Palace of Broken Hearts: A Museum of Lost Love

When I think of Eastern European people, two words immediately come to mind: passion and perseverance. So when I first read about The Museum of Broken Relationships, it wasn't surprising that the idea was born of two artists in Croatia.

The couple, Olinka and Drazen, were in the process of breaking up after four years. In sorting their possessions, the valuables with monetary meaning were easy to divide up- you take the TV and I will take the computer. It was the emotionally valuable objects that they found hard to let go of: like the Little Wind-up Bunny that they put in each others' suitcases for trips, and photographed doing wildly amazing things on said trips. Who was going to get the Little Wind-up Bunny?

Instead of battling each other, they put their feelings on display let the world take ownership as they began collecting mementos of break ups from others as well. After entering their collection into a local art festival, they soon found themselves putting up installations in Berlin, San Francisco, and Istanbul. Seems like the splitting of a broken heart resonates deeper and further than an exploding Krakatoa.

Back in Zagreb, Olinka and Drazen refurbished a palace to permanently display all of their "I loved you so much, why aren't you dead?" mementos of formerly lava hot love. Each room of the palace is arranged by theme, and holds a couple of dozen items.

For the grand opening of The Museum of Broken Relationships, the mayor of Zagreb offered to do a ribbon cutting, but was shut down in favor of two high-profile Croatian actors who had famously split up. The artists told the mayor if he wanted to cut the ribbon, he'd have to leave his wife first.

To find out more about the museum, please check out their website here: http://brokenships.com

Hot with a Chance of Sexy: Chris Tamburello

All this time I have been yammering on about how much I love my reality shows, and it dawned on me recently that I have never done a single Hot Forecast on any reality show contestants. What?! How is that possible? Oh, yeah- there aren't a lot of hot dudes on the reality shows that I tend to watch. OK- that's not entirely true. Sometimes when you've eaten a loaded lemon bar and consumed a bottle of wine, you look at your television through the appropriately hooded eyes and think, "Damn! He's hot." But then you sober up and realize he ain't all that. Or, if he is really hot, you learn more about his dickish television personality, and that minute you wanted to jump his cock quickly passes.

I have realized in time, however, in the world of my reality shows, that a person can come back to television enough times that you develop a "through the television" (TTT) relationship. It's like in relationships in real life- sometimes you love him to death, and other times you want to kick his cock off- except you only know the bits of him that didn't wind up on the editing room floor, and he doesn't know you exist at all.

All that being said, let me introduce you to my TTT manchild- CT- Chris Tamburello. We first met CT on the Real World: Paris, and while I initially thought he was cute- just a big ole dude on a stick- I could also tell there was something a little off with this kid. He revealed himself to be funny, yet shady at times- and that was fine. But then, toward the end of the season, when this Cancer Monkey (7-16-80) got all chimpanzee mean and totally aggressed his friend Adam (a much smaller dude than him) the alert was sounded. It was basically a test- but I knew that "code- red-not- a- drill" was coming.

MTV had already begun the Challenges, and given CT's physique & physical prowess, that one of his personalities was really funny, and that he had an amazing face, I knew I would see him again. And I'm sure that he participated in Challenges, but the first one in which he really stood out for me was The Duel. Watching him fall for cancer survivor Diem Brown was the highlight of the season for me, and I loved him for being so gentle and patient with her. And, yes, I would agree it was a groovy kind of love.

But in the following Challenge, Inferno 3, his brain started bleeding Jose Cuervo or something, because he lost his effin' mind on the first night and for reasons I don't think I fully understood at the time or remember all these years later, attacked Davis from RW: Denver and dotted his eye with some knuckles. Huh?! Where is gentle-loving-Diem- CT? Who is this kid attacking (once again) a dude so much smaller than him? And why would you fly 30-something-hours to South Africa to get drunk, attack, and get plunked right back down on a return trip? I know there are bars closer to his house in which he could've performed this tomfoolery.

