My Year End Awards

America's Next Top Monkey:

Howler Monkeys. Sleek, affordable, monkey.




Best Vagina:

Me again. Sorry ladies!




Best Reason To Avoid Going To Work:

Too many zombies there.

Runner-up:

Not enough zombies there.




Best New Invention

Prostitutes. Have you ever tried one? They will have sex with you for money. Recommended!




Best Movie:

American Pie Seven: What Pie Haven't We Fucked Yet, And Why Not?





Best Actor:




Irfan Khan (I'm not joking. Watch A Mighty Heart and then The Namesake, and then tell me he is not the best actor in the world.)



Best Celebrity Meltdown:

Everbody




Worst Celebrity Meltdown:

Meryl Streep. Can you please do crack or fight a hobo for a dollar or something? You are boring me with all your good acting and classy behavior. YAWN.




Best Blog:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen





Best New Word:

Ham


Best Celebrity Baby Name:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen


Best Jane Austen Book:

Shiloh

My New Year's Resolutions

Okay, I am back. Listen up, you dozen people who read my blog! Get ready for some big fucking changes around here, because I have made my New Year's resolutions, and they are so fucking good and life-changing.

1. No more investigating JonBenet Ramsay's murder.

Look, I have spent the best goddamn years of my life on this. It has turned me into a hardened detective unable to have intimate relationships. It's time to turn this case over to that lady on Cold Case. Of course, I could just follow this one last lead...

2. More bacon.

Everybody beats themselves up for not eating enough bacon, I know, it's totally cliched. I know I should realize that people love me even if I don't eat a shitload of bacon, and I know that everybody in America is making this fucking resolution and that everyone runs out and gets a membership to a bacon club right after New Year's and then gives up after like a month, but fuck it, I am really going to try to eat more bacon this year.

3. Come up with a better name for me.

Wendy sucks. It is a stupid name invented by that weird guy who wrote Peter Pan. It's not even a REAL NAME. Need new name. Candidates:

Harbinger
Gawker.com
Empire State Building
Christine

4. Fly a commercial jetliner.

When I do that, I am pretty sure you will hear about it in the news.

5. Stare more.

Are people uncomfortable enough around me? Probably not. More staring.

6. Break up with Gregory Hines.

He's dead, I gots to move on.

7. Say the word "larb" more.

8. Stop letting robots control me.

9. Find out who killed JonBenet Ramsey.

A studio chief gives notes on the Christmas story.

Hello. Am I on speaker? Take me off speaker. I hate fucking speaker phones. Okay, I read your script for the Christmas story. I loved it. If it was a girl or a donut, I would totally want to have sex with it. That's how much I liked it. We here at the studio just have a few thoughts.

Okay, we really like the opening scene with the Angel. We think the angel is quirky, he’s fun, maybe he’s Steve Buscemi. I like that guy. If he was ten percent more beatiful, I would make love to him and then never speak of it again.

Okay, so this Angel, right now you have him appearing to Mary at night in her room. Let’s do this. Mary goes out to a nightclub. Angel is a drug dealer. He gets her really high and then tells her about the baby she’s going to have. She doesn’t believe him because she’s high. And also because it’s the future, and there are lots of robots, and the robots are always lying to humans to confuse them.

Oh, I thought you knew we were setting this in the future. Yeah, that was Jeffrey’s note. But not Blade Runner future, I Robot future. Okay?

I like peppermints and handjobs. What was I saying?

Okay, right, we like Joseph, but we think, okay, we need to attract a big name to play this guy, and this guy, he stays with his wife? After she gets pregnant from somebody else? Nobody wants to play it that way. Especially Brad Pitt. I’m not saying he’s on board, but he’s not not on board. If he can get out of doing the Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will be Presents he wants to do this. He wants his kids to be able to see the movie he does, you know?

One time, in Cannes, I punched Juliette Binoche in the face on a private plane.

Okay, so instead of staying with the wife, the husband, Joseph, goes on this like, vision quest. In Paris. And a CIA guy finds him there in a café, and he wants to recruit him, because it turns out that this guy, Angel – yeah Steve Buscemi – Angel has been running drugs out of Europe. And the CIA guy is like this guy Angel was with your wife, you want to get him right? And Joseph is like, fuck yes. So then the CIA guy gives Joseph his partner, which is a robot. But Joseph doesn’t know – is this a robot he can trust?

Okay, meanwhile, in your outline, you have King Herrod wanting to get rid of Mary’s baby and sending these three kids. What? Oh, kings, yeah, three kings to get the baby.

I love it. But. Let’s say Herrod is the French kingpin, and he thinks – see, he thinks – that Mary is carrying Angel’s baby, and he wants to kidnap Mary so he can blackmail Angel to do a job for him.

Meanwhile, the robot is training Joseph to fight, they’re going to do Krav Maga Israeli street fighting.

So, Herrod sends these three assassins who are known as the Three Kings to kidnap Mary.

Meanwhile, Mary, she’s heartbroken, she knows she didn’t do anything wrong, so she comes to Europe to find Joseph. She hears that he’s been seen at a club called Bethlehem in Berlin. She goes to Berlin. She gets hired as a dancer at the club, but she knows that soon they are going to figure out she’s pregnant. And then one night this real high roller comes in – and it turns out to be this big-time guy, Herrod.

Well, Herrod falls in love with Mary and flies her on his private jet with him to the Greek Islands to meet with Angel. So she goes. Meanwhile, Brad Pitt and the Robot are headed there on jet-skis. So, everybody’s converging on this house, right?

And then there’s this big shoot-em up gunfight, like at the end of Scarface. And Joseph shoots Herrod, then he shoots Angel. And as Angel is dying he confesses that he ruffied Mary that night and got her pregnant, and that it’s his baby, and he wants her to name him after his brother, Jesus.

