Hot Girl of The Week: Melissa Lee

Actually, since my December was filled with hectic holiday events and shopping (aka heavy drug usage), Melissa Lee will be the Hot Girl of The Month, because let's be honest; everyone wants to laugh at my questionable taste in women.
















It's not secret that I love Asian girls (Well, it's not anymore), even though they sound like a squeaky bed spring in bed. However, there is an angry, oppressive segment of the population that looks down on Asiaphiles, and says mean things about us that make me curl up into a pathetic ball of human misery and just weep softly into a pillow into the night. Those bastards.

The only way I can explain this is what I call the "Beatles-Theory". Now, the Beatles were a band that no one cared about or even ever heard of until the late 2000s when their movie "Across The Universe" made them cool. Finally. But then we learned something awful. Yoko Ono, a notorious Lennon-seducing Art-hater, ruined The Beatles. To prevent anything else from being ruined, society decided to ridicule any white person that wanted to shack up with an Azn Gurl.

Well, sorry, society, but I find myself irreversibly drawn to watching CNBC's Fast Money, an insanely boring stock market analysis show which presents the viewers with absolutely useless information, because it is hosted by Melissa Lee. Melissa Lee also hosted some pretty boring CNBC documentaries, including Porn: The Business of Pleasure, in which Lee interviews some incredibly creepy people. Needless to say, I could not resist the allure of Lee's Azn-ness, and was forced to watch a documentary about Coca-Cola, and let me tell you - it was torture, every second, but it was all worth it when Melissa Lee appeared on the screen and asked about Coca-Cola products.

If I could give Melissa Lee any advice, it'd be: Shut up and kiss me, fool.

Unfortunately, I don't think Lee and myself would be compatible as a couple, because journalists and bloggers are like Jews and Muslims; an explosive mixture of rage, sand, and chick-pea-based chip dips. You see, journalists are professionals at manipulating information, whereas bloggers just screw up information in a very sloppy and unrefined manner. Now, let's say I seduced Melissa with my irresistible wit and empirical good looks. If her colleagues found out, they would probably put a hit on her, and she would be sniped by the same guys who killed Kennedy! DUN DUN DUN




















God help us if the Chinese take our hot CNBC hosts away.

2010: A Look Backwards

2010 was an amazing year.

Amazingly bad. I can't wait for 2012 to get here so we can meet the Lizard-People of Planet X. This year was boring as Hell. Once again, the truth about extraterrestrial life was not revealed, even with Wikileaks and President Obama's pledge for government transparency. I know we can't be the only forms of intelligent life in the universe, because if we were, how did Stone Henge happen? Case closed. I know some people might say that the odds of life evolving from simple cell organisms into advanced civilizations capable of intergalactic travel are like a trillion to one, I always tell them that it's also extremely unlikely that a person would be attacked by a grizzly bear and a polar bear on the same day, but that happens all the time.

Furthermore, Alison Angel's wikipedia page was deleted by Jimmy Wales. He personally went to the Alison Angel page and hit "delete" because he was raging because that Fox News girl dumped him after selling his dick pix to Glenn Beck. Then Jimmy Wales has the GALL to post:

PLEASE READ: AN URGENT APPEAL FROM WIKIPEDIA FOUNDER JIMMY WALES

Readers of Wikimedia, I need 16 million dollars.

I understand that this is a large sum of money, but this Porsche isn't going to pay for itself, unless of course, I find an entrance to an alternative reality in my coat closet in which cars can come to life and work for their masters working in the barley fields.

If everyone just donated a little bit of money, maybe 5, 10, 25, 50, 100, 200, 500, 8000, 1000000 dollars, then that would be just dandy. Remember, Wikipedia is made up of unpaid and undocumented workers, and our servers are dirt cheap to maintain, but I still need a massive sum of money for some unexplained reason.

When I started Wikipedia, I was inspired by Maddox (Whose page I read frequently) not to put ads on Wikipedia, which created a dilemma of how I was going to pay off my gambling debt owed to dangerous Yakuza leaders.

It's not that I think commerce is bad, and that advertising is evil, I just think it's really annoying, especially those "kill the spider" ads, where I try to kill the spider, but then it clicks me into a window that says I can win 10 lbs of free lobster if I fill out a form, because then I fill out the form, and then it takes me to another form and I never get any lobster.

Wikipedia is something special. It is a saint-like ivory tower of information, supplying unbelievably accurate and reliable information to poor and impoverished third-world children who spend nights awake because they don't know who the lead singer of Seven Dust is, or the size of Zambia's air force, or whatever. What we do makes the world a better place, which makes Wikipedia something you are morally obligated to support.

So do it.

To avoid posting ads on our beautiful website, send us da money. Because Wikipedia was created by a community of hard-working individuals, they should also not only work hard on providing excellent information, but should also pay to do it. Specifically, they should pay me for the privilege of editing my website. This year, please consider making a donation, and if you don't want to, then don't be surprised if The Good Lord sends mudslides and locusts unto you.

Hm, here's my answer to that:

Dear Jimmy Wales,

Yo, Jimmy, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy, I heard your girlfriend's pregnant, how far along is she? Yo, I really meant to donate some bread, but then I read some of the shit you said. Something on your website about needing cash, and I was about to send some shit, but thought that might be a bit rash. I thought to myself that this money would be better spent on me, and that I could still continue to surf Wikipedia for free. I know you'll forgive me because you're a nice guy and not a prick, because some people who demand donations can end up behaving like a stupid dick, in fact, I heard this one news story a couple weeks ago that just made me sick... this dude asks for mils from his fans and used the money to take a vacation to China and have sex with reporters from Fox News, and then he fell off a cliff, but left a message to his readers but it didn't really say who it was to... come to think of it...

his name was you.

damn.


The big story this year, of course, is that Falstad Wildhammer is alive. I know, it seemed that he was certainly dead, but then we all watched in awe, reminiscent of when Baby Jessica was lifted from the well, as we all clutched our living room sofas, eyes locked onto the liquid-crystal pixels of our gigantic flat-screen televisions as we remembered the fragility of life, but then were moved to tears at the miraculous miracle we witnessed unfolding before our cynically Thomas-the-disciple-like unbelieving eyes. Not only did Falstad Wildhammer survive the Day of The Dragon, but he went on to become the leader of Aerie Peak and Vanilla Wow through Wrath of The Lich King.

