LaZINEna Farm? Don’t Mind If I Do

LaZINEna Farm? Don’t Mind If I Do

For the past year or so, we’ve been lighting up your at-work fiber with ham-fisted declarations, poorly constructed observations, shoddy HTML sculpting, bad graphics, and unfulfilled promises of Italian delicacies and seasonal produce (at least for those of you accidentally visiting from Yahoo Recipes. Find that diavolo sauce ok?). All of that, I am somewhat irritated to say, will not change. Shine on, LasagnaFarm, you buncha crap written in grease pencil on an unfolded pasta box, you. Don’t get too comfortable, though, gentle readers, because we’ve got something hot in the oven (tee hee).

Folks, LasagnaFarm has a proposition. We are teaming up with Andrew Krucoff and Chris Gage, the Charles Babbage and Edward Tufte of the gossip blog set, as well as a host of other, more talented writers than ourselves, to bring you a creaky, old concept in information delivery: A free, home-delivered, weekly letter. “A zine?” you ask? To which we reply, “Well, yes, only this time we don’t have to sneak into the copy room of our dad’s office and drop our pimply butt cheeks on the Xerox’s glass to get our cover photo.” If your answer to that is, “Hells yeah beeyotch, where do I sign?” then skip right to The Other Page for details. For the rest of you, we’ve prepared answers to possible questions you have yet to ask and concerns you have yet to voice:

Q: What the fuck?

A: Yes, yes. We’ve heard it all, but we’re doing it anyway. It will be great, trust us.

Q: What do you mean by “letter”?

A: By “letter” we mean its word count will be higher than that of a dry cleaning ticket, but lower than the book of Revelation. It will also come in three flavors – chocolate, peach, and hoisin – and will be keenly engineered to slip eerily between the window bars of any S&M dungeon.

Q: What will the content cover?

A: Oh, about a quarter-bushel of figs, or an HO scale model of Morley Safer carrying a life-sized bust of Andy Rooney.

Q: I mean, nutsack, what kinds of articles will be in it?

A: Ah. Figure National Lampoon meets the Lillian Vernon catalog at a flash mob in front of the former Tuna Helper Building on E. 111th St.

Q: How much will it set me back?

A: There’s nothing to buy (it will be free), and we won’t show up at your front door in short-sleeved dickies and black chinos wielding it like other types of “literature.” (We’ll leave that to the pros.)

Q: WHERE DO I SIGN?

A: We thought you’d never ask. Here.


Any other questions? Send them to gotoguy@lasagnafarm.com

Hugh Grant in the Altertnate Pornosphere

Hugh Grant in the Alternate Pornosphere

Wawa's done it again. Not satisfied with just refitting Cammy-D with a parallel career as a porno queen, the man with a size-ten hatfull of movie knowledge has done the same with Hugh (Huge) Grant. To wit:

Hugh 1994: Has official U.S. breakout film "Four Weddings and a Funeral"

Porno Huge 1994: Has official Hungarian breakout film with "Four Whores and a Funeral"

Wawa has a point: Every succesful actor in Hollywood was once just a single ill-considered photo shoot, impulsive casting couch romp, or wrongly directed blow job away from Fleshbot coverage. Hear that Tara Reid?

Parallel Universe of Porn: Cameron Diaz's Trip

A&E TV Programs That Never Happened: There But For the Grace of... Edition

A&E TV Programs That Were Never Produced: There But For the Grace of... Edition



With "Growing up Gotti" soon to air, LasagnaFarm wanted to remind its readers that things could be worse. Don't get us wrong, we of course will watch any lukewarm crap that passes before us on the Trinitron, if only for its narco-electronic effects on our toasted, suburban cerebellum (Jonathan Antin's "Blow Out" had us rooting for Kimberly like Cubs fans after a 72 oz. porterhouse). But, this particular show, airing on the (ahem) ARTS AND ENTERTAINMENT NETWORK, which seems to have liquidated its highbrow content as if it were a pair of Beverly Sills' vomit-stained Jimmy Choos, cuts a bit too close to the Farm's roots. Of course, our Trans Am was not as nice as the J. Gotti Grandkids' beemers, and our Z. Cavs were no certainly no match for their Mavis and Ted Bakers, but nonetheless, it's like looking through a glass, darkly. But that's our own damn problem. Like I said, for y'all, it could be worse.


"Growing Up Buttafuoco"

"Growing Up Yancovic"

"Growing Up Knievel"

"Growing Up Bogosian"

"Growing Up Bonaduce"

"Growing Up Goulet"

"Growing Up Evigan"

"Growing Up Smirnoff"

Six Feet Under: Sex Acts Roundup

Six Feet Under: Sex Acts Roundup -- The Heat (sort of) Returns

This week, the universal dry spell on "Six Feet Under" was moistened ever so slightly by none other than Nate the Mate, who began a clandestine relationship with ex-flame, Brenda and engaged in a day-rate date with "young co-worker" (as credited on HBO.com). Meanwhile, sexual tension reached bodice-ripping proportion for Rico -- who fled into the arms of his kept stripper-mom, Sophia to avoid the the wrath of jilted wife, Vanessa -- but not so much for bi-curious Claire, who is still negotiating a first-class trip to Sapphos's island with Edie. Ditto for David, whose coitis with a local bartender was interruptous by flashbacks of his recent ordeal at the hands of local psychopath, "sicko with gasoline." Stay tuned.

Previously --

Sex Acts Roundup: Six Feet Under vs. Nip/Tuck

Six Feet Under: Sex Acts Roundup (Week 1)