Nicki Minaj Flashes GMA ... Been There Done That

If you haven't already heard, Nicki Minaj's pepperoni slice nipple made a cameo during her performance this morning as part of Good Morning America's summer concert series. BIG FUCKIN' DEAL. I had both my tits out (my nipples are more like silver dollar pancakes with butter on them) when Mary J. Blige performed last summer.

Here's a censored image, because this blog is classy and we gotta keep shit PG-13:

What I really want to know is: Why are we focusing on yet another supposed 'waldrobe malfunction', when Nicki's background dancer Laura Winslow of Family Matters fame, died on stage from pure jealousy of Nicki feasting on a drum of the Colonel's original recipe. Warning, the next image is extremely graphic as it depicts the corpse (front, center) of Steve Urkel's spank bank favorite.

Egg Salad Thongs

I've tried wearing lots of things you can find at a salad bar. Not because I'm fashion forward, but because I try to eat as much as possible at the actual bar before I head to the register where they weigh it. All the baby corn usually winds up in my hair and and in my turtleneck. Rihanna must've been watching me at CiCi's all-you-can-eat pizza/salad/dessert buffet last week and gotten hypnotized by the stunning beauty that was me speckled with Russian dressing. I can't blame her.

Here she is in Barbados this morning rocking a bathing suit that looks like sliced eggs in a Cobb salad.

Yo Holmes Smell Ya Later

Because my apartment is more likely to be featured in a police blotter than Architectural Digest it is with deep regret and great disdain that I congratulate my friends Will and 'Stony' Pinkett-Smith on their beautiful home in Malibu getting the cover treatment. It's like someone ripped a page from The Jefferson's script and stapled it into the magazine most likely to leave your dentist's office tucked into your sweater. Except for the fact that Weezy Jefferson, may her soul rest in peace, never had to step over piles of Courtney Love's shit, or swerve to avoid hitting Lindsay Lohan's legs poking out from a manhole in the middle of the street at 4am. Instead Weezy maintained her classy on the Upper East Side; everyone knows Malibu is the rich white man's Cabrini-Green.

Here's how I usually read an article: I read the first sentence, skim the second, skip the third and then just stare at the rest of the page so that people on the train don't realize I'm sleeping and steal my wallet. So based on thorough analysis of the photos, and complete disregard for the copy, here's all you need to know about Will's crib as featured in the magazine:

1) His son Trey is the black Rumer Willis:

2) The Pinkett-Smiths and their home would've fit right in on The Flintstones as the Cocoa-Pebbles.

3) Once they got the stink out of Uncle Phil's sweaters, Jada used them to upholster the 1000 chairs in the sitting room (lest it be known as the shitting room).

On Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, DJ Jazzy Jeff was always thrown from the front of the house onto the lawn by Uncle Phil, and during the opening scene on The Flintstones, Fred was always kicked out of his own house by his brontosaurus pet. I bet when the uber-feminine Jada Pinkett-Smith wants to make sexytimes, her own brontosaurus pet/co-star from Set It Off, Queen 'Barney' Latifah, gives Will(ma) the same treatment.

Linda Evangelista: Prettier, Richer and Now Smarter Than You

In college I had this recurring nightmare that I took NoDoz instead of birth control and got pregnant during finals week. There's no need to take any tests once you've already failed the only one that matters, so I bypass the classroom and get a pack of Pizza-flavored Combos from the vending machine. I lay on the floor crying, but that shit stops as soon as I remind myself that I never even bought the Econ textbook. Putting things into perspective, I now have the rest of the afternoon free to shop at Mandee's.

Ok, so it was actually a daydream, but that's irrelevant since I have a dick. The point I'm trying to make here is: I will always wind up doing extra work in an effort to avoid doing any work. Pregnancy is a walk in the park in comparison to school work, or any work for that matter. Just ask Linda Evangelista.

Linda is pretty famous for being pretty, but she's probably better known for saying the words I mumble every morning before I finally give up the charade and go to work for 17 cents/hour: "I don't wake up for less than $10,000 a day." She has always dated rich dudes, but there was one that broke the mold (the porcelain mold she keeps her vagina in), François-Henri Pinault, currently known as Mr. Salma Hayek; the father to her 5-year-old son daughter son(?) Augusten. I guess the name "Beat the shit of me on the playground at 3pm" wasn't French enough. I think on the night they conceived, Linda spun her big wheel of Yaz birth control and screamed "Big Money, Big Money, Big Money!", praying it would land on placebo. I was Vanna's stand-in so I just stood there and pressed imaginary squares on the wall, and then the real Pat Sajak informed Linda that it was a prize puzzle; valued at $552,000 a year in child support. This is the face she made when she realized her uterus was filled with cash:

Linda is demanding over $46k a month to cover the costs of vacations, security guards and hiring another mother for Augusten. I have my fingers crossed that this case makes it to the court of one JUDITH SHEINDLIN.