Then came The Duel 2 in Brazil where CT busted out his PhD in Psycho and proved that there wasn't a bitch in the cast who could come close to that level of deranged. Ever. He looked sanity in the eye, slapped it away, and said, "Bitch, I ain't the one." In a nutshell, this nut and Diem had broken up, but when he zoo/prison-banged Shauvon from RW: Sidney outside in the yard, Diem clocked him on it- and he again came after Adam because he thought Adam dogged him out by telling Diem. How CT avoided prosecution for an attack so violent it almost looked like an episode of When Animals Attack is beyond me, but when MTV sent him packing that same first night, I thought that the last time I was ever gonna see my TTT manchild again- and I was okay with that. When we found out later than his brother had been murdered before the Challenge started, it made his rage more understandable, but certainly not excusable.

Well, obviously it was excusable to MTV, because they gave CT an audience test-drive for a single Challenge: Cutthroat Gulag competition in 2010. I guess his reviews must've been good because they brought him back to the Challenge: Rivals the next season where he was paired with (you guessed it) Adam. Though they didn't win, I loved CT again because he was totally supporting Adam (in front of the cameras anyway) and literally tried to carry him over the finish line in their last competition.

His crazy beautifully competitive ass is back for this season's Challenge: Battle of the Exes with Diem. We'll see which CT crosses the finish line this time. Oh, and just a little incentive for CT to quit threatening to smash a bitch's head "and eat it!" in the Challenges: He and Kenny S. "Mr. Beautiful" (self-proclaimed) have both competed in 8 challenges. Kenny has banked $273,997. CT? $21,000.

Stop beatin' asses, CT, and start kickin' some.

Hot with a Chance of Sexy: Rick and Karl Yune

Hi, kids! I think my eyes have been on a diet for a while, because it's been a long time since I've seen anyone who inspired me to write a TFH post. Well, fan my brow, cousin, because my eyes had a huge Thanksgiving recently and are about to fall into a turkey/sex coma. Yours will too when you meet our featured hot-or rather, should I say, hots? That's right bitches, she's back and with another TFH 1st: Brothers.


All that pretty to the left of these words is Rick Yune. You may recognize him from the movies Die Another Day, The Fast and the Furious, Snow Falling on the Cedars, and Ninja Assassin, or television shows CSI, Alias, or Boston Legal- or not. Who cares? You see him now.

This sexy ass Leo was born in Washington D.C. on August 22, 1971. He graduated from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania in 1994 and worked as a hedge fund trader for SAC capital.

OK? So he's gorgeous and smart? Not enough. He also practices many forms of martial arts and was a serious contender for the US Olympic team in Taekwondo when he was 19.

Voted one of People magazine's sexiest men in 2002, you can look for this not married hottie, older brother to Karl Yune, this year in The Man with the Iron Fists.


And who is Karl Yune? Glad you asked because this-all this- is him. Younger than bad ass Rick by four years, this Aries Cat can scratch my post any time he'd like. Karl started out studying business, literature, and philosophy before switching to theater at Columbia's School of Art. He also studied with the Groundlings Improv Group.

He has appeared in some mess about Anacondas, something called Forbidden Warrior, and Memoirs of a Geisha- as well as appearing in various off-Broadway shows and doing some modeling (shocking, right?! OMG- those cheekbones could cut my hair and I could take a nap in those beautiful lips).

Hopefully Karl with keep plugging away at the acting game and we will see this LA resident in some notable films soon- or some porn- whichever.

My Rant: Whitney and RX Drugs

Much like many people around the world, I was so saddened to hear that Whitney Houston died. When I first saw the newsfeed, I thought for sure that I read it wrong. I wasn't so much shocked as I was saddened. I instantly flashed back on that beautiful voice that accompanied that bright smile and those lovely eyes, that were for at least a large part of the African-American community back in the day, the girl next door.

Then came the lesbian rumors, soon after that, the stories that she had hooked up with Bobby Brown. Like for white America, it was Heather Locklear marrying Tommy Lee. It was nothing that we could've foreseen, and unbeknownst to us, more was to come. Whitney was reportedly smoking crack, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and doing crazy amounts of drugs- her voice, that beautiful angelic sigh that we'd come to know and love, was gone. Shredded. Used up. Then, in an effort to tell us that all the stories were false, she told us, her rich ass, that crack was for "poor people". And we let her go.

The jokes came. The reality show. The giving up on our darling girl, but the deeper hope that she would pull it together, sing another amazing song, and let us love her again. But that didn't happen.

