Recently by lengli

He was the Swayziest

Last night, we at Overlooked Headquarters were positively crushed to find out that our beloved Patrick Swayze (or "P.Swayz" as he is affectionately known around these parts) had passed away at the age of 57. Patrick was the first hunk I ever wrote about and clearly holds a special place in my heart.

I am not going to pretend that Dirty Dancing was one of the seminal movies that impacted my childhood and led me down this crazy path (my parents expressly forbade the viewing of such a racy movie). However, the film's soundtrack was on constant rotation in my home, and thus, I was exposed to Patrick's dulcet tones in "She's Like the Wind." It was true love forever after, not just for me, but for all of us.

Patrick Swayze led an extraordinary life and through his acting, singing and dancing (triple threat!), he brought joy to countless fans around the globe. Thanks to him, we gained the courage to never allow ourselves to be cornered. We learned the lasting power of true love. We discovered the joy of an epic wave. And we learned to thank Wong Foo for everything. Patrick truly gave us the time of our lives and we will forever be grateful.

As a tribute, I would like to share my favorite Swayze moment of all time.

At a time like this, it's comforting to think that Patrick and Chris Farley are dancing again up in heaven.

Remember, live every day like it's August 18. And above all, be Swayze to each other.

♥,
lengli

Those who are longtime readers know that as Overlooked's resident hunkologist, I possess a keen and discerning eye for delectable man candy, both topical and vintage. However, this talent is a gift and can sometimes prove unreliable if the inspiration does not strike: hence my bout of writer's block last week. Well, I'm sad to report that the block has persisted, but instead of fighting it, let's embrace it.

This week, I propose that we embark on a new voyage: one of "Faded Glory" Hunks. Specimens who had it all, but for one reason or another, completely lost it and are still waiting to get it back ("But lengli," you interrupt, "Isn't that the case just about every week?" To you I say PIPE DOWN). Our first inductee is none other than early 90s icon and Surreal Life inhabitant Robert Van Winkle, better known to you and me as Vanilla Ice; and our first topic of discourse is:

Find the rest of the list after the jump!

Don't make him be without you tonight!

Back when I was growing up, even though the neighborhood kids and I possessed hefty imaginations and lilting singing voices, all we had to document our travails were tape recorders and cumbersome video recording equipment. Thus, the only people who ever bore witness to our masterpieces were our parents, and even they were often disinterested.

However, thanks to the current golden age of the internet, true talent no longer is no longer squandered, and certainly not so for Pensacola's epically bespectacled Mark Gormley. These days, all you need to become a bona fide rock legend is some home recording equipment, a green sheet, the movie making software that ships with your computer, and a dream: with these simple items, you're free to create beautiful and expressive videos that can convey your spirit to the world. In my humble opinion, the world is exponentially better for this, and in particular, Gormley's majestic video entitled "Without You".

Remarkable?

Truly.

This might immediately expose me as an outsider to the world of paintballing, for the life of me, I cannot understand why someone would spend upwards of $100 on these horrifying things known as "ghillie suits." In the spirit of being completely slack-jawed and terrified, I would simply like to present...

Don't let him steal your heart away!

Against all odds, there is a new man in my life. I cannot believe it's true, but each moment spent with him is like another day in paradise!

I remember the day we first met. I was running late to court, ready to testify for a case involving a crime of passion (it's always important to hear both sides of the story, you know), when all of a sudden, two hearts collided.

Isn't it crazy how strangers like me and my love could just randomly cross paths one day? I was running one way and he was running another. Quick as I knew it, we ran into each other and I was knocked to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he spluttered, bewilderment sullying his handsome face and showing me his true colors.

"Is that the least you can do?" I asked with a wink and indicated for him to help me up. He happily obliged, and I could tell by his eyes that he would find a way to my heart no matter what. Even though I was somewhat scared--just who was this angelic creature to whom I was already pledged all of my life?--I remember thinking, "That's just the way it is," and surrendering utterly. Separate lives were thereby linked forever.

After that first encounter, as we said hello, goodbye, he called over his shoulder to me, "Don't lose my number." (Do you remember, darling?) Perish the thought!

