Springtime Blues: The Same Lame Game as Last Year

Guys and gals, welcome to Spring; a change of season and a transition of a host of things that transcend from bad to worse.  Don’t get me wrong, we say goodbye to a lot of things we can do without however not without sacrifices.  After all, life is about sacrifices, right?

Strap your seat belts tight, kids ’cause this bound to be a bumpy ride.

It’s so amazing how a simple thing like warm weather can inspire foot trends. Not too long ago boots were the only thing that kept us grounded when skating on thin ice.  They were the must-have of the time!  In fact, if you weren’t wearing boots then your feet deserved to freeze.

Boots were necessary, safe and warm.  And since it looked like the snow wasn’t going to melt overnight, people were forced to adapt their own personal style to the trend and the weather.

The snow brought on, I must admit, quite a few interesting choices of onion peels for foot hidery (yeah, I made up a word).  But as chemistry, biology, or one of those “ologies” proves, fire always melts ice which all boils down to this one thing…Spring; the middle ground of fashion, where everyone is too damned confused to know what the hell to wear on their feet.  And just like that we’re stuck with socks & sandals, stupid gladiator boots and poorly maintained pedicures.

Regretfully, the buck doesn’t stop there.

If you think you were befuddled by people who put their underwear on public display now… Good gawd a’reckon!  To put it as professionally as I possibly can: “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Jeans, sweatpants, booty shorts, mini skirts…I don’t care how the package is wrapped, everyone is guaranteed to see the goods.  Now I won’t go into all the specifics of the number of sanitation issues, privacy act violations, suggestive and just plain ol’ T.M.I. stuff this raises.

Whatever the case, political or not, when you’re talking about people’s underwear, it’s always a big fat case of, “Oh Crap!”

…No pun intended.

What would Spring be without the hippest trend of the season, motorcycles?  It’s true you can’t wear a motorcycle, but these days it seems everyone and their grandmother has one of those artistically designed, loud and obnoxious accessories that anyone without envies. 

Let’s face it; bikes are going to be everywhere.  For guys, they are babe magnets.  And most ordinary dudes usually can’t resist a hot biker chick.  Something about her straddling the back of the bike with her arms wrapped tightly around the driver’s waist, only a slight notch away from a pornographic scene seems to get everyone all riled up.

Beware though.  Where there are bikes, bikers, and biker babes, there’s always an accident or two just waiting for its spot of 15 minutes of fame to be aired on the local news at 11 channel.

If the bike accident isn’t enough for you, if you see one too many ass cracks parlaying in the wind, you’d just might want to gouge your eyeballs out.  Either accident can be considered terrifyingly amusing to watch, not to mention news worthy.

Love it or leave…that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

I heard someone say once, “…if you fall off a horse, you have to get back on it.” 

I wonder if the same rule applies if one survives a bike crash?

We could probably go on about the lameness of Spring that would include April showers, allergies, flip flops, shorts & jackets, skull caps & tank tops and booty shorts with stockings.  But if we keep going now, we’ll spoil all the surprises Summer has in store for us.   And if there’s one thing I hate to do, it’s a spoil a surprise.

So as I pack my bags and prepare to bid you a fond farewell until the next time we meet, I’d like to leave you with this thought:  Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every few months.   

Lucky for us all 90% of any effort is getting started.   

At least we know there’s one thing that’s guaranteed not to be any different from the Spring prior to this, and that’s the same lame game as last year. 


Quote of the Week:  “Fashion is something that goes in one year and out the other.”


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It’s Time to Tell Bad Barbers to Cut it Out

BAD HAIRCUTSIf there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a lousy barber. Every man on the planet, and some bald women, know exactly what I’m talking about. Barbers that have no eye-hand coordination; barbers that talk on the phone while cutting a customer’s hair; barbers that knick necks with sharp ass razors; barbers that push back hairlines; barbers that don’t take showers, knowing they have to stand right next to you; slow cutting barbers; novice barbers; blind barbers; and barbers that haven’t received their green card, so they can’t understand the style of cut you want even though you’ve explained it to them three times in plain English.

BarbershopToday is the day when men and women with bushes take a stand and demand better service out of  groomers. Yesterday is gone where those of us in need of haircuts grow dread locs because good service is hard to find. No longer will we stuff our full head of hair under skull caps and baseball caps and toupees and bandannas. No more will we wear bags over our heads. Beginning today – right now – we demand that you Edward Scissorhands and Wolverine wanna-bes get your stuff together or suffer the consequences of being buried alive in your own pool of afro sheen.

If you are tired of such disservice America, let your voice be heard! Sit in that barber’s chair and stand up for your rights!

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Quote of the Week:  “The difference between style and fashion is quality.”

Don’t Pay Money for an Undone Do: That’s a Major DON’T

Admit it – you’re guilty of chuckling once or twice at a woman (or a man) whose wig is less than attractive.  But to you, it’s nothing more than an unkempt hair piece.  However, before you move on to the next humorous sighting of the day, what do you know about wigs, other than what you’ve been taught to believe?  If you know nothing about it, let me school you a little bit.  You’re probably asking yourself what it is I could possibly know about wigs.  The answer is simple.  Hottywood Helps for a damn reason so you’d be surprised at some of the things I know.  I’ve seen a lot in my walk of life and I’ve met a lot of people – good and bad – with good and bad hair to match!   Now sit down, shut the hell up and listen for a spell.  You just might learn something.

