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My friend Mark Ashmore is hosting a Wrong Hot party tonight. You might ask to see his qualifications in the field of wronghottery, and you would be shown this video, and then you would know you were in
sticky, gropey, safe hands.
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Stop constantly updating your Facebook status, and take self-love to it’s logical* conclusion: construct a robot doppelgänger and then make out with it.
* no Icelandic translation.
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Between Press Gang and Buffy The Vampire Slayer, I have spent thirteen years of my life with a crush on a brooding faux-English malcontent called Spike whose reason for being is to thwart my dreams of running a local paper/ ridding the world of evil. I consider this time well spent.
(There may be some of you devout Wronghottians who question the wrongness of these subjects. To those people, I would say that my parents would totally disapprove of both of these life choices, their romantic ladies ended up dead at least once each, and also I’m tired. HOLD ME TUMBLR).
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Where would The Kills be without a vaguely discomforting sexiness? While I wouldn’t normally claim that a couple beating each other up is hot, I wouldn’t usually say a punk t-shirt, leopard print cardie and green felt hat is high style either, so what we’ve learned here is we’re all wrong sometimes. Now let’s all watch Jamie Hince and Alison Mosshart give each other a good pounding.
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I think I was about five when I first saw Labyrinth, and was immediately and completely entranced by Jared’s intoxicating mastery of spiky hair, stretch pants and synth-pop.
The above video is the scene in which the young Jennifer Connelly is drugged, forced to wear chiffon and then seduced by a vaguely goblinesque royal three times her age to the haunting strains of Bowie’s baritone. It’s basically how I imagine my wedding.
Okay I have to go tease my hair now. TO BE CONTINUED…
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The filmography of James Spader is a veritable cornucopia of wrong hot, and there are many fruits upon which to feast; do you prefer his besuited, bouffant bad boy from Pretty In Pink? His preppy, powder-loving pimp from Less Than Zero? The silent scopophiliac from Sex, Lies and Videotape? Or perhaps his turn as subdued sadist in Secretary?
It’s a tough call, and there’s no real right answer, except of course there is, and it’s his characters in Jack’s Back. One word, friends: TWINS. (If there were more words they would be torturing and murdering, so best just focus on the twins part.)
On an semi-related note, when employing the device of rhetorical affirmation I never ask, ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ or ‘Does a bear shit in the woods?’ I say, ‘Did James Spader wear white linen suits in the 80s?’ and I advise you to do so too.
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Unfortunately I’ve been rendered speechless by this scene, so I’ll just select a few telling comments from the youtube page:
‘Going commando to a grave site? Now that’s interesting…’
‘bill took her half dress off he saw her boobs’
‘Looove seeing his nake behind climbing out of that hole and then right into another!’
‘A girl told me there is a scene where a retard vampire climbs out of a grave and screws a chick with his dirt penis.’
‘i think wen bill was about to kill eric and then maybe eric stabbed him and he was almost killed so he grabed sookie’s leg and they started having sex.’
‘Was anyone else thinking “vaginal infection” when they watched this?’
‘ahhhhhh soooo sooooo hot sookie and bill 4ever dam u eric’
‘And that pretty much sums up true blood.’
And so it does.
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Marky Mark, passing on this was the dumbest move you made since passing on Ocean’s Eleven.
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There’s a lot of weird abusive undertones to the central relationship in Purple Rain, but Prince makes it work. Perhaps it’s because he looks like Bambi. A lithe, fuckable Bambi.
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