So now, Joseph knows that Mary isn’t a slut, and so he stays with her and raises Jesus as his own, because that’s what Brad Pitt would do.

Also, the robot sidekick? He can shoot lasers out of his head.

Do you wish to read something smart, perhaps a post where no one says "balls?"

Well, I'm not going to write it, but you should read this:


What The Internet Is And How To Stop Mistaking It For Something Else

Christmas Carols For Creeps

All I Want For Christmas Is Your Two Front Teeth

The Last Noel, Because I Have Brought About The Apocalypse

Away In A Stranger

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer Wants To Sell You Some Crystal Meth

Here Comes Santa Claus

Jingle Balls

Carol Of the Penis

Oh Come Let Us Adore Me

The Hallelujah Chorus, But, You Know, With Balls

I can't wait for the rape scene.

I just got this casting notice in my email:


"A travel show pilot called "Two Birds Travel." The auditions are this coming Saturday, December 15th.

E-mail a headshot at this address: REDACTED. Looking for two girls, all ethnicities, age 25 - 35. There is pay involved.

Two Birds Travel

Thelma and Louise meets Anthony Bourdain dressed in a wardrobe borrowed from Carrie Bradshaw in this travel show about two friends in search of the best a city has to offer.

From hole-in-the-wall bars to haute cuisine, backstage at rock concerts to roller-skating to the oldies, this innovative series highlights the cutting edge in food, drink, fashion and adventure. With their finger on the pulse and friends in all the right places, these two chicks are the kind of birds you hope to get seated next to at the dinner table.

Our pilot episode takes us to Los Angeles where the girls learn to fly courtesy of De La Guarda, drink Belgian ale, enjoy a guitar lesson with Morcheeba's Ross Godfried and shop in some of L.A.'s coolest, unknown stores. From Echo Park to Little Tokyo to Malibu and back again, these birds are your ultimate guides to uncovering the hippest in what's going down."

Okay, um, I see the Sex and the City and the Anthony Bourdain, but what about the Thelma and Louise?

I think they might want to add on that the job requires you to almost get raped, shoot a dude, blow up a truck, and then decide to carry out a wordless suicide pact at the end.

Please re-write.

Thanks!

I can't believe I didn't hear about this.

According to BoxOfficeMojo.com, the movie Transformers took in $319,071,806 at the box office this year. I don't think that can be right, because that means that, figuring an average ticket price of ten dollars, about 30 million people killed themselves in movie theaters this year because it is the worst movie ever and the only rational response to having to watch it is immediate self-inflicted horrible death.

Goodbye forever.

Your pal,
Wendy

Ugh

Oh dear, it looks like the strike is going to go on and on.

I'm sad about it, and angry, but there's also something sort of absurd and funny about the way it's playing out.

The kind of people who run the studios are so unbelievably rich, and so unbelievably out of touch, that their posturing has a weird, funny element to it, as if someone shipped in some 1920s robber barons to negotiate with people who actually live right now.

Most of my interaction with studio execs have been with lower-level guys. They wear suits, and one gets the feeling that they have to have their assistants log them into their AOL accounts that they signed up for back in 1997.

In one memorable meeting, we were discussing strategies for the NBC website, and one of them said to me, 'Ok, Wendy, now what would make people come to NBC.com instead of, say, CBS.com?"

And I said, and I think I'm right, the internet isn't about INSTEAD, it's about IN ADDITION TO. People who are on the internet all day (ahem, me) can visit a seemingly infinite number of sites, and visit them again and again, and the problem with how old media conceives of the internet is that they think of it like TV in 1985. Like, I'll either watch Webster OR Facts Of Life, but not both. (P.S., Facts Of Life all the way.)

I think to a large degree this kind of misunderstanding about the web is what will kill old media outright if they aren't careful. As everyone has already whispered, eventually writers will be able to take their products directly to the web, launch it through one of the major video providers (like iTunes) and then release one-a-week. People will use their Apple TV or other device to sling it onto their big screens, and that'll be it. And bye bye big studios. Of course, that means that the Apples of the world would become the new studios (here comes the new boss...), but at least the studios would understand the internet.

The reason the instead/in addition to model really matters, though, is because once you remove the time element from viewing (even a dvr can only record a couple things at once, and getting a dvd takes effort, whereas the internet is always there) then the competition model that the networks have operated on goes right out the window. In essence, then, networks will have to make ONLY good shows, because they will no longer be able to be the strongest just at a certain time, but strong compared to the entire field out there.

As it stands now, I think the moguls are banking on the writers being as clueless as they are about online content. They may spend most of their days fighting endangered tigers that their assistants smuggled into the country for them, and dining on solid-gold steaks, but the rest of us losers are wasting our time reading Perez Hilton and watching Funny or Die and hating ourselves for knowing who Julia Allison and Jakob lodwick EVEN ARE. It's hilarious that networks are saying that internet streams of shows "promote" the shows when they air on TV. If anything, it's the opposite. Or, you know, not yet, but it will be.

The networks aren't being victimized by greedy writers, they're lucky the writers aren't walking away entirely. Remember radio guys? Yeah, that's you.

I Hate It When I Get Teased About My Serial Killing

Based on this headline today on the BBC:

Canada Chides Japan About Sex Slaves

Here are a few other headlines in a similar vein:

U.S. Ribs Germany About Holocaust

France Gently Mocks Cambodia For Killing Fields

Pope Says "Oh No You Didn't" To Rwandan Genocide

Australia Zooms Thailand About Tsunami Preparedness

Rwandan Genocide Says "Oh Yes We Did" to Pope

Choosing Your Wedding Dress Color

This is a little excerpt from the wedding chapter in my book.