-turns to the other camera-

Yes, Mr. President, you characteristically made implausibly unrealistic promises that piqued the inner-optimist hiding in the metaphorical closet in our minds, which you subsequently failed to deliver like a lethargic Pizza-delivery minion, whose vehicular mode of transportation encountered a single thumb-tack of utter disruption, ergo, releasing the necessary and vital air pressure that allows the tires to fulfill their sacred duty of facilitating the internal-combustion-engine-powered carriage's mobility, thus disrupting the delivery of that age-old Italian dish that tantalizes our taste buds, and fills our dreams with wonder, as his once-reliable truck careened violently into an anti-serendipitously-placed ditch, and then off a cliff, and exploded into a mushroom cloud upon making the sickening impact with the bottom.

-turn to the other camera-

The other big news story, that everyone talked about was that gosh darn weather, eh.















Look at that... knocked that tree straight down. Pretty crazy. Me neighbors said they had a bunch of branches in their yard, and I believe it. Me cousin Patty heard the wind and says to me "Aye, it's a bit windy, eh?" and I says to 'er "Aye, it is for sure."

This event will no doubt be recorded as one of the most infamous events in human history.


In closing, 2010 changed us all, but it also changed a digit on a giant arbitrary measurement of time which may be off because the Gregorian Calendar was written by the uneducated peasants of the Dark Ages. They simply did not want to have their head cut off by their Baron, and they had a very weak understanding astrophysical mathematics. Anyhow, this year, we all looked deep inside of ourselves for understanding, and courage. We did things that we did not think we could do. We laughed, we cried, we were afraid, and we endured. We made mistakes and learned, and overcame obstacles. Most importantly, though, we did a lot of general human behavior, which I've briefly summarized here.

Goodnight, and good luck.

Natalie Portman Pregnant!

It's official: Actress Natalie Portman has announced she is pregnant. This is exciting news, because her offspring will no doubt bring balance to The Force.

If you thought that joke was bad, well, that's what you get for starring in a Star Wars movie(s). Just imagine the crap Harrison Ford has to put up with.

You can hear more of Natalie's thoughts on her new twin babies here: Link

Christmas is almost here!

Folks, I don't know aboot you, but I am starting to get excited over the possibility of Christmas coming in a few days. I was always get anxious that Christmas will be canceled, and all the presents will be thrown in the trash. If that happened, I would rage, and then probably go into a self-destructive spiral of alcoholism and crappy poetry.

I sent this Wish List to The North Pole, because it's completely plausible that an obese saint, who employs an army of pointy-eared midget slave labour, traverses the entire globe in the span of 8 hours in a in an old-fashioned sleigh that can somehow fly, through the power of love or some shit, to break into millions of homes and leave brightly-packaged boxes to children that he has stalked for years to survey their morality/family's income for gift-receiving eligibility.

My List:

- Roxxxy, the Sex Robot

- A really, really huge flashlight, so that I can paralyze legions of frogs.

- A battering ram for storming a medieval castle.

- POKEMON!

- Battle-Raper II
















- Communism

- A bowl of beef stew, but with no celery, because celery is horribad.

- Ass

- The Catue of Libpurrty

- Winona Ryder, preferably alive, so poke air holes in the box so she can breathe

- A red paperclip, so I can trade it for a house


I would've asked for a bootleg copy of the final Harry Potter movie, but I already traded my testicles for it in the streets of Hong Kong. When I saw it, I was kind of shocked. I didn't expect Hagrid to die.



Because I am a stoner, who enjoys smoking crystal meth, I watch a lot of cartoons. The cartoons around this time of year are annoying to me, because all of them are Christmas-themed, and they all revolve around the shaky premise that Santa Claus is in danger and needs to be saved. All the episodes go like this:

1. One of the characters in the show denies Santa exists. They refuse to get into the Christmas spirit and all of the other characters act all condescending because of this.

2. Santa is incapacitated by some villain, who is out to "destroy Christmas", because if he/she destroys Christmas, that somehow will advance their goals.

3. The gang of protagonists save Santa, but wait! One of the reindeer is sick! Whatever shall he do?

4. One of the show's characters volunteers to pull the sleigh, and using Christmas magic, is granted the power to fly and pull the sleigh, although it's unclear why Santa needs reindeer at all if he has this magic.

5. The character mentioned in plot point number 1 finally concedes that Santa is real, and is filled with "Christmas cheer". Christmas is saved. The end.

Repeat x1000000

However, children are stupid as a pile of rocks. In spite of insurmountable evidence, they believe their parents' malicious lies that a fat old bearded man brings them presents, because "you just have to believe". After all, Santa is magic, and lives primarily on cookies and milk when there's a plentiful supply of baby seals for him to club to death for food up there. Anyhoo, there is a glaring contradiction that no one can get around, and God help us all if our stupid kids ever figure this one out. Santa Claus' formal English-name is St. Nicholas, which can be confirmed in many popular Christmas Carols. To become a saint, YOU HAVE TO BE DEAD. So either Santa is a sacrilegious liar, or he's dead, which still leaves open the possibility that he's a zombie-elf.

Whatever the case is, as long as we're keeping the childrens believing that Santa is real, and that my black van is unsafe, we might as well bring back the traditional Christmas character, Black Pete. Black Pete is a demon that accompanies Santa Claus across the globe, and while good children get gifts, the bad children are stuffed into Black Pete's sack to be brought to Spain as a punishment. And you all know how fucked-up Spain is.

Happy Hanukkah.

Oprah: Lesbian?

I'd like to take some time out from my Christmas-family-time to once again focus on what's truly important this holiday season: celebrities. Specifically, celebrities who are lesbians, and specifically, Oprah Winfrey.

I first suspected Oprah was a lesbian since always. Since then, I have picked up many pieces of the puzzle to build my huge, hard, throbbing, rock-solid case that Oprah has been lezzing it up, but one vital piece remains precariously and tantalizingly out of my grasp: A Scooby-Doo Episode style confession where she blurts out the obvious truth that shocks only the most naive 14-year-old girls who could've sworn that Clay Aiken was straight as a geometrical line. This has given me cause to go to Lez Con 5.

Very recently, Oprah gave an interview to Barbara Walters, in which Oprah denied engaging in hot steamy lesbian loving with Beyonce or some shit. She also denied being a lesbian entirely. Case closed, right? Wrong. That's exactly what I would expect a Secret Lesbian to say. I know their language.

