Soul only

Amanda Bynes is in the news everyday.  She wears wigs, smokes cigarettes that look like joints, and calls people out for being ugly.  Gone is a career that once flourished under the eyes of the comptroller for one that, in my opinion, is much more genuine and suitable for the modern day: Internet celebrity.  It’s for this reason that I want to reach out to Ms. Bynes not as a cry for help ( like all these other pussies) but rather a plight for her love.  One problem, I’m ugly on the outside.

There’s nothing wrong with being ugly on the outside.  A life  ignored by members of the opposite sex comes with its perks. For one, you never have to deal with people thinking about you when they masturbate.  Nothing stings more than being masturbation-bombed by the thoughts and dreams of everybody around you.  I’m sure Ms. Bynes can attest to that.  Put this in prospective, she probably was the last thought in the head of most Nickelodeon-raised young males from her generation as they busted their first nuts.

Being ugly on the outside can also save you a lot of money.  You never have to pay for someone else’s dinner.  And since ugly people can’t be rich (because that makes you automatically beautiful) they don’t have to worry about somebody using them.  Even with the advent of online escorting, hot guys are attacking the hooker market with fury.  Now your average hooker (college graduate that’s tired of being unemployed) can be picky.  Trust me, I’m the king of being rejected by hookers.

Ugliness also gets you invited to less weddings, it never gets you on the kiss camera (or any camera for that matter) during sporting events, it makes it easier to avoid being raped, ignored by most telemarketers, and it provides you with a passion for poetry as long as that poetry doesn’t become something you can profit off of like a rap song.  Except if you’re Drake who according to Ms. Bynes is ugly. Although (in Drake’s defense) he was on the vaunted ‘murder my vagina’ list a couple months ago which is a list my ‘ugly face’ will have the misfortune of never being on.

So Ms. Bynes if you ever read this I want to take this moment to say that you indeed are an asset to this Earth.  Never again will we see a charmer take off in Twitterverse with a body to die for matched with such eloquence and prose.  You brighten up the day for the man sitting behind this desk, the desk of perpetual loneliness, with your constant rants.  And you’re almost always the first thing I think of when I’m dreaming about being beautiful and having the privilege to marry somebody every time I walk by the cubic zirconians at my local K-Mart. Maybe one day in another dimension I’ll have the privilege of becoming physically lost inside of your beautiful body and have the opportunity to pro-create with not only a pretty girl but quite possibly one who I’m sure will make a wonderful mother.

-Lou Cervantes

Photos courtesy of http://fuckyeahcrazyamandabynes.tumblr.com

Pimpin’ ain’t easy

Next up in our examination of the Vans Classics Fall/Winter Pack is the Tiger Print. This is probably my favorite out of all of them. I feel like if super pimp Don Juan Magic was going to wear a sneaker, this would bad boy would be in the running. Of course a true playa like Don Juan would have his made from REAL tiger fur. In the meantime I’ll have to settle for synthetics.

-James jarvis

Photos courtesy of http://lilhungrymane.tumblr.com

Put down that chisel and pick up that scalpel

Philip Toledano’s photo series, “New Kind of Beauty” positions plastic surgery disasters in classical poses and lighting. Of course, in his statement he goes through the usual art speak about the juxtapose of timeless beauty and technological manipulations of the human form. Not like you need an MFA to read into where he’s going with this. What is interesting is that the muted colors and the sharp tones give all his portraits a waxy unnatural look, which amplifies the already unnatural features of the collagen and silicone addled models. All of these portraits look like they should be standing next to a Neanderthal display at the NHM.

I’m going to make an amission that most people would never, ever admit. While I know that plastic surgery debutantes look creepy and disturbing, I still find them strangely sexy. Yes, go ahead and insert your “eeewwww gross” here. I’ve been around more than a few of these “extreme makeover” people. There is an upscale MILF bar in town that I used to deliver coke to*, and it’s chocked full of wealthy freaks who have as much plastic in them as a mannequin. While I’m repulsed on a social level,  I think there is something primally attractive about exaggerating the features most of these cripplingly insecure people always exaggerate. The giant breasts, the swollen lips, the forced up cheek bones, the cartoon eyes. In a weird morbid way, I find it kinda hot.

While everyone you meet will unanimously say they think it’s gross, wrong, pathetic, I think there are more people who find drastically surgically altered faces and bodies attractive than one might think. Like bukkake & nu metal, there is a market for this, or it people wouldn’t do it.

