Slick Landings
I’m flying to New York tomorrow so I checked the Transportation Security Administration’s carry-on guidelines to see if any laws were passed last week prohibiting things like ink pens. The TSA website states that most liquids/foods can be carried in quantities less than three ounces but exceptions for larger quantities can be made for certain items and it specifically mentions KY Jelly as one of them. That led me to check the KY Jelly website where I verified it’s pretty much just for fucking. Lower down on the TSA page, whipped cream is listed as an item limited to less than three ounces, the message of course being that it’s okay to spend your flight joining the mile high club, you just can’t be too kinky about it.
Kitler
Come on- the resemblance is funny. Check out real Cats that look like Hitler (and of course, comments from the people who can’t see the humor in kitlers).
Heath Gone
In the last week, two young celebrities have met untimely deaths and since this stuff usually happens in threes, Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse would be wise to check the expiration dates on their respective deals with the devil. While Brad Renfro’s death garnered less press than his breakthrough role in “The Client” did, Heath Ledger’s will surely be talked about for years to come.
The police say no foul play was involved but I call foul on the woman who found him and (naturally) decided her first call should be to none other than an Olsen twin (I guess the wiser Uncle Jesse wasn’t available). If I discovered a movie star’s cold, lifeless body then spotted George Clooney’s number on the speed dial, sure, I’d be tempted to give him a ring. But I think I’d have enough sense to cut short a 911 call before dialing Georgie’s digits.
Oh, I forgot to mention Ledger was naked, which apparently is an obligatory fact to include in any article regarding his death. I would understand including his state of dress if he were wearing something like a Member’s Only jacket or culottes, because those would speak to his state of mind at the time of death. But when the legitimate news sources repeatedly go out of their way to mention that he was naked it sounds like they’re trying to titillate and that’s just so Enquireresque.
I feel bad for the guy for the way his body was traipsed through a crowd of photographers in a trash bag. It’s such an undignified final appearance for anybody- they might as well have brought him out in all his glory. It seems particularly unceremonious for movie stars who are used to traversing the red carpet of their own accord and I’m a little surprised nobody’s created special body bags for celebrities. Maybe some ambitious designer will get on that and have them included in the Oscar swag bags. I think a lot of celebrities would appreciate the opportunity to make one final best dressed list- and the designer would certainly benefit from one last “Who was he wrapped in?” nod.
I served Heath champagne on his biggest night in show biz and he seemed like a nice enough guy who tipped well. Actors may be a dime a dozen in this town but good tippers are a C-note a dozen and for that he will be missed.
The MySpace Between Their Ears
It’s been a while since I’ve railed on MySpace and the mockery is long overdue:
I’ll start with an unusual friend request I received a few days ago; It was from my mom. As if seeing my mom’s mug on MySpace wasn’t disturbing enough, she lists her marital status as “single.” Hey, I know I’m bad about returning phone calls but there are better ways for parents to inform their kid about a divorce. They seemed so happy at our birthday celebration last week (sniff). I’m curious how she even found my MySpace page and I’m a bit concerned that she found it through this blog. I’ve always known there was a possibility my parents read my blog but I have to operate under a shroud of denial for the sake of keeping it real. Otherwise, I’d have to start using terms like “frickin’” and “gosh darn” while I discuss gum drop forests. There really need to be parental controls for parents. I’d hate for my sweet, wholesome parents to think they failed at raising me- I take full responsibility for the foul-mouthed, bionic monster I’ve become. So please, Mom and Dad, just look away.
What I’m still trying to understand about MySpace is if it merely attracts idiots or if it’s actually a breeding ground for them. The first pieces of evidence I submit for consideration are the unsuccessful attempts at disguising one’s age. Most of the people I know on MySpace are comics and we all know that people in the entertainment industry don’t tell their real age (except me, I turned 26 last week). So they insert some random age and then halfway down the page they list the schools they attended and the majority of the time it’s obvious they’ve listed their actual graduation year. Here’s a tip: if you’re going to admit you graduated high school in 1995, you might as well admit that you’re 30.