First of all let’s begin by learning what a wig is.  A wig is a head of hair made from a variety of sources.   Contrary to popular belief, wigs don’t just come from horses.  I know…I said the same thing.  Wigs also are made from human hair, buffalo hair, wool, feathers, and other synthetic materials.  Believe it or not though, the industry choice of a wig’s source is yak hair!   I love that word, “yak.”  Yak hair is not only inexpensive but it’s also the closest in consistency and appearance to human hair.  Tell that to Bomquisha the next time she wears her rat fur wig on her next cigarette run to the corner store.

The word wig is short for periwig and first appeared in the English language some time around 1675.  That’s a little before everyone’s time, except the mean old nun who always ducks behind the bush when she sees me coming.  I don’t know what that’s all about but we’ll save that for another story.

Though most people wear wigs to cover up the fact they are bald as hell or are just too damn lazy to get up and do something creative, or even simple for that matter, to their hair, actors wear them to better portray characters on film.  So it’s also a prop; a money maker; a way to be someone else.  An essential for people with split personalities.  Uh oh.  This has the potential to take a turn for the worst.

Side note:  Watch how many lazy people are going to use this excuse to get away with not doing their hair.   

Anyway, moving on.  Wigs are essentially a Western form of dress.  In the Far East, they are rarely worn except in the traditional theatre of China and Japan.  The ancient Egyptians wore them to shield their shaved, hairless heads from the sun.  After the fall of the Roman Empire, the fad of wigs kind of died off.  I guess being bald was more popular and acceptable then, that is until the 16th century-fashionistas revived the trend, when going bald lost its appeal once again.  I guess it’s true what they say: Fashion repeats itself just like a person with a small wardrobe does.  But get this, and hold on to your britches:  They also served a practical purpose: the unhygienic conditions of the time meant that hair attracted head lice, a problem that could be much reduced if natural hair were shaved and replaced with an artificial hair piece. Fur hoods were also used in a similar preventative fashion.

[Random Thought]  I wonder what the case was in Alaska?  Let me get Sarah Palin on the line!  She’ll probably know more about this than she knew about running for Vice President, but you didn’t hear that from me. 

With the inception of this wiggy trend, popular people embraced the style and really made it a royal sweep.  We’re talking great celebrities who’ve made a mark on this world as we know it!  NO, I’m not talking about Wendy Williams.  I’m referring to celebrities who may have been just a tad bit more influential, like Queen Elizabeth I of England, Marie Antoinette, King Louis the XIII and King Louis XIV of France, who by the way introduced wig-wearing to men in the early 1600s.  I bet you didn’t know that men found wigs to be intriguing too — even back then.  In fact in the 18th century, men’s wigs were powdered in order to give them their distinctive white or off-white color.  I guess you can say men came up with the first cheap way of dying their hair.  Na na na boo boo ladies, you are copy cats!  Women in the 18th century did not wear wigs, but wore a coiffure supplemented by artificial hair, or hair from other sources.  So that was around the time when tracks, aka hair weaves, became popular, however we’ll save those details for another class session.  Wigs even became an essential for full dress occasions and continued in use until almost the end of the 18th century.

Skipping ahead a few gazillion & 1 days and sailing our way over to the United States, only the first five Presidents since George Washington [until James Monroe] wore wigs.  Of course, by the time wigs migrated over to American soil, they weren’t as popular as before.  Key words here, “…not as popular…”

Today the shit is just out of control.  From colorful afros to floor-length Cher hair, most commonly seen on the stages of drag-queen night clubs, people have taken the historic head piece too damn far.  Now I’m not going to say that some people can’t get away with it.  If you have the confidence, the know-how and the balls to pull it off, then do!  Nothing speaks more volumes than that of individuality.  Just know your limits.  First and foremost, keep them up!  If you insist on wearing a nappy wig, you might as well your show your natural roots.  I can’t imagine anyone wanting to pay money for an undone do!  That’s just a simple DON’T.  Follow the footsteps of the more modernized celebrity royalty like, Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Donald Trump and once again Wendy Williams.  Come on, you gotta give it up to Wendy, the wench can rock some wigs….Donald Trump, not so much.

To sum up all this blah blah about wigs…it’s more than just a fashion statement.  It’s a part of history.  A part of history that’s just as important to know as the date of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, which was…um…um…well that’s not important right now.  Hey, most of the dudes who signed the declaration wore wigs too.  I’m not encouraging any men to go out and buy the first wig they see on a shelf, although many don’t need my encouragement for that.  Half of them are doing it anyway.  What I will say is if you’re going to wear it, have some substance behind your reason other than your kitchen beautician didn’t pay her electric bill.  Absorbing a little knowledge – even about something you may believe isn’t all that important – isn’t very hard to do.  All it takes is a little effort and 90% of any effort is getting started.


Quote of the week:   “Always forgive your enemies, or not. Who cares?”

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When the Weave that Would Suddenly Won’t

Let’s face it, when the weather is too hot even for the sun, not even the coolest rides can stand up to the scorching heat.

This week in Washington,  temperatures are sky-rocketing to ‘hell’ degrees. By ‘hell degrees’ I mean a high temperature of about 94-1,000,000 with a heat index somewhere around 209 gazillion. With a code red heat advisory  in effect for the residents of the Metropolitan area, or at least the residents of my apartment, it is with great regret that I say the warning has nothing to do with the heat itself but rather the mane on the crowns of those that suffer from the sun’s stinging rays.  This is usually the point in the text where I make some witty comment about the subject at hand however my brain sizzled to a point of evaporation somewhere during the journey between the walk from the parking lot to my office door.