-James Jarvis

Photos courtesy of http://www.mrtoledano.com

*Death by Party does not endorse or condone the use of illegal drugs and all references are purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

P(l)ug

There are two things I hate in this world, Satan and Pugs. You would think that someone that hated Satan would love pugs, but I differ. Have you ever hung out with a pug? They’re moody dogs. My buddy owns one and every time I go to his house she tries to pee on me. She may as well be Satan re-incarnated in my book. This Flying Coffin Hellhound t-shirt was made in her likeness. For the pug-lover in you buy the shirt. You’ll save money on the vet and having to replace your rug every six months.

-Lou Cervantes

Photos courtesy of http://livetrilldietrill.tumblr.com

Constipation music

When you eat a lot of spicy food bowel movements aren’t to be taken lightly. Sometimes they can even get bloody. But they are essential. If they get ignored and constipation sets in not only can a man increase his risk for prostate cancer, but he can also increase his risk for hernias or going into cardiac arrest (like Elvis) while performing his constitutional.

It’s during these constipation episodes where we need a little inspiration. Everybody has there own little method to root on a challenged colon. I know of someone who would even shove the stick of a plunger up their rectum to inspire aggravated bowels. In life, I find plenty of inspiration from music. When I get ready to go out dancing it’s the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. If I’m having a bad day at work it’s a generous mixture of Yanni, Kenny G, and Enya turned up all the way. And when I’m struggling on my porcelain throne it’s the black metal bestowed upon this Earth by the Norwegian band that goes by the name Immortal.

Just the thought of having these guys waiting outside your bathroom door is enough to literally scare the shit out of you. The modern ballad ‘All Shall Fall’ is enough to clear out any lingering dingleberry. And if you’re in a hurry to get in and out of the bathroom as soon as possible, nothing tackles bathroom anxiety as smoothly as fast dark Norwegian metal. In fact, I’ve always wondered why most hotel and restaurant bathrooms play relaxed music. Public bathrooms aren’t Sunday morning paper marathoners, especially on a busy night. If I had a business it would only be the music of Immortal all day and all night in the bathroom. And if nobody believes me, give it a shot one morning after having too much Guinness and whiskey in your system from the night before. Trust this one, when you’re on the hopper Immortal will practically guarantee that all shall fall.

-Ron Saratoga

Photos courtesy of http://sluf.tumblr.com

Save yourself

So I’m looking at this evil little custom piggy bank by Plaseebo and it compels me to say- saving money is for suckers.

We all deserve to live off the fat of the land, so what better way to instill this thought at current children than to buy them a piggy bank that neglects the hoarding of money.  In fact, parents should start at their child’s young age and using any money thrown to them at parties they throw for their children towards spoiling them and letting them realize that blowing money away is great.  The money we blow away is our current economy and as long as anybody has it somebody else is getting fed.  Children shouldn’t be frugal, they should be taught to keep eating and eating.  It is this hunger that will have our youth challenging anything any other country is striving to take off their plate.

-Miguel Angelo

Photos courtesy of http://diaboliadvocatvs.tumblr.com

Shari-ing is caring

What is the definition of raw? Oh, you’re asking me? Well, it means rough hewn, in its natural state and crude. My supposition is we’ve all been encumbered within those states, as that what intrinsically makes us, uh, the humanity of et al. However, what is roughly consumed by most, in its natural state, leaving in the wake a good mood? Sushi. What I do acknowledge though is that the state of sushi is safe.. until now. The piece of cinema I bring forth is the decades-long study of what the body will undertake when the raw has gone awry and when seafood sees food. I serve to you without further ado, Noboru Iguchi’s comedy horror ‘Dead Sushi’.

When you deal with the construct of a raw repast, you wrest the imagination from the consumer, as all of the ingredients are in front of you, naked as the day is long. The components of B-movies are none too dissimilar- what you see is what you get. Chef Iguchi knows this all too well, as his deft fingers are not only in the horror genre, but also the fine art of ero guro (gore porn in the colloquial AV sense.) This may arrive as sour tasting to some, but these fast foods were meant to be enjoyed with the hands (either in aghast squirm or in rapid succession.)