Unsure about what color your wedding dress should be?

Use the handy chart below!

(click to enlarge)

Inappropriate Secret Santa Gifts

I submitted this list for an upcoming Radar list. Not sure which, if any, of mine were included. I'm also not getting credited there, so since like five people read this blog, I'm posting my full submission here. Please to enjoy!

Inappropriate Secret Santa Gifts

Hi! Please meet Jeremy Piven. He’s going to spend the rest of your life with you.

Handmade paper-clip swastikas.

A gentle desk-side tea-bagging.

Rats

Um, you’re not fired. That’s your fucking Christmas present.

Shrimp scampi

A tiny baby Jesus figurine carved from a stick of butter, toast points.

Nuggets

Do you like snakes? No? Oh. Um, don’t go home.

Searing loneliness.

A gift certificate for five dollars worth of brain surgery

Lumps

Soft moaning

A complimentary night at the Ritz-Carlton hotel, secreted away inside the fat rolls of a person with poor personal hygiene.

An Apple laptop! Just kidding.

A box that if you open it, you’ll get a million dollars, but someone that you’ve never met before will die. Oh, you opened it? Well, now I am going to give it to someone that you’ve never met before. That’s right. Now you are going to die. Merry Christmas, dead guy. Look, I’m sorry. I was kidding. Stop crying. You aren’t going to die. That was just a box I found in the supply closet. You’re fired.

Iraq

A molar

Chridney, the talking Christmas kidney

An alpaca farm

Cocaine

Ointment

A pap smear on Santa’s Sleigh

Chest hair extensions

Someone else’s breast implants

Thyroid disease

Season tickets to your gun show

Notebook paper margins

A sack full of wishes, a pocket full of dreams!

An abortion

A Christmas card you received from your insurance company

Your yarmulke

An iPod loaded with 80gb of your mother reciting your failures over and over again.

Tampons

Jessica Alba’s first novel

Gasoline

A lifetime membership in Oprah’s Boob Club, if you know what I mean! I mean you can touch her boobs. Touch them or you are a racist.

Awkward silence

A hasty marriage proposal

A Cat-scan

Secondhand smoke

A prostitute

Secondhand smoke from a prostitute

A Cat-scan from a prostitute

Hey, I got you some cat toys for your cats. Oh, you don’t have cats? Weird, you seem like the kind of girl who would have a lot of cats. It also seems like you’re a virgin who cries a lot.

Lunchables.

Your very own coke pants.

A Weight Watchers membership

You know that poem you sent me, the one you wrote in college about that guy you met when you were studying abroad in Prague? Well, I forwarded it to everyone in the office! Merry Christmas!

Regis

Christmas Chrabs

Rendition to Saudi Arabia

Secondhand fuck-swing

A howler monkey

A soap dispenser, freshly ripped from the bathroom wall

I spent a little more than we were supposed to, but I took out a contract on your life.

A videotape of every shower you’ve taken in December.

I’ve kidnapped your baby so that you can have a more peaceful Christmas

Sneak up behind co-worker, taser him, shout “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

An orgasm

Ryan Seacrest

Some Little Bunny Is Enjoying The Strike!

From Page Six:

November 26, 2007 -- JEFFREY Zucker, the brilliant NBC Universal CEO whose company is rumored to be for sale, has paid $12.3 million for beloved singer/socialite Kitty Carlisle Hart's 11-room apartment, according to city records. The Post's Braden Keil reports the East 64th Street co-op where Hart resided until her death last April at age 96 includes five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a maid's room, coffered ceilings and five fireplaces. Zucker and his wife, Caryn, previously owned a larger Central Park West duplex they sold last year for $15 million.

Oh Dear

Gross:


REAL LIFE PRINCESS BRIDES

This reminds me of a friend of a friend who got married at Disneyworld and her invitation was on, like, a royal scroll with ribbons and shit.

Oh, and she and the guy she was marrying were (or claimed to be) both virgins. You just know that life is never gonna meet that girl's expectations. It is gonna fuck her up when she realizes that candlesticks can't talk and forests aren't aren't filled with magical dwarves and that her husband is totally gay.

So You're a Feminist...Isn't That Cute?

Do you want to experience that feeling of laughing and also being totally fucking terrified all at once?

Well, you're welcome:

GO HERE

Be sure to peruse his other blog entries. I think I'm in LOVE.

Are You Too Dead To Read My Book?

So, I had to get a Facebook account. Well, I didn't HAVE to, but I have to, you know, network to try to sell my book, and basically act like a douche and try to get people to notice it. Today I'm going to go over to Cedars Sinai and walk around and be like, "Oh you have cancer? Maybe reading this book will cheer you up. Wait, are you terminal? Oh, the book doesn't come out until January, sooo..."

I think I might be kinda old for Facebook, especially because I always look about ten years older than I am. When I was twelve and I went to the mall with my mom, I went out to the parking lot to get something out of the car, and someone asked me if I could move my car. I was like "I can't move the car, I'm twelve," and they just rolled their eyes like, how fucking sad that this twenty two year old with a VW van is trying to pretend that she's twelve.

Okay, I have to go to Cedars maternity ward and get babies to buy my book and move their cars.

The All-You -Can -Eat Tampon Buffet In The Sky: A Remembrance

Everyone, even the smallest among us, deserves an obituary.

This weekend, my family's old dog Buster passed away.

I think every family has at least one pet like Buster. He was ornery, and fat, and he always smelled really weird. He ate candy wrappers, tampons and, once, an entire stick of butter.

