Friday, April 29, 2005

Ok, so I'm only somewhat hungover, and only somewhat embarassed about last night's post. I would post a retraction or some such, but the truth is, it was my last day of classes, I was smashed, and it was funny. Let's just leave it at that.

So in the spirit of getting back to some pseudo level of normalcy, I am going to post today's questions to those newsmakers and tailshakers that I have been thinking of...

To Katie Holmes:
1). Congratulations on the whole Tom Cruise thing. Do you think that you and I could start a Midget Admiration Club together?
2). Have you kissed your career goodbye yet? Good luck on that.

To Britney, my love:
1). How do you like that new Radiohead cd you bought? I knew you'd find emotional kinship with a band who wrote a song called "Creep."
2). How's the Federfetus treating you? No, Britney, you can't have one sip of Colt 45, no matter what Kevin told you about it putting the baby to sleep.

To Angelina Jolie:
1). First off, you rock. Let me just say that. But, how does it feel to turn Jennifer Aniston into an ugly, unwanted woman? Because I've been wanting to do that since she got pregnant on Friends and just ruined that whole goddamn show. Bitch.
2). How does one rightly woo a married man? Does it involve naked breasts or a more subtle approach? Because I am moving to Berkeley, and there's this certain married man who just really toasts my waffle...oh never mind.
3). If I adopt a Cambodian kid, do you think that will work? Because I could so do that you know. Anything for my intoxicated lovepot.

To Prof. Anemone:
1). Do you miss me yet? I thought so.

To the Hip-Hop World at Large:
1). What is "crunk"? I have heard that word no less than 2,458 times in the past two days. Can someone explain it to me? Oh, and by the way, I'm sorry for using to word "bling" to describe my engagement ring last night. I blame it on $4 cocktail night. It won't happen again.

To Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie:
1) I've got two huge philly cheesesteaks for both of ya'll. Will you eat them for the good of the American people? Because we're really scared that one of you is going to use her emaciated elbow to put our eyes out. Seriously. (Have you seen Lindsay lately? Go to gofugyourself and check her out...it's scary.)

And finally...To Billie Joe:
1) It's me again. I just found out that you're a vegetarian, but I am willing to forgive you for it. Would you like some mashed potatoes? One bite, and you'll love me forever. I could even slather them all over my...oh dear god, this is too disgusting even for me.

Rock steady, my little creme brulees.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

I Predict A Riot

I am about 50% of the way to being totally shit-faced drunk, so that's a good thing. Moreover, I found out that my creative writing professor has a rather shady past that I just love. Ahh yeah.

But I just want to say...I'M DONE BITCH. No more teachers, no more books, no more something, dirty looks. You know it.

So have a good night and post a comment if you are reading this, Amber or Chris. I know I gave you the address to this over a martini, but if I am sober enough to remember it, you were sober enough to get your ass here and give me a hello. Right? Right.

I'm going now in order to enjoy a night of porn, alcohol and sex, not necessarily in that order.

Alma Mater Hail!

Today is my last day of classes as a William and Mary undergrad. Cool, huh? Yeah, I thought so. Matt just took me out to lunch to celebrate, and then we walked across old campus and smiled a lot. It's such a gorgeous day that it makes me feel like I'm actually going to miss this place quite a bit. It's sad. It makes me remember when I came here scared shitless and very unsure of how I was going to make it. But I have, and today at least, I'm proud of myself for it.

And today's terrorism class didn't let me down. There was the same level of pretentiousness--don't get me wrong--but Existential Guy proved himself as someone who is actually quite witty and is worthy of the air that gives him life. He totally took down this guy in our class who made the loud pronouncement that "all human rights groups are just out for cash." So, thank you, Existential Guy for making my last class with Anemone enjoyable.

Things Morgan Will Miss About W&M
1. Sunny days. Sunny days are perfect here, just absolutely perfect.
2. Prof. Anemone (minus the tight jeans and strangely large belt buckles). Probably the smartest man I will ever hope to meet, and by far the most interesting.
3. Parking in the fac/staff lot and not getting caught. There's a certain thrill in this.
4. Making fun of the yuppies to be. I doubt I'll see many turned up collars and pink cargo pants in Berkeley, sadly.
5. Walking to class just hating Williamsburg with every fiber of my being, and then stepping on campus and feeling totally at peace. It's just something about this place.

Things Morgan Will Not Miss about W&M
1. Rainy days.
2. Geology classes.
3. The yuppies.
4. The tourists who walk on campus with fanny packs and ill-fitting clothes.
5. Writing papers about things that are neither interesting nor should even be discussed. Case in point: I once wrote a six page paper on the color gray in the works of Virginia Woolf. I got an A, but boy, did it suck.

But mostly I will miss this place because this is where I became who I am. I came to W&M as this little mousy kid who hated where she was from and wanted nothing more than to be smart. I am leaving as someone who understands the limits of intellect, who loves what has made her, and who smiles a lot more than she cries. I am leaving as someone who can think for herself, and enjoys it even. I am leaving as someone who knows that there is always two sides to every story, that there really is no right or wrong, and that when the going gets tough, a shot of gin in a cup of Kool-Aid can be all you need. I'm going to miss this place because I'm going to miss learning these things. And that's a sentimental as I'm going to get.

Well, I should go. I'm not really sure why, as I really have nothing to do, but oh well. I will probably post again later, but the i,k,8, and , are out on the home computer again, so don't expect anything long or well-thought out. I do want to post a picture of Billie Joe with eyeliner on so you can see just how totally lovely it is. So look forward to that, loves.

Have a good un!

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

In Praise of Eyeliner

Hello all. Three cheers for my computer which has again given me access to the i, k, 8, and , keys!

It's a good thing too, because I've got stuff to discuss. Mainly, it is my realization that I love men in eyeliner. Seriously. Love it. For example, today I was walking down the miniscule hall in my apartment, and saw a copy of International Superhits (the Green Day cd, for those of you who are too indie to care). Being as how I am so currently obsessed with Billie Joe that I can no longer function in the real world, I picked it up and leaf through the liner notes. Ahhh, there's Billy...ahh, there's Billie in a dress...ahh, there's Billy looking like a human/toad hybrid...wtf? Seriously. So I run over to the computer, needing the internet to convince me that my taste in men is not that incredibly bad...and it does. Ahh, there's my Billie Joe, kissing that other guy in that clip that I found and THAT IS SO INCREDIBLY HOT THAT IT CAN NOT BE DESCRIBED IN WORDS BUT MAYBE IN GROANS (seriously, it is hot...guy on guy action is the new girl on girl if you ask me). And I realize that it's only Billie Joe in the black eyeliner that I like, that turns me into an oozing pot of horniness (wretched image I know, but so incredibly real). And, even more interestingly, it was Johnny Depp's gay pirate look that turned me onto him. So I'm left realizing that I'm attracted to men in make-up, which is odd and makes me kind of wonder about myself. I mean, I am fast realizing that my dream man is a midget who shops at M.A.C. and protests the war while working on his Ph.D.