This, of course, would come as no surprise to no one, because Ellen of Ellen is also a talk-show host with huge ratings (whose ass is kissed to no end and to, more often than not, no avail) who also, incidentally, is a lesbian. Bonnie Hunt is probably also a lesbian. The problem is, though, being a role model for married, middle-aged housewives takes on a special kind of responsibility, because I just know they're all going to have second thoughts about taking advice from a woman who is a single lesbian woman. I can't imagine two housewives having this conversation, nor can you:

Betty: Oh dear, I want to go shopping for my husband, but he always hates the clothes I buy for him. What should I do?

Kathy: I know! Let's ask a our friend, who is single at age 40, and also a lesbian!

Betty: Great idea!

and so on.

However, the truth must be revealed, therefore, by the power vested in me by Oden, king of the Norse gods, I hereby demand that Oprah do a webcam interview with me and admit to the obvious truth, a request which I somehow find to be totally realistic and flawless.

What is this sorcery?

It's that time of year again: The Holidays, and yes, even the Jewish ones.

Ah, the most magical time of year, and of course, I mean black magic. Black Friday rolled around, and people were slaughtered in the aisles, and old people were trampled so quickly that they couldn't even hit their LifeAlert monitor buttons before being pulverized (I mean they literally were turned into dust) by the hordes of Mongol-like bargain hunters on a mission from God to acquire slightly less-expensive items for their angry ungrateful loved ones. After the dust (from the old people?) settled, Cyber Monday rolled around, and people cybered like crazy all over the place, even at public library computers; just sitting there with their undies around their ankles rubbing one out as you search for Upton Sinclair's The Jungle for your assignment.

Naturally, there is that annual totally necessary controversy of deciding whether or not we call this "Christmas time" or "The Holiday Season", because nostalgia-crazed misguided conservatives, who don't realize Christmas is a pagan festival of death celebrated by tree-spirit worshiping Visigoths, decide to show their "holiday cheer" and intent for spreading "peace on earth and goodwill towards men" by beefing with pussy-foot liberal pansies, who, in their zeal to manifest their false belief that they're "open-minded" schmucks who "embrace a diversity of cultures", freak the hell out when other people don't acknowledge Kwanzaa, a holiday invented by a black supremist.

Seriously, if didn't I care about people sensibilities, I wouldn't say "Merry Christmas" or anything to begin with, so if some weirdo wants to go "I don't celebrate Christmas" in an ultra-pissy voice, then so be it. I'm not going to be freaked out and traumatized so badly that I obsess in front of a chalkboard, writing down tons of alternative greetings so that I never have to feel bad in public again. Furthermore, I'm not going to be a dick and try to lobby City Hall to take down it's Christmas Tree and take a massive dump on everyone else's fun just because of it. I might as well go up to a kid and say "Yo, Christmas is canceled."

At least I always let children know that Santa is a lie.

There are only two years left before the End Of Days. Niburu is coming.

Celebrity Divorce That Everyone Saw Coming

Tiger Woods has confirmed that his marriage is a sham. Personally, as someone who is now unmoved by celebrity divorces, due to months of therapy to help me cope with pain, I was super-duper-up-the-pooper not shocked. I mean, come on.

To be perfectly honest, I only started liking Tiger Woods after it was revealed just how much pussy he was getting, because it was an absolutely absurd amount of pussy. However, unlike myself, his wife, Elin Norwegian Girl, had the opposite reaction upon hearing the apocalypse-levels of pussy Tiger Woods was receiving. I think we should remember though that cheating is bad, and when you do bad stuff, you get rich and famous. You also lose your Swedish supermodel wife, but it doesn't matter because you can get a new wife that is 10x hotter and more tolerant to libertine promiscuity.

A Million Little Pieces

Hello again, stranger.

I know I haven't blogging on this thing in... ages...

Days, in fact. I went through a journey of self-discovery and scraping my life back together from the ashes of my burnt-down sense of purpose. When Eva and Tony got divorced, I was like "Oh, that situation is certainly quite daft." and then immediately injected myself with the maximum amount of heroin possible without dying. I instantly became a drug addict and went down a spiral of self-destruction and cynicism that was unmatched in all of human history. Then I realized something that saved my life:






















Sharkbears are real.

So here I am blogging again, even after I swore I'd never blog about celebrities again to my dying Grandma, whose last words were "Obsessing over celebrities... it's not worth it."

WELL SORRY GRANDMA, but I'm back in business. I decided that life is short; almost midget-like, and I needed to do the things that make the people happy, because the polls show that people love celebrities, no matter what they're indulging themselves in. Think about it. I would eat a box of fish sticks if they had a picture of Katherine Heigl on them, and I hate fish sticks. They're like, random white mush fried in batter, leaving me to ask how anyone could possibly want to eat that stuff, but that's another post for another time.

As you probably don't know or care about, I am writing a 50,000-word novel for the month of November, and I finally finished the first chapter, which I hereby present to you now. Behold, my magnum opus:

Hi, my name is Bob. I like bacon. The other day I was at my friend's house, and he was all, like, "Hey Bob, want to go down to the coffee shop and see if there's any pretty girls there?" and I was like "Nah" so we didn't.

That night, I had a dream that I was eating a frog, but the frog was like, filled with cheddar cheese. It was so weird. When I woke up, I fixed a cup of coffee and turned on the morning news. It was the same old stuff they always showed. You know, morning traffic copter reports and whatnot. I went outside to check the mailbox. It was empty, of course. Then I went to work. Work was okay, but eh. When I got home, I watched the Daily Show, and there was a really unfunny Olivia Munn sketch, but it was okay, because she was improving in her delivery and the bits being written for her were also improving, so I wasn't going to be very harsh this time in the online comments, because I like to talk online to people the way I do in real life because I feel that sometimes people online are too rude and they certainly wouldn't be that rude in real life where, you know, I could just like, punch them in the face with my hand.

I went to bed and had a dream that I was nude on a stage, but I was okay with it because that was a guitar covering my junk. It made me think back to the other day while I was at the airport, and I decided to try and being a total dickwad and get the airport security people in trouble just to prove a point, and I said to them "If you touch my junk, I'm going to have you arrested", which just made me look like a total douchebag, but that's okay, because I did it to almost prove a point but not quite. When I woke up, I put on my slippers, and put on a bathrobe, and made some coffee. Then I turned on the television set and watched the local news, and it was the usual stuff, you know, traffic copter reports and whatnot. Then I checked my mailbox. Bills, bills, bills. I went to work as usual, and it was okay I guess. I just got there and was like "whatever". When I got home, I watched the Daily Show, and there was an Olivia Munn sketch which wasn't quite as bad as the night before. It seemed like the writers were really figuring out where she fit into the comedy of the show, and she seemed to be catching her stride, so to be fair, I only left a comment online that said "olivia sux i hate her fire her asap", which was significantly less rude than the comments I had left before.