Instead, a lot of DC females will watch their  weave money burst into flames because 9 out 10 of them failed to buy a pack of weave that carries a heat resistant label on the package.

Because my fingertips are beginning to melt as they stroke the letters on my keyboard, I’m going to cut to the chase and let the below images speak for themselves. Keep your fingers crossed that if the heat doesn’t kill me first, the women of DC, Maryland and/or Virginia whose weaves are standing on its last leg don’t come charging after me for making fun of their tragic tresses.

“If I were you I’d wear a hat, too.”


“Her hat must’ve evaporated while waiting at the bus stop. I wish it were my eyes that melted instead of her hat.”


“If I didn’t know any better I’d think her whole head exploded.”


“This ass lost its tail for nothing.”


The only way a bad weave could get any worse [due to the devil himself rising from the pits of hell] is if the weave started out looking bad to begin with.

I rest my case.


Quote of the Week:  “Whether the weather be fine, Whether the weather be not, Whether the weather be cold, Whether the weather be hot, We’ll weather the weather, Whatever the weather, Whether we like it or not.”

Lock and Load: The Season of the Flip-Flop is Upon Us

Ugly Feet ShoeIt’s almost that time again – the wretched season of the flip flop.

With winter slowly, almost and  finally kind of toying with the idea of getting lost to make way for Spring’s fresh, frilly and fragrant flowers, it won’t be long before the fragrance of those flowers are overpowered by bunion cream and foot powder.

That’s right kats and kittens, tis’ the season to be not-so-jolly with the return of flips flops and sandals [paired with white socks]. Woe is me!

Gun FootIf you’ve been following HottywoodHelps.com for the past couple of years, then you are well aware of my unconditional despise for sandals. I won’t even bother to mention the words “flip flops” again because the words alone make my stomach quiver. As much as I’m not looking forward to different variations of footwear toe displays, I am equally as excited about finally putting my portable rocket launcher to good use.

Spring and summer are the only explainable seasons for firing off missiles aimed at unkempt feet and even more disastrous footwear – Jesus sandals, gladiator sandals, flat sandals, slide sandals, topless sandals and my absolute least favorite – thong ip-ops (rhymes with flip-flops). And don’t even mention the sin of putting on foot sweaters (socks) with sandals. That should be one of the 10 commandments: “Thou shalt not go there.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a happening kind of guy. I can get with most of today’s fashion trends – with the exception of skinny jeans, sagging jeans, excessive hair extensions, overdramatized faux eyelashes and wearing sunglasses at night – but you lose me with toe thongs. I dunno, call me old fashioned.

Is now a good time to bring up my idea of eliminating feet and shoes all together and replacing them with wheels? At least then we’ll stumble across a new fashion phase – ankle hubcap spinners! Yay or Nay? What say ye?

foot wheels


Quote of the week:   “If you want to forget about all your other troubles, wear a pair of shoes all day that are too small for your feet.”

The 90s Wants its Style Back

It’s been a while since I’ve taken time out of my busy schedule to gripe about something that I personally can live without. And by “a while,” I mean all of “six hours.”

To date I’ve complained about sunglasses at night, skinny jeans, sagging jeans, white socks and sandals and extreme false eyelashes. Today I want to shake a finger at a style I wish would have stayed dead in the late 80s and early 90s. This complaint is dedicated to all of my homies that are stuck in the past and [I guess] all of my homiettes that take testosterone pills, who’ve also happened to steal this style falsity from the likes of Christopher “Kid” Reid and Grace Jones, two people who look just as weird as their haircuts.

Fellas (and ladies if applicable), high tops fades, no matter how hard you try, is not a fad that is running to crawl down any catwalks in this millennium. I don’t know who the hell told you that this style was inching its way back for a second wind, but whoever it was lied to you! I suppose it’s one thing to see grade school kids (even though kids in grades seven and up should know better) trying to get away with this fashion faux pas, but when grown ass men make conscious decisions to turn back the clock and grow crops on the crowns of their heads, that’s bordering a line that boasts, “…a damn shame!”

I’m not going to bother to go into detail about how stupid some of you look. Your hair outlines your stupidity, so there’s just no need for me to waste my breath. But I will warn you and the ten other people on the planet that thinks this haircut is jamming on the one that there are plenty of people aimlessly roaming the city streets, myself not included, that wish your silly high top fades were a kick me sign.

The good news is that you’re not the only idiot thinking you are rocking a new trend.

The bad news is that you’re not the only idiot thinking you are rocking a new trend.

Take heed to my advice. Get a pair of bush whackers and cut that shit off quickly! Trust me. It’s better that this news is coming from me rather than my cougar, Joan Rivers. Your butt will thank me in the end.

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Quote of the Week:  “Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.”

Weather’s Fashion Mix-up

School is in. Summer vacations are out. With the change in the calendar seasons comes a bit of confusion on the fashion front, as well. 

In recent days, weeks and/or months, we’ve seen a saddening trend of

white Socks and Sandals (which is the beginning of an oxymoron of a fashion failure)

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Skinny Jeans for men

(which almost slaps the concept of masculinity in the face)

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Bush Weaves

(hopefully for women ONLY, which also defeats a purpose of covering unkempt natural hair with synthetic tresses)

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Sagging Jeans that shows off skid marks in underwear

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and eye blinding False Eyelashes.

Fashion, as fickle and contagious as it is, no doubt will not fail to disappoint with the onset of a season transition. This fall and winter, we have to look forward to the rising of winter wear confused with the passing of a preceding seasonal trend. That’s right boys and girls. Get your boxing gloves ready to punch the crap out of those folks that will purposely pair flip-flops or shorts with winter coats.

