Look At That Punim!

So I just found out that this weekend is National Alpaca Farm Day, which has gotten me all hot and bothered for a number of reasons.

First of all, as everyone knows, I LOVE alpacas!... or at least I love the massive alpaca coat I have and how it not only got me through two Massachusetts winters, but also got me 50 cents the time I wore it on the T with fingerless gloves and an empty coffee cup and a lady thought I was homeless.

This is relevant as my plan re: National Alpaca Farm Day, in which you're supposed to travel to your local alpaca farm and get cozy with the inmates, involves the coat in a big way. Basically what I'm thinking is that if I cloak myself in the coat Tobias-on-Blind-Elaine-Benes-style and then approach a beast at my local it'll think I'm a mysterious new lady alpaca and wanna make friends and maybe even give me a snuggle or a ride. WISH ME LUCK!

As excited as I am, however, I do have a few general questions in regards to NAFD:
1) Why is that shit called National Alpaca Farm DAY when the poster and website say that that day is September 29th AND 30th? Lame! Clearly the problem is that most of us have too much alpaca love to cram into just one day, but that's not something we should be hiding! Call it National Alpaca Farm Weekend, NAFD organizers! Embrace that.
2) What is the deal with that neon purple alpaca towards the left of the poster in the background? Is he for real? If so, those are the boots I want definitely.
3) On the NAFD website under "read the details" (?) I noticed that a reason why you should engage in NAFD is that it will "give you an opportunity to learn alpacas and meet new people living this satisfying and rewarding lifestyle." ... Umm, bascuse me? "Learn alpacas"?? At first I thought they meant we could learn alpaca like alpaca language, which would be A.MAZ.ING, but now I'm thinking that this whole "day" is maybe being organized by some goddamn mongoloid OR (could it be?) by the ALPACAS themselves! Either way, something a bit weird is going on and this weekend I'm gonna find out what that something is.

All I know right now is that that 'paca on the left has the cutest lil face I have ever fucking seen.

Stoners In The Mist!

Wow. Thank you, Above the Influence. Through your super-cool ad-campaign which you spread around the Internets, you have really taught me valuable lessons about the dangers of marijuana, which (apparently) include running over cardboard cutouts of people, and, most notably, finding chunks of brownie in your hair (I wish!).

Although the Above The Influence campaign has certainly touched us all, nothing can compare to my anti-drug (and favorite superbowl commercial to date) starring Fieldston's favorite top model, class of '05.

Enjoy (with caution)!

BADASS GOOSE ALERT

*

Harry Potter's Naked Ass Out In Limited Release

Some of you who in youth followed the exploits of a certain nasty immigrant duo may recall my small inclination for Harry Potter and his rock body. Of late, as steadily that body has grown into the form of a man's, so has the lust grown. This is the result of four main factors: 1) the promise that Equus, the London play in which Harry Potter can be seen completely naked and fucking a horse live on stage (see picture), is coming to Broadway, 2) the fact that he turned 18 this summer (awesome because regular rape for sure means lower bail than statutory), 3) this direct invitation, and 4) the emergence of two photos: a gay stripper number, and a cock shot which, though fake, stirred emotions and an investigation by the L word and myself which were very, very real.

So imagine my excitement upon discovering the following:

TeenHollywood: Okay, the boys moon someone in December Boys. Was that a fanny double?

Daniel: [laughs] No. That's me, that's the genuine Radcliffe ass. It certainly is. I'm proud of it. *

OH. GOD. And all that genuine Potter ass pride is just sitting there at 68th st, waiting for me. I think I'm gonna be proud too.

Working Girl

Greetings from merry old England! I’m the new man around hamburbloggers and I’m here to keep you all up to speed on the goings on in Ye Old London town. I’m sure you will all find that shit very exciting. This story, however, has nothing to do with London, England, or traveling, and may indeed be the sketchiest thing that’s ever happened to me in the city. Enjoy

As I was walking home from mo'money’s house last night (or two nights ago, I have no clue, I’m fucking jet lagged), my leisurely walk home was stopped by a Don’t Walk sign at 103^rd and b-way. Being the good, if somewhat fucked up, Samaritan, I of course stop. I’m really not paying that much attention to my surroundings, fantasying about how English people will love me and my charming American ways, when suddenly a sultry feminine voice croons into my ear, “Hey you looking for a date." My first thought was, how does she know that? I am looking for a date. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the dating scene or what have you, but I have been looking to get back in - find the right girl, settle down, have some kids, yadda yadda yadda. But then as the slow gears in my brain start working, I realize that a woman saying that in your ear at 3 a.m. on Broadway has less to do with getting dinner and a movie, a cup of coffee, or a beer, and much more to do with me give her 20 bones for a blowjob. I, feeling very uncomfortable, say "I'm sorry ma'am, I don't have that much money," and try and walk away. She follows me saying, "well how much you got?" This of course, stops me dead in my tracks – part of me wants to see just how far I can get this lady-of-the-night to drop her price, and the sane part of my brain wants to go home without an STD. This is when I actually look at her face, and the part that wants to haggle shuts up. I tell her politely that I'm not looking for a date and keep walking. I think that I'm now in the clear, and that was just something silly that happens sometimes in the city.