'Friends With Benefits' Premieres this Weekend

I wish I could tell you that I'm not going to go see it. I already picked out the fucking snacks I'm going to inhale while watching it. Gyros. They don't sell those at the movie theater, so I have to smuggle them in via duffel bag. You might think it's ridiculous to go to the movies with a duffel bag, but I think you're ridiculous for thinking I could ever manage to fit 2 gyros in the pocket of my (::cough:: pajama ::cough::) jeans.

Five years ago I would've never had the patience to sit through a movie like Friends With Benefits. Today that's the only type of movie that can grab my attention. I blame online porn. I can't watch anything unless it has hot, half-naked people in it, which a lot of quick-changing scenes. Pre-puberty, I would watch Mad About You. You know what's more attractive than Paul Reiser and Helen Hunt kissing with morning breath? Sitting on a wet toilet seat at work.

Ok, so let's get to the point. The obvious benefit of having a friend with benefits is the casual sex. But since 98% of your friends are ugly, there has to be a long list of other things you can use them for. I decided to compile a list of friends that I want, including all the shit I want from them.

1) Casey Anthony: You know the old adage: A good friend is someone you call when you're in jail, but a BEST friend is someone sitting right next to you in the cell? FUCK THAT. Casey Anthony can bust your ass right out of that jail, with an additional $527 cash in your pocket. And if that wasn't enough, she always has duct tape.

2) Dominique Strauss-Kahn: He's a billionaire. You can hang out on his yacht all day long, if your ass is up for it (pun intended).

3) DJ Tanner: A true friend will tell you when you're fat. A friend-with-benefits has the recipe for frozen water popsicles.

4) Lindsay Lohan: Drugs.

5) The Cast of The Biggest Loser: Having a fat ugly friend makes you feel great about yourself. Now, multiply that feeling by 12.

6) Jesus: You can wear your 2002 "Jesus is my Homeboy" paraphernalia from Urban Outfitters and truly mean it.

7) Marlee Matlin: You are going to win EVERY argument.

Hennifer No-Pez

When I was a kid I never found any use for Pez dispensers; except maybe putting them in my shirt so I could have pointy titties like Madonna. I used to eat all the candy when trying to load the toy, so it defeated the purpose. That's EXACTLY what Jennifer Lopez does with all her dudes. She eats all their candy, and leaves their giant heads hanging above a soul/candy-less body. I'm pretty sure she's trying to make herself look like Madonna too.

Exhibit A: Ojani Noa
You probably have no idea who he is. My point exactly. Even his name sounds like "I hardly know him," said in a thick Vietnamese accent. So let's move right along to B.

Exhibit B: Cris Judd
I'm convinced she thought Cris was a member of the Judd Family and would have a lot of candy. I mean, Wynona looks like a giant red pinata.  When Jennifer found out that Cris lacked candy the same way Ashley Judd lacks talent, she jumped ship.

Exhibit C: Puff Daddy
Jennifer is from the Bronx, as am I. And Puffy is from Mount Vernon, on the border of the Bronx. Using my powerful reasoning skills, I'm going to deduce that they both shared a love of bodega sundries. Jennifer KNEW that Puffy was full of Now & Laters and Chico Sticks, so she played up her outer-borough boricua mami ancestry and became his arm candy. He was at the peak of his celebrity, and was by her side when she walked the red carpet in the Versace dress that she made famous (coincidentally, it looked like a tye-dye pull'n'peel fruit rollup). One shoot-out in a night club later, and Jennifer filled up her Halloween sack and ditched him.

