I Am Not Engaged To Josh Duhamel

Yet another reason to hate that other, other Fergie. That pop singing twat.

Meanwhile, I wonder if, by chance, she-whore of Black Ice Please fame has been getting my fan mail. I’m only curious because I’ve received a couple -- okay, numerous emails -- from confused teenagers professing their love for my vocal stylings. I want to write back to thank them, but I just didn't have the heart to explain that they've confused some pop icon of the moment with a sarcastic queer in Los Angeles.

Damn her for being way more famous than me. Currently. Just wait until I get on the Oprah book club. That is of course as soon as I finish writing that inspiring, self-empowering and life-changing novel. The one I don't have time or motivation to write, except when I'm pissed off at someone else who stole my name.

Bitch.

I still get a lot of mail meant for that other, other Fergie at my old Web site. I refuse to completely abandon the nickname (it's still my signature) -- I've had it all my life. Anyways, for your reading pleasure, here's a sampling of my mailbag. Spelling and grammatical errors remain for added entertainment.

Will you go to my prom with me next yr and happy almost birthday!!
--Jason

This one sort of tricked me at first, because it was sent to me about a week before my actual birthday. Then I found out the other, other Fergie is also an Aries. [note: MOTHER FUCK! BITCH WHORE FROM HELL! That tramp is getting way too deep in my shit, and I may have to kill her] This is, however, the cutest e-mail ever -- and if it was actually meant for me, I would go to Jason's prom with him. I'm that desperate for a date.

hey fergie, i don't want to bother u cause i know ur busy but i just wanted to know if u regret being famous like other stars? ur the best
--Zack

No, but I regret being mistaken for female celebrities when I'm obviously a dude, dumbass.

Hi Fergie your rich right so im poor right now so can I please give me 2 millon dollers if you say yes come to my give me a call ... (phone number and address were provided but kept confidential). Please my dad is so poor he got fired from his job so i had to use my friends computer to wirgt you this! Also I love your song Glamorous!! PLEASE FERGIE PLEASE BUY! BUY!
--Hannah

OK this is my favorite piece of "fan mail," like ever in the history of ever, for so many reasons -- not the least of which is because this dumb bitch doesn't know the correct spelling of "bye." Two MILLION dollars? Hell no, you crazy little brat. You don't go around asking people for that kind of money, learn some damn manners! Since you were also dumb enough to send me your address, I should look you up and come to your house just so I can smack you in the head. With a brick. That's awful of me. This little ho is probably all of five. Whatever! To hell with her and her broke ass daddy.

Fergieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I love youuuuuuuuuuuuuu!
--Florencia

This is what my REAL fan mail looks like. I think.

New Study States the Obvious

A new study has linked drinking with -- wait for it -- promiscuous sexual activity.

No fucking way! That's sincerely groundbreaking. I don't mean the sex and drinking part, I mean that they actually had to perform a study to determine those results. A new level of scientific stupidity.

You don't have to conduct any survey. Just look at that picture above, all shitfaced and about to pass out on the floor.

Sexy.

Merry Chris-ehehehaeeeeeeekk!

The dolphins would like to wish you Happy Holidays.

Have a Merry Christmas Somewhere Else

Thanks Anthony for sharing this passive aggressive note (found in somewhere in San Francisco): "If you're found sleeping on this porch, we will not disturb you or ask you to leave...we'll just call the police and have them haul your homeless ass away...so find somewhere else to sleep and piss...oh yeah, Merry Christmas."

What a bunch of pests! Can't they huddle for warmth somewhere out of sight? How dare they remind us of the less fortunate, especially at this time of year.

Homeless people are so selfish. Also, they stink.

Fuck them.

Teen Pregnancy Is All The Rage

This week, headlines screamed: Teen Celebrity Baby Shocker!

First of all this is not shocking. Teen girls are popping out babies every single day, in case you didn't know.

