But this here is Amurrica. You know what Amurricans love? Besides parking rusty Mercury Comets on thinning lawns and savoring a Miller High Life (protesting Budweiser since Stella Artois bought them out)? Running to raise money for shit. At least, white upper middle class Amurricans do. We are gonna get on that bandwagon right quick with our own 5/10/whateverK fun run/Edgar Allan Poe-try reading to raise money to help Robert Smith lose some weight. Our seriously gothy coiffed friend is getting a little hammer-assed and we're not going to sit around watching him pound buckets of KFC until he hits orca status and starts wearing muumuus like 85% of his fans. We'll announce more info as we secure the location and decide a time and date, but get your finest tragically ripped fishnets and doc martens ready. Oh, and don't forget your running shorts, dudes.
We are doing this because (mostly because Megan got a little tipsy at stone steps and blurted it out) Robert Smith currently has the sex appeal of a school bus fire (thank you Greg Giraldo for using that in the Bob Saget roast). I'm pretty sure Fat Bob has worn the same outfit since the Trilogy DVD. When I say "the same" I mean he can't get it off and probably showers in it. If he showers...
If you're still not all that convinced, check this out:
Okay, so he wasn't that great in the first place but look at that ham hock of a neck! WE HAVE TO SAVE HIM!
In addition to the Race for The Cure, we are putting together a compilation CD of Cure cover songs called "Fatflowers: Trimspa worked for Anna Nicole Smith" that will be sold
1. Let's Go to The Gym
3. Friday I'm Bulimic
4. Just Like Cheetos
5. Killing a Fatty
6. Burn (calories)
7. Close to Thin
8. In Between Diets
9. Fatscination Street
10. Pictures of Cellulite
I hope we can count on you, darling readers, to help make this a success! In the meantime, here are a few Cure videos, in order of increasing weird gothyness/fat.
Let's Go to Bed:
and a recent live video, this one is dedicated to Jenni, The Love Cats:
don't make me savor the metallic aftertaste of disappointment alone,