And whose fault is that? No one wants to say it, let alone think it, but it's not Bobby Brown's fault. For all the people who want to hate him and blame him for her demise, it's not fair. Whitney Houston was a beautiful, yet troubled lady when she met him. Yes, he may have introduced her to a poison from which she wouldn't recover, but let's not get it twisted: She wasn't a little girl who had no idea of the dangers and ills of the scene. Her mother, her aunt, and her godmother were all a product of that world- she had heard the stories and seen the downfalls first hand. If it wasn't him, who is to say that she, amid her own demons that we will never fully understand, wouldn't have found another person to feed her beasts.

Instead of pointing collective fingers at the person who some say was the love of her life, lets look at another devil: The doctors who repeatedly, knowingly, gave her the drug-lifeline that she so craved. Why aren't we angered by the trips she reputedly made in the days before her death to replenish supplies that should've have run out? Why aren't we angered by the willingness of people who have made promises to do everything they can to aide and assist us in health and well-being, who aren't?

We have gotten, as a nation, so lax in coping with anything. We have decided, again as a nation, that we should never suffer any form of discomfort. You hurt? Take a pill. You're uncomfortable? Take a pill. Anything the ills you should be immediately fixable by popping a pill. I am convinced that doctors and researchers aren't even looking for cures anymore- why should they? Just medicate until you are numb, and the problem goes away, right? And, you aren't a "druggie" because you aren't taking "dirty" street drugs- these are prescribed by a doctor, so it's not the same thing, right? WRONG. It's bullshit.

Especially when you have someone who has money and/or notoriety. Who is gonna stop the gravy train? If you tell said person "no", he or she is just gonna fire you and find someone else who is willing to feed their habit. And no one can figure out why kids are being hooked on these same said pills? Gee. Mom was hurting but I see her get all deliciously loopy and feel good, why wouldn't I try it? I don't know how to stop the madness, America, but it needs to end.

Snooki Monster is a PSA

I have always been very vocal about my love for reality television- the trashier the better. I think that Temptation Island should’ve won an Emmy, okay? I love trashy television. And you can’t profess to loving trashy television without admitting you love Jersey Shore. And I do. I proudly chant “fist-pump, push-up, chapstick” whenever the opportunity presents itself, and sometimes when it doesn’t.

I know lots of people out there are repulsed with Snooki and the gang, and yes, there is an element of repulsion watching a grown person pee on the dance floor, the whole “Smush Room” concept, and the idea of having sex with the Situation; but for the most part, the other aspects tend to make me laugh. I was even onboard for some giggles and ha-ha-has in the recent episode where Snooki had to deal with her UTI (Urinary Tract Infection). Not that she had one, but her frankness in discussing it with her father, and, I dunno, the nation? Not that she peed on the dance floor, but that she peed on the dance floor, took a bath in Axe’s grandmother, Love’s Baby Soft, in the ladies room and pronounced that a perfume shower was as effective as a real shower. Hmmm- sweat, piss, cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and booze? What becomes a legend most? Ugh. I’m sure there are trash cans behind dance clubs that smell better at the end of the night. I digress.

As Snooki continued to speak freely about her UTI on the episode, she said that she didn’t know how she got it (later on Watch What Happens Live, she said it was because she had anal sex with Jionni- insert any joke about him doing that right now). But I knew Snooki Monster’s UTI was the stuff PSAs are made of later in the same episode when they show her breezing out of the ladies room without washing her hands, as she offhandedly quips, “I never wash my hands.” “I think I know contributing factors, if not the real cause of her UTI,” thought Captain Obvious.

Not that Snooki is the brightest star in the sky, but I realized if she doesn’t know how to avoid UTIs- and that obviously wasn’t her first time at the rodeo- then maybe other girls don’t know either, so I figured I would pass along the information, because in the immortal words of Bill Hicks, we’re all just trying “to learn, evolve, and get the fuck off this planet.” I consider this my good deed for the day.

For information about symptoms and causes: http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/urinary-tract-infection/DS00286/DSECTION=symptoms

This link includes home remedies and treatment: http://www.emedicinehealth.com/urinary_tract_infections/article_em.htm

Warm Off the Press: Weird Sex'al Tales of Yore

I initially read about this cautionary tale at Dailymail.co.uk. It’s not a tale of “yore” per se, but given our fast paced world of instant info, it’s “yore-ish”. And it should definitely make you cautious. I will start by telling dudes that if you are in Lancashire and you see this bitch

and think you’ll get a quick toss- do yourself a favor and think about baseball. Then turn the fuck around and walk away.

