Archive for January, 2007

The Fast and the Furiolivia…Or Something

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.usAs a fabulous young lady growing up in New York City, there are certain things that have become a norm in my life. Grays Papaya hot dogs. Walking. And the most glorious of all, cab rides that don’t exceed 50 dollars (crazy, I know). Driving, however, is not a norm. I didn’t get my permit at 16, a car at 18 and my super hot Brazilian boyfriend at 19. What I did get was braces (again) at 16, fatter at 18 and a life of solitude here with Stephen at 19. Because in a place like New York, it’s entirely acceptable for a 23-year-old to have neither license, permit nor any ability whatsoever to drive (Just ask my sister…and then judge her).

The point is, I did get my license. In fact, out of all four kids, I’m only the second one to do so and I’m the prettiest so it’s just a double whammy right there. Sadly, however, having a car in New York is tres expensive and my family doesn’t own one anymore. What I mean to say is, if one more person makes a comment on how I don’t know how to drive, I will legitimately shoot them in the face. If not shoot, nun-chuck the shit out of them because I will drive yo ass all the way to Canada and leave you there.

Kidding aside, this driving thing (i.e. having no car and not being allowed to drive other cars) is a problem. I have, however, thought up a wonderful solution and propose the following: donate to the “Get-Livvy-A-Jaguar” fund so that way I can buy a car to practice driving and you won’t have to get shot or nun-chucked. Win-win, 2K7. Email me to find out where you can send the checks. I also take Visa, Mastercard or money in the form of heart attack dogs. A thank you and good night.

Note: This post was written in honor of my dear Grobot who would like to start a fund as well for the “Grobotmobile,” if you will. She accepts payment via puppychow or in the form of “Rachel Mcadams, avec or pas avec pink hair.” I concur, Grobot, I concur.

America’s Next Top I Don’t Give a Shit

ZOMG GUYZZZ TYRA BANKS LIKE TOTS GAINED WEIGHT LIKE OMG REMEMBZ WHEN SHE WAS LIKE HOT. OMG BITCH BE EATIN’. OMG OMG PORK CRACKLIN’Z.

That’s right guys, everyone is a-buzz about the former Angel’s weight gain. And, if by everyone you thought I meant just Tyra, you would be right. Because I’m pretty sure the entire American population, including myself, doesn’t give a flying monkey’s ass if Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.usTyra doesn’t look as hot as she used to. Girl wasn’t that hot in the first place.

Besides, we all know this is just a ploy to make herself more like GOD AMONG GODS Oprah. That’s right. Like Oprah, Tyra’s got issues ya’ll. Like Cinnabons that be poppin’ up all ova her head. Like little Lindsay Lohans turning her from a doll into a human being. ISS – UES.


Anyways, this week on the Tyra Show, Tyra gives the papz a piece of her ill proportioned forehead in response to recent criticism of her weight:

While the ending to Tyra’s heart-felt rant was cut in efforts to promote (see: beg) for viewership, my sources at the CW have recovered a transcript of the lost footage:

Tyra: “I have one thing to say to you… …NEVER, I repeat, NEVER, go anywhere but the Supercuts at Vermont and 36th. Ask them for the TyTyBaby. It’s. FIERCE. They bleach my skin, weave, and flatten my follices until I’m a complete idiot who thinks people actually care about my weight instead of my alien. like. appearance. All for $29.97!!!! and Guurrrrrlll, you know how I be cheapin’!!”

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I’ll Still Listen to Yo Shit On the Radioooo

Sassy mcawesome

In the past few weeks, Timbaland has come under fire for stealing the beat to “Do It” (from Nelly Furtado’s Loose) from some random ass Scandinavian guy who lives somewhere in the world. Having listened to that guy’s original ditty, I can say with authority that Timbaland probably did steal it but I can also say that I fully support that decision. I’m not really one for the “plagiarizing” thing (I believe USC frowns upon that) but anyone who helps create a Stivvy** favorite like “Do It,” comparable perhaps only to “Confessions”** and “London Bridge” is okay in my book.

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.usOh and I sort of love Nelly Furtado and support everything she does, including compulsively touching her hair 36 times in a single performance, being Canadian and reading Phonic**…twice. In short, while the Scandinavian guy may be right and will probably sue Timbaland’s face, he’s got nothing on the man who actually downed a gallon of KoolAid in Fade To Black (0.58s). Plus he’s probably just jealous since he’s pasty and Finnish and is thus neither promiscuous nor a maneater. Wait for it, wait for it…SERVED.

To compare the two songs: choose me, Derek, loooooove me even though I’m a skeletal ho

And in case you were wondering, that actually is a picture of a random Finnish man. We’re very thorough here at IJWLML. Nst.**

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Harry Potter: Hairy & Hotter(er) *UPDATED*

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.usThe following are new promotional images from Harry – I mean Daniel Radcliffe’s – new play, Equus. If you were to ask me what Equus was about I would tell you fuck if I know. All I know is he’s naked. And theres no lightning shaped scar to protect him from my advances. Ok, no, that’s gross. Yes, he’s grown into a fine specimen of the male sex. But no, I cannot. Fine, he has a surprisingly defined set of abdominal muscles, but no…I REFUSE. ……riight???

