Hot Slut of the Day

The Boston sign language interpreter  who is serious, means business and isn't here to entertain you with her dazzling jazz hands or magical arm waves (I'm talking to you, John Maucere and Lydia Calas).

Soon, a lot of you in the East Coast will be able to sculpt a 9 foot tall peen out of snow and you'll see Lindsay Lohan trying to catch extra chunky drops of white powder with her nostrils. THE SNOW STORM OF THE CENTURY is hitting the East Coast tonight, and last night the governor of Massachusetts Deval Patrick and other officials held a press conference. The press conference was supposed to let residents to know what to do (stock up on weed, pork rinds, lube and beer, and download as much porn as possible), but it turned out to be a showcase for a sign language star. Dlisted reader Robski sent this jewel in and he put it better than I ever could:

I'm a Boston resident and as Blizzard 2013 approaches people are going crazy for milk and bread the supermarkets are packed, I noticed this on my way to Kappy's to stock up on vodka. I was watching TV just now and thought of you and Dlisted so I got this short clip. There is so much YES happening here. Boston does not mess around and when it comes to sign language interpreters apparently we mean business as well. There are no happy smiling jazz hand antics here, this is a woman ready to deliver a message to a people then get back to the A Street Tavern to close the place out. But I think we all know who the real star of this clip is, perhaps she is warm, perhaps she is signing for Kunty Karl's safety, perhaps she is just fierce

And get into her fan hands. She looks like my abuelita checking to see if the tortillas on the stove are hot or not:

via CBS Boston (also thanks to John for sending this in)

Sophie and Sarah, the Old English sheepdogs who put most supermodels to shame with their camera lens-burning poses.

Thank GOD for the Daily Mail for continuing to be the epitome of fine journalism by bringing us this story about two model dogs in the Netherlands whose owners make them the stars of nearly every picture they take. 4-year-old Sophie and 2-year-old Sophie mostly pose together or by themselves, but every now and again their brother Maestro and other sheepdogs make an appearance in their photo shoots. One of Sophie and Sarah's owners, Cees Bol, tell the DM that they love English sheepdogs and they don't breed or show them, they just take pictures of them everywhere:

"One of the reasons I post the pictures on the internet is that I noticed I can make people smile. It makes people happy to look at them and they are checking each day if there is a new picture. I got a lot of good response and that makes me happy in return. People like to watch them, even seeming to get kind of emotional with some of the pictures. Sometimes I receive mail from people who tell me that when they are feeling a little down they look at the pictures albums and feel a bit better. Sophie and Sarah are happy dogs and you can see that in the pictures. People love to watch their adventures and sometimes they are following them for years. We do our best to put a smile or an awww on a people's face."

If I didn't live in a small apartment with no backyard and all carpeting, I'd totally get an English sheepdog and name him Digby. I wouldn't even care that I'd have to trim the dingles from the mane of fluffy hair cascading out of its butt area. I mean, I do that for myself. The best part of an Old English sheepdog is that they've always got furry drapes covering their eyes so they can't throw me judgmental looks for eating dry Bisquick batter out of the box with a spoon. (Like my judgmental ass dog does.)

And I really hope Pantene, Salon Selectives or some shampoo company gives Sophie and Sarah a million dollar contract, because these bitches should be selling shit to the masses. I mean, just look at this Krissy Snow hairstyle. The bitch has it.

The Escape Club, the British band from the 1980s who made the song that will live on for the rest of eternity on band.

In the past couple of weeks, "Wild Wild West" has played on the Sirius 80s station at least 300 times, it has randomly played on my iTunes around 3 times and when I was getting gas the other day, a car pulled up across from mine and the really hot driver was blasting it. That is a sign! "Wild Wild West" is the song of my life. I'll take it. I'd rather think of this song when I read the words "Wild Wild West" than think of that mess of a movie starring Will Smith and Kevin Kline. (But that mess of a movie does have Kevin Kline in drag in it so it gets a few points for that.)

The Escape Club had a few smaller hits after "Wild Wild West" and then they broke up in the 90s. Two of the members got back together in 2009 and put out a new album and played a few shows, but they stopped, because they got annoyed by every single one of their audiences screaming "We want Wild Wild West! Just play that for the next 2 hours!" on a loop. I made that last part up.

Here's the video for WWW, which was banned in the UK. No, it wasn't banned for being anti-torso and it wasn't banned because those arm snakes are extra creepy. It was banned for being sexist and offensive.

And The Escape Club's original band name was: TAINT. Case closed!

Above The Top, the glamorous and beyond classy restaurant from the iconic 80s TV show It's A Living!

This is for Dlisted reader David Ozanich who as a kid was so mesmerized and hypnotized by the elegance and glamour oozing off of his TV screen while watching reruns of It's A Living that he convinced his high school prom committee to have their prom at the restaurant on top of the Bonaventure Hotel in Downtown L.A., where IAL took place. (Not-so-fun-and-kind-of-boring Fact: My junior prom was at the ballroom at the Bonaventure Hotel, but I chose to not go and to eat Jack In The Box tacos by myself in my room instead. And by "choose" I mean nobody invited my ass and I didn't want to show up by myself and get Carrie'd or Josie Grossie'd.)

Since my ass lives in L.A. now, I thought of going for a glamorous meal at the restaurant on top of the Bonaventure Hotel, but it's not called Above The Top and I doubt Ann Jillian is up there serving cocktails in a tank top from Capezio, so screw that.

John Maucere, the ASL performance artist who stole the show from Alicia Keys and Jennifer Hudson at last night's Super Bowl!

