Hot Slut of the Day

Coco (as played by Charles Levin), Dorothy's gay houseslave who was only in the first episode of the Golden Girls. Coco was supposed to be a series regular, but they dumped that queen in favor of Sophia. It needed to be done, but I still would've liked to see Coco's ass stick around for just a few more episodes. That way we could've seen him massaging Dorothy's bunions, holding Sophia's purse and hitting his brains with a frying pan while listening to one of Rose's stories. And I would've taken screen shots from each of these scenes to Photoshop my head over Coco's. Oh well. I'm sure Coco ran off with Monroe Ficus from Too Close For Comfort and now they are running a bed and breakfast together in Amsterdam.

Here's Coco at work:

Laura Chinchilla, Costa Rica's first ever female president!

It's about damn time the chinchillas get some real love. Lately it seems that the only time I ever see a chinchilla is on the back of Kanye West or Johnny Weir. But now the chinchillas are ruling the world one country at a time starting with Costa Rica. Laura Chinchilla will take office on May 8th after winning the presidency in a landslide victory. The chinchillas won't sleep this week, because they'll be too busy partying!

Look at these two chinchillas. They are getting the party started right:

And this one from Hawaii is so happy he's hula-ing for Laura:

And this one is getting ready to set sail to Costa Rica so he can personally nibble Laura on the cheek:

Okay, I'll stop now, but I could really devote my entire day to this. Viva chinchillas!

Jersey Boy from Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl VI! - Jake, the chihuahua/pug mix who might have dropped acid before the big game and scored a point for the other team, was named Most Valuable Puppy last night, but the true breakout star in my eyes was the JERSEY BOY! Jersey might look he belongs in a Louis Vuitton mobile home carried by Jessica Simpson (RIP Daisy), but he ain't afraid to get his paws dirty and break a bitch down!

During last night's game, Jersey Boy along with Rigley got the first puppy penalty of the night for unnecessary ruffness. Jersey Boy showed us how they do it in Jersey! Paws pumpin' like champs

! I see a bright future for Jersey Boy. A future that includes a guest spot on the second season of Jersey Shore. Snooki better watch her mouth around Jersey Boy, because if she gives him even 1 ounce of lip, his paw will come for her face. Clip below:

Just when I was about to make Shadoe Stevens (the tranquilizing voice who gently made sweet love to our drums as the host of American Top 40 in the 80s) Hot Slut of the Day, my eyes landed on this picture of him with his Beverly Cunningham. Sorry Shadoe, your ass will have to wait another day, because I cannot ignore this glamorous creature before me! Beverly is the most ravishing prize in the claw game!

Before Beverly became Mrs. Shadoe, she was an international supermodel (Phoebe Price's chicken cutlets just twitched). Beverly retired from the world of mall fashion shows so that she could focus all her energy on looking as glamorous as possible when escorting Shadoe to events. AND HOW! Now before you tell me that everybody wore tattered pink orphan skirts in the 80s, you should know that the picture above is from 2004! If the door knocker earrings or pink flamingo jacket doesn't make your soul split like Tommy Girl's panties at a male-only Scientology meeting, then her pink teddy bear wearing combat boots will! It might be a drug mule or it might be where she keeps her lip gloss and bottle of White Shoulders.

Every ho going to the Oscars better leave her clutch at home, and pick up a pink teddy bear backpack instead. Beverly Cunningham knows glamour.

Martini Ranch - Long before Bill Paxton was giving Old Rose the tingles down below (you know he was) in Titanic and passing his Mormon peen around in Big Love, he formed a musical duo with Andrew Todd Rosenthal called Martini Ranch. They were like an 80 proof Hall & Oates with an extra shot of bottom shelf bourbon and a bowl of stale peanuts. Since all great things only last a few seconds, they quit the music business after 1 album.

