One fine butt in Rome

Due to my failure to do anything entertaining yet still appropriate to share over the internet in the last 48 hours, I resort to creating yet another webpage containing praise for Ricky Berens' A+ Rear.

A little background first. This kid is a gorgeous, funny, little gem of a human being who's currently finishing up at the Swimming World Championships in Rome. While getting his preparatory stretch on behind the blocks, poor baby Ricky tore his probably nearly $1000 bathing suit and exposed his butt to everyone in the stadium with reasonably good eye sight...and now the entire world, as tons of American news outlets and jackass bloggers and gossip-spreaders like myself push his pictures around the internet.

This is not the first time that this type of thing has happened actually, but last time, the victim was a mediocre-looking Italian girl who cried rather than a smiley boy whose "butt will make his face famous," according to CNN. Obviously, Flavia didn't get much play.

This thought leads me to wonder though....is it actually possible for Ricky Berens' butt to make Ricky Berens famous? I mean, there's a swimmer on the news around the country, and it's not for smoking pot in front of a bunch of college dopes with cameras, and it's not for breaking a million records or doing anything spectacular. This kid is all over the internet and the television simply for having a great booty. I like it (not the butt...although it's nice...but rather the idea that this might make him an internationally recognizeable dude).

So, I began to think...has this happened before, that a person gets famous because of his/her butt? I turned to YouTube for my research, and this is what I found for "butt." And this is what I found for "booty." All of these are videos of nasty girls...and not a single one is of an attractive gentlemen's rearend. So...I guess the answer is NOOO.

Maybe, though, Pretty Ricky can be the first. Good luck on your butt's quest for fame, big guy, we'll all be pulling for you and making sure as many people see your picture as possible.

A Sad Day (for me)

Yesterday I received some sad news. My favorite gawker.com blogger, Richard Lawson, has moved on to greener pastures (at tv.com, whatever that is).

Every week for the past 8 months, Richard taught me to embrace my inner 15-year-old, shoving off blocked-out memories of the braces, the heartbreak, and the haired parted down the middle. Almost every night of the week, Richard would relive his own teenage horrors by indulging in the teenage horrors of others. I liked Gossip Girl before I started reading Richard's blog, but now I LURRVE Gossip Girl. NYC Prep bored me, but I had to watch it so I would understand why Richard's Camille developed a lesbian lover later in life, or why he called PC "the urban dandy." And his recaps from Stylista, the meanest reality fashion competition show on television, were probably my favorite of all.

Then there were the Housewives. Like Richard, I felt real affection for the New Jersey Housewives. I diligently watched every episode and really fell in love with these women. I didn't like the New York Housewives, but Richard did, so I did too. He had me lol-ing in my cube every Wednesday with his ridiculous recaps:

Horrible Kelly went to a photoshoot. Horrible Kelly went to a photoshoot and there was a terrible Frenchman who told her to open her legs and when the blood started pouring out of my face my roommate turned to me and said "Richard, you have blood pouring out of your face," and I said, "Yes, you too Rose," and so we both sat there, blood pouring out of our faces, as Kelly opened her legs and talked about how pretty she was and at this point there were pools forming at our feet. "Well, I'll never wear these pants again," Rose said merrily, blood pouring out of her face.

Oh Richard, you slay me! This episode was particularly great too--"Jill's gay house elf went apeshit. He pooped himself about seven times and kept cooing and purring all over him. Jillzee was totally embarrassed, for the house elf, who was tipsily swinging from the chandelier and screaming "fuck me! fuck me!", but also for stupid Kelly and her stupid Argentinian lady friend."

Thank you Richard, for everything you've given me. I will miss you.

What the eff is The Deathy Times?

Welcome, friends, to the Volume 1, Issue 1 of The Deathy Times. This masterpiece is the brainchild of two kids trying to make lives in the sharty, regimented, 9 to 5 (ok...9:30 to 4:30, with a lunch break) working world.

Gone are the days of the mid-day nap and the Mexican Martini with breakfast. Gone are the two-hour breaks in between classes used for tanning, and gone are the days of football games on Saturdays and an utter absence of responsibility. We've given up the glorious college life in order to make something of ourselves, and we've found that that was what some might call a poor life choice.

While it was hard to adjust to at first, we've figured out how to at least show up every morning and use our sass to distract people from the fact that we a) don't know what we're doing, b) sometimes haven't showered since the last time they saw us, and c) will probably spend a large part of the day not doing the work we've been assigned. OF COURSE we read blogs and gossip sites and play video games during working hours, and while those activities and our actual work pass the time, occasionally it's just too boring to take. It's the hours of the day when that happens--when you play with a box cutter and consider (accidentally) poking your eyeballs with it because then you'd get at least a week off to recover--that have come to be known as the Deathy Times. These hours generally fall between 1 and 4 pm...when you've finished your lunch, and you don't really have anything immediate to look forward to...when the day seems like it will never end...when all you need is a little pick-me-up...when you understand why so many adults have drinking problems. These are the Deathy Times.

So, here we will attempt to create the life boost you've been seeking. Check out The Deathy Times every day, and find something entertaining to make you feel better about your life (or at least lol a little bit in your cubicle). Also, if you have a story about your life that you think might entertain the other goons reading this publication, email it to us and TheDeathyTimes@gmail.com, and we'll make it sound brilliant and post it for you. I think this will be a long, glorious relationship.