Or, I could just go with Matt, who is not that tall really, is blazingly smart, and can play Nintendo with his feet. And really, that's just peachy keen with me, because he's pretty hot himself, he's got good taste in jewelry, and he doesn't kiss other guys, which you know, might be hot for the first week or so, but might be worrisome in the long run.

In other, non-Billie-Joe related news, which is actually coming a lot slower lately, the Spederlines have bought the Vegas hotel room where they conceived their spawn. I think this is a big lie on their part, and they're just saying Vegas hotel room because the Indian guy who works at the 7-11 where fetus Spears was really brought into being won't let them buy out the men's room. Just a guess. I guess they'll have to settle for a Vegas room and a Big Gulp like everyone else.

Tomorrow is my last day of classes as an undergrad. Awwww....

Also, I have applied for a shit load of jobs in San Fran over the last two days, the coolest of which is for the Commonwealth Club and involves inviting famous people to do famous things. It's doubtful I get it, but hey, it was worth the try. I also applied to be a courthouse reporter, hoping to channel my love for Law and Order and sticking my nose in other people's business into a career. I'm really trying this job thing as we need rent money and I need something to keep me from chasing around the Berkeley hills looking for black BMW convertibles and broken eyeliner pencils. Matt assures me that it's quite possible that in the next 7-8 years I will see him once or twice, and probably don't need to actually hunt him, as in with binoculars and cheap disguises. Having a fun job will hopefully keep me to this idea of accidental meeting, and keep me away from the stalking that I so love to do and actually have quite a knack for (although I would imagine that it's a lot easier to hunt people down when they work at BAM than when they play guitar and moan for a living).

I should go. I need to write some cover letters to apply for mo' jobs so I can get mo' money and mo' bottles of wine and mo' cute outfits with jangly earrings. Wish me luck. Because the more I work, the less chance I have of turning into the sad sack of obsession that I am currently.

You know that's the bedsheet she and our pal Fed fucked on this morning. Mull that one around for a few minutes.
And you thought Morg was gross for loving mugshotted Billie Joe.Posted by Hello

Monday, April 25, 2005

A Survey to Get My Mind off of Failed Geology Tests and Billie Joe Armstrong's Posterior Region

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
001. Morgan
002. Morg
003. she who rocks so incredibly hard

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
001. Southern Belle
002. Violet
003. daydreamer_14 (I was 14, it's understandable.)

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
001. shoulders
002. eyes
003. ta-tas

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
001. hips
002. ears (They stick out, and this stupid guy called me Fievel in high school. Burn in hell, Dustin. Burn in hell.)
003. toes

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
001. scotch-irish
002. ALL THE WAY HILLBILLY, YALL
003. YEE HAW

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
001. getting older (see entry entitled Mahna Mahna)
002. George W. Bush
003. my terrorism class, because those are our future leaders, dammit

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
001. good bread
002. ice tea with lots of sugar
003. Lots of sleep

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
001. William and Mary sweatshirt
002. blue pants
003. polka dotted underwear

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS [at the moment]:
001. Green Day
002. The Kaiser Chiefs
003. The Futureheads

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS [at the moment]:
001. Suffragette City--David Bowie
002. Extraordinary Girl--Green Day
003. Under Pressure--David Bowie and Freddie Mercury

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
001. good conversation
002. lots of laughs
003. lots of dirtiness

TWO TRUTHS & A LIE [in no particular order]:
001. I once met Will Smith
002. I was once called a "butt tard."
003. I have 20/20 vision.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
001. hands
002. shortness
003. posterior regions

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
001. cooking
002. Reading
003. writing stories

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
001. Go to the beach
002. drink a bottle of wine
003. have amazing sex (exactly, Kathleen)

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
001. writer
002. writer
003. professioonal Green Day groupie

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
001. Sweden
002. Thailand
003. Greece

THREE KIDS' NAMES:
001. Sam
002. Jakob
003. Natasha

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
001. write the great American novel
002. pay my bills on time
003. live in Asheville, NC

THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
001. I eat a lot.
002. I laugh at fart jokes.
003. I drink boilermakers with Jameson's.

THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
001. I own a pair of sequined shoes.
002. I buy make-up in mass quantities.
003. I love fashion magazines.

THREE CELEB CRUSHES:
001. need I say it? I think we all know.
002. Johnny Depp
003. Jake Gyllenhaal (but I want him for his mind)

THREE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ:
(The two people who read this blog already have, so I'm going to dream big.)
001. Billie Joe
002. Jenna Jameson
003. Kevin Federline

Yummy. Posted by Hello

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Green Day concerts are to Triumph of the Will as...

So last night I went and saw Green Day, which has been a dream of mine since I was 12 and stayed awake at night mulling the idea of exactly which member I was going to marry (Billie Joe has always had my heart, but I don't think you can underestimate the total awesomeness of having the last name "Cool"). Sad, I know. I am totally enthused with Green Day in a weird way...I don't usually listen to that type of music, but they are just this band who I have always just had something for. And when it comes to Billie Joe Armstrong, that thing I have had has most often been pure and unadulterated lust. And that, my friends, is odd.

But anyway, Green Day concerts are very ironic affairs. For one thing, you have this (adorable) guy on stage telling you to disobey any type of authority...but then he tells you to count to four and you do it, because, well, what else would you do? Odd. And if hundreds of people shaking their fist at a short black haired man doesn't immediately make you think of Leni Riefenstahl, well, you just haven't been doing your propagandistic homework.

