Hero Nomination: Neil deGrasse Tyson

Doug Stanhope on Dr. Drew

Ah, yes. Dr. Drew. For those of you that read my Celebrity Rehab recaps from '09-'10, the season with Mikey Starr and the Grandmother of Issues, Mackenzie Phillips, you already know how I feel about him. I think he's exploitative and I also believe at the core of my being that paying for someone to go to rehab is so beyond counter-intuitive that it borders on malpractice. I'll go one further and say that signing someone up for a paid dry-out, which is all CR is, should be against the law, not to mention the perverted nature of this obvious ridiculousness- FILMING IT.

Here's Stanhope's take on it. It's brutal and completely profane. You have been warned.

The Real Housewives of Disney

Starring Lindsay Loham!


Don't call it a comeback......no, seriously. DON'T. The rest of the show was unwatchable. Plus, The Zarinmonster was there. Nuff said.

TGIF With Hot Guys and Kittens

Hot Dudes with Kittens from Sam Trammell

Thanks, Kbird! This made my life!

For The Idiots That Love Chris Brown

A punk is a punk is a punk, and as far as I'm concerned, MC Punk could tap dance on Chris Brown's face and I wouldn't bat an eyelash. As for the stupid young girls that tweet how they would let Chris Clown beat them, you are idiots! BAH! Sometimes I think feminism is dead in America. Young girls need to stop holding fame up like it's the be-all end-all and learn that the you cannot separate a person's character from their actions. He never apologised, he never owned his actions, he never EVER showed contrition of any kind. Plus, he sucks as a musical 'artist.' 


I am not going to put the disturbing photograph of Rhianna on my blog because I think it's not respectful, though I know that statement is ironic in light of rumors that she is still boning the guy. Nevertheless, he beat that girl's face to a pulp. Would you feel bad for him if he was finally on the receiving end?

Dad, You Just Created An Even Bigger Monster

Teen acts like a spoiled brat. Teen is too stupid to realise that there's a good chance Dad will find out about that Facebook trash talking. Teen gets her comeuppance in the form of humiliation and loss of property. Teen spends the rest of her life making parents pay for it.

I'll just sit here and wait for the eventual Gawker article about how she went on that meth fueled crime spree ending in Mom and Dad trying to stop their guts from spilling all over that lovely lawn of theirs.

Or she takes her punishment like a big girl and quits her whining. What's more likely?

Dear God, Karl. Could You Get More Meta?

Real Housewives of late Night: Super Bowl Edition

Oh, how I've missed this. It's better than the real thing!

The Ultimate Super Bowl Snack Tray

Thanks a lot, WOW Report. Now I'm starving.

A Burrito Is Just A Cross Between A Penis and A Turd

Just a little introduction to these two before you watch the video- Simon Doonan is the creative director at Barneys. He has been for YEARS, like back in the first days of those fabulous windows and the sample sales where I always ended up with something fabulous like the woven leather Valentino trench coat that I lost somehow. I can't go into that. It's too depressing. 


He was part of the scene that I was in at the time and he was always clever, tongue-in-cheek, and kind. His bitchiness was always accompanied by a chummy sort of candor, so it never really rankled. As for Rich, he's a young gay man of intellect whose pop culture observations are pretty much always spot-on. He also appeared as a guest judge on Toddlers & Tiaras, brilliant casting, if you ask me. He's also insanely hot. Like, damn it! Why are you gay????, HOT.


So, watch the video and enjoy, and remember- being unoffendable puts you in an incredible position of power. Couldn't have said it better myself.


Now, go put yourself out there and be happy!

Trying To Make The Winter Fly By

Ah, yes. Winter in Northeast Ohio. It lasts so long and is so dreary that people in their 30s fly south for those awful months like so many bloated Goldfinches. Me, I choose to stay here. I like a little dark with my light, a little salt with my sweet and a little depression with my joy. I still try to combat the blues, though, mostly by getting off my ass and doing things and going places, like Pittsburgh.


Pittsburgh, you say? How in Saint Morgan Fairchild Hell is that getting away from it all? 


Well, let me start with our charming hotel. It's called The Priory and it's a beautiful, restored Parsonage attached to a small sanctuary that wealthy Pennsylvanians book for wedding receptions and the like. I think it would be great for a Halloween party. (I hate weddings. They just seem like a giant exercise in Bride's magazine show-offery and coupledom mutual masturbation, BLECH)

The hotel's ceilings are high, the lighting fixtures are ancient and the atmosphere is one of naughty gaiety. We arrived Saturday night to a crush of revelers in the lobby enjoying a beer or ten before heading off to the wedding reception to listen to slurred speeches full of forced hilarity and watch Auntie dance with her favorite 'nephew.'


We steered clear of that mess and strolled down the hall to our room. There were all manner of lovely artifacts placed here and there and it took all my powers of self control not to steal this hat box that was just sitting on an antique table.

Alas, my backpack was too small. (makes mental note to hit Gander Mountain on the way home)


Get a load of this lovely mini-priory! I can just picture some pious, but perpetually bored man of the cloth wiling away the hours with some brandy and glue.

Okay, maybe not so mini, since it was four feet tall, and not so gluey since I spy a clamp. What are you going to do? Brandy doesn't make a monk so handy. Handsy, yes.


This is the bar. Surprisingly enough, we spent no time there. The Bota beckoned (or was it Cardinal Zin?) and I was still a bit nauseous from my new glasses. I hate them. Lasik, here I come. 

Yes, that is an old bank safe acting as the bar storage. Somebody doesn't trust their employees....
Or the guests. Hmm.


The next day we attended the Penguins' hockey game where the boys in Black & Gold prevailed over the Capitals and their much diminished prowess, and then we headed back across the 9th Street Bridge when we were overtaken by a tall ginger with giant mittens. I called him Hellboy O'Brien. Hubby trumped me by calling him Hillboy O'Brien. Teehee, inbred jokes.

As much as I love Pittsburgh, I have to admit that it does give off that not-so-faint whiff of third generation first-cousin marriages, which is where we come full circle, or should I say 'circular.'

Which is what passes for curtains 'round here.


What, no comics? Those are so much classier.

Westboro Vs. A Really Nice Gay Man

He deserves some sort of peace prize for this. I'd be spitting nails.

A Lovely Spot For A Stroll

Shouldn't it be 'Le?'


Taken in Pittsburgh on Sunday.

Another Cute One From Volkswagon

Another Super Bowl is on it's way, and since I don't have a horse in this race I'll be watching it for the commercials. Volkswagon had my favorite last year with the little Darth Vader guy that kept trying to use the force to do things like move his cereal bowl, and now this year we have dogs. Too cute! And don't forget the Puppy Bowl. 
Like you could.

The Heckler Gets Heckled

I'm going to steal from a fellow blogger and say that this guy deserves an ovation for this! I think that any of you that have worked in the service industry would agree.


Thanks, Leenie!