Since then, it's been nothing but magic. I just can't stop loving you, Phil Collins. Just can't stop loving you.

The Generation X of cleaning products

Taking inspiration from Renee's all-time favorite ShopWiki search, I was browsing through items labeled as "poop" this afternoon (some days are harder than others). While it's certainly true that there are a plethora of interesting poop products to be found, none intrigued me so much as the pet stain and odor remover shown at right.

Listen, I've owned pets: cats and dogs that defecate and vomit all over the place, and for no good reason other to embarrass their owner and make her look like a scumbag. Well done, pets, you get a treat. Oh, my hot date just stepped in a pool of warm urine? All in the name of seduction, friends. No, there's no time to clean that up: what, do you think I get all of these hot dates by spending time spraying and vacuuming? You were going to take your socks off anyway: problem solved.

But wait. It's precisely potty-mouthed lowlifes like me to whom the DogGone Poops, Oops, and Barf Stain Remover is marketed. You know the ad execs sitting around their big mahogany table were just itching to tap into that key under-30 demographic that is notoriously too lazy to clean house. "Dammit guys," one of them (Gil, most likely) exclaimed one day. "Cleaning can't be all about Martha Stewart and weirdo bald guys. We have to get ON THEIR LEVEL. Let's make it edgy."

With a previously unemployed tactic of vernacularization and hip-to-it-ism, Gil and company envisioned keggers and clean-up coexisting peacefully, generations of frat guys trotting out their hilariously-named all-natural spray just seconds after Rex, the house mascot, pukes all over the beer pong table after being fed too much canned bean dip. "Chill, man, it's ok," they would argue, "You go crank up the DMB. I got this."

Mission accomplished, bro. Mission accomplished.

You're so hot and cold with me!

Sure, sure, it'd be obvious to say Santa Claus or Hanukkah Harry is the biggest holiday hunk of them all, but that would just be too easy, not to mention an outright and dirty lie. Just because they get all the attention around this time of the year, this hardly qualifies them for this coveted title. That'd be like overlooking Michael Vartan just because Brad Pitt is in way more movies, has preposterous facial hair goals, and has an undead lady friend that pops out children at the speed of that wacko Arkansas Duggar family.

Way back before the Jonas Brothers ever came into being, there was a little TV special called The Year Without a Santa Claus, and the most important brothers in my life were the Miser Brothers: Heat Miser and Snow Miser.

Not only are they singing and dancing machines, but these characters are archetypal bad boys: veritable James Deans reincarnate (if he sang and danced, that is). Sure, they and their unpredictable weather patterns were put on this earth to make your life more complicated, but can you imagine a day without their dulcet tunes and impassioned gazes? A day in which your heart doesn't skip a beat from the sheer thrill of the thought of seeing them? A day in which you can't feel Heat Miser's woollen tufts of hair lightly brushing against your cheek, or Snow Miser's icicle-covered fingers caressing the small of your back (sometimes both at once!)?

Perish the thought! That's no life at all!

But don't take my word for it....

Misled, misled, misled

Asian guys, let's face it: Adam Quan is not a white woman. Adam Quan will never be a white woman. Why on earth would you shell out nearly 30 dollars on his advice on how to date a white woman? Sure, sure, he might think he's all studly and conquering, but asking one of your own for tips on landing a white chick is about as useful as asking a mime about trapeze technique. To date a white woman, you have to think like one.

Therefore, with this intent, I, a bona fide white woman, offer tips on nabbing yourself that white filly you've got your eye on. Follow these simple steps, and soon you'll be fighting them off tooth and nail.

Even the whitest women in the world will be powerless to your advances

1. Watch Gossip Girl. A LOT of it.
2. Go vegan.
3. Attend readings by David Sedaris or Sarah Vowell.
4. Surprise her with a cell phone covered in Swarovski crystals. Just because she claims to hate Paris Hilton (that slut!) doesn't mean that she secretly doesn't want to live like an heiress.
5. Bake cupcakes. Any kind will do, but if you really want to wow her, try red velvet.
6. Three words: Sephora Gift Card.
7. Take her to dim sum. There's a good chance she'll end up being the only white person there--how novel!
8. Begin sentences with "In my culture" wherever possible. Absolutely guaranteed to make her swoon.