So here are the highlights:
1). Overusage of the f-word, which is something that usually peppers my own vocab, but I am in the public library due to stupidness of home computer, and well, it doesn't seem to be wise to type that in here when there is a chubby seven year old playing house under my desk.
2). Billie Joe Armstrong emitting many groans and then saying "Somebody f*%K me!" to which I screamed an ecstatic "OHMIGOD, OK, YOU GOT IT BUDDY!" much to the chagrin of my fiance.
3). Finding out from said fiance that Billie Joe got pulled over by the Berkeley PD (or the BPD, as I like to call them) and arrested for DUI, which I thought was extraordinarily funny, because, seriously, you try to imagine how drunk you'd have to be to get arrested in Berkeley, CA.
4). Watching yuppies go wild. Fun all the time.
5). Watching an obese man in a "America" tank top playing air guitar and singing "Basket Case" at the top of his lungs. (And hearing Matt say after the concert "He smelled like Moscow in July.")
6). And oh, yeah, Billie Joe is short. Really short. Which makes me think that I've had this midget fixation for a long, long time. Hmmm...

So that's them. It was exorbitantly fun, if one can describe fun as being exorbitant. I think we are seeing them again in San Francisco once we get there, just because, well, why not? It also made me pine for my future home, BPD included, and want to unmercifully make fun of Williamsburg. Ha ha.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Mahna Mahna

Yo bitches. I'm back. I know I didn't post for a while, but I've had massive computer problems, let me tell you. I haven't had an I, a K, an 8, or a , for the past week, so typing anything is a problem. As a matter of fact, my home computer still doesn't have those characters working, so I am at school.

But, bitches, I got a whole lot of shit to discuss, so let's get down to it.

Things I wants to discuss:
1) the high literary readings of my Terrorism class, who can all go to Hell, because I've tried reasoning with them, and well, it's just come to this
2) the fact that Russian people are weird, and that, all heritage questions aside, no one should wear a mullett. Years lived under the veil of communism are no excuse, missy.
3) getting older is going to suck, and I am scared shitless at the prospect of it

So let's get right down to it. Today in Terrorism, we discussed Boris Akunin's The Winter Queen, which is really delightful even if I am required by law to say that because my fiance did his honors thesis on it. The book is centered on this whole detective/international intrigue idea, but is just delightfully written. So of course, my class had problems with it. Too easy, they said. A beach read, some yelled. And I say in loud voice and with teeth glinting: FUCK YOU, YOU PRETENTIOUS SWINE! These people, seriously, have no clue. Akunin's book is simple, I'll give you that, but it is deceptively so (which is what my lovely professor said in his lovely kiss-my-Phd-you-pimple-faced-asshats way). I mean, seriously, I consider myself to have relatively high reading tastes. But I love low stuff too. And let me tell you, this was not a low-brow read. These people need to get their heads out of their asses and get off the ivory tower and realize that people who are not Fyodor fuckin' Dostoevsky can write too. In fact, some of the greatest books in the English language are those books that are deceptively simple--The Catcher in the Rye, The Bell Jar, Atonement, all the Sherlock Holmes stuff just to name a few. So get off it people. Fuck yourself with a cheese grater, and then get off it, you pretentious assholes.

(Straightens shirt, takes a drink of water, calms down.)

And of course the loudest, most pretentious people who had to shout out their discontents are these two Russian girls. Now, this is bad because I am probably going to live there at some point, but if these two are representative of the whole of the Russian people, I am up shit creek without the proverbial means of transport. They are shrill, and a little bit ignorant, and worst of all, one of them has a feathered mullett. Swear to god. I sit behind her, and it's just a party back there, let me tell you. So I am led to say...If you want to make a good argument that you expect me to believe, cut your mullett first. This goes for everyone. I don't take the book recommendations of someone whose hair style is as culturally repugnant as one could possibly go without turning into Bono circa 1985. Just a word of advice.

So at this point, having exhausted my anger, I am going to write about what I really meant to write about today, which was my overwhelming fear of getting older. Today I (illegally) parked in the faculty/staff lot, mostly out of laziness. And as I was walking to class, I get behind a professor's wife, who I know, and who is teaching classes here. And all I can think is, This could be me someday. Some little woman wearing this strange billowy shirt who is married to some genius type figure, but is really, on her own, nothing more than someone who if I saw and didn't know, might think is a little bit kooky. And I say....oh, shit. Because I'm thinking, all this time, I've thought that getting older would be ok if one is smart and happy and didn't cut their hair in that strange pointy, mussed up hair style that all middle aged women get. But then I just saw this woman, just really saw her and I thought...she has long hair...she has a smart man...and she's still a middle aged woman. Oh dear lord. You cannot escape it. Unless I get hit by a bus after I write this, I'm going to get older. I'm getting older all the time. And someday, I am going to be an irrelevant middle-aged woman who is bitchy to the waitress at restaurants and who sighs a lot and reads Danielle Steel novels. I am being carried kicking and screaming into an existence that won't allow me to stay like this forever, and who insists that I change. And I'm scared totally shitless, and it's not cool, and I just want to go to bed with a layer of Oil of Olay on my face and hope that it staves off the laugh lines for a few extra years. Sigh. (See--it's already starting...)

Top Ten Things, that I, Morgan, being of sound mind and body, refuse to do when I do become a middle aged woman:
1). Cut my hair. I don't care ifI do end up looking like a witch, I am not going to look like little Susie Soccer-mom with the blunt cut hair that requires a bottle of gel to reach maximum pointiness (you know what I'm talking about).
2). Wear a rain poncho on vacation. I'd rather be wet than look that stupid.
3). Wear high waisted, tapered leg pants.
4). Scream at waiters and waitresses.
5). Use the word "estrogen" in conversation.
6). Read Dan Brown novels (ok, I know that is a bit pretentious, and goes against what I was saying before, but even I have my standards, low as they may be).
7). Drink sugar-free, decaf frappuccinos.
8). Go on a diet that totally eliminates one of the major food groups.
9). Have any sort of plastic surgery or Botox, because even though I don't want to look like a toad, neither do I want to look like a really surprised toad.
10). Listen to anything that can be qualified as "soft rock" or has been covered or sung by Rod Stewart.
And an extra one to grow on...
11). Wear shorts and sneakers to a nice restaurant because I am on vacation, and I can do anything I goddamn want to! Yes, I live in a tourist town. Yes, it blows monkey cock.

I'm still totally freaked out by this idea, but I'm just kind of rambling on and on, and this thing is so fucking long. So I'm going to go. Hopefully, my computer will get the Lord and become better and I can start posting from home. Until then, have a good un!