He bit a few people, and rather than have him put to sleep, we just kept him away from strangers and never, ever tried to take food away from him. When my sister had kids, we debated whether he might eat the babies. When my parents shaved him for the summer months, he looked like a velvet sausage.

Still, we loved him, and he was a loyal little guy. When he wasn't busy biting us, he was barking at every single noise in the street lest burglars break in and steal his sticks of butter.

Still the real love of Buster's life was our other dog, Zooey. While the rest of us felt a mixture of love and loathing for the velvet sausage, Zooey loved him unconditionally. When they were put in separate cages at the kennel, Zooey chewed through her cage to be with him.

In the last few months, when my mom was taking the two dogs somewhere in the car and Buster, his back legs crippled, could barely get up, Zooey hopped in, then turned and took Buster's leash in her teeth and pulled him in.

I guess if you can get out of here knowing that one person, and I'm counting Zooey here, really loved you, then you did okay.

Rest in peace, Buster. We love you. And I hear that that in the afterlife, they have an all-you-can-eat tampon buffet.

Come On Down To Onion's!

So, I was walking the pickets this morning at a lame hour (the early shift starts at six), and I was trying to give fliers to all the cool awesome people going to work at CBS (btw, crossing the picket lines in a fucking jaguar, scowling, makes you a superdildo, period), and I'd give them all a big smile and ask them to read our little pamphlet on why we're striking. And I meant to think this:

"Wow, I'm being really perky, like a waitress at Chili's."

But instead, I thought:

"Wow, I'm being really perky, like a waitress at Onion's."

There is no such restaurant as Onion's, and Onion's is the single worst idea for a restaurant ever. All of the food is onion-based, even the desserts, and there's a giant talking onion that welcomes you when you walk in the door.

Also, why does the restaurant Chili's have an apostrophe in the name? What is it posessing? When you walk in, are you then actually owned by a chili?

In conclusion, I should never wake up at 5 a.m., because I have LOST MY MIND.

Now, Onion's is a horrible idea, but my great idea for a restaurant is called Pudding Canyon. It's a restaurant with four big canyons dug in the ground, each filled with a different kind of pudding -- chocolate, vanilla, butterscotch and cherry. You can either buy pudding by weight or time. That's to say, you can either weigh in on the giant scale in the middle of the canyons where everyone can see you, and then pay at the end after you've eaten your fill by weighing in again and paying the difference, or you can pay by amount of time you want to spend in the canyons.

You have to wear a special clear plastic pudding-bathing suit. In between flavors, you must be hosed down in the hosing pit.

The commercial has the following jingle:

Butterscotch, vanilla, chocolate and cherry
Forty percent less drownings since January
Pudding Canyon
You're drowning in it!

Now that, my friends, is a great fucking idea for a restaurant.

If you want to read something much smarter this morning, please visit my friend Stella Kevlar's blog HERE

Also, I gots a new McSweeney's up today:

HERE

kthxbai

Pwoject Wunway

I love some Project Runway. When I was working on the short-lived Megan Mullally show, Jeff and I wrote and directed this Project Runway parody, and we got to meet Santino and Jeffrey. It was one of the gayest and happiest days of my short gay life. Please to view:

History Girls

So, I finally saw that British play "History Boys" last night here in LA. If you haven't seen it, there's an older teacher in it who takes the boys around on his motor bike and grabs their balls while they are riding, and everybody in the play thinks it's hilarious. At the end of the play, the old teacher dies in a tragic motorbike accident, and everybody's really sad.

My big thought coming out of it was that if the play was called "History Girls" and the old male teacher had been touching teenage girls' vaginas, he would have died when some girl's father came to the school and shot him with a gun. And the lesson would have been, "Don't touch teenagers in the vagina."

Instead, the lesson was about the subjectivity of history, and that touching teenagers' balls is ok if you look like Santa.

State Mottoes For The Severely Depressed

In God we trust, for now, until he lets us down like everybody else

Manly deeds, womanly words, gay panic

I have found it. No, wait, I didn't.

Let us be grateful to God*

To the stars through adversity, to the liquor store at 8 a.m.

With God, all things are possible. Well, that's wrong.

Thus be it always to pizzas: I will eat a lot of you.

Mountaineers are always free. But what's the point?

Gold and silver, and also a weird smell.

Friendship

Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem
(TRANSLATION: "I think I might have fibromyalgia")

Live free and die

The Strike

Well, I'm on strike, which is weird, because I wasn't working on a show. But! I am a Guild member and so I've been walking the picket lines, etc.

There are a few things about the strike that people oughta know.

1. The writers know that they aren't poor. When we are working, we make good money. This strike isn't so much about justice (no one's starving on the street), it's about fairness. The studios are making, or will make, a lot of money online. The writers are asking for 2.5% of revenue. Yep, two and a half cents on each dollar. It's not a lot, and it's fair.

2. The writers are ready to go back to work right now. So, before anyone blames the strike for other workers losing their jobs, they should know that we are ready to sit down. The producers (the AMPTP) have refused to re-open negotiations.

3. Most writers are like me. I was on a show, and it got canceled. I've been living off savings, some freelance promo, and a book sale. Yes, there are some millionaire writers out there, but most of us still rent, shop at the mall and Ralph's, and hustle constantly to find work.

4. Les Moonves, Jeff Zucker, Rupert Murdoch, Peter Chernin and the like are rich. Filthy rich. Private jet-flying, yachting on the weekend, two penthouses in New York buying RICH. When Kevin Reilly got fired from NBC last year, they paid him 5 million dollars per year for the next three years. They paid him 15 million NOT to work.

5. The networks would rather there were no unions. Really. So if you are in another union and you are out of work because of the strike, just remember that if they bust our union, you're next!

