Since Jennifer Ho-pez emerged from her TV-based swamp like some sort of big-butted Latino-monster, the average straight mans (and the occasional fags) fetish for big butts has been phenomenal. There’s something strangely secure and comforting about a taut and oversized ass. I’d say it’s somehow linked to being in your mother’s womb, but that would be kinda gay. I mean linking such a sexual body part to your mum, is a tad incestuous. And gay.

Anyways, the last two butts that caused an overly-excessive stirring in my loins were Buffie The Body’s and Kelly Devine’s (check this vid of Kelly shaking her buns.  It’s pretty jizz-worthy) . These two women’s asses are epic. They’re like the Grand Canyon of derrières; the Eiffel Tower of Butts and the Supersized Big Mac meal of Asses. Sure, they look like they’ve had their faces beaten by a sock full of rocks, but I for one, do not give a damn. Remember that old-school saying ‘If the face is waste, put a pillow on your disgrace’? Actually, that’s not a real saying, I just made it up, but you get my drift. And to all you girls with big tits, I’m really sorry but we don’t really care how big your cans are, to be honest.  Once you’ve sucked on a nipple and had a squeeze or two, the novelty of tits gets old really quick.  It’s not like you can do anything cool with them, like say, fuck them or whatever.

Tits aside, Have you guys noticed this ‘pugly face, pretty below the waist’ phenomenon, too?

Post originally for Trinitron

Can all of you just shut your mouths and stop attacking this woman, sorry, style icon.  Yep, you heard me.  This blonde midget has more fashion-sense in her right eyebrow than any you have in your entire bodies.  She’s also my soulmate.  We’ll make beautiful brown babies with names like ‘Techno’ and ‘Casio’ and create a new art-movement that will make every blog-reading, pill-popping, haircut from here to Hoxton convulse with excitement.  SEE YOU IN HELL.

Despite being on our screens for barely a year, Jeff Leach is already earning a reputation for being one of Britain’s hottest new talents. The energetic young presenter who landed his first gig while DJ’ing topless and wearing a Mexican wrestling mask, is the face of BBC’s teenage talk-show “The Surgery”. With a slew of exciting new TV and radio projects planned for this year, the young multi-tasker talked us through why he loves being in TV and his ‘brilliant and awful’ life growing up in Harrow:

What’s great about working in TV?
The live shows I’ve done have been my favorite aspect, by far. I love meeting strange and interesting people and catapulting myself at them headlong and finding out how their minds will react….

Read the rest the interview here.

As I write this, my friend is looking over my shoulder and questioning why a respected(rofl) and established ‘hipster blogger’ such as myself, is bothering to write about ‘six trashily-styled women caked in a dozen layers of make-up, each with a glazed look in the eyes as their brain struggles to calculate how much money they will earn from their press shot and any possible merchandising opportunities’ – but, I’d like to take a moment to explain why The Pussycat Dolls are, sorry, were one of the most spectacular groups to ever walk the earth.

I seem to tie everything that is amazing about music back to it ‘being punk’ or having a ‘punk spirit’, but that’s exactly what PCD had. How gutsy is it to tell the world that you’re ‘hotter than everyone else’s girl’? You may as well sneak into every man’s bedroom in a 50 mile radius and urinate on their girlfriend’s side of the bed to mark your territory. It’s that gutsy.

Everything from their sexually elaborate dance routines, to their risqué attire, were all bona fide signs of their ‘fuck the world’ femininity. It was akin to Tupac wearing foundation and hotpants (which im pretty sure he did at some point) while screaming ‘Doll Domination’ rather than ‘Thug Life’. Reading the gossip blogs and discovering that the group are soon to be no more was a sad moment for me. In short, it was the day the music died. Is Jai Ho their swan-song single? If so, it truly is a stroke of sassy daytime-radio genuis.

PCD, you will be missed.

I’ll be totally honest with you, Buffie isn’t particularly pretty, talented or at a guess, educated, but when you add her left bum-cheek with her right bum-cheek, you get two ‘weapons of mass-consumption’ that cannot be denied. That probably sounds like I like to eat girls asses or something, but I don’t.

Here’s the cover of her new book. I may consider buying it. And subsequently eating it.  Cos thats how I rolls.

A lot of people (well, one person tbh) ask me how I got the name ‘Donald Crunk’. So, let me take some time out from my busy Saturday afternoon to explain how I transformed from a nerdy porn-downloading journalist into the muscley media mogul that you see before you now.

I was chilling in a club in central London when one of the bar staff approached me and told me that someone in the VIP wanted to talk to me. Being the stud that I am, I assumed that it was a sexy and rich and old Arab woman who wanted me to impregnate her or something.  I was surprised when I entered the VIP and saw a suited white man holding what looked like an apple-sized diamond in his hand. Yep, you guessed it, it was Donald-motherfuckin-TRUMP.

He told me that I was ‘destined for greatness’ and that I ‘emanated an aura of awesome-creativity’. He sat me down and before I could say ‘OMG you’re Donald Trump’, the diamond in his hand started to levitate and glow brighter Ruldoph’s nose. It was like a scene from Indiana Jones! He said that from this day forward, I shall only go by the name of ‘Donald Crunk’. I asked him ‘why’ and he said ‘all shall come to light in due time’. The light from the diamond grew brighter and brighter and I was momentarily blinded.

When I regained my sight, Trump had disappeared. I asked the bar-staff where he went and they were puzzled and told me that Donald Trump had never been to that club and probably never would. When I got home that night, I emptied my pockets and found the apple-sized diamond that previously shone so brightly. The word ‘CRUNK’ was engraved on it in a blood-red substance.

And that my friends, is how I became DONALD CRUNK.

This song is epic. I’ve been using that word to describe a lot of things lately, but it truly is. It makes me think about running naked through an enchanted forest at 1.30 in the morning with nothing covering my dignity but a strategically placed leaf, or possibly a cluster of conkers. And I’m not ashamed to say that the first place I heard it was on Skins.

I just asked my friend to give me a baby. We’ve never been involved sexually, but I feel like I’m getting to that age where a ‘mini-crunk’ should at least be somewhere on my radar. I’m not sure if an impersonal text was the best way to go about it, but I await her reply with baited breath.

The tribal-drumming and psychotic screaming made me smile.  I pray to God none of my friends read my blog.

I’ve never sold nor snorted coke, but I’m really feeling Pusha and Malice’s cocaine-injected raps. I love Yeezy too (no fishsticks), so this was like the perfect present from the Gods of LCD x metrosexual hip-hop. Although, I may have to acquire a Colombian connect and bag myself a lesbian girlf to truly enjoy it

Clipse x Kanye

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