I went to bed and had a dream I was made of ice cream. Then I woke up and fell into a portal that transported me to an alternate gothic universe where everything was dark and gothic, and everyone dressed in all black and wore make-up to appear paler. It was okay I guess. I wasn't really into being goth, but I was like "Eh, this is fine." and didn't really feel anything about one way or another. I didn't have to go to work that day because there is no work in goth-universe, just Marilyn Manson concerts to go to, but I wasn't really into his music since I listened to mostly country music. So I went to bed that night in a black coffin that was on a black slab that was surrounded by fire. It was alright I guess. Not very much room in there, but it was fine.

The end.

When writing this chapter, I really looked to Aldous Huxley's sense of surrealism in the writing as a source of inspiration, and think my writing could inspire future generations for ages to come, because it's just that good.

Divorce Of The Month: Eva Longoria and Tony Parker

To quote Darth Vader: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!


My sense of stability in this world has been shattered like a fine china plate being dropped out of Bill Gates' personal learjet. If you don't think that analogy makes sense, then just imagine this: I think Bill Gates is so rich that he just buys priceless plates and then throws them out of planes just to impress the Prime Minister of Japan.

Anyhow, Eva Longoria of Desperate Housewives famez and Tony Parker, who does something, like cricket or some sporty thing, were wed in July of 2007 in a fairy-tale-ish Paris wedding that left everyone in tears from it's beauty. Three years later, they were like, "Screw it." and decided to get divorced for political reasons, proving once again that celebrity marriages are part of a secret Russian plot. This comes on the heels of Mel Gibson's bitter custody battle with Oksana Akinshina or someone Russian, which also adds to the mounting evidence that the Russians are involved and that a very elaborate Bourne-Identity-like espionage battle is taking place behind the scenes, so if you see a car chase involving several black vans chasing a Cadillac going backwards on a winding highway in Milan, where all the parties involved are shooting at each other, ending in a car pile-up and/or explosion, you know why.

There is a very funny side to this sad story though; both Longoria and Parker got tattoos of each other's names on themselves, so the writers of Desperate Housewives may have to write something into the script to explain why Gabrielle suddenly has laser scars all over the back of her neck, probably involving alien abduction, because to be honest, that show is getting really weird. It's kind of like what happens when the ratings go down, and the writers have to amp up the ridiculousness factor because they're getting uh... gosh, what's the word? I can't think of it.

In conclusion, WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Hot Girl Of The Week: Lady Sovereign; Possible Lapse In Judgment

So yeah.

This week, I was originally going to go with Asian supermodel Du Juan, but then I got really really drunk. It's not because I'm a racist who refuses to mention Asians, but I'm also not a weeaboo. I promise to do an Asian girl next time.

Oh, nobody cares? Alright, then I'm going to go with Jeffree Star.

Oh, okay, anyhow, Louise "Lady Sovereign" Harman was born in The British Empire sometime last Thursday or something, who is a grime rapper/Jentina-stomper. She also has been signed as a professional midget, and therefore, spends a significant amount of time being short. As a recording artist, Lady Sovereign has had mixed mainstream success, being signed to Def Jam records under Jay-Z, but the pressure of being heavily overworked caused her to go "Fuck Jay-Z" and she hopped on a fishing boat and returned to bloody England, where she joined the cast of the British Big Brother. Also, as a performer, she is an anomaly, because according to her own words, she can neither sing nor dance, but her area of expertise is "being Lady Sovereign" which makes no damn sense!

If I could give Lady Sovereign any advice, it would be: If some whiny emcee disses you multiple times on a track for no reason, it's 'cuz she be a jealous bitch; wanted to be on your track just a few years before, probably will be wearing a jelly donut costume following you a few years later.

I don't think Lady Sovereign and I would work out as a couple if we ever met, because first of all, I'd need to amass like thousands of dollars for one "random night" with Lady Sovereign, because let's be honest: it would get expensive for reasons I cannot tell you. Just use your imagination. Also, in the words of Betty White: "She's a lesbian." so I'd have to get a sex change, and that'd end up costing even more money, and I really can't afford all this. Finally, I honestly don't think I'd be able to keep up with Lady Sovvy's ability to put down massive amounts of booze on a daily basis, as explained here:

Kate Middleton to wed Prince William!? SCANDAL IN THE ROYAL FAMILY

Today, in boring stuffy British royalty news, Prince William of Prince Di fame has decided to marry a filthy commoner by the name of Kate Middleton.

As shown in this photograph, it is not clear whether or not Prince William is truly British, due to his very clean almost American-like teeth. I can only conclude that the Royal Family was able to obtain a toothbrush by invading Argentina or something, and that toothbrush was handed down for generations to keep the Royal Mouths clean, and free of Royal Bacteria.

The engagement was announced today, although, apparently, it had been kept secret for some time, because they didn't want people gossiping about... oops.





Well, it's too late now...

I'm already at it, so I might as well beg the question: Did Kate Middleton seduce William into marrying her so she could steal his gold!? Will there be another secret assassination conspiracy!? Is the British Monarchy in peril!? Is the British Monarchy a waste of everybody's time!?

Find out next time, kids. Same bat time, same bat channel.

50 Cent Has A Lot Of Money

"I got this off the dollar menu? Get it? Ah, nevermind."

Ladies and Gentlemen, as you probably don't know from my Myspace blog (Seeing as it's now set to private) I did a post where I delved into the psyche of "Haters", and the intricacies of their hating. As a quick synopsis of that write-up, I theorized that the primary goal of Haters is to "Get you mad", and asked a Hater about some of the things he hated, which was every subject I brought up. An important point I brought up was the time-tested principle to simply "let the Haters hate, and watch the money pile up", because when you let the Haters hate, the money, ostensibly, will pile up.

Curtis "Fiddy Cent" Jackson, of course, is a pioneer in letting the money pile up, as seen in the above picture, where he is shown eating money like beef steaks. This was taken from a photo shoot in which the not-very-controversial rapper plays around with half a million dollars just to show how rich he is. Believe me, he's quite rich. According to 50:

"As you can observe, I have acquired a decadent surplus of personal capital, through my prolific talent as a musical recording artist. Ever since my inception as a performer of hip-hop, I conceived powerful dark recidivist undertones in every orchestration, and cultivating a felonious moniker for myself in every stanza, inevitably resulting in me getting money. My personal wealth consequently has exploded to prodigious proportions, necessitating an exhibition of my extravagance. GGGG-Unit."