Her name is Dominique Fisher, and in the summer of 2008, she decided that she was going to go out and get some boy pussy. Dominique isn’t like other girls in that she evidently thinks that when she gives a guy wood, then he is wood, and starts carving shit into his skin- at least that’s according to Wayne Robinson and a jury.

Wayne Robinson was the unfortunate bloke who happened into the gods wicked sense of humor on that summer night in 2008, and they set him on a course which led him to Dominique Fisher. Dominique and Wayne, by their own accord, hailed the queen all night and; evidently decided to hook up again the next night. During their second night of ho-ho-ho and a bottle of rum-ming, after knowing each other a fort (-y eight –hour) night, Wayne decided to mix vodka and Vicodin. He must’ve been damn close to entering a dimension of visible fairies and elves because a kiss didn’t awaken him. Nor did that crazy hooka etching her name and other symbols of madness into his skin. When he came to in the morning, he realized what be-carved him and amazingly ran out without waking Dominique and feeding her couple of knuckle sandwiches. While we know that he had taken Vicodin with his vodka, they haven’t said what Dominique could’ve possibly taken to make her show us that she obviously has a PhD in crazy. Dominique was found guilty of “unlawful wounding” and walked away free.

MTV Strikes Again in the Friendzone

It seems as though SallyAnn Salsano hasn’t just been sitting around fist pumping and counting her monies. The woman who brought the world (much to its chagrin) Jersey Shore is back with another series called Friendzone.

The premise is pretty straight forward: One of two kids, who is the self-avowed best friend of the other, tells the latter that she/he has deeper feelings and tries to take it to the next level. Under the pretext of being wingman, the boy or girl asks the crush to help him/her prepare for a blind date- not knowing that he/she is the intended “date”. Just before the wingman walks away, the lovelorn friend reveals his/her true feelings, and thankfully MTV is there to capture the joy or heartbreak that follows. Nothing says that I love you and this is 100% genuine like having a camera in your faces when you tell your beloved and thirty million other people your deepest truest feelings and desires at the same time for the first time.

The first episode that I watched last night featured two sets of best friends, both a male and female pairing. In the first segment, it was the female who had fallen for her male best friend and wanted to tell him. The second pairing is a couple of friends in which the boy has fallen for his beautiful female friend. One was a success and the other a failure. Guess which one was which?

As a female, though markedly older than the kids featured, I can understand how it’s harder for girls to bridge the friend zone gap- especially when you’re in your late teens and early twenties. You want the spark, the excitement, the drama, the passion- and when that doesn’t happen initially, it’s hard to have the maturity required to appreciate your friend as a paramour. And that is unfortunate because those are the beautiful men that we should be flocking to, not the dirty-legged (slutty), obnoxious, yet hot or sexy cads we tend to gravitate toward. Oh, the humanity!

I can honestly say that I have only had one male best friend in my life. I have had many, many good male friends, but when I think of someone who I hung out with all the time- going to lunch, partying, staying up late having deep ass drunken conversations- there has only been one. And he was gay, so a potential romantic interlude was never even a part of the equation, so I cannot fathom the fear and trepidation that goes with telling someone so close to you in one way that you are feeling for him/her in a completely different way. In spite of my earlier sarcasm about the cameras, I have nothing but admiration for the fact that these kids had the courage to tell their BFFs at all. The risk of losing a friend for me would strongly outweigh gaining a boyfriend or girlfriend- maybe that’s why I immediately shut any possibilities from the jump. I’m not proud, I’m just being honest. They might be craving stardom, fame, money or anything else that can be gained by being on television, but the risk of a shattered heart that everyone can see and experience with them, makes them stronger in that sense than I will ever be.

I would love to hear from people who were old enough to go out drinking, but chose to stay home and watch Ross and Rachel in prime time television: Did you ever crush a best friend? If so, did you ever tell the person, and if you did, how did it work out? Was your friendship jacked up, did you hook up, or did you get drunk, get over it, and crack up?

For those interested, check your local listings for the time and days to see Friendzone on MTV.