The Bananas Are STICKING IT To All Those Godless Evolutionists

FACT: The banana is the ATHEIST'S NIGHTMARE.

FACT: Kirk Cameron is staring with an expression of glazed joy...at a man caressing a banana.

I'm just saying.

Can I Move In, Hef?

We all find a show that we never ever thought we'd get into. We all start watching some random piece of tv, and end up totally obsessed with the lives of someone. Well, not only am I watching episodes of The Girls Next Door as often as they air, but get this:

I'm learning life lessons from The Girls Next Door.

No, I'm serious. Holly is totally in love with a very old dude version of Hugh Hefner, and she's obviously really, really in love. She takes care of Kendra and Bridget, and makes sure everything runs smoothly. That's the kind of devotion we all need in love and life. (Of course if he's the man responsible for the Playboy empire, and rich as Croesus, he's easy to love.) She's passionate about working with Playboy behind the camera, and comfortable in front of the camera too with all her hotness. She's a hard worker with a kind heart and a smokin' bod. Go Holly.

From Kendra I learned to love and blare my retarded guffaw of a laugh and wear it with pride. I sound like a dolphin fresh off the short bus, but I'm ME, enjoying a ME laugh. I also learned to embrace my love of franchise restaurants. Olive Garden is pretty tasty, even if you're recommending it to, oh, say, Roberto Cavalli. I myself consider Chili's a damn fine evening, no matter who you're entertaining, be it the Pope or a roommate. What? Represent.

And I just love love love love Bridget. If I could ever humbly dwell in the mansion with the girls and their many dogs and dear old Hef, I'd be knocking on her door five minutes after I moved in. We both love Halloween, we're both mentally five, and she's full of the childish joy I wish I had in larger doses. From Bridget I've learned that even supersexy Playmate-Girlfriends don't have to have six-pack-abs, and you're never too old to throw theme birthdays.

So, Ladies and Hef, if you let me come and stay, I'd be forever in your debt. Just don't ask me to sleep with Old Hef. (Give me a time machine and I'd go for Young Hef.) But let me fill your house with good vibes, walk your dogs, and grace your Midsummer Night's Party with my cheer and curvy loveliness?



Please?

Never Trust A Man Who Won't Let Us Fart

I thought I'd pass along a blog from CollegeCandy.com that got me all fired up today. Not since the Girls Aren't Funny debacle has my inner comedienne felt the fighting words call me out....kudos for Sady for this delightful dollop of pure wit. I too would pay a million dollars to watch Cameron Diaz hold this guy down and fart on his face, Salute-Your-Shorts Style.

I Farted, But You Stink: John Sellers Decides Who's Sexy

Ladies of the world: stop your farting. Also, stop burping, spitting, sweating, and digesting food. Details writer John Sellers has spoken, and it’s bad news: we are not getting him off.

I know! I know! Everything that I do is intended to give John Sellers – and, by extension, all men – raging boners. I think of him all day long, from selecting my outfit in the morning until the moment that I slip between the covers to dream of his sweet, manly embrace. I imagine that it’s much the same for you. He is Details writer John Sellers, for God’s sake. The female half of the world hangs on his every byline.

Yet, in his recent piece, “The Hollywood Gross-Out Girls,” it’s clear that we have failed him greatly. It’s ostensibly about women who make fart jokes (or burp jokes, or poop jokes, etc.) and how horrible they are. (I know, right? Having a functional set of organs is totally grody. It’s even worse when women aren’t ashamed of their own bodies! Yuck.) Yet its underlying theme is far simpler: J.S. wants women – all women – to know that their purpose in life is to turn him on.

“It would be one thing if these female Shreks were cut from the same cloth as Roseanne Barr or Rosie O’Donnell,” he writes. “But the trouble is they’re all smoking hot. It’s their job to primp and preen and push stuff up to look sexy.”

That’s right: their JOB! Take a look at the offenders that he lists in his article: Cameron Diaz (burped on TV), Sarah Silverman (makes poop jokes), Avril Lavigne (spit in public). You might look at this list and think actress, comedian, musician. You would be wrong. No matter what these ladies do to earn a living, they share the same occupation: provider of masturbatory fantasies to John Sellers. And they are failing.