The winter of 2012 will surely bring a basket full of people that simply will not let go of the warm weather, and as a result, will suffer [by choice] from hypothermia and frost bite in vital places of their bodies. 

All I can say is, “Is be careful what you ask for.” Sadly, our society bounces from one extreme to the another. Oh the joys of Americanism.

…and Stupidityism.

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Quote of the Week:  “The difference between style and fashion is quality.”

-Giorgio Armani

New Trend Alert! Shades of Concern: 100% Genuine Interest or Synthetic Nosiness

In this day and age, you never really know who is genuine or not, or as the rowdy kids at almost every bus stop across the nation would say, “real” or “fake.” It wasn’t more than five minutes ago when fake eyelashes, silicone breasts, botox injections, and synthetic hair dominated the world. Only a mere few short seconds later fashion took another turn in the form of faux concern, draping the streets with hues of “How are you?” and “What’s wrong?” instead of red carpets. These trends are adorned by many at every turn made – family functions, office settings, church affairs, and especially neighborly interaction (over the fence sidebar conversations, sugar borrowing, etc.). 

With the strong impact that today’s pop culture has on society, the question rests in the pockets of those that wear the faux pas solicitude. Are the questions of concern made out of 100% genuine interest or manufactured see-through nosiness?  

The Shades of Concern:  

Family Phone Tree:

(GRAY) – Not necessarily black and white

When it comes to family, one may ask “What’s wrong?” or “Is there anything I can do to help?” but one never knows if the answers to the burning questions will swing on the branches of a family phone tree. 

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Seeking Godly Counsel:

(WHITE or RED) – Heaven and/or Hell

When it comes to members of most churches in this era, the only one with the answers to the questions you seek is Jesus. A wise man once said, “Hell is filled with people with good intentions.” 

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Office Personnel Status:

(PINK) – As in pink slip

When your coworkers and colleagues ask you about the details of your personal life, the general concern usually revolves around what kind of leave you’re going to use to get out of work for the day – sick, slick, vacation, comp or non-illness related – and why. Soon after, they do a background check followed by the brightest pink slip you’ve ever seen. Once you’ve been canned, see how many coworkers ask if there’s anything they can do to help. They’ll be more concerned with who gets your swivel chair. 

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Neighborhood Watch:

(BROWN) – Earth tones could be equivalent to “living under a rock” or “getting hit with a rock”

Usually neighbors live their lives through the people that live in the homes next door, and then exploit them to the neighbors that occupy the house(s) across the street. The only time you can trust them is when they pay you to watch their pets. If they ask you what’s wrong, something’s not right. 

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Peer Counseling:

(PLAID) – You never know what color you’ll get so why not throw them all on at the same time

Kids want to show general concern for their peers but they also thrive on gossip. One can’t put too much weight on adolescent behavioral inquiries. Up until the senior year of high school, those inquiries and their effects build character. So does getting jumped on the playground at 3 o’clock. Watch what you say and to whom. 

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Psychiatric Sessions:

(GREEN) – Time is money

If you need some serious advice, it’s always best to go to someone that barely knows you; someone that won’t judge you; or someone that is paid to care. The scariest thing about therapists though is that you never know if they’re crazy, considering they listen to everybody’s problems all day. But they aren’t so crazy that they won’t charge you for listening to you go on and on about all the voices in your head. In fact that’s not crazy at all. That’s smart.

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Like most fashionable trends, it’s sometimes hard to tell the real people from the fake and equally so to differ good intentions from bad. Still, no matter how you squeeze it, like spandex, it doesn’t work for everyone.

Often times ingenuity is just another fat chance.

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Quote of the Week:  “Mistrust the man who finds everything good, the man who finds everything evil and still more the man who is indifferent to everything.”

 

 

 

Fake Eyelashes are a Woman’s Equivalence to Men’s Skinny Jeans

“Excuse me ma’am, there’s a spider crawling on your face. Oh wait, those are  your eyelashes.”  

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It isn’t uncommon for women to hear this kind of phrase from the majority of the population of men on the planet. Okay, maybe not the entire planet.  More so in cities saturated with pop culture phenomenon.

Overly long – or as I like to call them – FAKE eyelashes are a woman’s version of men’s skinny jeans. And just like skinny jeans and the men that wear them, over animated eyelashes should be set on fire, particularly while still attached to the woman who is wearing them, unless of course it’s Kim Kardashian. She may be a money hog and unable to keep a man for whatever reason but the girl is undeniably beautiful. Even with her faux lashes she can do wrong, except maybe marry a moron for 72 days and expect the general public to believe she didn’t expect a backlash. But hey, I didn’t say she was the brightest apple in the bunch…just the prettiest. Anyway we aren’t here to discuss Kimmy Kakes. Instead we are here to throw stones at women that wish they could gussy up like Mrs. Ms. Mizz Kardashian, sadly and unfortunately to no avail. 

What is it about long eyelashes that push boundaries? It’s not the lashes itself but rather the women that wear them incorrectly (over excessively) and in the most inappropriate places (i.e., work, church, school, laundromat). 

One shouldn’t be surprised to see the lash craze on models, actresses, female musical entertainers or drag queens. If I had to give an opinion I’d say they were perfect for stage play at long distance range. But if one just so happens to not attend a theatre, concert or skim through the pages of a glamour magazine, but instead make a midnight run to a local McDonalds or 24 hour CVS, the shock of eye ropes hanging from the counter clerks’ face could stop the heart like a baby locomotive hitting a deer on a railroad track.  

