“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Clearly this ridiculous cliché was written by some douchebag asshole that didn’t want to hear the truth about him or her self. Who else but a narcissist could come up with this kind of a statement? Have you ever noticed that the person on the end of this cliché is usually someone who just tore someone else a new asshole or shredded them so badly they’ve been left bloody and bruised? I’m not saying it’s cool to run up to people and impart your no one asked for it opinion on them and hurt their feelings but I do believe if you want to stop an idiot from sharing their hideousness – you may need to smack them with the honest stick and that stick is often not nice. Sometimes some people just need to hear the truth. And sometimes the truth is tied up in a legal document that people have inadvertently signed under duress to get away from a douchebag asshole. But that’s another chapter in The Book of Moron. If I followed this cliché I would never be able to write another word. I wouldn’t be able to say how happy I was that Kim Kardashian got flour bombed by PETA activists. I couldn’t tell you that the man who killed Trayvon Martin should be buried alive by Skittle flavored bullets and it would be impossible for me to discuss my annoyance at the people who have kept “Whitney” on the air – taking the year of the female comedy writer and shitting all over it before it even made it six months. We’ll never get back in. But the biggest thing I would like to write about that I wouldn’t be able to if I only had nice things to say would be – me. And that’s a fucking problem. I think it’s important to know your flaws – embrace them and mock them – unless those flaws are – I am a power hungry bitch who has absolutely no feelings for other human beings, fires them willy nilly and only cares about how much money I have and how skinny I am – in which case – you may want to change. But if that’s not you – then embrace away.
Some people like to make to do lists each day but perhaps we should start each day with a list of not nice things we need to tell ourselves – read them – then fold them up and put them away. If I did that today – here’s what my list would say:
1) You are a fat pig because you at 32 pieces of sushi last night.
2) You need to take a shower. Spraying yourself with perfume and calling it a French bath is not the same thing.
3) You really need to stop kissing your dogs on the mouth right after they may have eaten poop.
4) You need to wash your sheets. They are disgusting.
5) If you buy another pair of shoes you will have to sell your house. By the way – no ones looking at your feet when your grey roots are that big.
6) You need bigger pants, again.
7) You really should learn to wash a dish.
8) You don’t call your mother enough.
9) You suck at keeping in touch with your sweet little niece and nephew.
Nothing earth shattering here but hey – it’s Saturday. I’m cutting myself some slack. I think I’d like to do a little rewrite on that cliché. How about – If you don’t have anything nice to say – make sure you’re talking to a douchebag asshole who deserves some honesty. And you know who you are.
Taco Bell has decided to ensure that Americas morbid obesity rate reaches epic proportions with the invention of the new Dorito Taco Shell. Yes, you can now get your chicken flavored diced cat and hot sauce someone most definitely spit in or jacked off into – on a nice taco sized Dorito chip. It’s called the Doritos Locos Tacos – which makes sense because you’d have to be a mental patient to eat a giant orange 9 grams of fat cancer casing for your shredded lettuce and what has never been beef. I know fast food is cheap and easy but I don’t want a deep fried oompa loompa served through a window to me at any time of day no matter the savings. I have been known to eat my fair share of fast food especially back in the days when I drank – a lot. I remember discovering Fatburger when I first moved to Los Angeles. I can’t tell you the amount of cabs I forced to use that drive up window at 2am so that their car – not mine – would wreak of the hideous mess they shoved inside a bun. The scent of a fatburger will stay with you for days. It permeates your clothing and your bowels. Anything that sticks around for that long after its been eaten – cannot be good for you. I will still eat an InNOut Burger every now and then but someone deemed this not to be fast food so it’s okay. Sure you can order a box of patties in a box covered in greasy onions but the fact that you can watch them shove a potato into a machine to dice it up LIVE for your fries means it’s an ACTUAL RESTAURANT. I’m sure someday we’ll find out it’s a fake potato and that machine leads to nowhere but for now – it’s safe to eat and it’s called the healthy choice.