Idiots are bad enough but idiots with no sense of humor are the worst and MySpace has more than its share, the worst offenders being single, white women, usually over 30. Some of you may remember that I made a Bea Arthur MySpace page as a goof for a friend. It’s totally outdated and some of the humor attempts no longer make sense but I’m too lazy to update it. I tend to forget about it for months at a time then I’ll check in and accept friend requests and read through the mail, of which there’s plenty. The blacks dig it, the gays worship it but the single white chicks are outraged. You wouldn’t believe the hate mail I get from some of them for tarnishing Bea’s delicate image. Actually, they don’t all send hate mail. Some of them write letters (one does so on a regular basis) that indicate they really think that’s Bea Arthur’s page. How can people be so easily offended and/or so utterly gullible????
I witnessed further evidence of white chicks’ lack of sense of humor from comments on my video page. It contains the horse joke that’s on my MySpace page and I forgot that it can be found through a video search. A bunch of females blasted me for it and sure enough, visits to their pages all turned up lots of pictures with them and their horsies. Funny or not, at least my bit wasn’t meant to be taken seriously whereas their knee jerk responses were. I think they all need to spend a little less time with barn animals and a little more time interacting with humans. And they need to lighten up.
My final piece of evidence (for now) about the idiocy of MySpace users is the video below. Please watch it and form your own opinion about the matter.
Now go read some of the comments left for it before continuing with this post (UPDATE: I noticed that MySpace adds new comments to the top so what you read may not be typical of the comments I read).
Done? Now, hopefully by the point he mentioned a Tomcat had to be decommissioned from Afghanistan you realized that this is a joke (courtesy of The Onion). If you didn’t realize it’s a joke, you need to hightail it out of here with my parents. If you realized it’s a joke and didn’t think it was funny you should just die. The woman’s deadpan line, “We can only hope that’s coming soon” is priceless. But as you can see from the comments there are plenty of people who thought this was real, which means not only were these kids incapable of picking up on any of the MANY signs this is a joke, but they couldn’t even be bothered to read through a couple of comments to get a heads up from the people who did realize it’s a joke before sending their own nasty opinions about the kid (many of which don’t sound like they’re joking). The comedy world survived Jerry Lewis, Gallagher and Carrot Top but I think MySpace is more than it can handle.
So why do I still have a MySpace page if I despise it so much? Because it’s the only way my idiot friends know how to get in touch with me. If you can’t beat ‘em, add ‘em to MySpace.
Bad Womb Eyes
If you thought the story about the man running into his wife at a brothel was a doozy, check out this one:
LONDON (Reuters) – A couple discovered after they had married that they were twins who had been split up at birth and adopted by separate families, according to a member of Britain’s House of Lords. (Full story)
All I can say is I’m thankful I grew up with my fraternal twin brother. The rest of you may have fucked your twins and never knew it. 
Who Should Be More Upset?
I love stories like this:
WARSAW (Reuters) – A Polish man got the shock of his life when he visited a brothel and spotted his wife among the establishment’s employees.
Polish tabloid Super Express said the woman had been making some extra money on the side while telling her husband she worked at a store in a nearby town.
“I was dumfounded. I thought I was dreaming,” the husband told the newspaper on Wednesday.
The couple, married for 14 years, are now divorcing, the newspaper reported. (Source)
Personally, I think the wife has greater reason to be angry because maybe if the husband wasn’t blowing money on hookers she wouldn’t have to blow men for money.
Signs My Date Is Too Young For Me
The first time I ever heard of The Jonas Brothers was on Christmas, when my niece-in-law (is that a term? It’s my brother-in-law’s niece) was bopping around to their music on her mp3 player so I had a listen. They sing that freakishly catchy music that I’ll never seek out but if I ever hear it on the radio I’m sure I’ll find myself singing it for hours afterward. Since then, I’ve come across several pictures of the teenyboppers and I’m afraid to find out how old they are because the future hotness potential of the middle one makes me a little warm. Is it wrong to have impure thoughts about a youngun’ as long as I’ve mentally aged him by 5-10 years? I’ll admit it’s far from a perfect science, a lesson I learned with Prince William (who could have predicted the freckle-faced redhead would turn out to be the sexier one)?
With another birthday tomorrow (the big two five- please, don’t ruin it for me), I should probably be looking for more age-appropriate men but the fact is it’s slightly less depressing to date an immature 21-year-old than to date an immature 41-year-old. But given my intense fear of hearing the term “cougar” being used in reference to me, I decided it’s time for me to set some guidelines so I’ll know when young is too young.