Today’s modern woman turns the spotlight on her – aiming that spotlight on the spectacle of her eyes. Ladies, especially in the urban community, dive head first overboard when attempting to vamp up the glam. They are seemingly more rich in eye makeup than they are in bank account dividends. Aside from the mascara caked up on the ridiculously long eye strands, women have the audacity to pair the lashes with wigs and weaves. As if having a pair of tarantulas hovering over the eyeballs isn’t enough, the nerve it must take to go the extra mile to throw a shiny tail of zebra on top of the crown. 

I have but one word for you fashion faux pas victims – “STOP!” Leave the lashes to the Kardashians, “please,” and “thank you.” 

Despite what you may think, unless you are posing for Tyra Banks’ America’s Next Top Model or somebody’s Esquire Magazine, just be happy with the natural eye visors God gave you. Men don’t like the extra amenities anyway. In fact we won’t even notice or often times care what you look like until the lights go out. So while you think you’re getting dolled up Barbie style, we’re looking at you more in the likeness of Garbage Pail Kids.  The only exception to this rule is if you have attempted to turn your stove top flame up to a maximum level like the chefs at every corner Chinese carry out and incidentally burned off your eyebrows and lashes. Otherwise you will only continue to look as if your face is being possessed by an alien race of arachnids. And believe me when I tell you it doesn’t take super Spiderman senses to sense something wrong with that look.

There is One in Every Bunch

If you’ve ever thought to yourself, “There’s one in every bunch,” let me be the one to tell you that you’re not the only one.  Whether you are good friends with a group of guys/gals, a barrage of church folk, or fairly courteous to a department full of coworkers, ‘One in Every Bunch’ usually singles out the one rotten apple in the barrel – the creep; the jackass; the hater; the brat; the complainer; even the whore.  They are the ones that make sucking on poisonous rusty nails look kind of tasty.  Let’s take a closer look, shall we? 

Around the way… 

Everyone knows that getting to know your neighbors is a double-bladed sword.  The upside is that you get to have your own personal watch dogs when you’ve partied so hard that the only thing you can see are bright lights, or when you’re so tired that your eyes only see the darkness of your closed eyelids.  It’s good to have neighbors around to borrow sugar or bum a ride or to get the latest neighborhood gossip.  But in every neighborhood there is one resident that should be banned from the island of normalcy.  It’s usually the neighbor that blasts their music at 2am, or the neighbor that smokes weed all day and night, or the neighbor that peeks into your window or holds a glass against the wall for a better reception while you’re having sex, or the neighbor that steals your newspaper, or the neighbor that never speaks.  

No matter what nuisance that [particular] neighbor holds under his/her belt, in every neighborhood there is always one neighbor that you wish would move out, either by choice or by force.  If you live an apartment building, I really don’t know what to tell you.  Well I do actually, but if my neighbor gets a hold of this, he’ll know I was the one that did what I’m fighting myself not to tell you to do.  If you live in a house, a bag full of fresh hot doggy doo will almost always provide you the satisfaction of telling that single bad one in the bunch that their sh*t stinks. 

At the office… 

I could go on and on about the jerks in the office.  There’s the lady that can’t do anything by herself, or the chick that asks a ton of questions just when it’s time for the staff meeting to end, or the guy that emails or calls you about twenty times a day to explain to him the basics of a Microsoft Windows application…like how to print and save.  The truth of the matter is one will not and can not take up an occupation where they are not annoyed with their coworkers, unless of course they work for themselves out of their kitchen, attic, basement or backyard shed.  And even still there are times when one gets irritated with one’s self.  Those annoyances are to be expected.  But in every office, there is one person who is the biggest asshole out of the rest.  

He/She is the one whose work ethics, manners and/or attitude is synonymous with a truck stop bathroom commode after a bus load of people that ingested multiple numbers of #4 Taco Bell combo meals with fire hot sauce have bombarded the facilities with explosions of juicy ass gas and butt droppings.  If you happen to work at an office with this kind of butt wipe, your best bet is to quit, or rub two stones together until you spark a fire big enough to burn that coworker’s cubicle to the ground. 

At church… 

It is no secret that church is a place of reverence and worship.  It is a place of peace and communion with everyone’s main man, J. Christ.  It is a place of good music and good preaching, or a place where everyone says “Amen” no matter how bad the music or preaching is.  It is a place filled with people of like spirit and beliefs.  It is also a place where you’ll find at least one person who mocks the name of all that is holy.  In every church there is one brother or sister who spreads gossip like hoes spread their legs.  Or one deaconess that has been with the church since the laying of the first brick whose face is permanently mugged.  Or one alcoholic that comes to church only on communion Sunday for a shot of communion wine.  Or one lead singer that think his/her voice is the best thing since sliced bread, only not good enough to earn himself a recording deal with a major or minor record label.  Or one minister who’s tainted reputation overshadows the light that shines over the pulpit.  Or one usher that falls asleep on the job.  Or one kid that isn’t liked by anyone – child or adult.  

If you attend a church where one of these ones attend, just put yourself out of your misery by slicing yourself to death with the edges of your church bulletin.  If you’re going to die, the two best places to do it are church and the hospital.  Popeyes would be the next best place to die if you just had to have three choices on your list. 