Indeed, 50 Cent has made quite a killing from Gangsta Rap, detailing his life as a gangster on the streetz. Like most gangsters, 50 is quite successful as an entrepreneur, starring in his own movie, having his own video game, a clothing line made by Thai children, and of course, his own fragrance, Scent of Fiddy.

The TSA is Scanning Your Body And Looking At You Naked And Laughing

Perhaps you do a lot of commuting by air. Perhaps you enjoy flying out-of-state for the holidays. Or perhaps you're a terrorist with a bomb strapped to your cock. Well, today, all of you will have to face the TSA's new high-tech body-scanning, which shows the entire surface of the scanee's skin.

As shown in this highly-shocking photograph to our left, this deadly weapon in the Global Effort To Combat Extremism will reveal what you look like naked to airport security employees, who we can all agree are pervs, who voted overwhelmingly to have this scanner installed, because they weren't getting enough action in their personal lives.




Well, I personally think this is great. You may feel violated now, but just think how much better you'll feel when a foreign-looking man with chemicals in his pants is apprehended by the authorities. All those times spent being gazed at lustfully by the TSA's finest will not have been in vain, and you can rest easy at night that they're not laughing at how out-of-shape you are, and how your body shape doesn't compliment your private parts at all. After all, if the Good Lord didn't want us to be seen naked, he wouldn't have made Adam and Eve with clothes already on.

Opponents to these new security measures say it's not necessary, because after all, is a hot blonde girl really going to bomb a plane? I think we all know the answer to that: yes. Another question posed is: "If a 9-year-old girl is scared to go through the body scan, are they going to make her go through it? Is a 9-year-old even considered a threat?" and again, I say that I sincerely hope that they put all children through full body scans, because have you seen that jungle-gym equipment being used in Al-Qaeda recruitment videos? I'm sure that attracted some kids to the cause.

Some Celebrities have even criticized the new scanner, such as rapper 50 Cent, who did not want them to scan to "see his G-unit", adding "I did not say I would let them come into the candy shop."

"Normal" Picture Of Lady GaGa; I Hate Myspace

This is Lady GaGa before The Fame overtook her. They say that fame changes people, and I guess they mean that literally.



I know I just posted a bunch of GaGa pics, but I'm not obsessed. Really. I mean, I know, last night I had a dream where Alison Angel and I were making out in the middle of the highway, and I was like "Oh, Stefani..." and she was all, like "Stefani!? You cad!" and slapped me with a white glove and then stormed off. Suddenly, I saw Lady GaGa standing there with her meat dress on, and we started getting romantic and I started eating the meat off of her. Then I woke up screaming and sweating heavily, and realized it was just a dream and was all "Oh, phew. Close one."

But then I made the biggest mistake of my life: I went back to sleep. I had another dream where I was watching a really super unfunny Olivia Munn segment on The Daily Show, when out of the blue, Lady GaGa came out of nowhere and kicks Olivia Munn into a giant creme pie and then grabs a mic and starts singing "Just Dance" and all these robots were dancing and I started eating the robots because I realized they were made out of meat. Then I woke up screaming and sweating heavily. My heart was racing. I got out of bed to splash some cold water on my face. Then I looked up at the mirror of my bathroom, and suddenly, I saw the reflection of Lady GaGa standing behind me. I woke up again, from that dream-within-a-dream scenario and was awake for reals this time.

So, today, I listened to nothing but Death Metal and Gangster Rap, so that I would be able to sleep without having those haunting images in my mind.

I also logged onto Myspace today, and of course, once again, they completely changed the user interface and site layout for no reason. To my knowledge, killing the brand-name familiarity of your website is probably is not going to increase the number of users, although, probably nothing is going bring Myspace back, not even Justin Timberlake. It's mostly a matter of one social network passing the torch onto the next one, which has happened before, and probably will happen again when someone does the obvious and invents a site like Facebook, but just far less annoying.

Speaking of Facebook, my mom is on Facebook, and she went through my "Likes", and didn't like that I liked Lady GaGa. Sure, Eminem is okay, but Lady GaGa is unacceptable. Anyhow, that's where my Lady GaGa obsession began, because in order to rebel against my parents, I have to listen to lots and lots of Lady GaGa songs.

Also, as a bonus picture... In my last post, I mentioned that there is a mouse with a human ear on it's back. Now mind you, this is real. I wanted to post a picture of it, but the pictures were kinda nazzzty, so I found a very sexy picture of the mouse-with-human-ear, being held by a naked woman, so enjoy:

Interlude: The Tiny Island

Sometimes, people ask me where I get my ideas. I wish I could just say "Drugs, lots of drugs." but that would a big fat lie, and I like to keep my lies lean and thin. In reality, it's a much more complex series of neuron firings that science has yet to explain, but don't worry, they can put an ear on a mouse, so you know we're close.

Right now though, my brain is failing me. I'm very angry with it. Like, if it came in my room and wanted to lecture me about throwing my clothes all over my room, I'd lose it and start cussing it out. I may throw a chair, but I'm not sure. That may taking it too far, and this isn't the Jerry Springer show, it's irl. Also, there are other factors to consider, such as the possibility of the chair breaking, and if it breaks, then I've just lost a perfectly good chair, and will have to sit on the floor, which is full of spiders and lizards and shit.

Writer's Block is never good to have, especially when having an Official Celebrity Gossip Blog, and writing a 50,000-word novel for November, but I feel the best way to work through Writer's Block is to just be honest and say "Hey, I have Writer's Block. Sorry my writing has sucked so much lately!" rather than blame The Previous Administration for my shortcomings. Sure, I could be mad at everyone else, and go "Why the hell haven't you inspired me lately?" and as a matter of fact, why not?

I haven't started my novel at all. I have a few ideas, like one where a pizza delivery guy finds a unicorn, and it changes his life as he tries to hide it from The Government, who want to take it to a zoo. However, hiding a unicorn isn't easy, especially when your apartment complex has a "no pets" rule, so he also has to hide it from his landlord. Admittedly, this idea probably isn't 50,000-words long, so maybe instead, I could go in a completely different directions, taking on the premise of a 1950s-era story set during the Cold War, where an unhappy citizen tries to "flee the oppression of the West" and get into Communist Germany, but getting past the Berlin Wall and into Socialist territory proves more difficult than he first anticipated. However, this idea has one huge flaw: He'd just dig a tunnel, and so that would take up approximately one page.