Friday, April 15, 2005


Just found this and it elicited a couple of responses from me. 1) Is K-Fed growing a mullet? Oh dear God, yes, please let it be true. Now that Billy Ray Cyrus has faded into oblivion, this country neeeds a mulleted man in order to even everything out. 2) Baskin Robbins--not quite Brit quality, I think. My Brit deserves Cold Stone. Further, I heard that before Brit and K-Fed went in the ice cream place, they realized they had no cash. So the evil papparazi gave them $10 so they could get their fix. So I ask. Why doesn't no over ever offer me $10 for some food. I neeeed it. For me to get $10, I'd probably have to put on a French maid outfit and sing the Marseilles while getting spanked. Seriously. Oh, to be a celebrity. Sigh.  Posted by Hello

An Open Invitation for Hungry People

All the discussions of my moving to California and of my girl Britney's white-trashtasticness has made me start pining for the ole homeland. To make matters worse, I watched some show on the Food Network last night where this big bosomed Southern woman was making popcorn balls and talking about her granny. Awww... So, I'm in the mood to fix some of my good old fashioned favorites (it says a lot about me that in order for me to feel a kinship with my homeland, I have to eat mass quantities of rich, buttery food). I want some chicken and dumplins, some fried chicken, some potato salad with hard boiled eggs and sweet pickles, a few deviled eggs, a big ole plate full of my excellent mashed potatoes (I swear, they are that good), and a few biscuits with sweet butter. I want a goddamned rhubarb pie. The thing is, though, to fix these big meals, you've gotta have a lot of people eating. So I'm taking applications for some eaters. I need people to come see me and make yummy noises and use the word "ya'll" in conversation. This would make me feel better. So send me a note, and I'll throw a slice of pie your way.

Britney's publicist is now saying that she didn't say it was a girl, that they misquoted her and that she and Brit are seeking legal action. Gee whiz. All it did was make us all excited that there was a chance that we wouldn't have another K-Fed running around. But, to be fair, we need to consider some male names as well. I'm thinking...

1) Cletus
2) Marlboro
3) Jason. Or Alexander. Double your choices there.
4) Federguy. Federguy Federline. I like that one. And it would be easy for Britney to remember. She's so busy, you know.
5) Chuck
6) Louis. Named for the great state of Louisiana of course.
7) Justice. I mean, you don't want to come right out and name it Justin, and if you change it like that, the guy who should (if the planets were not aligned against us all) be the daddy will be honored. Seriously.
8) Anything that ends in two e's. Johnee, Timee, Davee, Rickee. I smell an MTV reality show!

Further, a British tabloid is reporting that Britney will return to work three months after the birth. I know I'll sleep better tonight knowing that I'll get to hear all new lip-syncing sooner than I thought. And just think...it'll be about motherhood. Sigh.

And to all who didn't know it, my mom is cool. She told me this morning that she's got to restart Anna Karenina, but she's going to do it after she makes some chicken salad and some iced tea, because that's much more important. I love my mom.

Have a good un! I'm sure I'll be back later with more goodies for ya. Because I've got my eye on Brit, and will leave no false tabloid unturned in my quest for the pseudo-truth.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

The time has come, the walrus said, to consider names for the Federchild

It's a girl, bitches. Which is probably better, you know. Then Britney can dress it in capris and not run the risk of having her child on gofugyourself.

And I hear she's considering the name Aurora. Sure, it sounds like a part of the breast. But see, I think it's ok. First off, Britney doesn't know it's a part of the breast, in fact, she probably doesn't even know that the scientific name for the body part is not "Can Cans." But more importantly, that was Sleeping Beauty's name. And if I remember correctly, Sleeping Beauty left her parents immediately following her birth and went to live with three kindly godmothers who sheltered her until her 16th birthday. Which would be an agreeable fate for the Federchild if you ask me.

But you know, we should help Britney come up with names, because you know, she's just so busy with the baby and Bit Bit and writing poetry and taking the laces out of K-Fed's shoes. So I'm thinking:

1. Keverella
2. Justine
3. Ima (as in Ima Federline--she should be proud of her manpri wearing roots!)
4. Bobbie Jo Lynn (and there should be a hyphen in there somewhere)
5. Blue Ribbon
6. Scarlet Toro
7. Keverline (IT RHYMES WITH FEDERLINE! THAT IS LIKE SO COOL!)
8. Anything that ends with two e's--Ashlee, Jamee, Rosee, Pattee, etc.

This is so much fun. I'm totally in the mood to eat some cheetos and pop out some babies. More later.

This is bar none the best church sign ever. Someone very witty goes to Canyon View Assembly. Posted by Hello
My busy, wretched day is almost over. I got both papers done, managed to make my meeting with the geology professor, and made intelligent comment in Terrorism class. Quite an improvement for a day that started with me having to plunge the toilet.

So. When I get home, I am going to throw down like no other. And when I say "throw down," I mean, literally "throw my body down and watch mindless television until I get bedsores or are flipped by a kindly soul who doesn't want me to get bedsores." I am sick of high culture right now: I have written one paper on Milton and another on Yeats and it is time for some good old fashioned VH1 watching.

But I did watch L&O last night. What the fuck? They're carrying it over until Friday, so I now have to watch that harpie Bebe Neuwirth (or some such) say the word "questions" which is like the fingernails of Milton's satan (Book 1 Satan, mind you) scratching down the blackboard of Hell. In order to find out if my main man Det. Greene is going to pull through I have to watch a show that is even beneath me. Sad, sad, I know. Damn you NBC.

And I also watched part of The Daily Show, and I can't get this montage of images during Ed Helms's segment out of my mind, to the point where I crack up laughing no matter what I'm doing. So, if you get the chance, scurry over to the Daily Show's website and check and see if you can download it. I haven't checked yet myself, but they usually have segments up for download, if I remember correctly. It concerns why Muslim people hate Americans. It's hi-fuckin'-larious.

Well, I should go to Milton and turn in this paper. I'll be back: don't you worry, my little munchkins. Once I get home, the blazer will come off, the ironic-Britneyesque t-shirt will go on, and I'll be so far into low culture, you'll need a flippin' submarine to find me.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

"You should never mourn bad poets."--Prof. Savage, badass Milton man and fellow Britney lover

So. As I sit here, pondering the beauty of Miltonic verse, I am reminded of another great poet that I should share with you uncultured beasts:

The Honeymoon Poem
By Britney Spears

A honeymoon at last, to get away from it all
My assistant Fe gave me the call.

I remember it well, as she was smilin'
She said it was called Turtle Island.