Whatever, instead, I will channel my energy into creating a special scene for you. See, I think Harry’s – I mean Daniel’s, dammit – character in Equus should some how be integrated into the 7th and final book of the Harry Potter series. So please for the LOG**, J.K., take note. Anyways, here goes:

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.usGinny: Oh, Harry, you’re… naked…

Harry: I know….. don’t you like my wand?

Cho Chang: Um, guys, I’m right here…

Harry and Ginny, together: Go Away. YOU’RE ASIAN!

Aaaand Scene!
A-thank you, A-thank you.








Update: Apparently more production stills were released today. I will let them speak for themselves. Because he is 17. Oh, Harry….

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Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us

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Is That a Tampon In Your Mouth or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

Please don't kill me

In the wake of www.ParisExposed.com, Paris Hilton has gone far beyond being the overexposed celebrity she already is. It’s no longer the casual crotch shot for us, no sir. Now it’s licking coke off a plate and looking at your own boobs. A lot. And yeah, sure, she’s an idiot to leave her stuff available for sale (or a genius) but then again, does anyone really deserve to have this kind of information available to every Tom, Dick and Samuel** that comes your way? I respond with a firm nay!

Looking through the contents of the site, I realized that Paris Hilton really is just a regular girl with regular problems. Herpes? Please, that’s not just Paris. I mean I know that I’ve…never had herpes but you know, shit happens. Doing enough coke to cover a small country (or just a hairy man’s chest)? Bitch please, that’s just breakfast we’re talking about here. Pretending to smoke a tampon? In the apartment where there is a tampon colored in with a blood red Sharpie on Stephen’s pillow, that’s just a given. So, as an equally regular girl with similar problems, I know I wouldn’t want my shit all up in everyone’s bidness. Because really, who knows what you’d find in my storage unit? Well, I can tell you right now:

1.Buckets of Lego sets, including the Batmobile that I bought for myself on my 19th birthday and the box of Legos that Stephen bought me on that same birthday. No joke.

2.Signed promo pictures of David Boreanaz, Sarah Michelle Gellar and others of the WB gang because um, I wrote a lot of celebrities letters in middle school. Yes, much has changed.

3.Assless chaps because that’s how X-Tina and I roll out to dinner. B’doidoi.

4.A wooden hand, a cane and a dead body. Don’t ask.

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.usSo you see, this isn’t just another case of wacky celebrity lives exposed. These are real people we’re dealing with, just like you and me. Sure, I’m not an almost-billionaire whose entire family name and integrity rests on my shoulders, but you know what else I’m not? A baby, because I’m a man! An anchor man! Now, please leave me alone so I can go on Howard Stern and have a midget throw bologna at my ass.

And some words of wisdom from **Rayray:
“What is it with Paris Hilton? Where are her parents when she’s doing all these things, why haven’t they come out and put her in rehab? It’s too weird! I think it’s all just a big joke, a big publicity stunt so that ten years down the line, she’ll turn around to everyone and say GOTCHYA MOTHAFUCKAAAAAS!” Besides finding it a valid point, I also wanted to note these words so when this actually does happen, Rayray and I can gloat together. And she can buy me a celebratory dinner at Koi. Because I’m the Maaaaaary!** And the best daughter.

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Dopplegang(bang)er… With Love

Penises and Va-geeens

If you’re anything like me, you hate Hilary Duff. Because you hate horses too. But you love-love-love-love her new smash hit “With Love”. No? I’m alone? Again? Whatever. Listen to it here.


Also, check this out. I just realized Hilary and the new and improved sexxxual icon Jenna Jameson are totally celebrity twins! Haha suckaaa, you look like a minutely younger version of an anorexic porn star!!

Scary expressions? Check. Ugs faces? Check. Fantaaaastic racks? Um, who cares.


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To Our Loving and Attractive Readers…

Haaaaaaay! How’s your day been? Great, you say? Well, ours too with the birth of our figurative child, IJWLML. We’ve worked long and hard hours (well, Stephen did really because Livvy doesn’t know how to do graphics) to bring you the best in self-deprecating, obscure-referencing, Lindsay-centric humor. We hope you enjoy it and realize that we probably are smarter than we sound (or at least we’d like to think so) but we can’t be dark-rimmed-glasses, beret-wearing, coffee-drinking intellectuals all the time.

So in between our discussions of the impact of Marx and the pervasiveness of Hitchcockesque motifs in the postmodern era, this is what we came up with. To us, IJWLML is an oasis in the middle of a desert of 4-hour Friday morning lectures; a Lindsay, if you will, in a sea of Paris Hiltons. We hope to you, it can become the same.

Love, Kisses, and
Awkward not-knowing-what-side-of-the-cheek-to-kiss-you-on,

Livvy and Stephen
Robots!