I Don't Think This is What Pai Mei Had In Mind

 

I'm back from Vancouver after an overnight, sleepless flight, seeing Dane Cook live (again?) a gas station vomit and a near-fight in Whistler (seriously, some twat knocked my vodka soda right out of my hand on the dance floor then gave me snooty look and turned away. Uhm...excuse me? Knocking my vodka to the ground is like throwing my child to the floor. An apology at the very least would have been nice. I wanted to lay down some 2010 Olympic-style bitchslaps on her whoreface but because I am a refined lady,  settled instead for throwing some serious elbows on that dance floor. Bitch.)

Anyway, I see I didn't miss too much while I was gone but David Carradine peaced outta here, presumably whilst masturbating. I don't think this is what Pai Mei had in mind when he developed the five point palm exploding heart technique. Dude straight up pulled a Michael Hutchence on us! Except, in Hutch's defense, choking out yourself while choking your chicken at least has a slight modicum of rock star coolness. Kinda sorta. David Carradine is a grandfather! Could you imagine? How did you Grandpa die? Oh he masturbated with a belt around his neck! Embarrassing! I think dudes who feel the need to combine masturbation and strangulation (masturlation?) need to treat that shit like weightlifting; have a spotter!

Daily Male: Michael Hutchence

Several friends have emailed me to ask why I am not blogging about JD Fortune. Back in the halcyon days of 2005/2006 I was in love with this hot piece of ass who was chosen as the new lead singer of INXS. Seriously, the amount of money I spent attending INXS shows...well I'll spare you the gory details.



Anyway, I thought JD was a simple country boy, you might say a cockeyed optimist who got himself mixed up in the high stakes game of world diplomacy, international intrigue and Australian pop rock. But it seems his unbridled enthusiasm for cocaine led to his downfall and got his ass kicked out of the band. He says his ass is homeless and is once again, living in his car. I can't go on about this because it's too painful/embarrassing/retarded. They all let you down in the end, don't they?

So what's more rock star-y? Getting kicked out of the band for being a coke fiend or being found naked in a hotel room with a belt around your neck? Hmm... I'm going with door number two, that's some real commitment to the role, so Michael Hutchence is today's Daily Male.



With that wild hair, cocky swagger and slinky stage presence, Hutch was the hotness.




Remember when Hutch and Kylie were a couple? Rumour has it they joined the Mile High club on one particular flight. But they didn't do fuck times in the bathroom. Nope, legend is they did it right there in their seat. Nice.....



...But my favourite Hutch girl was Helena, my girl crush of yesteryear. Before there was Scarlett Johansson, Helena had my heart.



Check out Hutch making man love with a vintage Bono. Love it.

Holy Helena

Scarlett Johansson is my girl crush now but back in the '90s, my faux lesbian heart belonged to Helena Christensen. Above is Helena now at 41 years old. Holy crap.

Helena was one of the big supermodels of the day. She was never as famous Cindy, Linda or Naomi but she was my favourite. You remember Chris Isaak's Wicked Game video? Seriously, how hot was that? It came out when I was in junior high and I was like 'Omigod, are they like, doing it?'


The video, directed by the late, great Herb Ritts is still my number one sexiest video of all time. I think another part of my girl crush on Helena had to do with the fact that she used to date the walking sex that was Michael Hutchence...




Hutch was such a hot bitch. I loooved INXS. Make fun of me if you want but Michael Hutchence was a trailblazer. I mean, his Australian ass was found naked and dead with drugs in his system more than ten years before Heath Ledger pulled that shit. Anyway, unlike Hutch and Heath, Helena is still kicking and looking amazing...



That said, obviously there's some photoshop wizardry at work here. I know this because when my friend Chany and I were in Dublin we saw Ms. Christensen in person. It had been a long and tense day for us. As I've previously written about, we spent hours in the cold, rain and intense winds, wandering the streets of Dublin on a mission to find and take a picture of Hanover Studios where U2 records. After accomplishing our mission, we headed to the airport. We arrived cold, wet, dirty and not to mention beat the fuck down from the previous two nights of Olympic-style competitive drinking.

We walked into the airport and who should we run into but Helena fucking Christensen. Of course! Cause when you're looking like something a cat coughed up, you definitely want to run into an international supermodel to make you feel even worse about your disgusting self! I gasped and clutched Chany. "It's Helena Christensen," I hissed through my clenched teeth so my girl crush of yore wouldn't hear me. We totally followed her ass through the airport and stood in line for a smoothie behind her. I'm not gonna lie, she was looking slightly rough. But supermodel rough, not
regular bitch off the street rough. I should be so lucky to look like this bitch on her most heinous of days.