People have been writing scads of reviews for this new Doritos edition to the Taco Bell family. It’s as if a review on this kind of food mattered. These musings about a piece of fried dust are almost as good as the review Marilyn Hagerty from Grand Forks North Dakota wrote about the Olive Garden for her column Eatbeat. The article went viral thanks to phrases like “the Chicken Alfredo was warm and comforting on a cold day” and “the restaurant is fashioned in Tuscan farmhouse style with a welcoming entryway.” Marilyn is a goddess.
Have you ever noticed that if it’s not YOUR coffee pot you’re trying to make coffee in your brain is sucked out of your head and you cannot – come hell or high water – figure out how to use it? I’ve been making coffee in various coffee makers in my home for over thirty years but if you take me out of my home and ask me to make coffee in a pot somewhere else I will instantly prove to you I am a mental midget. You may even present me with the same coffee maker I’ve had in my past or even one I’m currently using but the second it is removed from my own kitchen and my own counter I will not be able to figure out where anything goes, how much goes in when I do figure it out, and what to do once it goes wrong. Every time I’ve ever gone to stay at someones house for a weekend or so and I’m up before them in the morning – I’m suddenly terrified to use their coffee maker because I know I will fuck the shit up hard. I tried to make coffee at work the other day and clogged the entire machine sending grounds everywhere and causing a back up in the filter system that took three people to fix. I supposed there is comfort in knowing that I will never be able to get a job as a Barista, that the Doritos Taco Shell will eventually go away, and that The Olive Garden does in fact have a nice warm breadstick. What’s not so comforting? The millions of people who thought Hugo was the best movie of the year. But that’s a whole other Oprah.
I wonder if the people who thought Sarah Palin was the second coming of Christ are now embarrassed. I’m horrified and I didn’t even like the woman. I smelled phony the second those floating glasses with no frames hit the stage. They were as transparent as she was. I knew the chances of having a smart woman in the political world who also had really good hair and makeup – were nearly impossible. You can’t worry about your highlights and be concerned about Iran having a nuclear missile at the same time. Or in Sarah Palin’s case – you can’t worry about your lipstick and learn how to say Joe Biden instead of O’Biden. Or learn where Russia is, or what a Supreme Court case is, or what the FED is, or the list is fucking endless. When it comes to politics – Sarah Palin had the same level of intelligence as her son Trig – yes I just called her retarded – and I happen to think people with down syndrome are beautiful and special. I just don’t think I’d vote for someone with that handicap to be Vice President. Thanks to HBO – I’m embarrassed to be an American. I’m mortified that I live in a country where someone with the intelligence of my French Mastiff Tulip – not that smart – can run for an office that involves making decisions about other peoples lives. If you didn’t see the movie “GAME CHANGE” and you voted for McCain/Palin then please figure out a way to see it so that you die of embarrassment and never vote Republican again. Sarah Palin is what YOUR people did to you. They believed you were stupid enough to vote for a half wit – they believed you were as stupid as Sarah Palin. I know that in America pretty always wins but wow – that was a close one. Do I believe everything I watch on HBO? Yes, and so should you, after all – it’s not t.v.
For everyone who’s ever been concerned that the Kardashian family magic would run out and we’d be left without any reasons to hate money grubbing fat assed dopey Armenian’s with no purpose in life but to take our money well fear no more because Bravo has now given us another group of people to despise – Persians. “Shahs of Sunset” is a new low even for a reality show bottom feeder like me. I watched an episode of this last night and I suppose my biggest problem with the show is that it’s mostly about Persian Jews and quite frankly my people – Jews – have enough other people hating us to last a lifetime. We don’t really need a television show to amp up our level of people despising us. Is there nothing else to watch on television? Did we really need whatever block of airtime was available to be filled with another family of fucking shitty people. This show is also from Executive Producer Ryan Seacrest – who clearly has no problem shoving shit down our throats. In fact – I believe Ryan Seacrest is the real problem. He’s all sweet and American Idol on the outside and all purveyor of disgusting reality shows on the inside. Ryan Seacrest is becoming the Sarah Palin of Reality TV. He’s pretty to look at and so we believe that what he has to say means something. Maybe he’s just the front man and there’s an Oz behind him pulling the crazy levers. I wonder if he ever gets embarrassed when the credits roll at the end of one of his shows or if he just goes and lays his head down on a bigger pile of money. I’ll never know – until he makes a reality show about himself, because that’s where the truth lives, on television.