So, what does this gentleman find sexy? It’s clearly not fat chicks! Or Cameron Diaz! So, what is it? Tell us, John!

Most guys would agree that it’s kind of hot when women aren’t too girly. Far from being rendered intolerable by a few tomboyish traits, a woman who wants to go to a baseball game with you or skips a glass of rosé in favor of a few Buds at your favorite dive bar is a turn-on.Got that, ladies? When you sacrifice your own interests so that you can do whatever your boyfriend wants, it’s TOTALLY HOT! Who wants a girl with her own hobbies, or – God forbid – her own favorite drink?

And lots of guys find a girl dressed in a hoodie, T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers to be sexy.

OH THANK GOD. It’s okay to wear pants sometimes, because they give dudes hard-ons! Before this article clued me in, my entire wardrobe consisted of sparkly thongs and high-heeled platforms. Let me tell you: the winters were tough.

Yet, although John has generously allowed us to wear clothing and drink beer, we’ll never be able to match the glory of real live dudes. Farting? Spitting? Running for President? Dudes have it all covered.

If we want to hang out with someone who behaves like a man, we’ll hang out with, you know, an actual man.

Of course. So, John: I know it’s cute when girls wear sneakers and know how baseball works – it’s like dogs wearing people clothes! – and gross when we act like “men” by, like, having autonomy and not tailoring our every gesture to please the dudes. But can you give us an example? Is there, perhaps, an actress on whom we could model ourselves?

See Natalie Portman, who rapped and swore mannishly (and hilariously) in a much-YouTubed Saturday Night Live sketch but has preserved her schoolgirlish appeal.

Oh, thanks John! That’s…. wait. WHAT? “Schoolgirlish appeal?” Oh my sweet Jesus, he likes women who act like little… EW.

EW. EW. EW.

Wait. Hold on. Let me collect myself.

OH NO OH GOD I CAN’T EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

I don’t have to explain why this is bad, do I? Everyone knows that it’s not OK to excoriate women publicly for not being “sexy,” because that’s based on the assumption that women exist to service men sexually, and that their worth is determined by men’s desire or lack of desire for said service. You go to college. You get it. So I’ll put aside the social critique, and say, simply, this:

I don’t normally laugh at fart jokes. But, for some reason, the idea of Cameron Diaz pinning this man down and farting on his face until he cries… well, that’s hilarious.

Disney has some cartoon skeletons in theys closet...

Alladin? Beauty and the Beast? Sure, there's the ever-present knowledge that while Splash Mountain is covered with Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox, the friendly black slave who whistled along with them as he strolled the plantation telling stories to happy white children in the film Song of the South, is not available on DVD.



But chain-smoking, verbally abusive, perpetually cranky old Uncle Walt also brought about a few more treats that won't find their way onto Disney giftshop merch....

Lets begin!

1. Remember Sunflower? The happy little black centaur from Fantasia who prances in the orchestrated grass and....helps all the tall aryan centauresses get ready? Don't remember her? She's vanished like she never was. But here she is.





2. During the war years, animation took a break from creating a happy wonderland, and took us all on a tour of Nazi Germany. Um, cool?



And now you know. Disneyland, anyone? I want to hop on Indiana Jones and pretend Shia LaBeouf is whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

Save the Date

Things to do between now and mid-June:

1. Read Mortified

2. Read Mortified: Love is a Battlefield

3. Come see ME! onstage with the wonderful folks at Mortified Live! on June 19th in Hollywood!

4. Then confess your love for Mr. Belvedere. No, seriously, do it. After all, he did invent the Double-Stuf Oreo.

Pork and Beans and The Vars!

WEEZER RED ALBUM. WEEZER MOTHER FUCKING RED ALBUM. MAKE OUT WITH RIVERS CUOMO IN A HOT TUB WHILE SINGING OPERAS WEEZER RED ALBUM.

Ay yi yi yi!

How does this make me feel? See below:

Things I learned from Rescue Rangers

Don't join cults because THEY'RE BAD.

Also, don't drink the soda. Dare I suspect someone in the script room at Disney had Jonestown on their mind?