So, it'll be on the shelf for now. And November is almost half-way done. This could get messy. I just need to get some inspiration, but it's like I'm stuck on a tiny island.

I take it back; YOU'RE ALL DOOMED

This is what happens when you let my sister cook.


Dear Bloggery,

Remember the US elections that took place recently? No, me neither. It just so happens to turn out that during that historic election (Aren't they all?) that there was also a public vote to legalize marijuana in California. As you can imagine, California, the bastion of progressive thought, did the only thing they could do in good conscience: keep marijuana banned. They just came together and said "Well, people are selling this openly already, and it's completely medically harmless, and it can even help people. We need to make sure this stays illegal." and they did. GOOD FOR THEM.

Actually, what really happened is the pot-smokers were too stoned to remember it was election day, and didn't vote.

Good job. Democracy wins again; suck it, Castro.

Hot Girl of The Week: Carrie Prejean; My Cat Attempts to Kill Me

Hello again. Let me get right to the point: I used to think I had good judgment, but that was 5 minutes ago. Thus, I give you this post, which shows how my taste in women has gone down the drain, and I provoke my cat to murder me in cold blood.

























Carrie Prejean was born approximately 2,000 years ago, in the times of Jesus of Nazareth, and as a little girl, she distinctly heard him say the following: "Surely I say unto you, gays can't get married, because marriage is for man + woman only." and she based her whole life on that whole premise.

As a youth, she quickly rose through the ranks of Beauty Pageants, which are special contests, for very special women. Thusly, she was crowned Miss California, a title which allows one to ride a float during a parade and wave to people. To be honest, I hate parades and think they're so boring that it's possible to die while watching one, which is #6 on my list of fears. #5 is my fear of getting trapped in a treasure chest, but that's another post for another time.

Unfortunately for Carrie Prejean, the judges of Miss USA (or Miss America, it was one of those, but who cares, right?) were prejudiced against Miss Prejean just because she was prejudiced against The Gays, ergo, costing her the much-prized Tiara Of Shallowness. She stood up for Traditional Marriage when asked about Gay Rights, which enraged The Left, but stirred up inspiration among The Right.

I personally have no opinion on her comment, but I personally think we should do marriage the way it was done in the Bible: With me being able to marry tons of wives.

After the beauty pageant, Carrie defended her moral high ground by releasing a barrage of leaked nude photos, and videos of her masturbating. Just tons and tons of shocking naked pictures, showing her doing the most lude things imaginable, and I was just like "Good for her... good for her." and at that point, I really grew to respect her and wanted to do heterosexual things with her.

If I had any advice for Carrie, it would be: If you have a gay judge, don't say something anti-gay, if you have a Jewish judge, don't say something anti-semetic, if you have some guy with a Brooklyn accent, don't say you're a Red Sox fan, et cetera.

I personally think Carrie and I would not work out as a couple, because my cat is a psychotic liberal bastard bitch, who scares me. To be honest, I live in constant fear of a cat attack, and always lock my door before going to bed, and sleep next to a baseball bat, although a knife might actually be better.


This is an accurate depiction of my cat:




















How did it get to this point where I live in a state of constant paranoia?


Well, a couple days ago, me and my cat were cool. I was just sitting there, and my cat was just sitting there, when ALL OF A SUDDEN, and completely out of the blue for no reason, my cat ran up to me, bit me, and gave me rabies and possibly the rage virus. The fangs of my cat penetrated clear through my hand, obviously drawing blood, and causing my friends to ask if I had developed stigmata.

I have no idea why my cat did this, because it was completely unprovoked. The only thing I can think of was that we were playing this really fun and funny game that involved me spinning my cat around and around on the linoleum floor by the tail. I was really having fun playing it, and I thought she was too, but I guess not! Damn!

BORING SHIT

As you may not know, November is National Novel Writing Month, and Nanorimo, as it is known, challenges writers to write their really bad novels all in one month. Once you've done it, you "win"!

Now, as an avid writer of words, I feel like I have an epic novel inside of me full of intrigue, prose, steamy smut scenes, long descriptions of what one could describe as 'action scenes', words, and stuff. Even though November is almost 1/3 over, I am going to write a full-blown novel with 50,000 words. Or more. Probably not, though.

Now, you might be thinking "How are you going to pull that off? That's a lot of words." and my answer is simple. I am going to type really, really fast, and fill some of the chapters with random gibberish as padding, because remember, this arbitrary imaginary challenge posed by some unknown weirdos, who was probably trollin', is most about the quantity of novels it produces, so we're going for sheer volume here.

Now, keep in mind that I haven't even thought about a concept for a book, but I believe that I'm just going to sit down and just start banging out chapters, because that just makes sense.


Oh, also, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Lindsay Lohan.

PZ!

Random Lady GaGa pics

Ladies, Gentlemen and Monsters who cannot get enough Stefani Germanotta in their daily lives, I hereby present a post which proves that I have 15 minutes and Google Image Search: A montage to the new Queen of Pop, Lady GaGa. To be honest, in terms of Pop Queens, I'm just glad they didn't pick a 14-year-old girl this time, however, I am glad they picked an eccentric discotheque enthusiast whose videos look like something out of a bizarre sexy nightmare where we are lost in some sort of hazy drug-fueled masquerade orgy/dystopian version of gay Heaven. I really am. This isn't sarcasm, because like a positively charged electron to a negatively charged electron, I am pulled towards weird stuff like a Law of Physics. So needless to say, there are some GaGa songs on my iPod, much to the dismay of pseudo-intellectuals who listen to sucky indie bands, which are like sucky indie- movies, but unlike their counter-parts in the cinema medium, indie-bands don't need Sundance Hippy Festival to proliferate their... wait one damn minute, I don't need to explain myself to anyone, so just enjoy the damn pictures:

v

Remember, remember the 5th of November
The gunpowder treason and plot,
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Some Hot Hot Election Action

Time to put away the stale Halloween candy, because it's blogging time.





















Ladies and Gentlemen, recently, in boring politics news, America held it's mid-term elections, which were filled with a galore of stuffy upper-class drama. I know, Randy Quaid is going to court and is trying to flee to Canada, Charlie Sheen killed a hooker, and Snooki's top got half ripped-off in a drunken club fight, but I believe being a good journalist involves covering boring stories, especially political ones.

