt is a lifestall..."
With the interruption obviously killing the mood, Matt leapt to his feet and began sewing clothes angrily. "Jeff Hardy, can't you go ride some XTREME dirt bikes or dye your hair some XTREME colors? I've got a girl in here, and she's white trash!"
Lita's brain cells didn't catch on as she sat in silence, her breasts slowly growing larger.
"I wud," countered Jeff, "but those thangs are all 2XTREME fer me rite now. i rote some poatry about vamparrs an sunsets, i thawt u mite wanna read over it an' help me out with tha spellin' like u usally do." The youngest Hardy's head sank in shame, as tears of self-realization fell slowly onto his neon-pink mesh shirt.
"Jeff, Lita wasn't even supposed to BE in my room tonight, but she is." Matt leapt to his feet and hurled a pair of skintight spandex pants with purple daisies all over them through his doorway and into Jeff's sock-covered arms. "I made these for you, they are XTREME...not 2XTREME, because that would be dangerous. But I made them, because I'm suicidal!" Matt pointed imaginary guns at his head.
The ink from Lita's ugly tattoo soaked into her brain as she suggested, "maybe you should go clubbing in those pants tonight? That we me an' yer brother can finish our game of Twister."
"Twister of Fate!" Matt growled.
"Twister?" Jeff asked. "i thought that game was callt 'misty meadows of hope.'"
"That was your name for it," assured Matt. "Just like you named the cat 'translucent rainbow butterfly.'"
"That's such a purty name," nodded Jeff. "i mighta shoulda named her 'ghost dancer imagination waterfall' tho. cause that's real purty." Jeff pointed to his piece of paper. "just like mah poem! it's 2XTREME!" Jeff took off his shirt. The girls down the street screamed again.
Matt scoffed at the lines written on the torn sheet of loose leaf. "Hah, looks like it's 1XTREME to me."
"Shut up!" Jeff sprung at Matt with a punch, but missed, and flipped upside down thirty-nine hundred times before crashing into the nightstand. Seizing the opportunity to grasp some more of that backyard magic, big bro sought to teach his little bro a lesson!
Matt grabbed Jeff by the head, and made some imaginary guns to show how suicidal he was being by grabbing somebody's head.
"AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!" Matt spun around, but, thinking fast, Jeff touched Matt's back with the tip of his painted fingernail, sending Matt sailing over the bed and through the bedroom window. Lita tried to give the window a very predictable hurricanrana, but ended up landing in the bushes.
Jeff began to cry, placing his streaky spotted tangerine, lavender, and chartreuse head in his hands. "nobody understands me!" Suddenly, his eyes lit up with joy! "hay, i no! i can go watch tha crow or powder or somethin agin!"
Jeff flipped through the window and onto the front yard, crashing through three tables and a lawn gnome. "maybe my boyfr...um, maybe my grilfrend can come over to. that'd be 2 XTREME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHH" Matt groaned from the bushes.
Where I come from, country music isn't an outlet for stories of lost animals, loves, and pickup trucks. Where I come from country music is a lifestyle. Each Friday night thousands of brainwashed cowpokes in NASCAR hats wander aimlessly towards the club, in the hopes that if their pants are tight enough, their bull-riding skills tough enough, that their expert execution of the "Achy Breaky Heart" line dance will catch the eye of "Lurlene." Or "Charlene." Anything ending in "lene." Trailer park people are weird, they'll name their kids "Susanlene" or "Rebeccalene" just to squeeze the dignity out of their childrens' names completely.
The sad thing about country music is that it isn't *all* depressing squeals about a lost love or a raccoon that got "runned over" in the road. Most of country music is about dancing in a barn, and maybe about race cars or something, I dunno, I don't listen to it much. There is one exception to the rule though, and the exception has taken a decidedly "raver-grrl" turn in the form of the "Dixie Chicks."
I put "Dixie Chicks" in quotes because this can't actually be their name. Country girl groups have wittier names than that. The real name is something like "Fat Natalie and the Whistle-Pop Cowgirls" or "Stompfeets and the Rootin' Tootin' Banjo Extravaganza." The Chicks consist of three unnecessarily happy young women, two nameless sisters and a woman who should not but does make me want to bring the dead back to life with a line dance, Natalie Maines.
Why is she so demanding and inspirational? Because she's short and chunky. There's nothing sexier on Earth than a short chunky girl. See Ginger Spice, Kate Winslet, Andy Griffith, or anybody who plays professional golf. Explained here is why I can detest country music and still sit through a Dixie Chicks concert. It's all because of her.
She's the "Sweetheart of the Rodeo Cheeseburger."
God that's classic. Write that down.
A good reason to appreciate these broads:
Okay, so you don't have talent. That don't impress me much!
The big trend in popular music now is to be a "crossover artist," and the "so perky I'm fizzing from the ears" Twain is the cause of it. What you do is take an attractive woman with no obvious talent in as few inches of clothing as possible. To compensate for her lack of talent, put her in the entertainment business as a "country sweetheart." Country music fans don't seem to care whether or not you can sing as long as you're sweet and "down home." Give her a big hit song about "lovin'" or "leavin'" or whatever. Now the podunks of the world love her and will flock to Wal Mart to see her concerts.