I packed my bags light and quick,
Then grabbed my pink dress & favorite lipstick.

We hopped on a plane and took our flight
I slept really well, all through the night.

As we arrive, I turn and look out the door,
People are greeting us right at the shore.

A meal, a shower and some ice cream
Then I threw my man down, you know what I mean!

Magical nights filled with stars
Silence is golden, no running cars.

Private dinners, romantic fires
Little piece of heaven, whatever your heart desires.

Friendly "hellos" and never goodbyes
When you're having fun, oh, how time flies!

As we sit and prepare to make our part
I thank you, Turtle Island, with all my heart!

(wipe that smirk off your face, I'm not shitting you, Kathleen)

Here, it is evident that Britney's rhyming couplet style, reminiscent of the lines used in early Romantic poetry (actually...), is meant to create a friendly, relaxed atmosphere. The mood is also created through the use of explanation points. Moreover, Britney's use of language, most pointedly her description of "ice cream" before the veiled reference to coital love, indicates a deceptively simple style that is not easily categorized.

Yes, I've been in college way too long. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for Ms. Spears. But that doesn't change my love for her one iota. I can forgive her bad poetry as long as she remains my BFF foreva and eva. LOVE YA BRIT!!!

How to Be Cool Like Me, Part 1

So in the midst of the excitement over the Federfetus, no one seemed to notice that Hania Barton, Mischa's sister, is trying to become a rock star. So I thought that I would type up a guide for the less talented siblings of famous people, a guide that could help them on their quest for stardom. Why am I qualified, you ask? For one, I am a brunette, like many of these struggling sisters are. Also, and more importantly, my stepsister was once Miss Coeburn, and anyone who grew up in a small town knows that being Miss Coeburn is much more interesting to Coeburn residents than getting a record deal or saving the world from nuclear doom. So, I too am a sister of royalty.

The Southern Comforted Guide to Becoming Famous by Riding Coattails
1) Know your audience. For example, Haylie Duff's look is a lot less Disney channel and a lot more Debbie's Drag Queen Delight. So, Haylie, try out for an all drag review. No one has to know that you are really a woman (you are, aren't you?).
2) Eat. Mary Kate, honey, it's not good to be known as the Starving One when one is competing with a sibling. So, I want you to get your scrawny malnourished ass to my house, because honey, I make the best goddamned mashed potatoes on the East Coast. Seriously. I'm not being sarcastic. They are damn fine spuds, if I do say so myself.
3) If your sibling is famous, you have at least a little money don't you? Great. Don't dress like a homeless person. Ok? I know the Olsen twins do it (yes, once again I'm looking at you, Mary Kate), but when I see you on the pages of Us Weekly, I want to think, "Wow, she's looking better than that washed up sister of hers," not "Get out my checkbook, I'm going to have to send this chick some cash."
4) Make sure you can actually do what you are trying to become famous with. Like, it might have been smart for Ashlee Simpson to make sure that she could sing before she actually started trying to do it. Not criticizing, I'm just saying. Paris Hilton is famous for absolutely no reason, maybe you could be too.
5) Be the total opposite of your famous sister. And yes, this goes beyond dying your hair brown. It gets hard sometimes, but seriously, you can do it. For example, if your sister is Britney Spears, you might consider bathing sometime. That's why I like that spunky Jamie-Lynn. I love my Britney with a little dirt on her, but when I see that sweet little Jamie on her own Nickelodean show with no exposed thongs and not one open bottle of Pabst anywhere, it endears her to me even more. Keep up the good work, Jamie Lynn.
6) Oh, and don't make commercials for those IceBreakers Liquid Ice things. The world will thank you for it.

Well, I should go. I finished my IRA paper amazingly, but now I have to write a bit on Milton who I have a very interesting love/hate relationship with. I would discuss that on here, but you'd rather read about Britney wouldn't you? That's what I thought.

I wonder if we could get this on a onesie? Could be a great baby shower present for the Federfetus. Posted by Hello

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Well, shit fire and save on matches...Cousin Britney's done got herself with child!!!

IT'S OFFICIAL! BREAK OPEN THE NEAR BEER AND PASS THE CHEETOS!

Dear Fans,
The time has finally come to share our wonderful news that we are expecting our first child together. There are reports that I was in the hospital this weekend, Kevin and I just want everyone to know that all is well. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.
Love,
Britney & Kevin
(stolen from www.britneyspears.com)

I, personally, am just so, so thrilled for the parents to be. I mean, just when I thought my life couldn't get any better...it does. I mean, c'mon Britney, let's think about all the things we can do together. We can go shopping and buy the baby cleverly written onesies (I've always thought that Rock Out with Your Huggies Out would be soooo precious! Esp. with babe-pris!!!). We can eat all the cheese on our fries that we want. We can laugh and fill out your baby book together (although I don't think you should tell the baby that it was conceived while watching Burt Reynolds movies and drinking Boones Farm...not that I don't think that's priceless). OOO OOO! Madonna can be the godmother! How totally awesome. You can have a Kabbalah birth!!! Oh, honey, you better stop me. My mind's just a-goin' wild with the thought of it all. I better sit down.

Well, have a good un, guys. I know I'll sleep better tonight knowing that my prayers have been answered (if I get to sleep at all). The paper still nips so gently at my heels.

Let's all just take a moment, and remember her the way she would want to be remembered. Free and unencumbered by thhe pressures of the Federfetus.  Posted by Hello

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!

Ok, I know I should be doing my paper, but the fucking IRA can wait because this is just big, big, big news. Sit down. You're going to need to.

Britney is in the hospital. According to PageSixSixSix, Britney has been hospitalized since Sunday night.

Oh, Britney. Why didn't you tell me? Is it the Federfetus that troubles you so? Are you getting cured off of the Wild Turkey? Or is it the Red Bull addiction, finally exposed for all the world to see? Oh, Britney. I want you to listen to me. It'll be ok. Bit Bit will be ok. You'll get through this. I mean, you're going to be walking to the 7-11 in no time. Right? Oh, look. I got a smile. Chin up, baby, chin up.

So this means K-Fed is trolling around unsupervised. We better get someone on that STAT. This nation's innocence could be in danger. With no Britney, this man represents mass chaos. There will be manpri wearing, mass shoelace burning, COLT 45 WILL RUN IN THE STREETS. Arm yourself, me fellow citizens. Until Britney is released, no one is safe.

And yes, I know this is my fourth post on a day when I have an incredible amount of shit to do. Expect more gentle readers. I report from the frontlines.