For more info, or to help out, go HERE

Names For Italian People

If you are Italian, but you don't have a name, here is one you might like to use:

Franco Spaghetti

Great ideas!

My husband and I are drinking at the airport, and we just decided that dildo is the new douchebag.

Effective immediately.

List

I wrote this list with my husband, Jeff Drake, about a million years ago. I found it in my old files.

Opening Lines For Jay Leno’s Opening Monologue That Might Set The Wrong Tone For The Show

Before we get started, here’s a tape of me crying silently in my shower for fifteen minutes.

What the fuck do you people want from me?

Our guests tonight are Billy Crudup, Amanda Peet and a seven-eyed winged demon that lives in my belly.

If the monologue seems a little off tonight, it’s just because I crapped my pants.

So, anybody here hate Jews?

Imaginary Diseases That I’ve Been Diagnosed With In Dreams, and Their Symptoms

Psychopantosis: The chronic sensation that you are wearing pants even when you are, in fact, not wearing pants.

I'm Radioactive!

So, I have some kind of thyroid disorder, which makes me hot, fat, sweaty, kinda bald, and frequently sleepless. In other words, sexy.

Today, I went and took a radioactive pill that they use as a diagnostic tool.

I am really hoping that it will give me the following superpowers, presented here in no particular order:

Extra face

Will look good in all pants

Automatic first-class upgrade on all flights exceeding three (3) hours

Wi-fi

Become permanent cast member of "The Hills"

Superfast court-room sketch artist skills

Not fat

You're Bad At Your Job

Let's face it, your career is going nowhere. Maybe that's because you're in the wrong job. This quiz, exclusively for career gals, should point you in the right direction.

Click to enlarge.



Design by Claudean Wheeler.

This is from my upcoming book, the link to it is in the post just below.

History!

We ladies, as you know, are not very smart. Luckily, I've come up with this handy clip 'n save timeline. Put it in your purse and whip it out whenever you need to pretend to be smart.

Click to enlarge.






That's from my forthcoming book, which you may purchase one billion copies of here:


Everything Is Wrong With You: The Modern Woman's Guide To Finding Self-Confidence Through Self-Loathing

The illustrations are by the elusive Turkney Wainscot, and the design is by the emotionally available Claudean Wheeler.

Cover

They put up the cover for my book on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Don't Drink That Milk!

I was reading a review of the hotel where Jeff and I are staying when we go to NYC in a couple of weeks, and I am really excited:

"The continental style breakfast is fine, and is included in the room rate, but they regularly ran out of a) cutlery b) plates and bowels and c) coffee. It was amusing to watch guests drink milk from bowels or butter croissants with pens."

Okay, where did they get the bowels from after the hotel ran out of them? Did they eviscerate other guests, rip out their bowels and then pour milk into them? I can't fucking wait to stay at this place! I am going to eat Count Chocula out of someone's still beating heart!

Zeroes

This is a little something I wrote at my dayjob over at the NBC.


Zeroes Episode One

Reg From Down The Block

Here is a video directed by my husband-person. Please to enjoy. It's kind of NSFW.

Reg From Down The Block

Axe Douche!

Today I invented a new product called Axe Douche. It's a douche for women who sleep with men who use Axe Body Spray.

It's perfect for right after you've been date raped.

Pledge Today

I have decided that the amount that it would take to make me go see this movie ( The Bucket List ) is one hundred thousand dollars. Please leave your pledges in the comments section. All pledges are legally binding. If I reach my goal, I will attend the movie on opening day.

I Wrote A Book

Hi. I am pretty sure that just my dad is reading this blog, and I think he already bought my book. Hi dad. Thanks for college and all the food and stuff.

But if you aren't my dad and you enjoy the reading of fake self-help books, please click here to obtain a copy:

Everything Is Wrong With You: The Modern Woman's Guide To Finding Self-Confidence Through Self-Loathing

Thank you, and I promise to use all proceeds from my book to buy cute outfits for Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt.

Spoiler Alert For The New Season Of The Bachelor!

1. The new bachelor will have his identical twin take his place to find out which of the girls really wants to be with him.

2. The bachelor will propose at the end of the season.

3. Everybody dies.

Sometimes, The Racist Unicorn Jokes Write Themselves

So, a couple of years ago, I worked on a short film called Teenage Baby with my husbnd and my pal Kate. We made a production website called UnicornBaby.com

On it, Kate wrote that because all unicorns are white, they are racist. Then today, I received this email:


From: Bruce Goldwell
dragonkeepers@gmail.com

What is this about???


Unicorns have horns. (thus their being a UNIcorn)
Unicorns are usually white. (usually white! so sometimes they are pink, blue, orange, black, or whatever.. not into cartoons are you???)

I've never seen a unicorn that wasn't white. (they are Usually white, but you have not seen a non-white unicorn)

IF something is Usually white, that would mean that it is not always white... which means there are non-white unicorns...

Unicorns are racist. (unicorns are fictitious, they can't have a bias such as Racist.. your charge that they do makes you a racist!)

It's a fact. (only in your own mind)

Does that mean that A BLACK PANTHER is racist too cause there a no white black panthers?

Polar bears are white... are they racist too?

the only ones that are racist are those that see people as black or white...

I remember someone by the name of Martin L. King who said he looks forward to the day

when people are judged by the character and not by the color of their skin....

and here you are taking a fantasy creature and turning it into a political icon for your own

agenda.... get off your band wagon and get real....

what you are really saying is the people who draw unicorns as being white are racist... like

an artist has the color of people in mind when they draw a fantasy creature....

the smurfs are blue.. does that make them racist??