For those who still maybe put off by the piquant potential of this crowd pleaser, it’s noted that some macerate sushi’s ambrosial notes by steeping it in something. I find this utterly reproachable, but it adds a welcomed kick to some philistines. In this particular case, consider the acting your veritable soy sauce in two ways. Rina Takeda is Keiko, daughter of a kung-fu regimented master sushi chef. The plodding story is as one would expect- Keiko leaves home from her militant father and seeks refuge/employ at an inn. As she’s berated by staff and guests, she rubs elbows with a nefarious cat who injects a nefarious serum into innocuous cute, little sushi in turn making them.. nefarious. The rest of the cast are laughable, in an acrid and enjoyable way all the same. They sort of attenuate from the film itself. Dip one. The main reason I only cite Takeda by name though is because she tends to counterbalance the film. Her onscreen countenance as well as her misleading submissiveness keeps the viewer engaged as she bandies with the undead enemy. Dip two.

Now, I’m a wasabi fiend myself. It adds a latent punch to the balls whilst sucking you off. Unlike my soy sauce brethren (now twice removed), it’s best enjoyed in moderate amounts and not to be smothering. In this case, consider the gore to be that granulous green good stuff. It is, to be honest rather tame and not enough in haute contrast to Noboru’s oeuvre, but its fair to midland nature was a conscious effort on his part. A master chef always knows how to please everyone. I really hate giving the most jocular aspect of the film away, so I won’t. I will simply say it will have you ginger-ly licking your lips.

I’ve only occupied a Benihana’s once. Being the paragon of an antisocial enfant terribles didn’t further my digestion either, especially seeing as though it was within the grease-pitted confines of perfect strangers.. and my date. Gin in hand, slightly woozy from imbibing beforehand and wishing fifty times too hard and too fast, a moment of clarity emerged- What if we were all eating and watching a movie? Idle chatter would be relegated to masticating. In the case of Noboru Iguchi’s ‘Dead Sushi’, that fucking thought is defenestrate. I would totally enter a Benihana’s today and thoroughly enjoy a lively conversing with those of which I do not know.. as in death, we are all united.

-Robert Kijowski

Photos courtesy of http://deadsushi.com

Oooohhhh the colors…

Vans Classics has been on a big animal print kick for a while now and that’s ok with me. This pack for the Fall/Spring is fucking exceptional. So much so that instead of just featuring all six designs, I’m gonna post on each one. This dope purple & blue snake skin makes me feel all roly poly happy inside like a kitten with cat nip stuck in it’s nose.

Keep a look out for the rest over the next couple of weeks.

-James Jarvis

Photos courtesy of http://coolstoryfuckface.tumblr.com

Catch them if you can

It was a couple months back and a disc in my spine was keeping me bed-ridden.  My life was slowly flashing before my eyes.  Dreams of my youth flooded my wired consciousness.  Daylight seeping through my windowpane reminded me of a world where I once ran through brazen pastures and got lost in cricks with abandoned foxholes.  It was only a few weeks before where I was bench-pressing twice my own weight in milk cartoons.  Now I may as well be missing on the side of one.  While everybody I knew was out side-stepping on the accordion of life, I was reduced to the occasional bikini-bottom wearing blonde that would strut past my window every time I had the courage to fall back asleep again and let my thoughts comfort any disillusion with reality.

The best thing about being bed-ridden is having somebody serve you homemade chicken noodle soup; the worse thing is when you have nobody around and you starve to death.  My days felt truly number-ed, I had to get back on my feet.  I needed some inspiration and thanks to my fascination for world music themed Internet radio stations I discovered my favorite new band. The country of Sweden has a great tradition of exports.  Some of the finest hockey players in the world come from Sweden, as does the greatest candy ever invented (Swedish fish), a lights-out bikini team, Abba, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and IKEA.  GOAT is the latest great export this country has given this world.

I don’t know what the members of this band do in their personal time.  If I had to make a guess I could see them being the type of band that gets into philosophical debates on the tour bus.  But for all we know they may be more of the quiet types that love bland ice cream and 90’s Romantic comedies.  None of this matters because their music has flavor.  It’s enough to get a middle-aged man with back problems the inspiration to get out of bed and get healthy for returning to the dance-floor.  I’ll even go so far to state that I’m putting this band on my list for top 3 acts I have never seen live before and that’s stating something since they’re fairly new.  Grab a copy of World Music and play it while you clean your house, run around meadows, or engage in whatever you deem as a springtime extracurricular activity.

-Ron Saratoga

Photos courtesy of https://www.facebook.com/goatsweden & http://superwoobinda.tumblr.com