See? Aren't our action figures better? Wouldn't you rather play with a gushing head wounded Abel than some funny looking Moses whose upper body is twice the size of his lower body? Oh, I know you would. Don't deny.  Posted by Hello

Onward Christian Soldiers!

So apparently, there's this company that is marketing Christian action figures as a way of making some cash, but teaching kids some righteousness along the way. You can go to cnn.com and read about it, or you can just take my snarky word for it. So I thought it might be fun to think of some good action figures for the company to make. I got Matt in on it, and pretty soon we had come up with a slew of them, and had wasted a whole shitload of time, especially (ahem, Matt) those of us who are getting paid to do something other than be snarky. Here are some of the highlights. I've denoted Matt's ideas with two -- (instead of my one -) so he gets proper credit. As you can see, he has much better biblical knowledge than I do.

Christian Action Figures, designed by Morgan and Matt
--God action figure, with realistic "wrath of God" strike-down-thine-enemies action
--Lazarus with "risen from the dead" action (not sure how that would work, but they could drive it home by making him look hideously decomposed...although biblically, that didn't happen, I'm sure it wouldn't stop them)--which teaches children that death is no big deal, 'cause if you're a good little Christian, then you'll just be resurrected
--leper action figure, with real, working leprosy--can be tossed out a window to live on the outskirts of civilization (they're lucky they get that), which serves as a metaphor for what Christians should do to all thosewho they deem "unclean", i.e. homosexuals, non-Christians, liberals, etc. (DAMN MATT!)
--"real Christian" Jesus - comes complete with scissors and resume building kit, so that hippie Jesus can cut his hair and get a real job
--Jesus on the cross (cross playset sold separately-$39.95) - the mutilated body of Christ comes with real crown of thorns, gaping spear wound, and realistic flowing blood action when you squeeze his nail punctured hands, (extra blood packets are sold separately-$9.95/pack of 2; n.b. not compatible with gushing Abel figure, who requires non-blood of Christ packets-$9.95/pack of 3). I hear they’re planning a theatrical re-release of the unedited version of The Passion of the Christ to coincide with this product’s arrival in a Wal-Mart near you. A limited supply of these figures will be hand-signed by Mel Gibson, complete with certificate of authenticity (Once again, wow, darling)
-Eve Barbie with realistic apple-biting action
-Jesus Loaves and Fishes action set with scratch and sniff fish
-Satan action figure riding a donkey
-Terry Schiavo angel figure with permanent feeding tube that cannot be taken out no matter how many activist judges you've got (try it bitch, just come on and try it)
-Abel doll with realistic gushing head wound (because sin sells)
-Bathsheba with a real bathtub that you can sit on top of a house and then knock her off the house and kill her, that godless harlot
-Goliath, wearing leather assless chaps. That shows us that all men in leather are gay and can be killed with sling shots. Doesn't it?
-Herod with baby-killing action. He also speaks French.
-Mary Magdelene, but you keep her away from Jesus. That talking about them shacking up...that's just crazy talk.

Well, I thought you might like that. Send on more ideas, if you've got them. And let the moral of this story be this: parents, don't send your kids to too many revivals. They could end up as sarcastic, cynical 22 year olds who live in sin and watch violent television.

Have a good un!

You say you want a revolution?

Hello ya'll. I can't write much today...I am supposed to be writing a paper about the IRA right now. But I am fueled by the hate of those beings who have subjected me to their pretentiousness and dickdom and overall bad karma. So, I'm writing them a letter. Read it and weep at my troubles.

An open letter to my fellow students in Terrorism class:
How are you doing? Good I hope. I think we all just had a fun time talking about Israel and Palestine.
The trouble is, I feel like we're all acting like dumbasses. Oh, don't worry Mr. I'm-just-playing-a-role guy. Your facts were right on target. But, you know, you kinda acted like a dick when you were saying them. The thing is, you're not hardly as smart as you think you are. I'm sorry--here's a tissue. You kinda came off as a pretentious ass. I mean, you took harmless little questions, and turned them into novel-length replies that didn't really answer anything. Sorry.
And you, Mr. I-use-the-word-existential-to describe-every-piece-of-literature-I-read-dude. You need to calm down. It's not cool to say you are going to ask a question and then just make vague statements that you say are logically correct, but in reality are just kind of barely comprehensible. Do you understand? Sorry, I'll talk slower: You. Need. To. Shut. Up. (not existentially of course). Further, Jack McCoy can't make statements in a court of law and say it's a question. The judge doesn't let him by with it. And you shouldn't get by either.
What I'm trying to say is: Let's all just have fun, and talk about literature and films. Let's not have an intellectual pissing contest every Tuesday and Thursday. For some of us, it's just not fun. I mean, you know how we all feel better on those days when our lovely professor is not wearing tight jeans? It could be like that all the time, if we were just a little tad less douchelike. Think about it, guys.
Love and kisses,
Morg
P. S. Let's all consider going through a week without wearing a Russian house t-shirt. Might be fun. I mean, I'm proud of you that you know Russian. That's great. But you don't need to wear a shirt advertising the fact. I don't wear a shirt with The Wasteland on the back, do I?

Have a good un, my little pieces of baklava. I'll probably post more as time and writers' block dictates.

Monday, April 11, 2005

And one more thing...

Make sure you read the post after this in order to get your full Morg fix for today, because this is just a quick addendum.

Did you notice that no one posted a comment saying they knew someone on the Model UN team who was not a douche? Not a soul. And I was seriously going to take that non-douchelike person out to dinner. But there hasn't been one single remark by anyone to make me question my assertions. And it's been posted on this worldwide web of ours for quite a while now, let me tell you.

See, my little cheesecake bites, here we have tested, scientific proof. The International Relations club is made up of douches and asshats. Thank you for your cooperation.

And starring E. Z. Ryder as the Mayor

Ho hum. Tis the start of another week. And a busy week at that. I have two (count em') papers due on Thursday plus two books that require my attention plus all the major TV watching that neneds to get done (according to L&O Vanilla previews, Det. Greene gets shot this week! Gasp!!). But even that can't tear me away from you, my little lemon tartlets. No, my love for you is so strong and so deep that the demands of schoolwork and a life away from this computer pale in comparison. Sigh.

So it's time for some Questions...Legal Assistance Edition!