"The United States has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the western world, despite the fact that our teens are not more sexually active than Swedish teens, or Canadian teens, or British teens." (stat source)

We must remember, in all this, that the Virgin Mary was an unwed teenage mother.

Lawrence Lee, the pastor who's Virgin Mary graphic I swiped for this entry, writes: "...it makes me enter into the Christmas story in a new way, through the eyes of a young girl who has no more idea how her future will unfold than we do. It's easy to look back on history and admire people because we know how the story turns out. When you are in the midst of events you don't have that luxury."

Some people have the capacity to open their minds to the reality of life outside their station, and seriously, amen to that.

A few choice message board posts from around the net...my comments in bold

--from a publisher, set to release an upcoming autobiography from the mother of the pregnant teen celebrity:
"We believe in redemption. Therefore, we are standing with [the] family during this difficult time. Though the book has been delayed, we believe God is at work. The story is still being written, and we are confident in His ability to turn ashes into beauty." In theory this is actually a beautiful sentiment. As long as it is also applied outside a selective group deemed worth of redemption in the first place.

--from a celebrity blog comments section:
"I have a 7 year old daughter and 10 year old son who watched...on a regular basis. It was one of my daughter’s favorite shows. Now I’ve had to have a talk with my children that I thought I would not have for a few years. Wait, you're 10-year-old doesn't know where babies come from? Have they never once seen pregnant lady and asked why her belly is so big? I'm confused! I had to explain to my 7 year old daughter that this CHILD is pregnant with a CHILD and that this is not something that is expectable. Dear Internet lady, you make no sense. Expectable? As in, "likely or certain" ..? If you're having heterosexual sex, a baby is quite likely and, eventually, rather certain. If, as I suspect, you meant "acceptable," then -- as I also strongly suspect -- you're a dumb ass. I have fully explained to my children why they will no longer be allowed to view this network or television show. Absolutely! See no evil, as they say. This is my personal choice because I will not allow my children to watch a show where the lead actress is a 16 year old teenage mother. It is not about judgment -- BULLSHIT! -- it is about me raising my children and teaching them about better life choices! This little girl is not someone that I want my little girl to look up to." So you'd rather, instead, that she scorns and shuns those who have a different life situation that she does. Madam, I'm sorry to say, that's the very definition of a bigot.

--a general reply to such sentiments, on the same thread:
"Instead of closing your eyes and staying on this hypocritical and puritan consideration about sex (no it won't happen to my children, they are angels, they wouldn't do it to me), face the reality and provide them with information about HIV and pregnancy." My thoughts exactly! Whoever wrote this, I can only imagine, is as attractive as they are intelligent. Also, well hung.

Bad Santa

The Canadian post office, along with their police squad, are on the hunt for a very naughty little boy or girl -- who wrote obscene letters to children on behalf of Santa Claus.

Damn, why didn't I think of that.

"Dear Timmy,
You're annoying, ugly and stupid! It's your fault your parents got divorced and you made grandma sick, God rest her soul. You deserve a lifetime of nothing.
Love, Santa
p.s. Your dog didn't run away, he got ran over."

Well, that's what I'd write. One can only guess what the letters really said, as the report did not detail their content. However the author skillfully implied the recipients were scared for life. As a writer, I admire that -- you have to do something to keep it interesting.

Now, you may be asking yourself: how did all this happen? You see, our neighbors to the north have a special H0H 0H0 Canadian postal code. Return letters from Santa are in fact written by employees and volunteers. Mystery solved. Postal employees should never be trusted because you never know what's going to set them off. Everyone should know this by now.

"We firmly believe there is just one rogue elf out there," a Canada Post spokeswoman said.

A rogue elf? Enough with the lies, bitch. This is what people get for deceiving children -- Christmas is a fraud!


