Wayne "Shrek" Rooney
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The missing link
I knew it! I knew the missing link between monkeykind and mankind was to be found in Manchester United.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Mistaking uptight vulgarity for elegance
Let’s bitch, shall we? ^^
So je vais lui tailler un costard, that should put me a long-lasting good mood.Why would I bitch about that picture?
Because that’s exactly what’s wrong with Britain. They think Victoria Beckham and her whimpy over-botoxed and hair-geled cash machine of husband desperate for attention are the epitome of class.
So je vais lui tailler un costard, that should put me a long-lasting good mood.Why would I bitch about that picture?
Because that’s exactly what’s wrong with Britain. They think Victoria Beckham and her whimpy over-botoxed and hair-geled cash machine of husband desperate for attention are the epitome of class.
So let’s make a list of what’s wrong here:
-The outfit, the dress: It could have been good without that fabric and colour first. It make it glitter, shinny, thus flashy thus cheap and worth of a boozy night in a whory club in Blackpool. I know New York Gala are close to that kind of night for it’s always full of slags and castrated males desperate for more fame, free goodies and free food.
Then the design. The flower-like thingy on the shoulder is far too big. But mostly that ‘traine’ behind is just wrong. The rest of it as well. That’s too much. That ruins the entire thing. You can see the guy didn’t follow Chanel’s advice to always get rid of the last thing you add. Or maybe the last thing was that think transparent black lining carrying that little black dots pattern.
On here: http://www.kickette.com/index.php?/site/comments/posing_in_polka_dots_victoria_beckham/ (the fourth picture) you can easily see how badly put together the dress was.
When it comes to the dress, the designer mistook simplicity and minimalism with childish patterns, bad quality work and too revealing shortness.
-The outfit: the shoes. Dreadful. Too high to begin with. I love high heel until it actually requires women to call their thighs for help. You can see how deform get the feet in those shoes. This is anything but sexy and nowhere near classy or chic. The platform high heels have always been made for hookers to look upon the crapy cars for the luxury ones and it won’t change. It’s cheap. The heels themselves: what with that shape? That makes them heavy and the shoes look like hammers! High heels are supposed to make the shape look thin and slender.
And what’s with the burbles thing? They look like plastic. At least it makes the shoes match the dress. Actually, too much. It’s like they add the Barbie Christmas Tree burbles after they realised the dress was going to be like this.
Her, now. Nothing authentic and that’s the problem. Fashion and elegance is not lying. It’s about taking what you have to turn it into fabulous. Not spent hundreds of thousands of pounds changing everything to look like the pages of a catalogue. “Look at me: I’m page 26, 28, 68 and 154. Isn’t it great?” No, it is not! It's sad!
The make up: Horrendous. Fake tan and far too much make up on the face. I don’t even mention rest of the body for you must be insane to make up there in the first place.You can clearily see the fake eyelashes, the tonnes of eye-liner or whatever and once again that ghastly glittering silver you have on the dress and the shoes burbles.
The foundation on the (fake) cheek bones make them look even more wrong and bigger while you can see the colour is going all the way over her entire forehead.
Fake nose, fake lips, fake cheekbones, botoxed to the bones…Her and David can’t even sneeze anymore for fear of draining their whole face.
She is far too thin, fake in everyway, always pouting, absolutely no character and so anally retaintive she can't sit for fear of sucking up the furniture! She is mistaking uptight vulgarity for elegance. She looks like she got an open umbrella up her arse but she is not bothered because she thinks the Armani label on the very umbrella makes everything alright. She is going to end up like Ivana Trump. Gross and pale caricature of every single rich bitch that - yes, "that"!...that thinks you’re beautiful the way you are not, just the way you pay to be.
That’s sad. What’s even sadder is that I have girls as young as 13 coming in my classrooms with as much make up as Miss Uptight For Life and I can’t help taking a real pleasure humiliating them after we asked ten times to stop painting themselves as brand new Christmas toys. Last time, I just looked at the girl and said in front of a full yet silent classroom: “Are you alright, dear? Your make up’s so thick, I can’t get a read"
(Thanks to Céline who noticed three words at the end of the article had just vanished.)
-The outfit, the dress: It could have been good without that fabric and colour first. It make it glitter, shinny, thus flashy thus cheap and worth of a boozy night in a whory club in Blackpool. I know New York Gala are close to that kind of night for it’s always full of slags and castrated males desperate for more fame, free goodies and free food.
Then the design. The flower-like thingy on the shoulder is far too big. But mostly that ‘traine’ behind is just wrong. The rest of it as well. That’s too much. That ruins the entire thing. You can see the guy didn’t follow Chanel’s advice to always get rid of the last thing you add. Or maybe the last thing was that think transparent black lining carrying that little black dots pattern.
On here: http://www.kickette.com/index.php?/site/comments/posing_in_polka_dots_victoria_beckham/ (the fourth picture) you can easily see how badly put together the dress was.
When it comes to the dress, the designer mistook simplicity and minimalism with childish patterns, bad quality work and too revealing shortness.
-The outfit: the shoes. Dreadful. Too high to begin with. I love high heel until it actually requires women to call their thighs for help. You can see how deform get the feet in those shoes. This is anything but sexy and nowhere near classy or chic. The platform high heels have always been made for hookers to look upon the crapy cars for the luxury ones and it won’t change. It’s cheap. The heels themselves: what with that shape? That makes them heavy and the shoes look like hammers! High heels are supposed to make the shape look thin and slender.