Exhibit D: Ben Affleck
Most people thought this pair was odd. They couldn't imagine why this A-List actor from Boston, with a squeaky clean reputation in Hollywood, would slum it with Puff Daddy's old sidepiece whose celebrity-candle's flame was starting to extinguish. I have my own theory, and it goes a little something like this: Six Degrees of Candy Shoppe (Time Out. I spelled 'shop' in old English in an effort to lend credibility to my non-scientific reasoning. Time In.) Jennifer starred in a the blockbuster movie, Enough. We all know the true leading lady in that movie, Fat Bad Baby's muse, Juliette Lewis. Juliette banged Brad Pitt years ago (when she rocked cornrows that where thick and delicious, unlike other white chicks who look like they have skull stitches), Brad banged Gwyneth, and Gwyneth humped Ben. Jennifer smelled the A-List love juice residue on Juliette's breath, and got the bright idea to send Ben a Goya care package. 1 giant canary yellow engagement ring for Jen, and 12 mystic tan visits for Ben, and before you knew it, they were over.

Exhibit E: Marc Anthony
Marc Anthony may look like he is candy-less (because he's practically flesh-less), but that's just an optical illusion. Homeboy is very popular in the Latin American community, which we all know, is a powerful force in the entertainment industry. Jennifer's initial rise to stardom was during the Latin explosion of the 90's, and she was the biological token female* in the powerful trio that was Ricky Martin, Jennifer Lopez and Enrique Iglesias. Jennifer didn't feel secure enough in her identity as hispanic (probably why she plays Italian characters in all of her films), so she spent a large portion of her career experimenting with different cultures; she wasn't black enough with Diddy, and she wasn't successful in re-inventing herself as the new Elizabeth Taylor during her stint with Ben. She finally realized that she needed to take back the Latina crown and get with her own kind. Enter, Marc Anthony. They released a movie, El Cantante (it's in my Netflix queue, right after Glitter), a few spanish-language albums, a pair of twins, and were on the cusp of releasing the first ever joint-clothing line to be sold exclusively at Kohl's when they decided to separate.  Marc's left with bitter fans who view him as a sellout, and a bunch of black gaucho pants that will be on clearance at Kohl's in September, and Jennifer is riding high in her American Idol judge's seat.

What's next for Jenny from the Block? Methinks, labia.

Tracy Morgan: Not as Gay as His Name

World-famous lesbian Meredith Baxter Birney is putting extra Dep hair gel on her spikes today and she's running head first at Tracy Morgan's chocolate titties.  This happened once before, but Tracy used Tina Fey as a human shield and that's why she has that scar on her lip.

 
Brian Fellows' alter ego is under fire for his anti-gay tirade at a recent show in Nashville. Great idea Tracy! Did you know Nashville is home to Dolly Fuckin' Parton? Of course her people are not gonna laugh at gay jokes. For an encore, you should probably go to Haiti and talk shit about Harriet Tubman.

Everyone knows that if you have anything offensive to say, you start a fucking anonymous blog.

Anyway, as a way to honor the 4 gay/only people that ready my blog (Ashley Judd, Lauren Peddicord, Yolanda Vega and Amber from Teen Mom), I leave you with the following:

Dear Anthony Weiner

I know people are giving you mad shit about your online sexcapades, but I for one would like to salute you the way your beef sword salutes your tight grey panties.
First of all, I don't think you're getting enough props for your girth. I mean, you look like a fuckin' cockroach and you're built like linguini on a hanger, so I sure as hell didn't expect you to be packin' anything other than your big Gargamel nose.

Secondly, I would like to thank you for providing me with a photo that I can pass around as my own. You know, since 1996 I have had my fair share of online romances; AOL chatrooms were the easiest way to get laid back then especially because noone had a digital camera so you had to wait until they showed up on your first date at Bronx Seafood Factory to find out if they were ugly. And even if you were ugly, no Bronx bitch is gonna turn down free seafood! Nowadays everyone demands pictures of every orifice before they will meet you at Dallas BBQ's for a frozen margarita.

Pink's Poonani Popped!

From one pregnant dude to another, I'd like to congratulate Pink on the birth of her daughter, Willow Sage Hart. When I finally give birth to my bar food (it helped the bourbon go down last night), I'll name her Pillow Size Fart.

Is it just me or did it seem like P!nk was pregnant forever? Good thing the timer popped up on her turkey because bitch was starting to look like Ursula from Little Mermaid.
How Pink managed to squeeze a baby out of her peen is a mystery to me and an inspiration to Khloe Kardashian who was at the last-standing Blockbuster trying to rent a VHS of Junior for research when she heard the news. The other day I was trying to make a poop and I swear I thought my ass ripped, so I can only imagine how Emily Valentine's little brother managed the pain. She probably picked off her skater boy husband's scabs as a distraction.