But in that time, they managed to put out this legendary masterpiece. It's the video for their song "Reach" directed by James Cameron with a cameo by his then-wife Kathryn Bigelow (at the 2:58 mark). This clip has more cinematic fartistry than Avatar and The Hurt Locker combined! Body building saloon sluts! White mariachis! Overuse of sepia! What more could you ask for? This is what Bad Girls should've been like:

(For Morgan)

The South Florida Raging Grannies - I've been a strong supporter of the "Memaws Are Not The One" Movement (mostly because I'll get hit in the teefs with a switch if I don't), and I've never heard of the Raging Grannies before. They are an organization that was started in Canada in 1987 by a bunch of grannies who weren't going to sit around nibbling at their caramel squares while waving their canes at the TV. They got up out of their plastic-covered Laz-Y-Boys and banded together to rage about all sorts of issues near and dear to their pacemakers.

Above is the South Florida chapter raging against CBS for accepting Tim Tebow's pro-life Super Bowl ad. The potpourri of eyebrows! The hats! The Comic Sans font! The choreography! The paper taped to the analog TV! It all works for me.

via TPM

Lucky Vanous, star of my favorite canceled TV show of 1997 Pacific Palisades. But Lucky is best known for making a bunch of office ladies (who all look like they are going to an audition for the part of Janine in Ghostbusters) brew the panty pudding in a Diet Coke commercial from 1994.

Lucky's furry nipples can definitely make genitals melt, but who the hell drinks Diet Coke (without whiskey) at 11:30 in the morning?! Cut to you drinking a Diet Coke at 11:30 in the morning.

(For Tal)

The Smoke Monster from Lost

Last night millions upon millions of Lost nerds gladly stuck out there arm, flicked their fattest vein and shot themselves up with their favorite fix. The shakes are starting to take over this morning as they have hangover hallucinations of guitar cases, organic cotton tunics from J. Jill, diarrhea water, and Indiana Jones. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who is having visions of Indiana Jones, because I was expecting him to make an appearance during last night's episode. But even if he did, he still wouldn't have been the star of the night. That title goes to the misunderstood and lovable SMOKE MONSTER! Or as I like to call it, my heart whenever I'm around loud children.

I love the Smoke Monster for many reasons. One of them being that it is so damn low-budget. They could have trimmed the budget off of Sawyer's grease bill and put a little money into making the Smoke Monster look scarier, but I'm glad they didn't. It just looks like what comes out of the exhaust pipe of a '79 Datsun. Or what comes out of Paris Hilton's cooch when she queefs. Or Khloe Kardashian's asshole when she eats too much curry. Okay, since I put it that way, it is pretty scary.

Die Antwoord, a South African rave rap group making "next level" beats on a PC computer.

Before I passed out face first into my bed pillow last night, I watched this music video from the psychotic minds of Die Antwoord over at Boing Boing. It was the cause of me having a horrific nightmare involving mop water, a Blimpie's bathroom and an old man who kept spitting loogies on my bare knee. I've been HEXED, so I'm passing the curse on so that the old man doesn't show up again in my nightmares tonight.

Seriously, Die Antwoord's music and videos are equal parts horror and awesome. This is what the aliens were really up to in District 9. They were making rap music! Blame it on the cat food.

Press play on the video below:

That trailer pixie keeps singing about being protected by butterflies. Or some shit. I think this is their roundabout way of asking Mariah Carey to collaborate with them. Mimi, gas up your unicorn and get thee to South Africa NOW!!!!!

And is the lead rapper really Mike Boogie from Big Brother?

Roberta Flack - Just when I was starting to think that last night's 16-hour long Grammy Awards was not going to deliver an ounce of potent glamour, Roberta Flack floated onto the stage looking like a delicious milk chocolate version of Endora from Bewitched. I wanted her to serenade me while sitting on an airplane wing. Roberta's hair did remind me of my grandmother's mangy Cocker Spaniel who could make hairbrushes break in two just by look at them. But that's part of Roberta's glamour and I'm buying it. Killing me softly for real.

Below is Roberta's performance with Maxwell last night. Just skip to 3:12 for a breath of fresh air!