And what’s with the burbles thing? They look like plastic. At least it makes the shoes match the dress. Actually, too much. It’s like they add the Barbie Christmas Tree burbles after they realised the dress was going to be like this.
Her, now. Nothing authentic and that’s the problem. Fashion and elegance is not lying. It’s about taking what you have to turn it into fabulous. Not spent hundreds of thousands of pounds changing everything to look like the pages of a catalogue. “Look at me: I’m page 26, 28, 68 and 154. Isn’t it great?” No, it is not! It's sad!
The make up: Horrendous. Fake tan and far too much make up on the face. I don’t even mention rest of the body for you must be insane to make up there in the first place.You can clearily see the fake eyelashes, the tonnes of eye-liner or whatever and once again that ghastly glittering silver you have on the dress and the shoes burbles.
The foundation on the (fake) cheek bones make them look even more wrong and bigger while you can see the colour is going all the way over her entire forehead.
Fake nose, fake lips, fake cheekbones, botoxed to the bones…Her and David can’t even sneeze anymore for fear of draining their whole face.
She is far too thin, fake in everyway, always pouting, absolutely no character and so anally retaintive she can't sit for fear of sucking up the furniture! She is mistaking uptight vulgarity for elegance. She looks like she got an open umbrella up her arse but she is not bothered because she thinks the Armani label on the very umbrella makes everything alright. She is going to end up like Ivana Trump. Gross and pale caricature of every single rich bitch that - yes, "that"!...that thinks you’re beautiful the way you are not, just the way you pay to be.
That’s sad. What’s even sadder is that I have girls as young as 13 coming in my classrooms with as much make up as Miss Uptight For Life and I can’t help taking a real pleasure humiliating them after we asked ten times to stop painting themselves as brand new Christmas toys. Last time, I just looked at the girl and said in front of a full yet silent classroom: “Are you alright, dear? Your make up’s so thick, I can’t get a read"
(Thanks to Céline who noticed three words at the end of the article had just vanished.)
Men & women
Today The Times was asking "Why don't women drink beer?"
I think that's because burping the alphabet and farting while watching telly are not among women's favourite hobbies.
I think that's because burping the alphabet and farting while watching telly are not among women's favourite hobbies.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Seriously infatuated
Oh my!
Yesterday, night out in Blackpool at the Funny Girls. The very famous and best cabaret in the city. A truly wonderful night that has just put me in a very good, dancing mood.
The show was amazing. All that fun, dancing, routines and tacky yet very enjoyable in one place, that was too much my usual cynical and bad mood could handle so I’ve been having a smile on my face that just can’t seem to go away.
Especially because I’ve seen THE ONE. For the truly first time in my life, I’ve seen the most adorable-looking, cutest, perfectly-build, absolutely fabulous man in the world!
He’s got everything I like.
These little boy-ish looks that don’t seem to be fading though you can see he’s in his twenties.
He’s got that light brown hair, very cute and lean features on the body of a dancer. Muscly but not too much. Just exactly what I want.
And he’s got a flaw I always need in every man to really fancy them: he’s a bit too short. I think as tall as me or maybe slightly shorter.
Patricia and I were just going bonkers. I had a plan: going backstage so if he’s straight, she’ll have him and if he’s gay, I’ll have him. But we’ve got to have him because he was just too perfect to be true.
Mostly for me he’s a dancer. I’ve been fancying tennismen, footballers for the most part, countless actors and thousands of guys I just saw on telly or on the Internet, and I have a new “future husband” every week but that one’s dancer.
That’s part of my dream: the couple of cats, the five girls or four boys, the flat in Stockholm, the huge mansion in Liverpool or East Anglia and my husband who’s a dancer, who’s sensitive to music and knows how to move on it. Nothing is sexier and more desirable than that for me in a man.
Yesterday, night out in Blackpool at the Funny Girls. The very famous and best cabaret in the city. A truly wonderful night that has just put me in a very good, dancing mood.
The show was amazing. All that fun, dancing, routines and tacky yet very enjoyable in one place, that was too much my usual cynical and bad mood could handle so I’ve been having a smile on my face that just can’t seem to go away.
Especially because I’ve seen THE ONE. For the truly first time in my life, I’ve seen the most adorable-looking, cutest, perfectly-build, absolutely fabulous man in the world!
He’s got everything I like.
These little boy-ish looks that don’t seem to be fading though you can see he’s in his twenties.
He’s got that light brown hair, very cute and lean features on the body of a dancer. Muscly but not too much. Just exactly what I want.
And he’s got a flaw I always need in every man to really fancy them: he’s a bit too short. I think as tall as me or maybe slightly shorter.
Patricia and I were just going bonkers. I had a plan: going backstage so if he’s straight, she’ll have him and if he’s gay, I’ll have him. But we’ve got to have him because he was just too perfect to be true.
Mostly for me he’s a dancer. I’ve been fancying tennismen, footballers for the most part, countless actors and thousands of guys I just saw on telly or on the Internet, and I have a new “future husband” every week but that one’s dancer.
That’s part of my dream: the couple of cats, the five girls or four boys, the flat in Stockholm, the huge mansion in Liverpool or East Anglia and my husband who’s a dancer, who’s sensitive to music and knows how to move on it. Nothing is sexier and more desirable than that for me in a man.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Friday, May 08, 2009
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
Bilingue
Spéciale dédicace au public francophone et féminin de Twilight.
Alors à vos régles, mesdames ^^
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