Posts tagged ‘Florida’
Every time I got to Florida, I am reminded of just how hard Floridians party, and how if I hadn’t left there when I did, I would probably be dead. Floridians party in a different way than New Yorkers. When they go out, its all about having a ridiculously crazy, fun time. They don’t give a shit if they look good. They are my kind of people.
I went down to support Square One Florida, a company that produces large scale art shows that I started with my friend years ago. (He has since gone on to turn that company into the producer of one of the biggest art shows in Florida). JMO and Emsy were headed down to perform an amazing dance number they choreographed for the event, called Invincible Summer. I helped with the costuming (basically covering them in glitter and drawing muscles on them) and a little with the choreography (fine-tuning things, like telling him not to actually stick his fist in her butthole).
If you think that all of us being there is going to incite a chain reaction of utter insanity, you are right. But my sister was there, too. So it was more like a super nova of intense partying the likes of which the American people (especially the Christians, Republicans, and virgins) cannot possibly fathom. Except, of course, the people who were there. Here is all the shit that went down, in no particular order, with no names, named.
I remember my friend letting me play with his assault rifle. No, that isn’t a euphemism- altho these particular friends have learned not to give me a loaded gun when I’m loaded because apparently I take them all hostage and then don’t remember it in the morning. I ate salt and vinegar chips in the bathtub of a Ramada Inn with my sister. Somebody spent an entire night making out with a married couple. Somebody licked some pretty strange substances off a random iPad. There was a hotel party in our room at the Hilton Garden Inn where I ended up in a fur vest and my undies while crazy bitches all around me took pics of their brown boobs. We had brunch at Hamburger Mary’s in Ybor, which we kindly referred to as Cheeseburger Meredith’s. Apparently Nadia isn’t as hated by all the drag queens as we thought. In fact, they love her. They love her so much they basically put a spotlight on her called her a tranny in front of the entire restaurant. I think their exact words were “This is an OG bitch that we love so much and she has a penis. In her panties. Even though she looks like a girl. She has a penis. A penis.” The rest of the weekend we referred to her as the great and powerful Nadia. If I had a troup of trannies that loved me that much I would storm San Francisco Gaza-style. Too soon, I know. You don’t have to say it. We continued our brunch at Gaspar’s Grotto where they have $2 whiskey shot/beers. The New York side of the table took advantage of this and drank 15 shots and 15 beers EACH. Some straight guy was clinging to us that day (I’m pretty sure that he was egged on by the fact that one of us was trying to dick him hardcore in a very gay way) (PS, it wasn’t me for once) and invited a stripper friend of his to our festivities. She literally looked like an anorexic hatchet-face meth mother with so many stretch marks on her tits you could use them to decipher the DaVinci code. Julia was not having it, so she relocated us to another bar where we held an impromptu fashion show with some random girl’s purse that we found on the bar. Our good friend from Chicago got a VIP area at G Bar, which was awesome because it gave us all a meet-up area since me and my sister are apparently club nomads who get there, and run around meeting strangers passing like ships in the night. We danced our tits off, and I met a cute guy. At that point I was so drunk tho that I found it difficult to think of anything between bouts of dancing to say other than Read more…
Ok now listen, you can change you name, your hair, your body, or your penis into a vagina and you will still be a psycho. Take this wannabe ginger snap that planned, plotted and put into action the Colorado Dark Knight Massacre. His new look shows that he has been poked in his pooper a few hundred times and is now at peace with it. I’m pretty sure he shaved his head so the orange doesn’t show underneath the mop wig he wears around prison, “Bitch Boi!” However, let him get out of prison and get into revitalizing community activities, and he will probably still slice open a few squirrels in the park.
A photo of Channing Tatum before Magic Mike looking gayer than any male stripper ever has a right to look.
Before we jump in, I feel like its my responsibility to reiterate (as if its not obvious by my affinity for chugging cans of Nattie Ice in phone booths) that I am Florida trash too. As many of you may know, Channing Tatum first tasted the glamorous bright lights and sparkly casting couch blowjobs of fame when he was a stripper in Tampa, Florida. I have to honestly say that while I totally get why everyone finds him so fucking hot, I am not that attracted to him. Maybe its because I have seen plenty of Florida strippers, and I am just desensitized to the smell of tanning oil, tramp stamps, and the vision of a slightly out-of shape paunchy straight guy gyrating for dollars in a smoke-filled bar.
Here is my evidence that Channing Tatum is Florida trash:
The Frosted tips: A constant giveaway every time, because if you live in Florida, you need to have at least one streak of blond in your hair, even if you are as black as the Reverend Al Sharpton.
