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We made it up

False advertising has plagued mankind like a mad case of pungent diarrhea after eating 6 Burrito Supremes from Taco Bell with a load of ‘fire sauce’. The methods are insidious, nefarious, evil.  Some are subtle, some are not. In this case, I think subtlety is about as stealth as a one-legged man in a ballerina tryout session.  According to this article, http://www.celebpulp.com/loreal-paris-beyonce/ it looks like L’ Oréal is altering Beyoncé’s skin tone, causing her to appear, well, err different. What’s up with that?? They changed her skin tone so drastically, that she seems to be of different ethnic descent. This reminds me of a mockery, stunt, (fill in the word here) done by Ted Danson performed back in 1993 (no offense to Mr. Danson, I just felt like mentioning him).  The difference here is this was Ted’s choice, but not Beyoncé’s. Who made L’ Oréal to say, “I’ll change your skin for you”. I say, keep everyone’s skin true to life; don’t make me dump a bucket of the above mentioned colonistic sauces on your face.

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Tia Tequila – who?

I hadn’t heard the name until seeing the “A Shot at love” reality show on some low rent TV channel when my cable went out.  I was surprised that they had a show with so many people vying for the affections of this girl.. A girl who looks like most any you’d find at your local strip club.  “What’s the catch?”,  I thought.  Oh, she’s bisexual.  That’s cool..  Hmm, this would be super controversial if it were, I dunno, 1999?  Not even the “touchy” subject of yesteryear seemed enough to justify this show.  I didn’t get it.

Out of morbid curiosity, I watched the whole episode.  16 Lesbians who looked like men, and 16 men, were competing to give her attention.  I don’t know a nice way to say this, but I think they could do much better.  Her tattoos made her look 10 years older than she is.  I was shocked to find out she was 26, I thought for sure she was pushing early/mid 30s.  Her personality is, average.  Just your typical, “I grew up in the suburbs but I’m embellishing the hood”, girl.

Anyhow, the season ends, she gets her guy (I seriously didn’t think any of the “women” had a chance.  They all looked like men – why settle for a woman who looks like a man when you can have, I dunno, a man?).  So besides that shocking discovery that she picked a dude over a dudely chick, my mind swept this out of relevance and I began thinking of more important things, such as whether to buy Bumblebee tuna or Starkist.  (Starkist won btw).

Just this last month I saw the show on again, “reruns” I think to myself.  But no, um, she’s back.. Wait, what?  Why?  The show was supposed to give her “A shot at love” and it did.  Next contestant.  But no, her 15 minutes of fame were apparently not enough.  What about the other girls that want a shot at love?  I honestly don’t care if she can or can’t find love at this point, she was given a perfectly good opportunity and either screwed it up or quit it for another shot at fame.  Yeah, we get it, you’re edgy.  You like girls and guys but will probably pick a guy again this time.  Kissing other girls for attention at bars became popular in the late 1990s, maybe it’s played out.

Sooner or later your biological clock will be ticking and you really will have to choose between a man and a life with women who look like Tom Jones. Don’t waste the chances you are given, sweet pea.

Portzer #3

Who wants to party with Mel? We do!!

 

 

 Well well Mel. Seems over the weekend Mel Gibson fell off his high and mighty (which he is) horse by getting piss drunk, driving under the influence, getting arrested, flinging some racial slurs, making homo-erotic statements, and finally realizing “oh crap I’m doing this in public”, sounds like a killer party. 

     But we here at the IRQ are of the opinion to leave Mel alone. I mean it’s freakin’ Mel Gibson. If I was at a bar and Mel came strolling in wanting to party we are all over that. If he said “Let’s do some lines off a hooker then go driving in my expensive car” sign us up. That night he made Mad Max look like Mr. Rogers and it was spectacular. What kind of celebrity has the teabag to call female cops “sugar tits”..Mel that’s who and that’s just awesome.

     He’s Mel Gibson, son of a drunken Irish/Scottish, anti-semite, and born in New York, it’s in his genetics. He should be allowed to go crazy once in a while. We can only wonder if he did some of his nutball jokes like he did in Lethal Weapon 1-4, or if he might have said “They may take our lands but they’ll never take our beers!”. We can only hope. So he seemed to go a tad crazy since making his Jesus movie, so what, but hey he’s no Tom Cruise. Mel Gibson is the only celebrity that could say “I’m going to f*** you” like he said to that cop and we’ll just turn around to our friends and say “Dude Riggs just said he wanted to f*** me…awesome!!!”. Only Mel could say that he owns Malibu (because he does) and that he was going to f*** that deputy. Whatever the Mel wants, he gets. To the deputy I would quit and go be a tranny hooker in Thailand since Mel DOES have the power to destroy you. Do NOT oppose the Mel, the man works for God and has recruited quite the army the last couple of years. To quote his appearance on the Simpsons “All that oppose..say die!”