Racism carries connotations of race-based bigotry, prejudice, violence, oppression, stereotyping or discrimination, the term has varying and often hotly contested definitions. Racialism is a related term intended to avoid these negative meanings. According to the Oxford English Dictionary , racism is a belief or ideology that all members of each race possess characteristics or abilities specific to that race, especially to distinguish it as being either superior or inferior to another race or races. The Merriam-Webster's Webster's Dictionary dictionary defines racism as a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race, and that it is also the prejudice based on such a belief.[1] The Macquarie Dictionary defines racism thus: the belief that human races have distinctive characteristics which determine their respective cultures, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule or dominate others.

I have never known of a story with a UNICORN that ever depicted that the UNICORN was a superior creature to any human black, white or purple...

Seems to me that people like you love throwing the word RACISM out at every opportunity you can just to create more RACISM!

GET REAL!

I don't care if you are white, black, purple, pink, blue or whatever.. your statement is a blatant attack on something that

is completely outside the realm of your political agenda. You are obviously a racist, that is a fact!!


Just my thought....


BTW.. I checked out your ABOUT US PAGE... is there a reason the three of you are all white....???





Oh Bruce, I think I love you. And tomorrow, I will answer all of your questions right here on my blog! Stay sexy, Bruce.

What Sally Field Said When She Was Censored At The Emmys Last Night

Edited comments:

"Hey, I like balls and vaginas. Do you guys? And you know what I hate? Jews. I am gonna say it once, and you best believe, Sally Field hates her some fucking Jews! Dildo! Dildo! I am gonna get some anal sex tonight! Jesus is a faggot!"

Normal broadcast resumes.

Oh Shit

I don't want to freak anyone out, but I just got an email that my Amazom account has been violated. Shit, not my Amazom account. Where will I order my boocs and dvdss from? Fubk.

Guilty Pleasures

Calling People Douches: Sure, I’m overusing it, but maybe that’s because there are so many fucking douchebags out there.

Fat Guys: They’re funnier, they’re nicer, and they have big fat bellies. What’s not to like?

Guilt: Have you tried it? It’s the ultimate way to reward yourself for anything you have or haven’t done. Sure, you could finish your work, call your grandma, or not eat that king-sized Snickers while watching Rush Hour 3 and masturbating, but why? Just indulge yourself with a little bit of guilt afterwards and you’ll feel so much better.

Looking At Other People’s Babies: They’re so cute, and you don’t have to be responsible for them. Enjoy!

Talking Back To The TV In The Morning: I defy you to watch The View or The Today Show without talking back to the TV.

Diamonds: They’re shiny and they’re worth a shit-load of money. You should get some right away. And I’m not just saying that because I’m a total douche.

A Few Things That Happened At Islands Today

So, this has nothing to do with anything, but I went to Islands today with my Mom, my sister and her six week old baby.

The minute we sat down the waitress was like, do you guys want a basket of fries, or some exotic drinks?

Um, yeah, it's noon on Saturday at a mall in Ontario, California, we have a six week old baby with us, so yes, yes please bring us those exotic drinks. How did you know? Are you some kind of psychic? We came to Islands at the mall to get shit-faced and then drag-race around the parking lot with the baby. Well played, Islands restaurant.

And then, after lunch, I was holding the baby and he pooped all over me.

I was like, yeah, that seems about right.

Daily Affirmations For People Who Do Too Much Drugs

September 4th

Remember that you are awesome. The most awesome. Especially when you are on cocaine.

October 29th

You are a special person. Your insights are special. Especially your insights about Pink Floyd. Wow.

December 6th

Spend some time with yourself. Alone. Don't let anyone in. Don't answer the phone. It's probably the government. They're in your brain. Maybe you should rearrange the furniture again. That'll fool 'em.

November 14th

Wait, I thought it was December? Is someone trying to fuck with me?

January 2nd

You have so many talents. At least you used to. Remember?

February 18th

Listen to the wind. Feel the rain. You are part of nature. Because you are homeless now.

Things You Should Also Be Against If You Are Against Gay Marriage

Non-segregated bathrooms
Women voting
Logic
Common sense
History

Should I Home School My Child?

With each passing year, the world seems to become more violent, less humane, and more polluted. Just keeping your kid safe can be an all-consuming concern. It can almost make you want to lock your kid up in a cage. Don’t! Trust me when I tell you that it’s illegal, and that your kid will want to rebel, and by rebel I mean kill you in your sleep.

But there is something that you can do to keep your kid almost as safe as if he lived in a cage. Yes, I’m talking about home-schooling!

While most kids are packed of to kindergartens filled with hypodermic needles, gang members, restless hookers and weird, tiny milk cartons, you can legally keep your kids at home and teach them from the many home-schooling texts available.

Of course, it’s hard to know if home schooling is right for your kids. Fill out the short questionnaire below to see which type of schooling best fits your child’s needs:

Home Schooling Questionnaire:

I believe...

1.That my child would do well in a large-group setting __
2.That my child would do well in a one-on-one setting __
3. That human being evolved from apes __
4. That humans were gently lowered to earth on a pulley system built by the baby Jesus! __
5. That exposure to outside ideas, opinions, beliefs, and cultures will make my child more well-rounded __
6. That Mrs. Hawkins, the first grade teacher at Washington Elementary, is possessed by the devil __
7. That while not perfect, Public Schools do their best to give each child special attention __
8. That satan lives in the chalk, and also in the swingset and the curly slide , and yay he layeth in the the spelling books, and hunches in the Capri Suns of our youth. Lo, he does lurk in the paste and in the tiny, non-sharp scissors. He speaketh through the mouths of the choir teacher, and sings in the recitals. He causeth the children to readeth of the Pokey Little Puppy, and also of the Cat who lives in the Hat. He is not content to play at recess only, but also must be packed into the lunchables and stirred into the pudding cups. And he shall make himself known in the evil that these children do, not only in the pulling of the hair, but also in the lisping, and the peeing of the pants. And to safe keep your children, you must keep them at the home, so that they will be sheltered from the terror of the elementary school, and of the serpents within __

If you checked mostly odd numbers, your children will be just fine in a Public School.