At the mall… 

As if shopping isn’t a hard enough task in itself, in every mall across the country, shoppers must deal with at least one person that loads all of the sale items into their shopping cart, or one shopper that buys everything one size too small in a wasted effort to lose some much necessary weight, or one shopper that refuses to try his/her clothes on inside an actual fitting room, or one shopper that pays their final bill in nothing but dimes and nickels, or one shopper that picks up a piece of merchandise with no price tag on it, prompting the cashier to leave the register to investigate the price of the product, or one shopper who talks on their cell phone loud enough for the entire store to hear the conversation, or one serial coupon shopper.  

There really isn’t a way around the unsubtle shopper, unless of course you stick with online shopping and run the risk of someone hacking into your personal information, i.e. bank card, bank account, social security numbers, etc.  Or you can be like one of my neighbors and just rob people on the street that have what you want.  Just remember you can’t escape from karma, the police or a good ass whooping. 

If you’ve never heard the expression “there’s one in every bunch,” then I am elated to be the one to introduce it to you.  If after reading this post, you still don’t understand what the expression means, then you’re the one that needs to take your ass back to school to do a little bit more studying on comprehension.  I guess as in everything else, in every learning circle, there is one dummy that doesn’t learn a damn thing. 

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Quote of the Week:  “Stress is when you wake up screaming and suddenly realize you haven’t fallen asleep yet.”

 

Department Store Sales Associates are the Enemy

I have a question.

Am I the only one that wishes I had a bottle of insect repellent every time I walk inside a department store?  I mean really.  Is it absolutely necessary for a sales associate to hang around me like a mosquito? What is the politically correct way of telling them to get the hell away from me that doesn’t involve punching and a three-on-one battle with mall security?  Seriously, it’s like as soon as I walk into the store I can feel their beaty little eyes counting the change in my pockets with their x-ray vision. 

Attention Department Store Sales Associates: “When I’m ready to spend my money, I’ll let you know.” 

I shouldn’t walk into a store and feel as if I’ve stumbled into the wrong part of town where hustlers, prostitutes and crackheads throw themselves at me for my money.  In fact it makes me hold tighter to my wallet.  This is not only a major turn off, but a clear cut case of ‘No Way You’re Not Getting Any Commission Off Of Me, Sucka…I Have Mace!’ 

Explain to me why you think following me around the store like metal to a magnet and telling me I look good in the ugliest pair of jeans you have on the rack is going to persuade me to extinguish the fire that’s burning a hole in my pocket.  If you would only take a minute and think to yourself inside one of these dressing rooms, you’d consider the notion that I worked approximately 70 to 80 hours for 10% of my paycheck and there is no way in hell or any other place that’s equally as hot 3 months out of the year that I’m just gonna hand it over to you, just because you flashed some phony ass smile. 

You’re getting paid what…like four bucks an hour?  I know you’re making your wages off me.  But this is how it’s supposed to go: I walk in.  You greet me [cue your phony smile].  I browse around for a while.  You keep your hungry vulture-like appetite to yourself until you see that I’m blatantly undecided between two items in my hand.  Then you ask me if I need help with anything. 

The formula is simple.  It’s just like trying to get someone’s number at a party, club, or wherever fate may lead you.  Have some game before you make your move.  Take your time. Then ease your way in.  Otherwise you’ll end up being that weirdo at the party that gets no play! 

So I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet.  Back up and be patient.  I came to shop.  You’re here to sell.  It’s the rule.  It was established, like forever ago. 

The hungriest dog doesn’t always get the bone. 

Now let’s try this again.  It can’t be that hard.  After all, 90% of any effort is getting started. 

Okay, ready. Set. GO…!

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Quote of the Week:   Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a
lack of imagination.”

You Can’t Move Up if Your Pants are Falling Down

A life without secrets is boring.  Shocking, I know…but true nonetheless.  Secrets build character and adds to the intrigue of a person.  They have a way of making you wonder what someone has to hide, therefore making that someone interesting.  Secrets are good and everyone should have at least one.  In fact, the mystique of a secret often leads to great unknown possibilities. 

However such is not the case for my peeps who insist on showing their ass. 

This one goes out to all my fellas; for the love of all mankind, “Pull yo’ damn pants up!”  

Fellas, what kind of opportunities do you think will open up to you if the best selling point about yourself is the type of underwear you buy?  If there’s anything you need to share with all the rest of the world the least, it should be your damn drawers.  

Now I consider myself to be an “in” kind of guy but we’ve gone from one extreme to another.  First it was those wretched skinny jeans.  Or as I like to call them, “straight jackets for legs.”  I thought we’d never get over that phase.    And now this?!  Seriously, 85% of men wear the same underwear for at least three days, anyway, before switching to a new pair.  So what’s the point?  Why does anyone feel a need to publically showcase their dirty unmentionables?  And more importantly, what the hell is so stylish about this? 

Is it really necessary to show the entire world your Fruit of the Looms, tighty whities or skid marks?  I have but only one word to say in response to this intimate issue that translates into a big, fat T.M.I. (Too Much Information).  And I think it’s safe to speak for everyone when I say, “Ugh.”  

Real talk, ya’ll.  Stop. 

I challenge you to remember this one little thing even if you never remember anything else for the rest of your days: 

“Never trust anyone who shows their ass before they show they face.”  

This just in… “Belts are not the enemy.”  It’s time to step outside the box and give them a try. 

TIDBIT ABOUT BELTS:

In modern times, men started wearing belts in the 1920s, as trouser waists fell to a lower line.  Before the 1920s, belts served mostly a decorative purpose, and were associated with the military.  Today it is common for men to wear a belt with their trousers.

Since the mid 1990s, the practice of sagging has been popular at times among young men and boys.  This fashion trend consists of wearing the trousers very low on the hips, often exposing the underwear and buttocks of the wearer.  This urban style, which has roots tracing to prison gangs and the prohibition of belts in prison (due to their use as weapons and devices for suicide) has remained popular into the 21st century, particularly among pubescent boys. 