    Mel then quickly turned around on the weekend and apologized..and we cried and thanked God for Mel. All these sites that are calling this incident a “rampage” obviously never heard of the attack of Lohan and Hilton. But we’ll look back at this and laugh one day won’t we Mel? He’s just waiting until his newest movie comes out and everyone flocks to it again and Mel will just fill up his other pool with dollars and go for a swim a la Scrooge McDuck another fellow drunk Scot that really doesn’t care what you think because they have more money than all of Jew-dom.

     So for now we just have to giggle and sigh and just say “Ahh that Mel…we love him” because everyone does love him…everyone.

-Portzer #5

PS. Mel if you really want to party come visit us ..we’re close to Mexico. They love you too and they could really use the publicity. But they might mispronounce your name. But you could use your powers to rule over them with an Iron Fist. Then it would really be time to party.

Who woulda thought..Lance Bass…gay? Surely you jest.

So In recent news Lance Bass revealed that he’s gay. So how is that news? From the first time this portzer (#5) saw these guys he called it by telling his friends when *NSYNC premiered “Dude hes totally ghey”. Now he’s coming out and revealing everything in a tell all article. I guess he decided to follow in JT’s footsteps about his private life showing he isn’t so squeaky clean after all (He who squeaks the loudest gets the lube). We are all anxiously waiting for the quotes about why Bass decided to come out now to be similar to.. “I figured since Justin was exposing his private life about his doing drugs and stuff..and I guess I want to do the same, but instead of doing drugs..it’s guys.” Brings new meaning to “PUFF PUFF PASS to the left.  Then he’ll flash his quirky I-could-be-a-child-molester-but-I’m-a-pop-star smile and we’ll feel sorry as a society for oppressing him and not being able to flaunt his sexuality to all those 10-12 year olds. Way to make me feel bad Lance! According to him he felt that telling anyone would “overpower” everything. Overpower the most powerful boy band this planet has seen? Riiiiggghhhhhttt. Well if they ever go on tour they will have a bigger fanbase than before. One would have to wonder how it made a gay man feel to have to sing songs about “Be my girlfriend baby”, “Baby, would you be my baby, Baby?”, and “Girl, I want to do you as my girlfriend, baby, all night girl, baby” when he really wanted to sing songs like “I want you in my back”, “Tie me up, punch me and tell me you love me”, and “Young and tender tubesteak”. Well good for you Lance in taking some time to think about how to come out. “I wanted to think about it because I knew I had 4 guys.. in my hands”..he was talking about their careers. Well if you ever decide to change teams you have the millions of barely legal girls that still think you’re a hunk and we like you too. But not in that way. Hey maybe the other guys from *NSYNC can be gay too..it would definately help their careers..joe fat one , that one guy chris (who we think is gay also) and JC Shazam. Does this new found sexuality mean that you’re not going to try to work your way back into the black void…er..of space? Well We here at the IRQ wish you the bestest of the gay. Peace out homo..er..homie.-Portzer #5

The Presidential Massage of Doom

Lets discuss this back massage done on German Chancellor Angela Merkel. First of all, those government people were summoned to do battle with debates and discuss diplomacy, not there for shoulder massages. I mean, he’s doing it all wrong. First, they need to have less clothes on, period. Trying to rub out knotted muscles with a suit on makes it harder to do so, not to mention heat generation and so forth. Sorry if I’m being too technical. Also, they need to use some form of oil to make sure there is a friction while the rubbings take place. If not, then its like trying to play with a dry apple pie, if ya know what I mean. I almost forgot what about a happy ending?? That Chancellor look liked she was saying, “get the hell away from me, you brute” Amid the chaos, I have discovered a more effective way for a memorable massage. My gourmet process for a grande massage is as follows:

1. First, I visit local rest homes and gather all of the residents’ fresh diapers, and stick them in my stolen Dominoes Pizza heat bag, them rush them to my office. I quickly transfer the soft stool into my registered trademark liquid-proof stay fresh swim diapers and place them in the oven for 6 minutes at 100 degrees. I quickly take the diapers out and place them on my client for about 10 minutes.