If you checked mostly even numbers, you are now the new Educational Czar of the Bush Administration.

Karl Rove Does Some Push-Polling At His New Job

INT. HOME DEPOT CHECK-OUT-- DAY

KARL: So, you're gonna buy this grill, huh?

CUSTOMER: Yep.

KARL: Would you want to buy this one if you knew you could get it cheaper somewhere else?

CUSTOMER: Well, I priced this grill all over town and I'm sure this is the cheapest I'm gonna get it.

KARL: Would you still want to buy this grill if you knew that this grill had a safety flaw that had resulted in several people being burned?

CUSTOMER: Does it have that flaw?

KARL: Would you buy it if it did?

CUTOMER: No, but--

KARL: What if it didn't just burn people, what if it decapitated them?

CUSTOMER: Oh my God, how?

KARL: Would you buy it then?

CUSTOMER: Did they put their heads in the grill?

KARL: What if this grill fathered an illegitimate black baby?

CUSTOMER: What?

KARL: And it's gay. This is a gay grill.

CUSTOMER: Could I talk to your manager?

KARL: A gay, muslim, serial rapist grill. What, do you want to get raped? Huh, is that what you want?

CUSTOMER. Look, I am buying this grill. Just ring me up for it, and the charcoal, and let me go.

KARL: Fine.

CUSTOMER: Fine.

KARL: You know, this charcoal may or may not have been romantically involved with Mohammed Atta.

Spoilers For Upcoming Episodes Of Entourage

Vincent Chase almost doesn't get the part in a big Spielberg movie. But then he does.

Ari Gold almost loses a client because his kid gets in a fight with his client's kid at school. But then he doesn't lose the client.

Johnny Drama almost loses a part because he smells weird. But then he gets to keep the part and gets a free car.

Eric almost doesn't sleep with a hot girl, but then he does, and the girl turns out to be a free car.

Turtle almost gets arrested for selling weed to Sharon Stone, but then she blows him instead, and gives him a free car and the free car turns out to be Jessica Alba, who also blows him and gives him a free car.

Vincent Chase almost dies, but instead of dying, he wins an Oscar and gets elected President of the World.

Things You Can Say About The Weather That Aren't Boring

The Weather beat the shit out of me in the Octagon.

The Weather made a sex tape with his own sister.

The Weather knows what really happened on 9-11, and he'll tell you...for a price...the price of your life...which he will take from you...get it? Ok, I'll explain it again. In exchange for you dying, you can get the whole story of what happened on 9-11.

The Weather just sold me one thousand hits of LSD.

It's not the heat, it's The Weather's twelve inch uncircumcised penis.

TOMKAT NUDE

If you aren't excited about this little item from Best Week Ever, then you aren't alive from the waist down:

According to Sawf News via Dlisted:

“They have already started planning some of the photos. One suggestion they were keen on was a shot of them posing together in the shower, dripping wet and covered by nothing but steam.”
Cruise and Holmes, 28, have so far kept a wholesome family image in Hollywood but they also want to show off a more sensual side of their relationship.

“Tom and Katie really have amazing chemistry,” says the pal. “They want to show the world how much.”


YES!

Here are my other suggestions for some hot photo set-ups:

Tom and Katie both dress up like bananas and fight with swords.
Katie is shown totally naked while Tom looks at her like she's crazy.
Tom has sex with a guy while Katie reads a magazine about sewing.

Recommendations

It seems like every magazine or website has a recommendations section, so I think I'd better do one too.

We recommend...

Burt's Bees Lip Balm
Not getting AIDS

I'm awesome.

I just started doing this blog like two days ago, and I thought I was awesome for figuring out how to write the HTML code to put links in the post below. But they don't work, which has caused me to realize that I am not awesome.

I was also going to post something like once a week, but have now posted something every day. This site is like a brand new baby that I just can't stop looking at and cooing over.

I can't wait until it gets a little older and I start neglecting it, giving it soda because buying milk is hard, and then trying to get a dentist to whiten its tiny little teeth.

I would provide a link to the story about Britney Spears that I am referencing, but clearly I am not awesome enough to do that.

UPDATE: My links work now. In your face, HTML.

Oh, Professor!

I don't know if you've been keeping up with the Robert Olen Butler scandal, but it's hilarious and sad all at once.

It's getting a lot of play on Gawker here, here, and here.

The upshot is that his wife is leaving him for Ted Turner, and he wrote a crazy email to some grad students which (of course) got passed around the internet. And of course it didn't stop there. Once Butler saw it on the web, he continued to write notes to Gawker chastising them for posting an email, insisting that it was private.

But come on. Okay, I get it if this was some anonymous Joe caught in the wheels of our modern-day-internets having his pain and embarrasment exploited. But Robert Olen Butler is a famous author, and he wrote a letter, albeit via email. There are massive sections of libraries devoted to even the most mundane correspondence of famous authors. Books of letters to and from famous authors come out all the time. When I was at college, I took a class on T.S. Eliot, and he had had an ongoing dalliance with a woman who taught at the women's college in our consortium while his wife was in the crazy-hatch. The letters didn't contain any lost poems or anything...they were just relics of his messy personal life, but they were treated like the crown jewels.

So when Pulitzer Prize winner Robert Olen Butler is shocked that his letter is of interest to anyone else, well, I'm not buying it.