(Story: Reuters)

Jingle My Bells

A holiday meme -- Thanks GolfWidow, via That Gay Chick


1. Wrapping or gift bags? Generally, neither. I prefer sending cards. It says more than a gift. This year I've been working on a video card and I'm pretty excited about that as it will be the first time the friends and family I won't be with can actually see and hear me...I hope to have it done by the end of the week.

2. Real or artificial tree? I think they kick you out of West Hollywood and take away your gay card if you put up a plastic tree. The only plastic we like here in L.A. is implanted under our skin!

3. When do you put up the tree? This year is the fist time in a long time I've put up a tree. It's unlikely I would have done so on my own, but my roommate and I decided to throw a party for all the orphans (friends like us who stayed local rather than traveling back home -- nobody is actually from Los Angeles). IMO the appropriate time is about a week or two before. We put ours up this past weekend.

4. When do you take the tree down? Hopefully before kitty knocks it down.

5. Do you like eggnog? Only with rum. In fact, just give me the rum.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? My first big boy bike -- a 10 speed! Damn, I'm old. I don't even think they make those anymore.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? Sweet baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Yes, I do. My mom sent me a ceramic figurine set with the three wise men several years ago. I put it out every year.

8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Anything wool. I'm allergic.

9. Mail or email Christmas cards? Both, plus the aforementioned video card.

10. Favorite Christmas Movie? The Ref

11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I never stop shopping, it's just not for Christmas. Or for anyone else. The joy of giving to yourself is even more rewarding.

12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Like any holiday, the best part of the whole thing is the candy.

13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Both, of course. The more festive, the gayer!

14. Favorite Christmas song? Little Drummer Boy

15. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Home. White Christmas? No thanks. Give me palm trees and go-go boys!

16. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Smelly, Scratchy, Bitey, Roadkill, Grumpy and Marvin.

17. Angel on the tree top or a star? Star.

18. Open the presents Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning? As a kid, we would open our gifts to each other on the Eve, then Santa's gifts the day of...now I don't do either.

19. Most annoying thing about this time of year? The mania. And that the promotions for the season practically start in July.

20. Do you decorate your tree in any specific theme or color? Shiny.

21. What do you leave for Santa? Pizza and beer.

22. Least favorite holiday song? I can't stand most Christmas songs, they are annoying and overplayed. Except 'Silver Bells.' Damn! Now that's stuck in my head. Forget it, I hate that one too.

23. Favorite ornament? I made a sleigh out of popsicle sticks when I was in grade K, I think that's still my favorite.


(photo source: boston.com)

Sick Sad World

"Sometimes what's right isn't as important as what's profitable."
--Trey Parker and Matt Stone (creators of 'South Park')

From Doggy Prozac to jackets lined with dog fur: 101-Dumbest Moments in Business

It's nearing the end of 2007, did you know? I can always tell, not by the calendar but an over abundance of lists and lists of things we were supposed to care about but probably didn't.

Below, I've picked some of my favorite dumb moments in the legacy that will be '07; thanks to those Forbes bitches for doing the work for me! They're quoted, my personal quips follow.

"Lawyers representing Procter & Gamble send a 66-page cease-and desist letter to British sex-toy company Love Honey, demanding that it stop using images of its Oral B electric toothbrushes to promote a product called the Brush Bunny; a rabbit shaped piece of plastic that slips over the top of an Oral B to turn it into a vibrator."
-- While in Central America earlier this year, my friend and I met a vibrating tooth brush enthusiast who swore by its magical clitoris-stimulating powers. No plastic applicator top needed. When questioned about his continued use of the toothbrush for it's intended purpose after such activity, his reply was "I already ate that pussy anyway, so what's the difference?" He's by far my favorite American tourist in a foreign country I've ever met.

"Rapper Jay-Z, founder of the Rocawear clothing line, is taken to task by the Humane Society after it finds that the “faux fur” in jackets sold by his company is actually dog fur."
-- Yet another reason never to purchase items from a celebrity clothing line.

