Manolo say, ayyyyy! The super fantastic peoples at the Carmen Steffens are giving away the $500 shopping spree to one of the visitors to their website!
Hurry and enter for the big drawing next Thursday, August 12th.
Manolo says, old Europe is in trouble: governments teeter on the edge of collapse, unemployment is at the record highs, social unrest grows. Dark days loom!
And yet, all of this is the mere sunny walk in the park compared to the true disaster barreling down the road towards the continent…. The Eurovision Song Contest!!!!!
Ayyyyy!
Yes, it all starts out so innocently…
.
With bizarre Belurusian human-butterfly genetic mutations!
.
.
To be countered by glittery Maltese bird men, hovering ominously behind Justin Beiber-esque divas.
.
.
But this is the mere prelude to the true atrocity, the one which, no matter whatever precautions may be taken, inevitably makes its disastrous appearance at the Eurovision…
Manolo said, Ayyyyy! It is the competitive pole dancing…
Naturally, the Manolo had no idea that this was so athletic, knowing so little as he does about the modern demi-monde. Nor did he realize that the competitive pole dancing costumes were no less salacious than, say, the women’s beach volleyball, or the Cirque du Soleil. Indeed, this has the strong resemblance to the high-end French Canadian circusry. Although, one does wish they had the better taste is the shoes.
Frankly, competitive pole dancing seems antiseptic, and mostly asexual, more similar to the the display of physical culture than the tawdry eroticism. So serious and martial, like the exercises done by the women of Sparta.
But, as we all know, last century’s forbidden dance, is this century’s historical curiosity…
Now, this, the cancan as imagined by Jean Renoir, is bacchic eroticism on the profound scale, so appealing and abandoned and natural that one wishes to be transported to this place, if only to drink champagne and observe.
P.S. The Manolo tip his chapeau claque to the Ka-Ching
Manolo says, the Manolo is nearly hyperventilating with excitement to announce that this week’s special guest blogger will be the sassy, super fantastic, superstar of the red carpet interviews, Steven Cojocaru, better known as Cojo!
The Manolo has long been the fan of the Cojo, not just because he is hilariously funny and warm, but also because he is perhaps one of the most perceptive fashion advisers and critics of the past decade, and now, to add to his lengthy list of achievements, he is blogging up some of the sharpest and wittiest celebrity commentary on the intertubes.
And so all week long the Manolo and the Cojo will be posting on each others blogs, so you must visit frequently, as it is certain to be much fun.
Manolo says, and now to make up for the Manolo’s absence, he gives you the incomparable Wilbur Sargunaraj, destined to be perhaps the greatest superstar ever produced by the internets.
Manolo says, over at the Ayyyy! blog our friend Raincoaster has put together what the Manolo considers to be the greatest gallery of famous people wearing fishing hats ever!. If you have ever wondered what would Ava Gardner would wear with her hip waders, or what the late Queen Mum wore on vacation, this is the post for you.
Manolo says, Donatella in her own words.
“I don’t even know what my natural color is. Natural? What is natural? What is that? I do not believe in totally natural for women. For me, natural has something to do with vegetables.”
Hmm, speaking of words, what is that partial word in the background?
…nibal… annibal.. nibali… anib..
Cannibalism!
Ayyyy!