To Michael Jackson:
1) Have you seen the E! Reenactments of your trial? So entertaining. Does it flatter you that that kid will probably get a big break after playing you? I mean, his dour, blank expression is just amazing. He does you better than you do you, if you follow what I'm saying.
2) Did you really sleep with Machauley Culkin? Because I'll tell you a secret. For the first five minutes after I saw Saved!, I wanted to too. Oh it was the same for you and Home Alone? You bastard.
3) Are you aware that your lawyer has a large Persian cat on his head? Just asking.
4) Where do you get your medallions? It's hard to find good medallions these days. Especially for people who are worthy of honor, you know, like me and you.
5) Why do you let your dad hang out with you all the time? I mean, isn't he the reason why you're a little (let's face facts) kooky? Shouldn't you just send him back to Indiana where he belongs? Because I've been to Indiana, and believe me, they need him there.

To Kevin Federline, (here to after known as K Fed) who is going to need some legal assistance if he doesn't get his act together:
1) What the fuck are you doing? Oh fuck the questions: I've got some answers for this asshat.
Shut up dude. Just shut up. You've somehow managed to become the luckiest person on the face of the planet, because let's face it, everyone wants to marry into money, even liberal senators from Massachusetts. And, your money comes from a person who allows you to be seen in public in manpris and "Rock out with your Cock Out" hats. See? You're a lucky bastard. But you're fucking it up. Why? You're a dumbass. A complete, beltless, trucker hat wearing dumbass. Here's how to get it back on track:
1) Buy a belt. Hell, you've still got a meal ticket. Buy three.
2) Quit going to Vegas, unless you are going to see Wayne Newton, in which case it is totally excusable.
3) Repeat after me: I want this baby. I want Britven or Kevney. I want to be a good father to my oodles and oodles of children. Because seriously dude. If you keep going, you're going to be able to start your own colony of little Kevins. And if you have your own colony, it's better for them to be good citizens than douches like you.
4) Learn a trade. Be something other than Mr. Spears and a back-up dancer. The world needs you, Mr. Federline. (No, I can't believe I typed that either.)

Well, that's it for Questions: Legal Assistance Edition. If you know of anyone else who could benefit from my expertise, please post a comment. All questions will be answered, regardless of your ability to pay. I haven't watched 14 seasons of Law and Order for nothing.

Saturday, April 09, 2005


But sadly, I do not have enough midget friends to do this. This would make wasting time more fun. I am a sad, sad person. Posted by Hello

I have way too much time on my hands. Posted by Hello

Friday, April 08, 2005


I'm dedicating this post to two people: 1) Kathleen, who saved me from a day of VH1 and mass quantities of macaroni and cheese, and 2) Matt, my fiance, who does not understand my Britney fixation. To him, I say this: I love her because of my future career. Look at this woman. Can't you imagine her in a deep-fried southern short story? This woman would be married to a man named Big Boy Chisholm and she would have a whole host of children named after different kinds of beer. Imagine little Bud, little Miller, little Blue Ribbon! And she would nefariously be having an affair with every man in town, making the town question their own sexualities and loves and all those great literary ideals. You see, my friends? This woman is a Nobel Prize waiting to be written. Posted by Hello

Thursday, April 07, 2005

I've finally found an issue that I care about:


Ok. I want you to look at this. Who do you think designed this? For all of you who are betting on my pretty blonde stepsister and are laughing in my face because she did make something of herself after all, guess again (even though that was my first reaction, as well). Nikki Hilton designed this. I am not kidding. She of annulled marriages, brown hair and more moo-la that God designed this abomination. And I ask: Why is she not in prison right now? Help me end this sweatsuit insanity. ILLEGALIZE SWEATSUITS!!! Posted by Hello

To Nikki Hilton:
1) Why, Nikki, why? What did Paris do to you? Did she burn you with her crack pipe? Oh, Nikki. It's ok. She can't hurt you now. Your cry for help has been heard.
2) Is your hair really brown? Because I think I pioneered the whole edgy brunette sister thing. You owe me royalties unless you can prove that that's the honest to god brown stuff.
3) Why wasn't I invited to your wedding? Oh, you'd rather not talk about that? I thought you'd love to discuss the one moment in time when you were more interesting than Paris. That's not a very nice hand gesture, Nikki. I'll shut up now.

I've got to hurry...I've got this thing at the Israeli embassy at 12...

Ok, so I don't have a "thing" with anyone, much less the Israeli prime minister, so I've got pretty much all the time in the world to sit here and type out a long rant complete with some questions for one of my favoritest people in the world. What can I say? I've got no life. I have never been to an embassy, I have no desire to ever go to Israel, I don't use the word "existential" in normal conversation, the fate of world peace does not rest firmly on my shoulders. I am a nobody, a complete and utter nobody. But here's a secret: It's fun.

That brings me to my rant, or rather my question to the world. Why don't we stop taking ourselves so seriously? We're all nobodies, pretty much. I don't care how many embassies you've been to or how many Georgian documentaries you've seen...you're not that great. I've seen you. I know. You're still some schmuck in a 9:30 class or on a free blogger account who thinks it is ok to lord your massive worldly experience like it is some sort of scepter that gives you the far-reaching power to be a dick. It's not. Here's a clue (for everyone, not just for you, and you know who I am referring to, Mr. Model Un-er in the blue shirt): We all don't matter much. It is 77 degrees outside, and we should be enjoying it, not talking about what happened when that ambassador gave us that private screening of that important propagandistic film. Ok? Is that alright? Can we just all accept that we're not the linch pin that keeps this world together? Can we have some fun? Can we just read some books and smile and eat good food and go about our business without having to hear about that time that you went to Ireland and lost your passport? We'd appreciate it. And who knows? We might make the world a better place after all.

And no, Mr. Blue shirt, I'm not jealous of your massive experience or your dickdom. I'm just a concerned citizen (with a heart of ash).

And now for the more fun part of our time together. Question time!