"Japanese manufacturer Toto apologizes to customers and offers free repairs for 180,000 high-tech toilets, thrones that feature heated seats, air purifiers, blow dryers, and water sprayers, after at least three catch fire. "Fortunately nobody was using the toilets when the fire broke out," says a company spokesman. "The fire would have been just under your buttocks."
-- Ass fire is awesome. Even potential ass fire.

"Co-op Funeralcare, a funeral home in Dunfermline, Scotland, says it is investigating reports that employees routinely used the cremains of the departed to keep passersby from slipping on icy sidewalks. “There’s every chance people living nearby will have walked through the remains,” an ex-employee says."
-- I guess they were out of salt.

"The state of Connecticut sues Best Buy for setting up in-store kiosks set to a website that looks identical to bestbuy.com but lists higher prices than those they would actually find online."
-- Oh, price gauging is illegal now? Let me know when Connecticut sues the gas companies.

"District of Columbia judge Roy Pearson loses a $54 million lawsuit against the owners of a dry-cleaning establishment that he claims misplaced a pair of his pants."
-- Surprisingly, he wasn't reappointed to his post after his peers determined he failed to demonstrate "appropriate judgment and judicial temperament." No really, I'm shocked this guy isn't on the Supreme Court by now.

"Pfizer introduces the diabetes drug Exubera, a form of insulin inhaled through a tubular device ... the president of the American Diabetes Association, citing lung-function risks, says, “I see it as my job to talk people out of it.” Pfizer quickly gives up on the product, taking a $2.8 billion write-off."
-- Have breathing problems? Smoke this! Pharmaceutical companies are always looking for new ways to physically impair, main or kill you, bless their hearts.


Yahoo highlights 101-Dumbest Moments in Business | Full list of 101-Dumbest Moments in Business on CNN

I Almost Died

That gash on my neck is from a fence post.

One day, I'll win a Darwin Award, which honors those who improve the species...by accidentally removing themselves from it.

As I will be dead, I'd like to make my acceptance speech now. First of all, I can't help it that I do stupid things. Rather, I say stupid things happen to me. I mean honestly, I didn't know pressing the wrong key on the elevator was going to take me into a locked car port from which there was no escape.

This is how it happened: It was my first time in this building; I thought "G" was for "ground." As I was on my way out, again for the first time, I discovered it meant "garage."

Unfortunately I stepped through a door -- as I was digging in my pocket for my keys -- and it locked behind me. All I was trying to do was get to my car and drive home. This is a stupid thing that happened to me, and the only way out was to out dumb the situation.

All of the doors were locked and the gate didn't have a sensor. I tried jumping in front of it a few times to test it out. No dice. In the very back of the garage there was a metal door leading outside, with an open space between the top of the
door frame and the underground prison, er, garage ceiling. There were large metal spades spiking up from the top of the door frame, but still enough room to fit through. It's not like those things actually deter criminals and they sure as hell weren't going to keep me from tasting sweet freedom.

Naturally, I climbed over the door. Just as I reached my left arm over, my foot slipped on the handle, and I had about three inches before a big metal spade impaled me. It nearly did, but somehow I pulled some Matrix-style shit out of my ass and twisted around just as it scraped the skin. And yes, I landed on my feet.

Damn, I thought. I've got to be more careful on this next try.

Unfazed and headstrong, I cleared the second attempt without issue. Others might have called upstairs and had someone come down to get them, but I wasn’t about to let some stupid door get the best of me.

Working Bitches

Trey! Buster! Monkey!

Monkey? Yes, monkey -- the dog.

Makes sense to me, because she's cute. I can make sense out of just about anything if it's adorable enough.

Today was dog day at the office. We've gone to the dogs. Friday is dog-gone fun. Sniff my butt. Those are my dog jokes.

Sadly, Buster had to go before I could take a picture. Son of a bitch couldn't control himself. The whimpering and barking and trying to chase the other puppies around got annoying and his mommy had enough. Back to the pound!

No, no, she just took him home.

