Because You Have to Draw the Line Somewhere

Me: Would you do an Olsen twin?

The Young Man: Hmmm…

The Young Man: This seems like a trap...

The Young Man: So, NO.

Me: Is that an honest answer?

The Young Man: No.

The Young Man: But I wouldn't do them very good.

Me: Do you have a preference?

The Young Man: I really wouldn't know one from the other.

The Young Man: Probably the one who wasn't in rehab.

The Young Man: Less likely to have been molested while passed out at Andy Dick's house.

Me: Good point. By the way, I find this information much less disturbing than our conversation about Lizzie Grubman. That's pretty much my barometer for disturbing at this point.

The Irate Patriot

Our good friends at Oxford American Dictionaries have decided to add a new entry to the next edition. I know what you're thinking, and it's not this:

jess [jes]
noun
1. A redheaded blogger with a nice ass (see also 'cavefish')

Yeah, I don't know why they haven't added that yet. I keep sending them letters, but they never respond.

No, the new addition to the Oxford American Dictionary is EVOO. Or as I usually refer to it, EVfuckingOO. Yes, it's not bad enough that Rachael Ray has invaded my Food Network and my boxes of Triscuits, now she has to go after my dictionary.

She has to have sold her soul to Satan, right? I mean, how else can you explain her fame? And where will it end, people? WHERE WILL IT END?

I'm not going to lie -- I'm worried about the future. What if Rachael Ray is the next president of the United States? What if the American public is unknowingly becoming part of a cult that will eat poisoned stoup in order to carry out a mass suicide? What if all the Rachael Rayisms get introduced into the dictionary -- the aforementioned stoup, YUM-O, garbage bowl. Dear God, what if the English language becomes the language of Rachael Ray?

I don't think I'm going to be able to convince the Oxford American Dictionaries that this might be the worst idea ever, and I don't think I can convince Satan to transform her back into a mere mortal, but I think I might have a cousin whose brother-in-law knows a guy, if you know what I mean and you think I do, and I'm going to get him on the horn tout de suite. The future of this country, and maybe even the world, depends on it. Y'all can thank me later. Oh, and I might need an alibi. Anyone?

Dude, You're Getting an Enchilada

Friday night, I met Summer and My Sharona for dinner and drinks at Tortilla Flats. My Sharona got there first, I arrived second, and Summer got there a few minutes after me. When I approached the table, My Sharona blurted out what she'd been waiting anxiously to tell whoever arrived first:

"Our waiter is the Dell guy!"



And indeed he was. He's a bit scruffier these days. Nice, too, although he did forget to bring us our complimentary end-of-dinner shots. He promised a round of drinks next time we're in, though, so he's forgiven.

Not that I think there's anything wrong with pot, per se, or that I even think it should be illegal, but if Partnership for a Drug-Free America really wanted to convince kids that pot can wreck your life, maybe they should get the Dell guy on their payroll.

30 Minute Meals are Made of People!

Something Awful, a brilliant site I would never remember to read if The Roommate wasn't so good about reminding me, tackles the all-important topic of Rachael Ray. My favorite part?

"L-lovely poncho," I manage.

"It's made from tendons," she replies, and lifts me up with the power of her mind.

Read the rest here. You won't be sorry. I promise.

Q and A

Roxy Chanel McPink wants to know:

Aren't you going to write a post about Britney's naked kitty? I did, and I'm not even obsessed with her!

Well Roxy, I thought about writing a post. In fact, I even had an open letter I was been working on. Then I decided to go another route. I decided to confront her directly instead of just talking about her behind her back.

If you're my MySpace friend, then you know that you're in the company of one Ms. Spears, who isn't just my friend, she's my number one friend. Today, I left her this comment:

Britney, panties are your friend. Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan are not. Please bring back the pre-Federline Britney we all know and love.

And that pretty much covers it.

Today in Britney News

Hi y'all!

I'm not sure if everyone is following the most awesome divorce in the history of all mankind as closely as I am, but if not, here's what you need to know. And no, I won't be doing this every day. I expect I'll actually have a life again at some point and will resume business as usual. Are you ready? Good. Get your reading glasses on:

K-Fed wants all the money, er, I mean, the kids (TMZ)

Brit's new boobs look better from far away, but whatever. She still looks great. (The Superficial)

The Britney/Kevin sex tape, possibly. NSFW. (Fleshbot)

Britney awesomely screws K-Fed out of royalty money for the first pics of Jayden James (The always delicious WWTDD, or as I like to call him, my future husband)

K-Fed stinks up the windy city. Even the wind can't help with the stench. (Pink is the New Blog)

Was there an astrological reason behind the divorce? When in doubt, blame Uranus. (AOL Horoscopes)

Celebrity Crushes

I'm pretty low on real-life crushes these days. Hot Bouncer is no longer bouncing, and we are no longer regulars at the bar anyway. I haven't seen Cute Guy Who lives in My Building in so long I'm beginning to wonder if he does, in fact, still live in my building. And there's way too much competition for Office Crush, and if I'm being honest, he wouldn't be as cute out in the world as he is in the office, and besides, he's only on my floor like, once a week.

So instead, I bring you my top 10 celebrity crushes, in no particular order:

Jess on TMZ

I didn't get a byline on the article they're linking to, but I still wrote it.