Also, I wrote this fake letter from a cuckolded professor to his class last November:
McSweeney's

Stars! They're just like us!

SIGHTING!

Cameron Diaz spotted sleeping until Eleven A.M., getting up to watch The View for an hour, then heading straight back to bed until dinner. Just like us!

ITEM!

A little bird tells us that Lindsay Lohan googles all of my ex-boyfriends obsessively to make sure that they haven’t gotten married or achieved anything professionally. Just like us!

NEW HOT COUPLE ALERT!

We were excited to see A-list bad-boy Brandon Davis canoodling with an order of Nachos Bell Grande last Saturday night, mumbling “Nachos love me. Nachos would never cheat on me.” Just like us!

BABY BOOM!

We chatted with hot celeb mom Jennifer Garner at the playground with her baby...her imaginary baby. She pretended her baby was real, but it’s not! Because she’s barren. Just like us!

PET PRIDE

We hear that Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher melted some hearts when a friend dropped in to find them hosting an anniversary party for their cats. An anniversary of the day they adopted their cats! Isn’t that cute? They made tiny cakes out of tuna fish for the cats. Ten tiny cakes -- one for each cat! And then they poured eleven glasses of cham-pagne -- and drank all eleven! Then the friend said that they should “get a life” and maybe start “seeing a therapist” and “not call them until they’ve cleaned up.” That friend just doesn’t understand them. Nobody understands them. But they are awesome. So awesome. Just wait and see. They might go to graduate school. They might even go to law school. Maybe they’re studying for the LSATs. You don’t know. Maybe they’ll become a lawyer and sue you for being a bad friend! Oh yes you can so do that. Oh, they’re so sleepy. Just gonna take a little nap on the floor. Floor loves us, don’t you, floor? Floor and Nachos Bell Grande. They’re the only friends Demi and Ashton need! Just like us!

OOPS

I hear that a certain celluloid star had to call all of her friends this morning to apologize for the email she sent last night that was just a blurry picture of her boobs.

Just like us!

My Fake Interview With Woody Allen

WM: So, how's banging your step-daughter going?

WOODY: Meh, it's okay.

WM: So you've kind of lost interest?

WOODY: Yeah, a little. But I can't really break up with her.

WM: That must be tough.

WOODY: Yeah, the only way to convince people you aren't just a molester is to get married and have a bunch of kids with the person you molested.

WM: So, she trapped you?

WOODY: Totally.

My Exclusive and Completely Fake Interview With Paris Hilton

WM: So, I saw your interview with Larry King.

PARIS: He’s not a real king.

WM: I know.

PARIS: I thought he was a king. That’s why I said he could interview me. I only want to be interviewed by kings, leprechauns, or talking coconuts.

WM: Oh. Don’t worry. I’m a talking coconut.

PARIS: A what?

WM: I’m a talking coconut.

PARIS: Oh, I’ve never heard of that.

WM: But – nevermind. So, in your interview with Larry King, you said you wanted to do some charity work.

PARIS: Yeah. I’m building houses for babies. So many babies don’t have houses. Because they’re orphans. So I’m trying to build a house for every baby.

WM: So, the babies will live by themselves?

PARIS: What babies? I like babies. I smoked a baby once. Me, Kim Kardashian and Norman Mailer smoked a baby in St. Tropez.

WM: I see. How do you know Norman Mailer?

PARIS: We’re MySpace friends.

WM: Have you read any of his books?

PARIS: Yeah. I read one.

WM: Which one?

PARIS: Harry Potter.

WM: That’s by J.K. Rowling.

PARIS: That’s Norman Mailer’s pen name. He wrote the Harry Potter books. He told me when he was on peyote. Do you know that I used to think peyote was made out of coyotes?

WM: It’s not.

PARIS: I know. I also thought lasagna was made out of coyotes.

WM: Is lasagna one of your favorite foods?

PARIS: Here are the foods I like: Ping Pong balls, earrings, dinosaur meat.

WM: You’ve tasted dinosaur meat?

PARIS: Uh huh. Wilmer Valderrama has a time machine. It’s in his pants. We went back to Renaissance times. I had sex with King Arthur. Then I let him interview me.

WM: What kind of questions did he ask you?

PARIS: He wanted to know whether Nicole Richie was pregnant.

WM: Is she?

PARIS: An angel appeared to her and told her that her baby would be the new Jesus. She punched the angel in the face, and then the angel took over her car and made her drive the wrong way on the freeway. Ninety-nine percent of traffic accidents are caused by angry angels.

WM: So, now that you’re a free woman, what are your plans, professionally-speaking?

PARIS: I’m going to go to medical school. I got accepted already.

WM: Which medical school accepted you?

PARIS: Souplantation.

WM: Oh. What will you specialize in?

PARIS: Caesar salad. It’s made by coyotes. And I want to find a cure for talking coconuts. Actually, I have to go now. I have to go buy my books for the upcoming semester.

WM: Okay, just one more question. Why do you think everyone’s so obsessed with you and your celebrity friends?

PARIS: I don’t think people are actually that interested. I mean, with everything that’s going on in the world today, I don’t think they’re looking at us as much as they’re aggressively looking away from reality. But maybe I’m being too generous.

WM: Wait, I stopped listening. Can you say that again?

PARIS: I said that I like balloons.

WM: Okay, that’s what I thought.

My Exclusive Sit-Down With...

Coming Monday, I pretend to sit down for my first fake interview. You won't believe who I didn't get to talk to me, and you'll be shocked by what I'm pretending they said.

Keep your cocaine-filled pants on, it's going to be a real barn-burner, whatever that means. I think it means that for each person that reads it, I will have to go burn an actual barn.

Look out, farmers.