Here's Monkey playing with her Jimmy Chew toy. Jimmy Chew! Now that's good satire.



We had an office dog at my last gig called Chica. She was part of our guest relations team, calmly sitting with customers while they waited. This is Chica in action:
Best employee ever. She was my favorite. None of my other co-workers chased the mail lady.

The Real Guy is Real Average

This site hasn't had any cock in awhile, so I thought today's post would feature a little dick.

Little being a key word here. The Real Guy Doll is sporting some real average wood. Plastic, whatever.

I'm not exactly what to make of this. Size isn't everything -- it's not like I'm going to blow the real doll guy -- but these life-size sex dolls are rather expensive. All I'm saying is if I paid $6,000 for a silicone boyfriend, I'm paying by the inch, not centimeter. I'd expect a little more bang for the buck. Wait, is he battery operated?

Unclear. However, I think this next picture -- possibly the most hilarious, non-sexy thing I’ve ever seen -- perfectly sums up the real doll guy's function:Stick it in! At least we know he takes it like a man, without a whimper.

I’m one to really try and think out a situation, but I’m honestly a little stumped by this trend. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some little Miss Priss in the bedroom. Bring on the handcuffs, blindfolds and vibrators. Accessories are fun.

Still, the idea of sticking my dick in a jack-off sleeve, pocket pussy, whatever, just seems a little unnecessary. Fucking an inanimate object doesn’t turn me on. Without any need for those types of toys, it’s difficult to even theoretically ponder an upgrade to a life size silicone human. But whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

Personally, even drunk and desperate, I’d rather take matters into my own hands.

Lost and Found

Have you ever been out and about, walking around -- say, to your car -- gotten completely absored while typing a text message on your phone and then looked up and you were all like, "Where am I?!"

Yah, that happened to me earlier today.

Speaking of zoning out, plopping my hot ass in front of the boob tube has gotten to be my worst habit. I've been talking about this over at my other blog, where I write about self-improvement and being a better person and pussy shit like that. While it's true that as an entertainment news editor I have to keep up with pop culture, watching re-runs of The Simpsons is not work related.

It's just a bad habit. By the time I come home from the gym, shower and make myself something to eat, I'm ready to relax. Then I sit down to eat in front of the TV and start flipping channels and get sucked into some random CSI episode. I love that show.

And those ghost-chasing shows. And plastic surgery specials. And static. Color bars.

Therefore, I grounded myself from television!

Speaking of breaking certian habits, writing entertainment news over the past several years has started to change the way I write, espicially at my current station because we're really trying to punch everything up. I've noticed I use too many exclimation points. It! Has! To! Stop!

I'm still working on it, and trying to find my way.

Butthash

This shit will get you high.

Sniffing glue and paint thinner? Totally passé. It's all about poop and pee. Yes, you read that correctly. Users are fermenting raw sewage to create a gas which is inhaled to get high.

Butthash!

Knuckle Sandwich

This captive croc turned on a caretaker -- I've never seen a better visual representation of "biting the hand that feeds you."

I'm Wearing New Pants

I'm convinced my reading glasses are somehow polarized to attract air molecules because they're always covered in little flecks of debris. I'm going to get to work in my lab creating a lightweight dust repellent that can be sprayed on glass surfaces. That's right, I'm a scientist now.

Don't try to steal my idea, either. I copyrighted that shit. It's going to make billions.

Of note this morning; it's below fifty degrees. Technically, that's freezing cold here in Southern California.

On the plus side, I'm wearing new pants today. New pants keep me warm. New pants evoke happy thoughts. They're like a cozy pair of gloves, except for your legs. New pants make me look stylish, crisp and clean. New pants show the world I can afford new pants. They make me feel like a freshly minted penny, all shiny and pretty. New pants improve confidence. New pants run your errands, clean dirty dishes, solve cross-word puzzles, pay your taxes and fight crime. New pants make the world a better place.