Two blocks later her pimp catches up to me. Her motherfucking PIMP. He is a big big scary looking gangbanger, not at all like the Snoop-Dog-cute pimps that you see in movies. This is a fucking scary-guy-trying-to-make-ends-meet-by-selling-the-bodies-
of-women-he-regularly-beats-up pimp. I'm calculating how high pitched and loud I can scream if he tries anything. "Hey Man you looking for a girl?" No I say, and keep walking. He is now walking beside me. "Well I got other girls if you didn't like that one. You want a white girl?" Why the fuck does he have to go and make it all racial? No, I say, beside the oral herpes, that one was fine. He is still following me. "Well would you like some drugs?" No, I'm fine thanks, I already did some tonight and I think I'm good. "Do you wanna come smoke a joint with me?" No thank you. I am humbled by your generosity in sharing your bud, but frankly I'm terrified of you and I just want go home now. "That's cool. Sorry to bother you man. I'm sure you don't need to tell nobody 'bout this. Have a good night." I can't even begin to think who would want to hear about this sir. "Bye." He smiles, showing his teeth, several of which are missing, and a few of them are gold. He then turns around and walks the other way. I keep walking toward my house, never looking behind me, because I'm too terrified he is following me.

So the moral of this story is this: If approached by a lady of the night, don’t tell her you don’t have enough money. Tell her you have none. Also real pimps are scary and yet very polite. Oh and I guess the last moral of the story is that if you wanna buy a cheep hooker you can find them at 103 and b-way.

LDR OUT

Avril Lavigne Is Still A Fan

i wish i looked like this.

Seriously. This kid is 10 weeks old.

True Story

Sam Gilroy's cock is so blindingly bright he has to wear sunglasses when he takes a piss.

OMG BITCHFIGHT

Ms. Dogg, you have gone too far this time. You have forced our hand on this, and now we must formally announce an official bitchfight. We know you know what you did, but our readers (?) may not. Our grievance is threefold:

Firstly, on several occasions you FAILED to escort a sister blogger home as a deranged homeless gentleman screamed salacities in her direction and you looked on in apparent delight. Your conduct in this instance earned you a stern talking-to, but it was that time of the month and you were understandably a little cranky, though you might not want to exclude this potentially serious possibility.

Secondly, as proud Americans, we cannot overlook your occasional betrayal of suggested allegiance to certain fundamentalist Muslim countries. We all know where this slippery slope is headed, and let it be known that we will NOT come visit your ass in Guantanamo. However, we managed to open our hearts once again, only to have them immediately crushed by the most serious offense yet to come.

Said offense is so gruesome that for propriety's sake, we refuse to muddy the virtuous waters of this sacred blog with any details, but let's say it involved the cum-soaked taint of an ex-fieldston girl, a bloodied gerbil, and a Johnny Cash record. This is the last straw, and though it saddens us deeply, we must deliver a dump unto you, our former BFFAEAEAEAEAEAE.

You brought this upon yourself, bitch. It's over.

TOP SECRET SSH DON'T TELL

Omg, being friends with the koolest kid in school has some serious McPerkingtons. Word on the street (the street outside Bungalow 8!!1!!!) is that a certain fieldston celebutante was just offered his second role in a major motion picture.

This news arrives on the heels of his whirlwind European press junket for his appearance in Tony Gilroy's much lauded Michael Clayton. Fresh off the Mediterranean shores, our starlet arrived back in NYC just in time to catch the premiere of pal Clive Owen's new flick Shoot 'Em Up, and it was at the AFTERPARTY Y'ALL that things got fiercest. After briefly eating out Monica Bellucci, bumping shoulders (and lines) with MK, and autographing the cock of the indian guy from Life Aquatic, our man got down to business.

Although one too many crantinis left the blushing blonde a lil hazy on the deetz, he wasn't too drunk to forget to brag about scoring the title role in the following project......

Ladys and gentlemen, we give you Tony Gilroy's new Global-Warming-action-movie-with-a-heart... Captain Planet. OMGZ, THIS IS GONNA BE THE BEST MOVIE SINCE BRATZ!

Attention the L Word!

Found it. In case you didn't already know, Mao's hand moves up and down as it ticks.

GUESS THE PLAYA!

Yeah... I think a few more entities besides only God might be judging you right now, uhh and forever from this point on. That's a cute estimate though.

Also what is that squiggly shit all around the letters and why do they curve up like that? Did your tattoo artist have a seizure in the middle of creating this nasty or was he just laughing too hard to hold the thing steady?