craptastic crab ads

Joe's Crab Shack, mid-priced Texas based theme eatery, dissatisfied with just having tacky slogans like 'I got Crabs at Joe's' et al now they have submerged themselves into the waters of ham-handed misogyonstic television commercials! The commercials often play during evening prime time and have two veritable Shakespearian story lines; one depicts a vapid, some what crazed, nagging female telling her male dining companion that he has shit on his face, he grimaces, eye rolls, flicks his eyes in the way that is male code for 'bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks', and neglects to tell his attractive female companion that she has half a crab leg stuck to her fore-head. The second, is 20x more suggestive and gag-worthy; it opens with a pneumatic blonde with huge harry forearms cracking crab legs and being generally puzzled on how to rend the tasty crab flesh from its pointy shell. The viewer soon finds that the arms belong to a male dining companion who appears to have the female sitting on his lap which he wraps his arms around her, cracks crab legs, and wipes grease and bits of shell on the woman's prominent chest. Clearly, Joe's Shit Shack wants you to know that women should keep observations to themselves and look good so as to not spoil the classy atmosphere of a chain-restaurant where the cuisine is mildly warmed under salamanders and the kitchen are apt to spit in your food for fun. Perhaps their Ad-team of 13yr old boys step it up from immature, jocks who are more likely to eat at buffalo wild wings to the unemployed, video gaming market next! They can have 3am ad spots and totally naked women rolling in vats of melted butter, but have their bodies be slightly geometrically topographic for gaming familiarity. Game Over.

first, a non sequitur

Poppy King,made up and make up lady, muses on the Joker's lipstick choices: Jack Nicholson was "the power woman's Joker. He way overdoes the lip liner—very eighties." And the latest iteration? "Heath is the post-post-feminist's Joker. He is so deconstructionist with his red lipstick, it almost comes right back around to the Renaissance!" (via jezbel via style)


Now for some meat, the new season of proj-rungay started last night and I missed it. Not on purpose, but because (1) I was doing something that the contestants are largely unfamiliar with: work and (2) the tee-vee didn't tell me about it. There have been speculations that since this is the last season before P.R.lame moves to Lifetime (yes, orphan kidnap plucky heroine daytime drama-rama station), Bravo is not nagging the viewers to watch the latest season. Which, I don't blame them. It is not as though the contestants get better with the show's age, they just blur the line between fashion designers and 'people who think they work in fashion but are really just on the Real World'. Also, uncle nag-bag stated last night that "you guys are a bunch of slackers" regarding the contestants desperate grabbing for table clothes from the choices made in the heres-75$-make-some-atrocious-nonsense-outfit-from-things-found-in-the-grocery-store. I am half saddened I missed the premiere episode now, especially since there are characters named "blayne" and "suede" ; all given names I'm sure. Why do I watch this show despite it making me scream at the television when someone half-assedly sets in a sleeve or portrays their 'conceptual' side with frayed chiffon? because it is a guaranteed 15 car pile-up every episode. Not to get all fashion high-and-mighty(but kind of) actual fashion work not like television. Not even a little. It is oft grimey, underpaid, unglamourous, sweaty, and full of too much or too little food. It is a lot of running around to make someone else look good and, sorry dear contestant, but you, like everyone else who thinks they are going to be the next Marc Jacobs or Cristobal B., have to put in your time. get in or get out; preferably the latter.

millennials wanna be on top

Chances are if your mother, neighbor, cousin, cousin's drunk social worker, creepy guy down the hall, or any other random stranger tells you that you should be a model, you really have no qualifications for that position. Maybe even less than zero qualifications. Models are not normal people and more often than not come from far away, moderately impoverished countries. Models are not really DISCOVERED on television competition shows or myspace or facebook or any other marketing tool that wants you to funnel your money and time into this generations pipe dream of micro-fame. In true American style, we import our fashion models for what could be termed as one of the most consumable industries. We love our Dutch, and Slavic models so much that there is a push to change the classification of their work visas so that more of these doe-eyed 15 year olds can live in cramped apartments and hope for a lucrative cosmetics campaign. Even our own citizens hope that minimal effort will result their tiny star being launched into orbit shortly before they burn out or implode on themselves.
CNN gives Gramps a good run-down of exactly what micro-fame is and how it relates to the increasingly delusional millennial belief that everyone can be a star, you just have to convince others of your importance instead of actually cultivating marketable skills. So, these individuals lope along with their Warhol screen print tote bags purchased from Urban Outfitters, unaware that they are a walking mind fuck for anyone who can read something outside of image tags and friend requests. Maybe they listened a little too hard when their boomer generation parents told them that they can be whatever they set their mind to and that no one can hold them back from their true dreams of pop notoriety. How will our already crippled economy fare with the upcoming working class, dreaming that they can 'just do it' and that no one understands their true vision to be a multi-bajilionaire athlete, designer, musician, model, whatever? Epic fail for all involved is the most likely outcome. That is unless your life goal is to exploit the micro-fame delusions of American youth, perhaps with a tv show called 'I love Money', that's a better cash cow.

the train wreck that is project run-gay rant

so i gave instant message commentary on last nights episode of project runway (which only served to infuriate me) where the contestants had to take 'out' trends and make them faaaaaaabuuuulloouuussssss. such trends as: overalls, leggings, neon, poodle skirts, and 70s flare. all of which the contestants were embarrassedly sporting. the winning outfits were facemilies of 20$ rags i saw two days ago at a suburban forever 21. the losing outfits more closely resembled to couches off of a bad telemundo version of Dynasty.
everything was all set in sleeves and straight grain shifts. the techniques are remedial and the concepts are tired, but i can't fully hate on the cast because they are so pitiful; they got excited to work with horse face herself on a line for steve and barrys. not exactly a career move to catapault you into the fashion stratosphere.
the show is nothing but bad news; you go on under the guise of showing your *~taLeNtS!>!~* to the WORLD on the TEE-VEE, but really you come off as a slyly-edited caricature of yourself and are better known by the fights you are in or the flops you send down on your elderly models every week. you earn nicknames such as: big gay party monster, smurfette, or tiny cut-rate paris hilton with hideously out-moded scene mullet and brain dead fall out boy lovin' alterna girl side-kick, or that-imbalanced-bitch.
the only lucky ones are the people who are eliminated right off the bat because you won't be recognized on the street as that guy who can't sew a slip dress or make a button down shirt or continually wears s&m inspired hats or got drunk that one time and fell off a subway platform; losing allows you to still have a chance at defining yourself by your talents and not by editor approved sound-bites.