Monday, February 14, 2011

No One Messes With My Bitch

So of all the men, beards, and moustaches, I have yet to inform you all about my affair with Whoppi Goldberg.  In short, I'm pretty much in lesbians with her.  No one comes close to Whoppi.

And the New York Times just ignored her Academy Award?  This woman earned that hunk of gold, and deserves 10 more, thankyouverymuch.  Here is the NY Times article, and as of Monday night, she was not mentioned.  The NY Times should do a full front page apology to my lady.

Listen to her be pissed on the subject.  It's what she does best.

My love for Whoopi began the first 100 times I watched Sister Act when I was 8 or 9 years old.  And I've seen it 300 more times since then, but that is extraneous information. Let us discuss Sister Act for a hot second, kay?

She starts out as a slutty lounge singer. You can't imagine that it gets better but it does.

She is a classy lady!

She has a gold lamé
jacket. And she has bangin' shades. Have you seen this hair! Shits Noicce. I now have a new Halloween costume. Check that shit off the list.

Nun of that!

She actually sang in it. For years I thought she didn't, but that ain't no church-voice honey.

Sister Mary Clarence also understands the importance of deep shoulder action. So easily overlooked!

PS - the sequel to Sister Act is called 'Back in the Habit'. Writing genius I tell you.

This is what the Roman
 Catholic Church looked like before Whoopi stepped into it [Note the moustache. A redeeming quality for the RCC].  No pretty.  That face is actually an universal reaction to the RCC.  Therefore church gives you crow's feet. Don't want that.

Did I mention what a sexy bitch she is? I don't know if its the hair, the studded bustier, or the lack of eyebrows that turns me on, but keep it coming!

She turns 'Bless you' into curse words. Floored yet?

She also has a showdown with Dame Maggie Smith, the only woman in the world who comes near her [aside from Katharine Ross of course].

My favorite scene is her
without the habit.  I don't understand the desire for weaves, cause ladies, this is it.  Your $1000 Indian hair does not look better than this carved afro.  With this hair you can throw on a habit and some hoops and go out the door. I need me a damn afro.  So church-chic!

So my obsession with Whoopi is unreal.   The memory of the dream of having lunch with Whoopi is better than any of the memories I've actually experienced. And no, this is not sad or pitiful.  It is a pity no one else has dream-dined with Whoopi before.

Good night ladies and gentlemen! You don't give a shit!

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