Both of Willow's parents are handsome, so that means the kid could either be beautiful or Rumer Willis.

People I Wouldn't Eat Scrambled Eggs With

Scrambled eggs are delicious. I will eat them off a plate... I will eat them off my elbow... Fuck, I will even eat them off of Angela Lansbury. The thing about scrambled eggs though, is that they make your upper lip smell funk-ay for a few hours after you eat them; much like pizza, egg noodles and Ms. Angela Lansbury. Try to imagine the face you make when you smell your upper lip. It's a pucker with a furled brow. That's the same face you make when the condom breaks AND when you see someone ugly (one and the same for most of you). That is why I am introducing a new feature on Fat Bad Baby known as 'People I Wouldn't Eat Scrambled Eggs With', ugly people.

It is my dishonor to present you with our first person I wouldn't eat scrambled eggs with; a woman who looks like she just woke up and ate some off of her tits while laying in bed, Lady Chelsea Handler.
Sidenote: Sometimes, after I eat scrambled eggs, I look for a latina friend and borrow some of the fruity lotions YOU KNOW she is carrying in her Coach bag and I dab a little on my upper lip. (Pear Glace is mad classy.)

Bump-It's & Bumper Cars

The poster child for Orangina, Ed Hardy-scented feminine deodorant spray, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and, retarded people, Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi was arrested for hitting a cop car while filming the upcoming season of Jersey Shore in Italy. The unfortunate news is, she was in a car. I was hoping she hit it with the giant black airbag sprouting from her forehead.

Here's a photo of everyone's favorite troll that lives under a bridge leaving her apartment before the accident:


That's actually a photo of Deena who almost fell to her death amidst a crowd of reporters who look very eager to help her. I guess someone threw a used condom past her and she played fetch.

Boys Don't Cry... They Jet Ski

Fat Bad Baby's west coast correspondent, Tamieka, was on assignment in Hawaii when she happened upon Hillary Swank and Meghan Fox rubbing on each other's chonies in the water. She immediately snapped a photo with the T-Mobile Sidekick I LENT to her. ('Mieka, if you are reading this, that shit is not yours to keep!)


UPDATE: Tamieka, my former west coast correspondent, has ruined my chance at winning a Pulitzer (and her opportunity to flex a Sidekick at her aunt's Memorial Day BBQ this weekend) with her negligent journalism. The aforementioned photo is of Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez.

Chest Acne in a Pizzeria: Kim Kardashian's Engagement

Last night I was enjoying some pizza with my best friend when he noticed what appeared to be a giant ruby on my cleavage. Shit was a giant pimple/ingrown hair! Because my shirt was too tight for me to button up and conceal, I tried popping it right at the table. Nothing came out and now that shit is so swollen it looks like my hearts coming out of my chest. See where I'm going here? Be patient.

At that very moment, Kris Humphries proposed to Kim Kardashian with a 20.5 carat ring (smaller than my titty pimple). The star of Kim & Moesha's Brother Play With a Brown Boomerang and Keeping Up with Eating Salads and Crying is going to become Kim Hump-frees. Nice work karma. That's the equivalent of me marrying someone whose last name is Eatsklondikebarsintheshower.

In related news, Maria Shriver's saga gets eclipsed as she once again gets screwed by a fat ass housekeeper. (Editor's Note: that's not a pair of sneezing pliers in the top right corner of the magazine cover, it's Maria).

The Obamas Meet [I Don't Know Their Last Name] ... White People?

I grew up in the Bronx, so I know a thing or two about matching your entire outfit to your sneakers. When you grow up poor your only option is to lie to your friends about how much money your parents have, and then spend the little bit that they do have on shit that matches the swoosh on your new kicks. So, since real recognizes real, I was very impressed when I saw that Michelle Obama matched her entire outfit to the Buckingham Palace.


Kate Middleton put on her cold-oatmeal-finest to meet the President and First Lady, but I like to imagine that as Michelle strutted into that room, her dress sounded like this: "TAKE. THAT. Y'ALL. NASTY. MOTHA. FUCKAS!"

Tickle Tickle My Vagina

Every 5 years or so a song comes out that really changes the way we see the world.