2. While the bubbling diapers help warm their skin and relax the muscles, I prepare myself. I drink a cup of Bushka brand Chai tea, then make a friendly gesture towards Amen-Ramen, my god. I take off my clothes and begin to fall into a trance. I picture myself slowly falling through giant toilets; it feels like transcending through space and time. This gets me pumped up for the actual massage.

3. I remove the diapers from my client, and begin to spread on “Tres Flores” on their back. I have found this to be extremely useful in acquiring a good amount of friction to rub out the naughty and neglected muscles. It’s so greasy, in fact, they can also put it in their hair and become a John Travolta cliche` “Grease” character.

4. My client has the option of entering our exotic mud baths filled with fluide de merde, which helps open up the pores from such an exhilarating experience. The tubs operate at a lovely 110 degrees, just the right amount to aid in molten French mud. The best thing is, we never clean out the tubs, we simply keep then heated for the next client. The idea is, each individual who basks in the ambience adds to the circle, thus enriching its mystic nutrients for the next individuals to enjoy.

I hope this gave you a better understanding of my masseuse parlor, and what goals we strive to keep for each and every customer.

FEEEL MY PAINNNN!!!

Have fun disguising links to your co workers and bust this bad boy on them…

Instant Death

May God have mercy on me… 

Portzer #2

Malarky in the Pool

To get slightly off tangent and to break up the mahogany (hehe) of these past events, I would like to share a true story that occurred when I was around 12 years of age:

My family belonged to a private pool i.e. members only community. We would go there often during the hottest months to cool off, have a bar-b-que, relax, and have fun. Well, it just happens that one severely blazing day , my family decided to the community and scorch some chicken, hot dogs, and steak, and have a grand ole time. It just happens to be that a few vagrants I befriended were there with their kindred as well.

I didn’t plan on seeing any of them that day, so I brought a multitude of G.I. Joe and He-Man figures with me in case I got lonely in the pool (boo-hoo) It was going to be a while before any of the food was going to be ready, and it was too hot to leave the comfort of the cooling waters, so we decided to play “dive for the action figures” game. I began to feel my bowels contract; it began to feel as if something wanted to be released, but was partially constricted. As we continued to dive for magical toys such as Cobra Commander, Skeletor, and Beast-Man, the pressure began to increase. Damnit, this always happens when I’m having fun. As always, I didn’t want to break away from the festivities I was being a part of. I thought, I’ll just hold it and go later, and since it was so devastatingly hot outside, I didn’t dare get out of the pool unless I was forced to by someone else.

I’ll try to paint you a picture: In World of Warcraft, the Warlock’s Curse of Agony spell damage is dealt slowly at first, and builds up as the curse reaches its full duration, so was my bowels ready to push a huge gob of solid waste out of my rear end. My friends and fellow listeners let me tell you, it was too late. This huge load of caca was just released in my swim trunks at lightning speed. Luckily, the trunks were loose enough for me to work the waste dump free and distribute its pain upon the world. At the moment, we were in a deeper area of the pool, thank goodness. Well, that chunk sunk as fast as an automobile free falling out of the sky; in no time, that bad boy was on the bottom of the pool.

Unfortunately, my cohorts were still diving for the various figures, I wanted to tell them we were finished here and to move on to a different area of the pool, but at the same time I was extremely embarrassed and didn’t know what action to take to get away from the poop pile that lie in the depths, waiting for a hapless victim. I tried to distract them and lure them over to a shallower part of the pool, telling them I just threw more figures near that area. It began to work; they slowly inched their way towards the shallower area, but one of the poor bastards said he just saw something dark down below and before I could react, he was beneath the surface, on his path to doom.

When he surfaced, in his hand was a broken slab from my poop bomb. The others couldn’t believe their eyes; the poo bearer was even more surprised. The only thing that came from his mouth was, “UGHHHHHH” and he dropped it instantly, and literally launched out of the pool and darted to the bathroom to wash his hands. Me and the others couldn’t stop laughing, it seemed to last for eternity. Luckily, no one knew it was me; I was hysterically laughing inside in a demented sort of way, and no one knew the damned truth but me.

To this day, I still think of this experience and recall it to almost every detail, despite being over 10 years ago. Moral of the story? Hahahah hah ah, there is none!!! If you think I was going to say something like, “be sure to get out of the pool in time and take a bowel movement before its too late” is totally wrong. It’s more like, don’t go diving deep for shit, because you never know how far you have to go until you stumble upon some.

Irqportz 1