To Britney Federline, who I adore:
1) Is your marriage on the rocks? It's ok. You can cry on my shoulder. You can take the back-up dancer out of the back, but you can't take the back out of the back-up dancer. And I think you know what I'm referring to.
2) Are you pregnant? Who do you miss more: the Bud Lights or the man who gave you his seed and then went to Vegas? It's ok. I'll wait while you think about it.
3) What are my chances of getting another picture of you bare foot at the 7-11?
4) Why did you dye your hair? Because I'll tell you a secret: Blondes really do have more fun. I looked today, and there is not one single blonde in my terrorism class. The blondes are all out listening to music by you and frolicking. Wouldn't that be fun? It's almost as fun as using to word "frolicking."
5) Do you want some more cheese on those fries?
6) Why do you need a family meeting to discuss your dogs doing it? Were you lying to the press so they wouldn't know that they were right and you were wrong and that your marriage really is going to dissolve like a packet of Kool-Aid in the pitcher of water? You sneaky girl. And no, you can't have some Kool-Aid. I didn't make any, I was making a simile to describe--oh never mind.
7) Do you think you could get a trucker hat with "Baby on Board" on it? Wouldn't that rock?
8) Did you hear Justin is going to play in an action movie with Bruce Willis? Yeah, his career keeps going and going. Stop rocking back and forth, Britney. I didn't mean to say the J-word.
9) Did you know that if you eat enough Cheeto's while you are pregnant, the baby looks like a Cheeto? No, I'm not shitting you Britney. Watch out.
10) Do you still have that BFF necklace I gave you?

Have a good un! Frolic and play, my little mini muffins. The Israeli embassy can wait.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Get over here! I've got some questions for you!

I just realized how much my title makes me sound like Mr. Belding. So be a real suck-up, Jessie Spano, and answer these questions for me.

1) Who started telling people (esp. middle aged women) that wearing sweatpants in public is ok? Because I think we should have had a vote. This is a democracy, you know. And I think I speak for all of the non-blind citizens in this country when I say that this is an epidemic that needs to be stopped.
2) Do you know anyone in the International Relations club who is not a douche? Because I don't. Seriously. Please post a comment if you do, because I want to take that non-douchelike Model UN-er out to dinner. And it will be somewhere nice. More on this later.
3) Do you have any Nick Hornby books laying around that you don't want? Could you send them my way? I am in love with the man. Seriously. And I know I'm about 10 years too late in discovering this fine fella. I don't get out much. More on this later, also.
4, possibly pertaining to 3) If you have a baby by a British man, will it automatically have bad teeth?
5) Does the AA group still meet in BAM on Wednesdays? I am thinking of this for odd reasons.

So back to question 2. I don't want to offend people, but people on the Model UN team really are the most pretentious dicks. Look, we know you beat some German kids and some people from UNC-Charlotte and won some competition. But we don't care. I don't really care about the real UN, much less the fake one. So shut up. I know it's hard, but shut your goddamned piehole. Oh and just so you know, a hometown zip code that is close to Washington DC does not give you infinite knowledge of American foreign policy. Mull that one around for a while, douchebag.

Because really, Model UN people are just better dressed Dungeons and Dragons people. They all pretend to do something all day, and expect the world to give a damn. And we don't. A fantasy life is a fantasy life, whether you fantasize about faerie worlds or Kofi Annan.

And no, I'm not jealous. My heart is just made of ash.

Over the weekend, when I was of course, not saving the world from impending nuclear doom, I read Nick Hornby's The Polysyllabic Spree, which is totally delightful and explains my current giggly schoolgirl crush. Further, now I am keeping a log of books bought and read, and guess what my little apple dumplings? You're going to get to read about it at month's end! Yea!

And finally, questions for Tom DeLay:
1) I belong to the culture of death! Can I have your soul? Mwah hah hah hah. It will go well with the ground up baby legs I am eating tonight! Because life is not sacred to me! I Heart death! Without a God to cling to, I am a cannibalistic death-lover.
2) Seriously. Is that what you think your opponents are like? Jesus man. You need to get laid.

Saturday, April 02, 2005

I. Love. Midgets.


I loved this picture so much, that not only did I make it the background image on my fiance's computer, but I also learned how to do this complicated picture-adder to my blog. Posted by Hello

So be on the look out for more pictures, and more questioning, because my next set of questions are going to be for you, my little pierogies. So look alive, and come back ready to quench my the thirst for knowledge that torments my soul.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Today is my actual day off, so I can lay here feeling wretched, but not totally guilty for skipping class. I am watching Designing Women, which I love for its very southern-ness, but it's a post shark jumping episode and Delta Burke is not on it, so it's not that fun. Because let's face it here: Delta Burke is awesome in her chubbiness. Her work in the Lifetime movie where her son beat her up was unparalelled and I am still captivated by her storybook marriage to Major Dad. Are they still together? I only wish the best for those lovebirds!!!

So in the spirit of yesterday's questions to Ashlee Simpson, I have a few more questions for the various personalities I have seen on TV and in the news lately.

To Sean Hannity:
1) Were you abused as a child? You can tell me. It's ok. Is that when they shoved that huge 2x4 up your rectum? I'm so sorry. That explains why you've never had (ahem) intimate relations.

To Alan Colmes:
1) Do you have a backbone? Seriously. I'd like you to check. I'll wait.
2) If I give you $5 (It'll have to be in quarters), will you fight Hannity to the death? Here's a hint: When he goes to pray, jackhammer him. Works every time.

To Britney Federline:
1) I know you're mad at the media, but could you walk down to the 7-11 barefoot again and let them get a picture? That really toasts my waffle. More points to you if there is an exposed thong.
2) Can your husband tie his shoes? Check. Hint: If you want to have children with a man, it's always good to make sure they're not retarded. At least buy the guy some velcro.
3) Is People magazine "really ok" in your book? Because it's ok in my book too! That makes us sisters, right? Or at least BFF's?

To Trey Parker and Matt Stone:
1) Can I be your friend? I'm being serious here. I want to be your friend. If you let me, I'll give you both a BFF necklace, and when the time comes, I'll do all your major decision making.
But seriously. You're both geniuses and you proved that to me last night.

To Randall Terry, James Dobson, and Jerry Falwell:
1) Jesus told me that he loved you and wants you in heaven. Will you heed his call? There's some Kool-Aid on your dresser. Drink up!

To the Cable News Networks:
1) You've just had your own feeding tubes removed with the end of this whole Schiavo thing. Can you start reporting about the news now? What about that country that--you know, that place where we had that thing with that guy?--we are at war with? What's going on there? I know it's not really that important, especially when there are lots of crazy people with pictures of aborted fetuses who want their pictures taken, but I'd just like to know, you know, how many people we killed today. I'm just loco that way, I guess.

To Billie Joe Armstrong:
1) I'm moving to Berkeley in July. Can you teach my boyfriend how to wear eyeliner like that? Yummy.

Have a good un! Barring any blogger breakdowns, the questioning will continue.