Kesha – the alleged pop star – has made a new PSA asking people not to club baby seals. It’s an odd choice the humane society has made picking Kesha to be a spokesperson – since listening to one of her songs is akin to being clubbed like a baby seal. I’m sure if they did enough research they would even find that hearing one of Kesha’s reported songs is what’s driving people to club a harmless animal in the first place. And by the way – who’s still clubbing baby seals? Can’t it just become legal to club these people? Why are we keeping them around? There can’t be one single thing anyone on earth can benefit or learn from a baby seal clubber.
This is just one of the difficult questions I find myself pondering after a month of being locked in a writers room with a group of really clever prisoners being fed amazingly great snacks. I find myself reading things on the Internet and saying “when did that happen?” “How did I miss that?” and I’m not talking about insignificant things like Sandra Fluke being called a whore by a fat bloated untalented pig, I’m talking about life changing things like missing the Marni sale at H&M and I’m not even sure how I’m going to get over that. Major fashion shit went down and I was not there for any of it for the first time in forever. Hearing that there were Marni handbags available is like a cold hard knife to my heart. I’m afraid to go online and look at the collection because I fear I will fling myself out of my Prius into oncoming traffic.
I’m going to need to launch a few full blown investigations into some other things I seemed to have missed while tip tapping away on what will surely be the greatest sitcom ever of all time ever. It’s amazing what goes on when you are not connected to your internet and email on a minute by minute basis. I had no idea that we will change our clocks again this weekend and I was clueless that someone allowed Adam Sandler to make another retarded movie. Is Nicole Kidman pretending she did not have two children with Tom Cruise and cut off all communication with them? She seems very interested in her new family with Australian country singer Keith Urban which by the way must be an oxymoron. Did she just sign her rights away to Conner and Isabella in exchange for not admitting that her marriage to Tom was a sham? And when is the last time anyone has seen Isabella anyway? I think she’s in some kind of Hollywood star children witness protection program because she’s the fat less attractive one. I would like to exchange Dita Von Teese for Isabella. Less Dita sightings and more Isabella sightings would be enjoyable. If anyone can tell me why Dita Von Teese is famous I will give them their very own seal killer to club.
If I’m not careful I’m going to miss the new season premiere of Mad Men which I’ve been waiting for since 1962. I live for Jon Hamm on my television set – especially Jon Hamm as Don Draper. Jon recently called Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton fucking idiots so he has now been elevated to god status. The fact that he looks like a hot Fred Flintstone will always keep him in a special place in my heart and underpants. If this show ever ends I will go into a hideous depression. I am going to film a PSA today to keep Mad Men on the air forever. I will offer to club Kesha in exchange for a lifetime supply of cigarettes, martini’s and ad men.
I don’t think porn leads to rape. I think American Apparel ads do. I passed a billboard the other day for the brand and I’m quite convinced that they should be banned. I don’t need to see a kid in her bra and panties and knee socks spread eagle on my way to work even if the kid just looks like a kid and is of legal age. If someone posted pics like these ads on their computer they’d be arrested for child pornography yet we’ve actually given the loony tunes who runs the company – awards for Marketing Excellence. The other day I saw one with a girl in her underwear legs spread straight shot to her uvula. I have no idea what they were selling but I guess it was vaginas. The fearless leader of American Apparel shoots the ads himself using young girls and sometimes store employees. He’s also been involved in several sexual harassment lawsuits. Shocking, I know. I guess if the clothes were at least well made enough to make it through one machine wash it would be okay but the shit is completely disposable and cut for people who have no shape to their bodies at all. I’m thrilled it’s made in America but I’d feel better about buying the crap if I didn’t get an underlying feeling that all of the women in his ads are locked up in some basement somewhere being fed lollipops through cage doors. I don’t mean to sound like an old woman but I am an old woman so it’s only natural to sound like one. Get used to it.