Signs My Date Is Too Young For Me
… He’s proud of himself for identifying AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”
At the chorus.
… He uses the phrase, “Today my professor said…”
… He mentions his three roommates, none of whom he’s obligated by law to support.
… He knows the first name of the Jonas brother I think is hot. (Correction: will be hot)
… He’s not embarrassed to say he can’t buy me a drink because he only has $16 in his bank account. And his ID was confiscated the last time he tried to get into Hyde.
… He says he grew up watching the “Real World,” having seen all the way back to the New York season. You know, the one with Coral and Mike.
… He can’t type to save his life but he can text 75 words per minute.
… He doesn’t think twice about asking me my age.
… We’re on a date and he points out a cast member from “The Hills.”
… He’s watched “The Hills.”
… I joke about someone’s simple chronic halitosis and he thinks I’m referring to weed.
… I mention “The Breakfast Club” and he asks if it’s an after-hours. And if he’ll be able to score X there.
… I feel compelled to calculate how many years it’s been since my first menstrual period.
Dispelling Myths
I read an interesting article that as a caffeine swilling, turkey munching, low light reading, cell phone toting, leg shaver who uses a solid 11% of her brain, I thought I should share.
(Reprinted from here):
Revealed: The seven great “medical myths”
By Peter Griffiths
LONDON (Reuters) – Reading in dim light won’t damage your eyes, you don’t need eight glasses of water a day to stay healthy and shaving your legs won’t make the hair grow back faster.
These well-worn theories are among seven “medical myths” exposed in a paper published Friday in the British Medical Journal, which traditionally carries light-hearted features in its Christmas edition. Two U.S. researchers took seven common beliefs and searched the archives for evidence to support them.
Despite frequent mentions in the popular press of the need to drink eight glasses of water, they found no scientific basis for the claim.
The complete lack of evidence has been recorded in a study published the American Journal of Psychology, they said.
The other six “myths” are:
* Reading in dim light ruins your eyesight
The majority of eye experts believe it is unlikely to do any permanent damage, but it may make you squint, blink more and have trouble focusing, the researchers said.
* Shaving makes hair grow back faster or coarser
It has no effect on the thickness or rate of hair regrowth, studies say. But stubble lacks the finer taper of unshaven hair, giving the impression of coarseness.
* Eating turkey makes you drowsy
It does contain an amino acid called tryptophan that is involved in sleep and mood control. But turkey has no more of the acid than chicken or minced beef. Eating lots of food and drink at Christmas are probably the real cause of sleepiness.
* We use only 10 percent of our brains
This myth arose as early as 1907 but imaging shows no area of the brain is silent or completely inactive.
* Hair and fingernails continue to grow after death
This idea may stem from ghoulish novels. The researchers said the skin dries out and retracts after death, giving the appearance of longer hair or nails.
* Mobile phones are dangerous in hospitals
Despite widespread concerns, studies have found minimal interference with medical equipment.
The research was conducted by Aaron Carroll, an assistant professor of pediatrics at the Regenstrief Institute, Indianapolis, and Rachel Vreeman, fellow in children’s health services research at Indiana University School of Medicine.
(Editing by Steve Addison and Paul Casciato)
I’d like to add some other popular statements that common sense dictates to be myths:
* If you want to lose weight, don’t eat after 8 p.m.- This doesn’t take into account the different lifestyles people lead so you can be sure any diet guru who makes this recommendation is a quack.
* There’s nobody better to raise a child than the mother/father- Uh, how about a professional with years of experience dealing with children? Parroting the above statement is like a couch potato saying, “Who better to choose the prime time tv lineup than me?” Nobody’s going to love a child more than the typical mother, but that doesn’t mean the woman who one year earlier was doing tequila shots off a Chippendale dancer’s abs is the most qualified for the full-time job of raising the kid. Disagree with me all you want then take another look at all the fucked up people around you (or maybe even yourself) with mommy or daddy issues. I’ll dare to say that more often than not, the parents aren’t the best ones for the job.
* Asians are bad drivers/ blacks are lousy tippers- Ok, those two are true but at least they have (respectively) the technological geniuses/ big penises stereotypes going for them as well.
* 40 is the new 30/ 50 is the new 40- The only people who believe this are desperate 40 and 50-year-old women. The rest of the world are still drooling over Lindsay Lohan’s 21-year-old ass.