First of all: America, you did it. You stood up with one voice, and said "No, we can't." and I applaud that sort of random defiance. Tea-Partiers, you did it. Your Hitler-mustachioed posters have turned the tide of Obamostalinism sending Grandma to the death factories to be ground into hamburger just because she's a non-productive person who complains whenever I change the channel, but then criticizes everything about the show we're watching while smoking her damn cigarette.

In seriousness, though, our nation was in a fairly bad state before, but now America is going to get what it wants: a tax cut for the top 1% of the population, who already dodge taxes 24/7 by hiding all their money in secret Swiss accounts. If that doesn't bring the 90s back, I don't know what will.


First, in Christine O'Donnell's race, the Tea Party was hoping to snipe a predominantly Communist state of Delaware, however, Christine O'Donnell (Who is most certainly not a witch), was massacred by Chris Coons, who lives in a cage in Harry Reid's basement. Harry Reid keeps him alive by throwing him large amounts of raw meat. Despite a rallying wave of Tea Partying, O'Donnell could not secure the grape state of Delaware, and had to deliver what had to be the weirdest concession speech I've ever heard, which started off by her announcing "We have won!", and then reading a list of demands for Chris Coons to follow.




In Harry Reid news, the embattled Senate Majority Leader was expected to be raped by Sharrron Angle, the Tea Party favorite in Nevada. Reid, significantly down in the polls, largely due to the very high unemployment in his state, and unable to rally his constituency by way of sheer candor and charisma (as he has neither), employed an age-old political strategy: Just sitting there doing nothing while his opponent says stuff that's just nuts. Indeed, Sharron Angle's apparent list of off-color comments led voters to believe that she'd probably be worse than the leadership of the man who oversaw the worst unemployment in the state's history. When informed of her apparent loss for the Nevada senatoral race, Sharron Angle said "Zip zap zoop!" and flew off to the land of orange zebras.







One of the most high-profile Governator races was for the executive position in Colifornia. This unexciting horse race took place between the perpetually-running-for-governor Jerry Brown, and Meg Whitman, a CEO of e-Bay, a web-based auction where foreigners trick Americans into sending them money, then deleting their e-bay accounts without sending anything. Whitman failed to secure this election, despite having spent an approximate 1,000,000,000,000 dollars on her campaign. In a rage, she withdrew to her Lombardy estate, where she is currently brooding how unfair life is.





Speaking of voteration in Governor races, Emperor Palpatine's evil twin, Carl Paladino, while not a Tea-Party darling, appeared to have a remote chance of winning New Yawk's gubernatorial race. It all began with him sending donkey-show porn to his staff members, which convinced many New Yorkers that he might be cool enough to consider voting for. However, he was still behind in the polls, and suddenly, the plot thickened when Fred Dicker of The New Yorker and Carl Paladino had a Dragonball Z style confrontation where they just powered up for like 2 episodes while talking a ton of trash. Paladino was invited onto Fox News, where he explained that the confrontation took place because the media was out to get him, because the media backed the establishment, which made sense on paper until you realize that The New Yorker and Fox News are both owned by Rupert Murdoch, who supports Republicans like Paladino! Secret illuminati plot!

P.S. - Paladino lost lol



Like Harry Reid, Speaker O' The House, Nancy Pelosi was facing an uphill battle to be re-elected, but uh, she won, so no biggie. However, due the utter Republican pwnage in the House of Representatives, Democrats are now a minority, so Pelosi's position as Speaker Of The House is now in question, as the party with a majority of seats gets to do the speaking for The House. It is not yet known if she will step down as Speaker Of The House, or hole up in a cabin with a shotgun in a stand-off with cops in a last-gasp attempt to hold onto the position. It is speculated that if such a scenario should unfold, she will probably be sniped by Lon Horiuchi. The authorities would then storm the cabin and retrieve the Speaker Of The House position, and hand it to John Boehner (Whose last name is pronounced 'Boner', which is appropriate, because he has one right now, out of sheer excitement) although it is highly unlikely that this will happen.




I know there were a lot more races, like Rand Paul's important pick up of Kentucky, and Joe Manchin's wtf-win in West Virginia, but it's late, and the candy buzz is starting to wear off. I would like to congratulate The Republicans on their uberpwnage, and I know all the Conservatives have really intense boners right now. If anything, this election signifies that the agenda of President Obama sounds really muslimy to a lot of people, and it really pisses them off. This election just goes to show that if you regulate corporations, they will spend a ton of money to make you look like a douchebag to the American people, and indeed they did, so once again, Democracy prevails.

So take that, Castro.

Halloween: The Sluttiest Time Of Year

"I hear someone is has been dirty."



Today, once again, is All Hallow's Day, on which the Catholic Church commemorates those who have received beatific vision in Heaven by passing out candy to children dressing up as superheroes, clowns, cowboys, and various fictional characters. Occasionally, the children dress as factual characters, such as Flavor Flav, but that's quite rare that you find children and parents who collaborate to get that creative, WHICH IS WHY I HATE MY PARENTS UGH!

It's also a day for the older crowd to dress up, and by older, I don't mean you, Grandma. Get over yourself Grandma. I'm not always talking about you. I'm talking about girls and boys who are older than 12, but more specifically, girls and boys who are older than 18, but even more specifically, just the girls who are older than 18, but younger than 30.

The girls tend to go as one of the following:

- French Maid

- Sailor Scout

- Naughty Kitty

- Naughty Librarian

- Sexy Cactus Girl

- Bikini Girl With Machine Gun

- Sex Robot


I appreciate all of these. I, of course, would be more than happy to give these girls who put such thought into their costume lots and lots of candy, and I don't necessarily mean a sick 50-Centesque metaphor, but I can mean that if they want it to pertain to that meaning, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN lololololololololololololol. Now, I also understand that some of the costumes may confuse you if you've never heard of them before, such as "Sexy Cactus Girl". Let me tell you, you do not want to fondle a girl in that costume.

"Sex Robot" isn't necessarily a costume, but it's a more economical approach to Halloween dress-up, in which the person becomes their own costume. Girls who go as "sex robot" just make a lot of sudden, mechanical jerky motions and go "Beep beep boop, I am a robot. How may I please you?" in a monotone voice, reminiscent of the slow lumbering aluminum-foil bots of 50s sci-fi cinema.

Whatever you may go as, remember, don't get raped!

Happy Halloween.

Jon Stewart's Rally Was Insane

Look at this.

Today, Jon Stewart, host of Comedy Central's The Daily Show, and chronic Olivia-Munn-Hirer, held The Rally To Restore Sanity, a 1-day event in Washington D.C. where thousands would gather to show how sane they are.