You've never truly seen pictures of amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesties until you've seen them painted by the magical and wondrous arms of John Maucere. While Alicia Keys sang the National Anthem and Jennifer Hudson sang American The Beautiful with the Sandy Hook Elementary School Choir, John brought the lyrics to life and them some. John looked like he was standing on a crystal mountain top and shooting rainbows from his hands as diamond-encrusted unicorns twirled in the sky and pink dolphins did flips in an ocean full of liquid bubbles. When John interpreted the lyric "above the fruited plain," my fruited plain started tingling.

And speaking of amber waves of grain, I'm pretty sure that's the name of John's glorious spray tan shade of choice. This clip of John in action doesn't really do him justice, but his ivory fence teeth and his luscious Eddie Munster hair will still take you to places you've never been before.

The horse who can play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on the recorder with its nose!

Last week, I talked about how my advanced music teacher in elementary school told me that I couldn't blow my nose, let alone play the clarinet. Well, here's a hot, musically gifted bitch who can play a wind instrument and blow its nose at the same time. My advanced music teacher would call this horse the ultimate musician (and nose blower) of our time!

Seriously, why isn't this recorder-playing horse performing at the Super Bowl Half-Time Show instead of Beyonce? This is what real LIVE talent is all about.

Anyway, Happy Super Smoke A Bowl Sunday! Does anybody know which team the Quarterback Princess is on, because that's the team I'm cheering for.

via Laughing Squid 

Big Treasure (the groom in the crooked tie) and Little Treasure (the groom in bride drag who is killing it by wearing half of a banana clip as a tiara)!

Big Treasure and Little Treasure became internet famous this week after they posted pictures from their gay wedding on Weibo, China's answer to Twitter. Queerty says that one of them is a retired history teacher and the other one is a water delivery man and they met when the water delivery man delivered water to the retired history teacher. That's pretty much how the plot to my favorite gay porn starts. Hong Kong's Big Love alliance inspired them to declare their love for each other in front of everyone. So Big Treasure slapped on a crooked tie and Little Treasure threw some strapless bridal elegance on his body and they got married with a bunch of other gay couples even though China isn't down with same-sex marriage yet. The Treasures were hoping that one of their sons would show up to their special day, but that piece of ungrateful brat trash didn't!

“It’s disappointing that outsiders can bless us but not our own son. The heartless child is sabotaging our happiness.”

Screw that heartless child! It's his loss for depriving himself of experiencing this adorable ceremony of love. And it's his loss for depriving himself the experience of seeing Little Treasure show Kim Kardashian how a tiara headband is really worn. And where are the pictures of Big Treasure pulling Little Treasure's garter belt off with his teeth? I bet their friend in the grey polka dot shirt is the one who caught it.

Tan Penis Island!


On last night's perfect finale of 30 Rock, I was introduced to my new favorite travel destination when Jack said, "For your information, most of Tan Penis Island was destroyed in Sting's house fire." Even though Tan Penis Island probably looks more like John Bobbitt Frankencock Island since it was destroyed in a fire, I still would. I really hope that Tan Penis Island is right below Richard Branson's Necker Island and I really hope Necker Island is shaped like two butt cheeks getting spread.

Farewell, 30 Rock! We'll always have Tan Penis Island.

(Pic of island that isn't Tan Penis Island but comes close via Uncyclopedia)

Jessica Sanchez, a reporter from Orlando's WKMG who's in New Orleans to cover all things Super Bowl and wasn't into a drunken videobomber trying to mess with her shot. Jessica Sanchez is not the one and if you mess with her, she'll tell everyone you've got an STD even if you don't have an STD.

Jessica was reporting live from Bourbon Street when her last nerve snapped while a 49ers fan yelled at the camera. Jessica served hot bitch on a plate to the screaming fan when she turned things around by asking the spotlight stealer, "We were just talking about the STD rate that's going on here. So how long have you had an STD?"

Nothing will knock the sweet nectar out of your veins and sober you all the way up like a reporter accusing you of having crotch critters or more in front of thousands of people. Jessica's videobomber said, "I don't have an STD," before getting out of Jessica's shot. Jessica didn't miss a beat and continued on by saying, "You can see what I've been dealing with around here."

DAMN!

But isn't that what you're supposed to do on Bourbon Street? You're supposed to get plastered and yell at cameras. I wouldn't even know what to say if Jessica came at me like that. I'd probably say, "How do you know? Did James tell you? Or did Sean tell you? I'm using a cream for that! I'm using a cream!"

The lesson to be learned here is stay far away from Jessica's shot, because one minute you'll be drunkenly living the life and the next minute you'll be answering calls from ex-pieces asking you if they should get tested. Jessica will fuck you up. Jessica Sanchez is the Regina George of field reporting.

via Orlando Sentinel & Mediabistro

Sam, the Instagram-famous cat with a natural born eyebrow situation!

Now this is what Instagram is really for. Instagram isn't for posting pictures of the sushi appetizer you ordered at dinner last night and it isn't for posting a picture of the second hair that grew out of your newborn baby's bald head. Instagram is for posting pictures of pussies with brows! Thousands of worshipers of pussy brows follow Sam on Instagram, because he's constantly giving BROWS! BROWS! BROWS! Sam's brows don't give off only one emotion either. Sam emotes all sorts of feelings with his brows.

Sometimes Sam looks like there's a maniacal killer with a knife behind you, but he's too frozen with fear to warn you with meows. Sometimes Sam looks like he's on a really long road and he's got the runs really bad, but he hasn't seen a rest stop for miles. Or sometimes Sam looks like he's not sure if you should wear those pants with that shirt.

Sam's brows have many layers and no, none of those layers are made from a Sharpie, because his brows are all-natural. (Actually, I don't know that, but I'm not about to accuse Sam of faking his beauty.) But manufactured or not, those Groucho Marx meets Eugene Levy brows are the true stars of Instagram. Eyebrow Dog is impressed.