Why can’t the universe just let Jennifer Aniston be happy? Didn’t she entertain us enough during the Friends years to give her carte blanche for the rest of her life? I mean – Rachel hair was big. She styled a nation. What did Matthew Perry do for us? Nothing… and yet he still gets cut a break despite being a colossal fuck up – drinking drugging and smashing his car into things. He just got yet another sitcom pilot. There must be some kind of rule at the WGA that says someone has to write something for Matthew Perry every year. Sure Jennifer Aniston doesn’t always make great movies but it’s not like she’s putting out “Jack and Jill.” She’s button nose cute, seemingly quite nice, and never been in a tabloid for doing something awful like stealing someone else’s husband so I just don’t understand why she can’t have it all. Can’t we be happy for her new romance and hope that it leads to a child so that people stop calling her barren? I haven’t seen Wanderlust yet but I watched the trailer and I laughed – out loud – six times – I counted. Who doesn’t love a good nudist colony romp? I know I’d like to spend a week having the same body she has. I’d be doing naked yoga in front of my house everyday if I did and I’d invite the press to make sure they got great photos of my downward facing dog upward facing perky ass. It seems like people love bonding over their hatred of Jennifer and while I don’t see a world where the two of us are sharing a pinkberry salted caramel yogurt cup – I do realize that someone else’s success does not equal my failure. I’m just saying, let’s all get together and give Jennifer Aniston a chance. Let’s cut her a break. There’s room out there for everyone to be happy. Except the guy who runs American Apparel. He’s a little too happy. In the pants.
I have decided that I’m going to have a baby. Not because I necessarily want a child but because I’ve learned that having a baby allows you to discuss poop at all times and in any place you would like to discuss poop – the more inappropriate the better. I have a scatological sense of humor so I enjoy discussing doody. Last night I had dinner with a baby and realized if you have one around – the poop chat flows. While enjoying a nice piece of sashimi I was informed that August Alykhan Brooks Mitha has a butt that is currently working like a soft serve doody machine. I found this fascinating and was praying his parents would invite me over to see this or at least post a video of his magical ass in action. Maybe this is what all babies do – I’m not sure – but I want to find out. We had dinner in Brentwood with August’s grandparents Don and Leslie Tucker who live in South Carolina or as they describe it – a place where meth labs are hiding around every corner. I was hoping they were about to tell me they were secretly running one and that Breaking Bad was actually based on their lives. It could happen. Having parents from out of town is always fun when they come to California because they are always amazed at how shallow we are and by we I mean the people you see dining out at restaurants in Brentwood. If you are unfamiliar with Brentwood – it’s where all the white people live – in particular – white Jews. Quite frankly I’m surprised they don’t ask August’s dad Salim and his naturally blonde wife Becky for their papers on a daily basis. I love eating out in Los Angeles because you get dinner and a movie when you go to a restaurant and last nights feature was clearly a throwback to the sixties because I think I saw one of Hef’s old bunnies at the table next to us. How else can you explain a bustier and a choker on a woman over the age of sixty?
I saw a commercial last night for that religion the stars love. I’ll call it Math-tology because quite frankly I’m afraid to write out it’s real name. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen this so called religion advertised. I’m obsessed with Math-tology. I want to wear a wire and a camera and sneak in to their celebrity center and see if I can get them to admit that they all believe it’s a total fucking farce and that their leader Tom Cruise is gay. I don’t think he is but the concept of them hiding a diary where he admitted he blew a guy once is the only explanation I have for why he hasn’t denounced these loony tunes. Hopefully my house won’t be firebombed later today for writing something about them because quite frankly these are some seriously crazy people. If you don’t believe me, read the article director Paul Haggis wrote about his experience with Math-tology. I see their followers at my supermarket all the time. They are almost all white. They all have bad acne and they all clearly shop at the same bad store. I believe it’s called “Androgynous R Us.” I am well aware the world is made up of many kinds of people and I am thrilled that this is so. I just get the overwhelming feeling that this particular group of people would like the rest of us to go away. According to the Math-tology commercial, there are more than ten thousand churches and or missions and that 4.4 million new people become Math-tologists each year. I wish there were less organized religion in the world. I wish pooping was a religion and Baby August was our leader.