Good luck! Not that you'll need it, of course.

One dream man, coming right up!

I know it's kind of a jerk move to dangle my new, awesome boyfriend in front of all of you like a carrot in front of a donkey with a beta carotene deficiency, but I just can't keep a love like this a secret. When Chris Dane Owens and I first locked eyes from across the crowded dining room at the Beverly Hills Benihana, I knew that my life would be forever changed, but I had no idea how profound that change would be. I know I've only known him for a week and two days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and....

Anyway, where was I? Oh right. I want to spread the joy that Chris Dane Owens has brought me, and so I humbly present a guide on how to make your very own. Consider it an early holiday gift. Of course, he'll only be a fraction of the majesty that is my Chris Dane Owens, but the slightest piece of him is better than none of all, right?

1. Your Chris Dane Owens needs to feel at home when he's around you. Decorate your home in fantasy art and companion dragons to make sure he's comfortable.

2. Remember, your Chris Dane Owens is nothing without the stunning good looks of my Chris Dane Owens. While this can hardly be truly replicated, you can at the very least construct an elaborate artifice. Platinum blonde hair dye, ruby red lipstick, and a perfect five o' clock shadow are essential items, and unless you're on a budget, splurge on sapphire blue contact lenses. Rrowr!

3. Chainmail. Lots and lots of chainmail. But be sure to shave or wax your Chris Dane Owens' chest so his delicate, milky skin isn't imperiled.

4. Now, some people are not accustomed to bondage gear as daily wear, but trust me, if you want a Chris Dane Owens that is as true to life as the original, pop down to your local red light district and stock up on riding boots and gauntlets. Chris Dane Owens is never as cheery as when he is clad head to toe in soft leather.

5. A broadsword. (The sword is a metaphor.)

Follow these simple steps, and in no time at all, you'll have a Chris Dane Owens of your very own! I just know you'll have many wonderful and fulfilling years together.

(If there are further questions, consult "Shine On Me", a romance fantasy. Your heart will lead you from there.)

The New Wave of the Future-Past.

Here's one: at the end of this past September, I had a crystal clear vision of yet another hipster fashion trend to come: saddle shoes. However, because I am lazy (or is it just typical hipster indifference?), my prediction post went unwritten, and according to Hard Liquor, Soft Holes, it seems I have been scooped. Curses!

(Just so you know, I was hep to this groove, man--and I had a timestamp to prove it. Now I'm the last one to leave the party, just like Pauly Shore.)

However, despite my tardiness, I still maintain that over the coming months, saddle shoes will become even more prominent in hipster populations. First and foremost, there is the huge (huge!!) nostalgia factor--everything old is new again (see: USB mixtapes, Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Reebok high tops). For those of us who weren't lucky enough to have them the first time around, owning saddle shoes as an adult can be perceived as ironic (though is that in the standard way or the Alanis Morrissette way? I can never tell): this particular footwear epitomizes youth culture--not only in the classic 1950s, rosy-cheeked, sock hop sort of way, but also in the more accessible "the identical twins in my fifth grade class each had a pair of these but I never did and I was SO. JEALOUS." way that is so very integral to hipsterdom today.

On a more practical level, however, saddle shoes are totally the perfect accessory to your (sub)urban lifestyle. Not only does their supple and durable leather mean that you're completely protected from even the most perilous of PBR spills, but you're also ready to take it to the bowling alley at any given moment (even if it's only the Wii version). And finally, what better way to concretize that old-tymey spirit than with a shoe that is so comfortable, you'll be able to trudge through waist-deep snow, uphill both ways--at the peril of being consumed by brontosauri and T. rexes--just to get to school and earn that education!

So, all you hipsters, because I'm late on this one, the next time I go tromping about the Burg, I expect that you'll all be decked out in your finest saddle shoes and I'll do some recruiting for my new gang. But you'd better get your applications in early because word on the street is we're getting Members Only jackets next year. You heard it here first.