The Buzz cut: Ever wanted to trick a girl into thinking you are in the Military (which translates into: I am not stuck in this town working at Kash N Karry, and I have great benefits so if you poke a hole in the condom and Read more…
First off, I don’t really know why this movie is being made since it isn’t coming out until 2014. By then, the fairy tale trend will most likely be over, not to mention the world will have ended in December from a zombie apocalypse which began in (of all places – home of Morton’s Bath Salts ) Fucking Florida.
I have to say though, that Angelina Jolie’s Sharon stone coke-cutter cheekbones are giving me fashion palpitations. Here is a list of things she could cut with her Gaga/Cutco bone structure:
She could cut a line of blow with baby laxative so potent that Mary Kate’s balls finally drop and she is revealed as the smiegel gremlin-like creature that she is. Nobody feed that fucking thing after midnight.
She could cut Gary Busey’s greasy cigarette cloud meth hair into a fashionable bob a la The Avon Lady in Edward Scissordicks.
She could cut in line at the local CVS, angering the scores of young tweens clambering to buy Justin Bieber’s new perfume, Teenage Twats.
She could cut Linsday Lohan’s life Read more…
Since a few of us GVG Admins are Florida transplants, we can say with full confidence and pride that yes, we are Florida trash. They call Florida the New Jersey of the South for a reason. Here is how to tell if you are Florida White Trash:
Your childhood neighbors grew up to own a fancy chain of meth labs.
You never use an umbrella because the rain only lasts 5 minutes.
You have been barefoot in a super market.
Anything under 70 degrees is chilly.
No shirt, no shoes, no service doesn’t apply to you.
You think a 6 foot alligator is pretty average, but a 6 inch penis is disappointing.
Down South means Key West.
At least one or more of your aquaintances has been in gay porn.
You have worn flip flops to church before.
You think condoms are only for people who live in big cities.
You shit your pants the first time you Read more…
We have all been there: Maybe you took a super long, super moist (yes, I am aware that word makes people uncomfortable which is why I say it. At church. In the eyes of god) business lunch. Maybe, your happy hour stretched into the wee hours because you were desperately trying to cock whatever you could find outside of some douchey bar in Meat Packing. Maybe, like me, you just want to have a good time even if that means drinking a hundred Blue Moon draft+shot of Blueberry stoli’s (I call this Papa Smurf’s Revenge). Whatever your reason, you are drunk at work and you need to wake up before your boss comes over and realizes you smell like an Oktoberfest after-party.
This is the music to save your job. If it doesn’t you fist pumping and cooter-jumping then nothing, not even industrial strength Alabama Meth will. Not to mention the DJ (DJ Mass Effect) is super hot, hilarious, and sometimes takes part in my NY Rooftop parkour challenges. As far as I know, from skim-reading like a child molester near the “Missing” signs at a Florida rest stop, the Insomniac Discovery Project is a contest to help unsigned DJ’s gain exposure. So support a bitch and fight your hangover at the same time.
Let the song play for at least 5 minutes or your future children will come out looking like Rose Mcgowan’s face circa 2012.
Even though we are primarily based in New York, Gloganvlog is a world-wide thing. As long as there are people out there willing to get hammered and then nailed, we will be there, making fun of Jews. I am originally from Panama City, Florida- which if you google it you probably won’t be surprised to find out that:
a) Its the spring break capital of the world.
2)Its basically Alabama, with a better tan.
My sisters keep mentioning that Spring Break is in full effect right now, so it got me thinking about my past and what it was like growing up there. When I was a teenager I had a job at a trashy little t shirt shop directly on the beach. I remember several things about it: I used to hit on all the straight guys that came in, even if I had to put on a wig to do it, I used to go upstairs and jerk off in the attic, and I used to stand outside watching cars go by thinking “There must be someone else gay in at least one of those cars” (Panama City was awesome, but not very gay so it got kind of lonely at times). Anyway here is my favorite Spring Break story:
I remember getting super fucked up in the car on the way to the beach. In Panama City the liquor stores have a drive through, and they give you cups with Ice. (Editor’s note: We were doing more than drinking, and it was my first time experimenting). When we got to the beach we decided to climb up a ladder on the side of the store where I worked and lay out on the roof. We drank more and flashed some people on the street. Then we found another secret ladder, that lead down to a crazy homeless person shack behind the store. It was pitch black and Im pretty sure there were homeless people sleeping, but we took that as a sign to get more fucked up. Then we met up with some of my friends and went to one of their houses, which smelled like cat pee and crusty towels. Then, my straight best friend tried to get everyone to have an orgy Read more…