Air Instruments R Bak

BSG:REVIEWE!

The very famous Jane Dickson had the ultim8 pleasure of escorting one Miss Moan to a certain shop full of candy last nite to see a little girl sing-a-songs. Little Miss Moan lived to recount such an outing (thank God).

The headline was one Miss Cynthia Hopkins, a love interest of sorts of yours truly. Much to our dismay, this was not the show we thought it would be at all, but rather a show that we hadn't thought it would be. After rave reviews of her one-woman-tragedy (something of a tribute to us hoarders), Miss Moan heavily anticip8d a dress made of envelopes with a hat made of stamps. WRONG. Her dress was fringed black. But hold on2 ur chairs, my little polka-dotted-diseases, because what Cindy had on her head mite blow your plastic erection rite str8 2 Mars...it was nothing less than a union square pre-assembled black wig made of feathers without an ounce of loose stitching in site. It get's worse, lamb-humpers, it was what was below the dress that was a mockery of our love- modest black one-inch beat-up Aunt Pam heels.

CINDY NOOOOOOO!!!

Simply put, Moan was threadbarren&overdressed for the candy place which was actually a singer/songwriter gangbang where she and her prosciutto were surrounded by adult children who had yet to discover water-4-bathing wearing jeans and NOT chewing gum. GASP. I think it is safe to say that the lot of you who read the lot of this deny themselves that (and only that) type of gangbang.

As Cindy began her girl-songs in her girl-voice Moan also noted that beneath the fringe, Cindy's quite dexatrim [insert wink]. So the forty-five minutes of autotuning went on mildly saved only by (as usual, slavophilephilers) Cindy's Xtreme cuteness.

There was however one shining performative moment cast by the nonpseudopseudolesbian and that was her indubitable handle on fake instruments. That's rite: trumpet, violin, and trambourine all by mouth and tongue alone. She was careful 2 clarify right afterwards that she was tricking us which, you know, most of those boygirls needed. We at BabySkinGlove always appreci8 the improvised. She also mumbled something about traveling to the Arctic on a ferry boat this month in order to maybe make some video work about ice caps or maybe not.

So in conclusion, if you meet her on the ferry hug her because she obviously knows a good time when she sees one, and if you see her at the boutique call us and we'll take her to a different one.






P.S. Cindy: you can always make Culture Club references in Brooklyn.

Props Mississippi! Say WHAT Alabama?!

go get up in there and read them there fax:

Seeking: Peter Pan Sindrome

First of all, dear Fatties, we're so sorry to have gone so Donald Ducky on you! We were all gold-dipped enuff to be shipped out to the Crawford Family Estate on Long Beach Island, NJ for a spontaneous lesson in exfoliation this week-weekend. But we're back & a few shades darker (thank God)!

Now, not that this has happened to any of us, but some extremely educ8ed young boygirl in New Zealand or Connecticut or something sent a little prank mail our way divulging the mystery of the lazy-brained twenty-something. Have your couple read this for yourself:

Waaah Waaah Waaah!

What can we say, Dr. Old! It has happened to the best of us, the life-long dreams shattered, the record deal falls through, the seams burst because the models found McDonalds, now we have the science to prove . . . it's not your fault that you're a big giant baby.

You're not alone puppy-piler, seems as though plenty of the neighbors squandered their expensive progressive education just as hard as you think you have.

Well BabySkinGlove is here to tell you that not only is moving in with Mom&Pop a gud way to save $$$, it's the perfect time to perfect your blog, let out some seams, and conquer your local dreams! Because if not for big babies, we'd never find teen pregnancy contradictory.

Club Action

It's been a long hot summer. How can it can get any hotter? Inject this testosterone fest.
xo
lg

HUNKS HUNKS HUNKS! on Vimeo.

WIN

Fly Lashings

You know how summa times you get those lashes in your eye that just won't come out no matter how much you rub and rub and rub and rub and before long you look like a 14 year old who hangs out at the mall with one eye all swelled up like racecar red . . . now imagine that happening when you go fascionz and have fly legs hanging off your little lids and I don't mean Will Smith fly, I mean Lord of the. What do we do on a rainy day? We kill all those little buggers bugging around VillaVulvaDiva, cut off their legs and glue them to our faces. It's hard being this productivity.

(kreditz)

trans: Wise Man's Axe

Gar! Will Familjen please quit with their dream worming? I mean if they access both my beauty and style lobes while I'm sleeping and mutate them into a fan videopaper one more time....

Thankfully, the Swedish teenager in each of us can find thrust to this:

"Let's Unpack Ke$ha"

For the past 6 of our semi-daily BSGHQ meetings we have been racking our google brains to try to find something, ANYTHING redeeming, interesting or verbal to say about current heavy-lidded station identification star Ke$ha. This is us saying we give up. There's no image, video clip or soundbite worthy.

Aspire to Cleanse Ur Porno

And now, a word from our sponsor.