I am screaming and punching myself

Helpful home hints from hell

If you've ever gotten a yen to make your own golem but can't figure out where to find the raw materials, may I suggest your shower drain. In between hosting a Showgirls party and installing a garbage disposal this weekend (we hacksawed through the sink pipe; we are freaking gods), Jason and I bought one of those zip-it drain cleaner doohickeys. My shower had seemed somewhat clogged lately, so we decided to try it out there first.

This is what we found. It's an aggregate of several hauls, each one of which felt like landing a bigmouth bass. After the second lump of hair and... something, I started laughing hysterically out of sheer terror. "That came off of me!" We ascertained that it wasn't going to seek revenge, took a quick photo to remember it by, then hustled it into a plastic bag and out of the house. Hours later, Jason was still remarking on its smell.

Yeah, I know: we had a party for the most exuberantly bad movie ever made, then an epic battle with the undersink plumbing, but this is the part of my weekend I most want to share with you. 'Cause I love y'all like that.

How to tell if your guy really loves you

Years ago, Richard Pryor had a comedy bit that went something like, "How can you tell if your woman really loves you? ... Will she have your dog?" (The delivery really made it.) I guess in the next few days, we'll get to see if Isaac Cohen really loves Britney, because a similar sort of test has been administered to him.

Apparently, Baby Girl threw up on him in a car. I must admit, I've never had my love tested in this way, but I'm sure I'd pass the test for Jason, and most of the other boyfriends I've had. However, if I'd just started dating someone and they couldn't manage to hold it together during that early, best-behavior stage of the relationship... I'd probably start looking for the door.

1-1: Hey, they *do* make boy skanks!

I've made my reservations known about the Flavor of Love spinoff I Love New York. New York herself frightens me, and her mom gives me the night sweats. I thought that the antics of a bunch of dudes couldn't possibly compare to the antics of a bunch of skanks competing for the love of a strange, improbable star. I was wrong, though; I hadn't reckoned on the magnificent entertainment capacity of the male of the species Skankus Americanus.

Those boys are crazy.

What it means to be "pants-challenged"

I said in yesterday's post that Britney seems to lack a basic awareness of clothing, especially the magnificent garments known to the world as pants. (Buy. Sell. Trade. Love.) Her usual outfit involves a skirt so short it looks like she neglected to put on pants to go with her long top.

But even when she does wear pants, she gets them so very wrong.

I hope the "Children" aren't Kate's future

I tried to summarize the plot of Little Children in an attempt to get my best friend Felicia to go with me: "It's about adultery in suburbia... and... a pedophile comes to town?" I had only the barest grasp of the plot, but it was pretty much correct. As it turned out, though, I found the pedophile part of the story far more interesting, moving and rewarding than the adulterers. Awards season makes you type some damn weird sentences.

For instance, here's a sentence I thought I'd never type: I was totally disappointed in Kate Winslet's performance and even felt a little embarrassed for her in parts.

Won't someone think of the puppies?

Ah, man. I'm getting a bad feeling about this. Britney has acquired a new helpless, dependent mammal, despite a less-than-stellar track record with such creatures. She's had several dogs before -- a beagle named Lucky, a pocket rat named Lacey and a teacup chihuahua named BitBit. None of those dogs live with her now; she passed them along to relatives when their canine behavior proved to be too much trouble and mess.

But like Dot in Raising Arizona, who always needed something to cuddle, she couldn't just get one of her damn dogs back from the folks who have been keeping them. Oh, no, she had to go out and get a brand-new puppy.

The greatest celebrity ever!

Okay, why has nobody told me about the miracle of tackiness that is the bimbonic Katie Price (or, as softcore enthusiasts the world over know her, Jordan)? How have I gone so long without being fully aware of her amazing powers of vapidity, vulgarity and flat-out sleaze? How on earth did I manage to miss her freaking wedding??

Oh, yeah, her husband's a genuine, down-to-earth kind of guy, an old, gentle soul who doesn't care about the glitz and sparkle. Theirs is truly a love for the ages. And as the two of them demonstrate on the red carpet for the premiere of The Dukes of Hazzard, they know exactly how to dress and behave for a public event.

Let's make it official

I admit it: I'm obsessed with Britney Spears, especially her recent downward spiral. Every day, I check the gossip blogs to see what new godawful pictures have surfaced of her looking like a tar-papered mess. And based on my readership stats, I'm not the only one who's fascinated. So I'm introducing a new feature: BritneyWatch.

I can't promise an update every day; the little bumpkin is nothing if not unpredictable. But I can promise that when something particularly stupid or unappealing goes down in BritneyTown, you'll know about it. Think of this icon as the Bat Signal for Britney-related cautionary tales.

Won't someone think of the "Children"?

Although I find children unnerving, I'm the first to admit they're pretty necessary. After all, somebody's got to keep the world going and buy me booze and cheese fries after I'm too decrepit to do it myself. While the prospect of a world without children does sound almost enchanting at times (say, during cross-country flights or while grocery shopping), contemplating a future where the human race would simply die out like a snuffed candle is an exercise in despair.

 

So I knew going into it that Children of Men would be pretty bleak. What I didn't know is how utterly amazing it would be.

An unseemly display of self-promotion

It's tacky and self-serving, but I figure it can't hurt to ask: nominations are open for the 2007 Weblog Awards (the Bloggies!). Since they select finalists based on the sheer volume of nominations, I'd like to beseech each and every one of you to nominate my humble blog for whatever categories you think might apply (entertainment, new blog, humor, writing, etc.) some time before the end of the day on Wednesday, Jan. 10.

You can't nominate just one blog on your ballot, though (I, um...tried). Each ballot must contain a minimum total of three nominated blogs; fortunately, the categories are pretty varied, so there's not much danger of overlap. If you're stumped for other blogs to nominate, may I recommend those listed to the right under "Sites That Quiet the Voices (For a While)."

I hope you've enjoyed the stuff you've been reading here. If you have, I'd sure appreciate a nomination. (If not, I respect your opinion, though I wonder why you've read this far down in the post.)

[On a similar note, Anne Louise, thank you so much for the donation! But could you shoot me your email address so I can thank you properly? TypePad isn't being forthcoming with the details.]