1. Let It Be - The Beatles
2. Redemption Song - Bob Marley & the Wailers
3. With or Without You - U2
4. Somebody to Love - Jefferson Airplane
5. Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
6. My Neck, My Back - Khia

I could go on for days.

But frankly, I'm not satisfied with the representation of black music on this list. The important role played by African-Americans in the history of music has always been overshadowed by prejudice. In an effort to bridge the racial divide, I am nominating the following song to be inducted into the list of the 100 Greatest Songs of All Time.

Buen Provecho Putas!

Someone Made a Store Just For Me...

Food Emporium, Food Emporium

In news that is only surprising to white people, hair weaves and extensions are the target of recent heists.

This is my surprised face. Ready?


White people, get your fucking heads out of the ranch dressing!! Fake hair is not only glamorous, and elegant, SHIT IS EXPENSIVE! Have you ever seen a black girl scratch her head? Of course you haven't! Black women are smart and they know not to fuck with the fragility of a weave. If that shit falls out, noone's gonna believe their claims that they are 1/19 Cherokee. Black girls patented the "Black Girl Pat" to get rid of that itchiness. And I thank them for it every day, because I stay classy by patting my toto when I'm at work.

Disclaimer: Not a single white person reads my blog.

"Pube in my Keyboard" of the Month!

"Pube in my Keyboard" of the Month! is the most popular feature on this blog (in Uruguay). Sorry for being such a lazy shit when it comes to bestowing this honor—I can assure it was not for lack of nominees. I mean, off the top of my head we have:

1. Osama bin Laden's 17th wife, Amal Ahmed Abdul Fatah (known as 'Tiny' to her friends and through her graffiti.)
2. Arnold's sidepiece, but I gave that bitch way too much publicity with yesterday's post.
3. Pippa Middleton, sister-in-law to Prince William. (She almost won, but then I found out she's British, which immediately disqualified her. I'm still not speaking to the UK since they flung caca at us in the shape of Russell Brand.)

So without further ado...

"Pube in my Keyboard" of the Month! May 2011 goes to...

Drita MOTHAFUCKIN D'Avanzo, star of VH1's Mob Wives, and most famous Albanian since... well, me.

Here's a picture of her reaction to the win:

Terminator 4: Whathadhappenedwas

I'm always jealous when a latina woman sits next to me on the train wearing her teenage daughter's clothes and eats a slice of garlic bread from the cuban bakery on 231st street at 7am. Now Maria Shriver will suffer that burning envy that stings like Jennifer Lopez perfume in the eye, and aches like chinese sequin slippers pinching on a Puerto Rican flag pedicure, because Arnold's mistress has been revealed. I hereby unveil, Luz Clarita de Eufemia Los Santos Maria Hostos Community College Ecumi Yancy Estanga Altagracia-Schwarzenegger:


Maria, if only your eyebrows were as sharp as your other facial features, you might have been able to keep your man.

Kara DioGuardi's Piranha Jaw Is Not Smiling

Bristol Palin asserts that she underwent "corrective jaw surgery". Don't worry Bristol, I believe you. That eye roll that you see me doing isn't sarcasm—it's caused by the neck fat that I still have hanging from my fucking face.

Either way, congratulations on upgrading your look from Jon Lovitz to Snooki.

Nefer-Titties

There's way too much coverage of all the bad things happening in Egypt. So as a way of breathing new life into this mummy of a blog (sorry for sleeping through all of 2010), I'm going to single-handedly revive Egypt's tourism.

Here's why you should squat in the Nile in 2011:

1. Egyptian actresses are more talented than their American counterparts. How the fuck did we get stuck with Ashley Judd, and they get to claim Poussi.
2. Ashley Judd isn't there. She's here. Behind you. And she's holding a copy of "Kiss the Girls". Here, for your safety, I'll link you to kayak so that you can hurry the fuck up and get away from her.
3. You can wear those harem pants that you bought at Marshall's for $10 on clearance, but didn't get a chance to wear them because Rachael Ray forbids them to be worn by her studio audience. [TIME OUT I was gonna pair them with a bolero. It would've looked nice. TIME IN]
4. You won't have to wait until Easter to watch The Ten Commandments on CBS. This is a tradition at my house. In 1998, I thought I was Moses because I turned my bathwater red. Turns out I was just shitting blood. (No I don't typically shit in the tub. I was expecting a fart.)
5. Hieroglyphics. History books ignore it, but Egyptians were the first people to WrItE LiKe Dis, LoLz.