Take her big song and remove all the country stuff - the steel guitars, the banjos, etc. Replace them with a techno beat and a team of back up singers. Then add in that stupid computer effect where the person sounds like they're warbling into a fan. The fucking Cher "Believe" computer crescendo that makes all self respecting music fans cringe and begin murdering randomly. Instantly she's a superstar in both country music and pop music. In pop music you don't need talent either, but you need a hook. Teenage girls and Carson Daly shit themselves for the Cher sound effect.
I can feel you stop breathing.
The way things are going with music, Faith Hill could say "I would like to eat the heart of a baby" with that Cher sound effect and score a crossover hit. She'd get her video played on VH1 all the time and she'd get awards that'd make her cry a lot. Personally I'd like to punch her in her head until she cries a lot.
Who am I kidding? I could just say "country music makes good Christians randomly catch on fire" and get my point across. So, my bad concert experience.
I got the tickets because my dad works for a country radio station, and, between depressing teen death songs can use his influence to obtain useless artifacts, like Fiona Apple CD's or some fried chicken coupons. Why I decided to go takes a little more explanation:
The kids love that fiddle playin! Honky tonk superstars 4 EVAH!!111
Reason 1) It was free, and it promised more fun than an evening of "Must See TV." I swear to God, if "Friends" featured Jennifer Aniston bare-ass naked getting eaten out by an anime spaceship full of robot barnyard animals I might give half of a crap.
Reason 2) It gave me an opportunity to clothe myself in the most counterculture garb as possible, as to disgust the residents of Central Virginia and possible get me stabbed by one of the dirtier Dixie Chicks.
Reason 3) I could get a floor view of the chunky Dixie Chick bounding about on stage, each desirable roll of baby fat splooshing against her leather pants every time she begins to (attempt to) dance.
So you see? It was an attempt at sexual exploration born from boredom. Where I live people use moments like that to impregnate some other Virginian with some other sloped-forehead and have a litter of slope-headed little children. I just gave in to the temptation of country music. I'm a pioneer, dammit! Unfortunately my night didn't go quite as planned.
Problem 1) The "promised fun" became evident early on, as I sat silently in my floor seat, trying to peacefully eat my box of Bojangles spicy chicken fingers while thousands of 13 year old girls in unnecessarily tight leather pants and zebra-print cowboy hats broke glass around me with their adolescent shrieks.
Help me..... help meeeee...
To make matters worse, the Dixie Chicks' second album is called "Fly," so in addition to the giant pair of pants onstage there was a giant inflatable housefly floating around the ceiling, dropping T-shirts and assorted memorabilia to appease the crowd while the Chicks sat around backstage drinking moonshine or something.
You've never been uncomfortable until you've tried to eat spicy chicken fingers in a crowd of teenage girls while a fly 30 times your size hovers above you. It was like I was in some fucked up H.R. Geiger dream.
Problem 2) Nothing I could've worn would've stood out in this crowd. I thought country music crowds were supposed to wear blue jeans and spit a lot. I've never seen so many animal print cowboy hats in my life. Zebra, leopard, snake, sea cow, otter, sperm whale...the World Wildlife Foundation should've broken down the door and executed them all gang-style. The hats aren't actually made from the animal, but regardless it's an insult. If I saw some BBMak-looking turd wearing a Swan-print hat I'd park a tank on each one of his legs just so I could kick him in the nuts for the rest of my life without any obstruction.
Problem 3) And here's where the real problem comes in...the chubby Dixie Chick isn't even really that chubby anymore! And lately she's been doing things that make her anything but attractive. For instance, when I went to the concert, she was pregnant.
But what's worse is that she's started dressing like Big Poppa Pump from the WCW.
SO FOR ALL MY FREAKS OUT THERE...HOLLAH IF YA HEAR ME
If I'm going to get the jones in the bones for some chick I don't want her looking like Scott Steiner. I'd rather sleep with some chick with eighteen alien babies inside her, oozing out of her bellybutton and spitting acid against my bedroom wall than sleep with some chick that reminded me of the "Big Bad Booty Daddy."
So now I'm in an arena full of girls without pubes wearing pants that don't cover their butt crack while a monster fly hovers above me and Scott Steiner dances poorly about the stage singing songs about "heartbreak" and "boot scootin' boogies" while other, undesirable women play the fiddle and the banjo.
I was in Heaven, and Jesus Christ himself was holding me down while the Holy Spirit hocked loogies on my face.
There you go. I wouldn't want to leave you guys hanging for a second. Hanging by a moment here with me!!!11 ROFLMDAO! (the D is for "dancing")
Thank each and every one of you for your kind words and prayers, and a special thanks goes out to the kid who couldn't spell "you" all the way for threatening to write Jodie Sweetin and make her sue me for slander. It's people like you that make the world go round.
What a sad world that goes round and round.