So it kind of pisses me off to see old men walking around with their waist hems dropped to their knee caps, or young boys who may not grow up because they’re following the stupid fashion trend of letting their pants fall down.  

What is it about the concept of belts that is so difficult to grasp?  Belts represent power.  Think of a dad whooping some sense into his bad ass kid’s ass.  Not only does a belt represent power, it represents authority, control and style

Speaking of style, a belt is one of the first three things a person looks at in order to determine a man’s character, or to someone who’s completely shallow and materialistic, it determines a man’s physical attraction. 

After all, it is often said that the necktie, the belt and the shoes make all of the man. 

I don’t know where that saying came from.  Probably some chick.  But who cares?  Whatever keeps the underwear concealed works for me.  There are just some things one man doesn’t need to know about another, and one of those some things are his drawers.

A wise man once said, “If you reveal too much, you’re left with no secrets to keep.”

The bottom line, folks, is this:  As much as most people want to pretend it isn’t true, appearance is the first thing anyone sees when it comes to making a [premature] assessment about someone.  If the first thing seen is someone’s butt, then it’s easy to assume that either that person is an ass or their ass is the most interesting thing about them.  Some might beg to differ, but whoever does is probably just as much of an ass as the asshole that shows his ass before he shows his face.

The only opportunities that are going to open up for pants-saggers are chances to lay up with some jezebel who’s trying to find a baby daddy; get arrested by policemen who are patrolling to fill their arrest quotas for the week; and being approached by drug abusers who are looking for a new contact and quick fix.  And while we’re at it, let’s consider the image it sets for adolescents who mimic the stupidities of adults who should know how to set better examples for children, but don’t.     

Luck, life and anyone who isn’t getting royalty checks from the sales of rap records and sold out venues will tell you that you can’t move up in the world if your pants keep falling down.  That’s a sure way to get screwed in the end. 

FOR YOUR INFORMATION:

Belts aren’t the only thing that keeps your pants from falling.  Scotch tape, masking tape, duct tape, and even shoe strings can serve the same purpose as belts.  Homeless men are very inventive when it comes to keeping their pants up.  Want to know why?  The answer is simple.  Because they know that 90% of any effort is getting started. 

So fellas, I implore you to keep your skid marks to yourself.  There’s too many sh*tty things going on in this world to be bombarded by the sh*t that’s happening in your pants. 

RELATED ARTICLES:  A Nation Must Rise and Ban Together: Death to Skinny Jeans!

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Quote of the week:  “Never in the history of fashion has so little material been raised so high to reveal so much that needs to be covered so badly.”

Hottywood’s 1/2 Year Review of the 20 Top Pets Peeves of 2010…So Far

Earthlings, I call to your attention the underappreciated as well as the under-rated fact that we have crept our way through the first half of 2010.  Not surprisingly we have yet to fly to work in Nissan model hovercrafts or teleport our way out of a lie-gone-wrong with a mere push of a button.  

What we have been blessed to experience is the newest line of pet peeves, brought all the way to us from our very own local communities.  Men and women across the nation have managed to raise the bar when it comes to matters of diverse annoyances, laughter and awkward silence.  

If you ever wanted to smack someone in the forehead for something you thought could never bother you, hold off on that idea for a sec and check out Hottywood’s 1/2 year review of the 20 top pets peeves of 2010, so far.   You may find out you’re not the only person who’d be willing to face a misdemeanor charge for someone else’s dumb way of thinking.

Let’s begin, shall we? 

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People who beg for money at the gas station.  Getting on someone’s nerves in a vicinity where there’s a never-ending supply of flammable fluids is never a good idea. 

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When you go out with people and all they do is talk on their cell phone like you’re not even there.  There is no more appropriate moment for an “EJECT” button. 

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People who always complain.  Remind me to study a book of world languages so I’ll be sure no one can have an excuse for not understanding my one dying wish for them to shut the hell up! 

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Waking up to find a boot on your car.  Fingernail files and vaseline don’t really work.  The boot might as as well be on your foot.  Where the hell do you think you’re going with no car? 

You’d better have some good ass friends or a lot of bus tokens. 

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Hang nails.  Worst…hang nails on your toes.  Why not just get stung in your scalp by a swarm of mating bees?  It would be less painful. 

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These young guys walking around showing their dingy underwear.  Seriously, what the hell is that all about?  A wild coyote is gonna  jump out and chase their ass and they’re not going to be able to run because their pants will be tangled around their ankles. 

Not only is this a hygienic concern, there are safety matters to consider.

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People who are always right.  You know you’re wrong for that, don’t you?  The only thing they can do right is get away. 

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Uncle Bernie.  For obvious reasons. 

Underneath all that fur on his face, and the gang-related tattoos, and the wreak of alcohol, and the open wind he calls home — except on Sundays when he comes over to freeload for dinner — he’s a really good guy. 

He’s also single, ladies.

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Females who are way too desperate.  You’re single for a reason, skank. 

Ladies, don’t try this at home unless you have $.99 following your asking price. 

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Coworkers who don’t know a damn thing about computers.   Luckily for you, since creators made this thing called ‘StupidaMouse’, there’s no reason to break all your fingers with a dry-rotted mallot.  This is truly your lucky day!

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When your tank accidentally falls into a ditch.  I hate when that happens. 

“…somehow, I don’t think this will be a reasonable excuse for showing up late to work.”