As an insane person, I am deeply offended and disturbed by this rally's message and the implications of the said rallying. As an official Celebrity Gossip Person, it is my duty to obsess over the insaneness of Hollywood, and on rare occasions, Bollywood. When Britney Spears shaved her hair off, I was there. When David Hasselhoff attempted to eat that hamburger while drunk on camera, I watched in the bushes. When Mel Gibson said Jews caused all the wars, I was watching them cause those wars. I thrive, live and breathe insanity, and it is my oxygen. Not the channel. As an official mamarazzi (A more gentle, caring version of the paparazzi), I need America to be as crazy as possible, not just for myself, but also for myself.

However, hyperbolically speaking, the rally was nuts. It had everything I desire in a rally: crazy signs that are contradictory to the point of the rally, Sheryl Crow's fake teeth, Ozzy Osbourne, and Stephen Colbert melting into a pool of delicious butter. I personally feel like it was a success in that it restored our sense that sanity was possible, which you know will put everyone into a crazed frenzy trying to get it. In fact, I was reading some of the news articles to get a sense of how people felt about the rally, and of course, I will just let their random comments do the talking:

Person 1: all whiteskinned liberals are dirty racists who worship klansman robert byrd. i still have not heard them repudiate nancy pelosi for her white supremacist actions.

Person 2:

rujokingme ..... perfect example of dimwitted conservative. Not only can they not use proper grammar, they use contradicting statements for their arguments. Like a nat at a barbeque..... just buggin the fu#k outta ya.....

In Lindsay Lohan news...

Guess what, geeks? Lindsay Lohan will not be going to prison, where she would have to have endure the cuddling of her muscular lesbian cellmate, "Pudding". Rather, she will have to be checked back into rehab. Upon hearing this news, Lindsay was indignant, and kinda just hoped the court would, like, let just live her life, like damn. However, the iron fist of justice hit Lindsay with yet another stint in the rehabs, and I'm 90% certain that they will work this time.

Here's an important fact to remember, though: It costs a lot of money to keep someone in prison. Rehab, however, is dirt cheap, because all you need to do is rent a room in a church basement for a day, set up some steal folding chairs and hold a clipboard, with which you, as the psychological professional working for the government, will pretend to take notes, but will actually be drawing a shark jumping out of the water and eating a deer. You should also keep in mind that Lindsay is rich and WHITE. OH YEAH I WENT THERE.

BAD week for Blogging

It was a horrible week for bloggers and blogging everywhere, because my computer monitor shorted out for no reason without any warning at the crack of dawn. It now lies in ruins, as seen here:

















So, in other words, no juicy celebz gossipings, no hot girl of the week, no joy and peace to the world. During this difficult time, I spent the nights lying wide awake, wondering how the hell my life had spiraled into such a non-blogging state. During the days, I kept myself mildly entertained by playing UFC: Undisputed while drinking soy milk, blasting Lady GaGa music and cursing the sky.

So, had I been able to blog, I would've blown the roof off of some hot Lauren Conrad gossip that no one knows about, not even that shining golden bastion of pure knowledge, TMZ. It was so juicy that if this gossip were in the form of an orange, and you bit into it, juice would go flying all over your face. Juice would fly into your dog's face, and all over a baby, and all over the walls, and just generally everywhere. But it's too late. It was time-sensitive material, so I guess I can't do that.

I was also going to do a scathing hit-job story on Olivia Munn, but I decided not to, because I am very very afraid of the powers that back her. They could snap me over their knee like a really long graham cracker with ease.

The hot girl of the week was going to be... I don't know... Jessica Alba or something. I don't know nor care, because I wasn't able to do it, and this makes me want put on some Bullet For My Valentine and just start the cutting. Maybe I would've made it Olivia Munn, just to make up for all the nasty things I almost said about her, but didn't, so it doesn't count, right?

Okay, peace, nerds.

Hot Girl of The Week: Iliza Shlesinger

I know, I know. I didn't even post anything last week, but I must continue this series, or the world will melt into a pool of delicious butter, which will be used by Little Black Sambo to eat 5,932 pancakes.

This week's addition introduces Last Comic Standing champion and Comedy Central Presents alumni Iliza Shlesinger, whose name I always I misspell before hitting the delete key several times to correct myself. It's pretty bad, because I hate when people misspell my last name, which is also a doozy to those who have difficultly with last names more difficult than "Smith". But I digress (whatever that means).




















She is one of my favorite comedians, mostly because of her looks, which are top-notch. As far as other facts about her go, she's blonde... I don't know if it's natural or if she's just fakin' it, and she appears to be between 18-39 years old. I'm 90% sure she's an American citizen and was not born in Kenya, and is probably not part of a secret illuminati plot, but I have been wrong before. I had this co-worker at Auntie Anne's, a soft-pretzel stand in the mall, and he just seemed like this ordinary guy who couldn't make change very well, but it turns out he was part of a secret illuminati plot. Whodathunkit.

If I could give Iliza any advice, it would be: You can't do lunges as well as me.

I don't think Iliza and I would be compatible as a couple because, during her act, she did these super-deep lunges. Normally, you wouldn't think that'd be issue, except that I also do super-deep lunges, and I think we'd be competing to see who can do the deepest lunges, and it'd get really out of hand and we'd fight all the time. Just last night, I was doing these insane lunges and was like "These are way deeper than Iliza's." but in the back of my mind, I was like wondering how deep Iliza's lunges had gotten since the Comedy Central show and I knew I had to train harder. God, where does one get the nerve to work their freakish athleticism into their act?

The Fame Monster Has Me

Dearest Diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written on you in awhile, and I know how turned on you get from the feeling of cold ink pouring out all over your pages, getting you all dirty. I know all I wrote this week was the letter "y", which is probably not sufficient for an official celebz gossip blog, covering the glamorous and amorous lifestyles of the hottest starz, like Lauren Hill and Gilbert Gottfried. However, I've been very depressed, and as a result, I put on some black eye-liner, covered one eye with black bangs and wore tight jeans while cutting my wrists while listening to Hawthorne Heights. It was very very sad, but I feel a little bit better now after binging on brownies and listening to lots of death metal. I also did some kickboxing to let my emotions out, because there's no better way to deal with anger than to train your brain to start punching when it's upset.

Then, I had a thought: if fish cried, would anyone know?

So I'm doing this for you, fish, because I know that you're potentially crying every day, just no one gets to see it because you're surrounded by water.