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When your best friend has thrown you under the bus.   When it comes to karma and payback…

ALWAYS REMEMBER:

… it’s always better to deal with the devil you know than the devil you don’t. 

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When some stupid person gets a really stupid tattoo in the most stupid place on his/her body.  “What the hell were you thinking?”  “Who wants to see that?”  “Were you high?” 

There are a series of questions that come along with this act — beginning with a major concern for one’s self-identification.  #CooCooCooCoo

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Bad ass kids.  I don’t even think a supporting statement is needed for this one. 

We all know those little monsters when we see ’em. 

The secret is to pinch them when no one’s looking.  …so I’ve been told, of course.

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When your coworker takes a sh*t in the john just before you walk in.  This is the devil at work, himself! 

The next time you experience this catastrophic event, run for the hills with your hands waving in the air!  Save yourself!  Red Alert!  Code Red!  S.O.S!  And if you really want to get the upper hand — time their ‘movement’ schedule.  Get into the stall moments before they do, release a family of baby snapping turtles in the commode and flee the scene.  When they sit their stinky ass on the pot…

[Enter your imagination here]

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Women who won’t keep their hair done.  This is probably the first reason why all of your relationships fail.  It’s unattractive and lazy and no one in their right mind wants to be seen with you.  

And I mean that in the most sincere way…

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The mean old lady at work that everyone thinks is soooooo nice but in actuality she’s a spawn of satan.  

Give it up, grandma!  The jig is up. 

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Staff meetings.  C’mon.  Admit it.  You know you’d rather eat a rusted-nail flavored ice cream cone instead. 

How about, “wake me when it’s over,”?

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When someone has brocolli stuck in their teeth.  Though it’s incredibly humorous to see some disgusting piece of greenery hanging in between your teeth, it’s very gross. 

…no, really.  It is. 

Seriously. 

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Number (#)2 Pencils.  Because I’ve still never seen nor know the difference between numbers 1 and 3. 

Am I missing something? 

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So there you have it my peeps!  Hottywood’s top 20 pet peeves for 2010, so far.  Something about these faux pas makes my skin crawl.  And when that happens I just want to load a back-pack full of sunflower seeds and go all ‘drive-by’ on everyone. 

Listen folks, it doesn’t take that much to get your head out of your ass.  For the most part you know what’s hot and what’s not.  And if you don’t, learning the difference is easy.  Getting started is the hard part.  But the good news is 90% of any effort is getting started.   

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Quote of the week:    “Life is like a taxi. The meter just keeps a-ticking whether you are getting somewhere or just standing still.”

 

Which is More Stupid: Ugg Boots or Flip Flops???

Despite the fact that Uggs and their many knockoff incarnations have long been considered a “fashion don’t” (unfortunately, unless you live in my neck of the woods), lots of women [and sadly some poorly fashioned men] love and continue to wear the suede and sheepskin catastrophes.  The good news, for those of you who are offended by the tragic site of these hideously ugly boots is, winter is leaving with a fond farewell and is opening the doors for spring and summer, taking with it, this suede fashion blunder.  Along with the change of seasons however, come the dreaded flip-flops.  But before we go into the misfortune of the flip flop, let’s discuss why you should be thanking your lucky stars that the style of the Ugg boot is finally melting away with the madness of winter.

We’ve already established that Ugg boots are nothing but the work of the devil, though devilishly warm.  Although they are soft and comfortable, they are not necessarily good for the feet.  In fact, experts say that they are doing more damage to the feet than anyone realizes.  With each step an Ugg-boot-wearing-idiot takes, the force falls towards the inside of the foot and the feet splay.  This flattens the arch and makes it drop.  The result can lead to significant problems with the foot, the ankle, and ultimately, the hip.

** And we thought having corns was bad? **

Whether you spend the suggested retail price of $140 for the real thing or $24.99 for the cheap imitation, those damn igloo shoes don’t provide any more comfort than a pair of shoes made out of plastic shopping bags.  The bottom line here folks is that these shoes are both ugly AND dangerous.  And on top of flattening your foot, they make your feet stink.

What would you rather have – smelly feet or very visible ashy corns?  Ladies and gentlemen, enter most hesitantly, “the flips flop.”

Flip flops, also known as thongs, pluggers, or jandals, are an open type of footwear consisting of a flat sole held loosely on the foot by a Y-shaped strap, like a thin thong, that passes between the first and second toes and around either side of the foot. Unlike sandals and very much like Ugg boots, flip-flops lack in proper support for the foot.  But forget about support! Who the hell wants to see ½ painted toenails, fungus underneath the baby toe or hard, crusty ash on the heels of people darker than an African’s pubic hair?  Not I!  If you leave it up to me, people would have hovercrafts for feet and no one would have to be forced to hold in the gag reflex of seeing extra long toenails scraping the pavement.  In the wise words of someone who was smart enough to know that showing unmanicured feet is ridiculously cruel and unusual punishment, “Gimme a break!”

So you see folks, whether you want to accept it or not, both Uggs and flip flops are eye sores, environmentally unsafe and detrimental to the proper treatment of animals.  They are just plain wrong!  And if you are caught on the street wearing either item, you should run for your life in guilt and shame.  That’ll take no effort at all.  Just picture an army of angry villagers chasing you with burning torches and nooses.  Be careful though, while you are running for your life.  You can’t get very far with no support for your ankles.  Once those villagers catch you, you’ll know exactly what those poor sheep must’ve gone through for the sake of your tacky style.

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Quote of the week:    “The difference between style and fashion is quality.”