Smells Fishy

A new cream has been created, and is now available over-the-counter, that skillfully removes and prevents Male Genital Odor (MGO).

I can appreciate the concept, really I can. But, there is a reason we have a sense of smell ... it's for protection. If things smell nice, yay, we gravitate toward it. If things smell bad, we stay the hell away, because it might hurt us. If your naughty bits smell horrendous, you don't need a odor removing cream, you need to get your ass to the doctor and get your pinga examined. Don't trick me with penis-perfume. That isn't right.

And, the same thing goes for the ladies, fellas. Despite what you've heard, Va-Jay-Jay is not supposed to smell like fish. If it does, tell your lady-friend to make a trip to the gyno. I'm not saying that there's a disease a-brewin', but it's work a check up.

Fragrances designed for the genital area are unnatural. No ones Whoo-Haa smells like roses. But, if you're a friend of a terrific invention called soap, all should be well.

Enough Already!

I am so through with has-been models claiming that they were the first supermodel!

Now, Janice Dickinson (t0 the left) has always claimed she was the first, and I'm not going to dispute that because bitch is crazy, and I'm not trying to get on her bad side. But, I must dispute Carol Alt's claim.

I was watching The Celebrity Apprentice which premiered earlier this week, and Ms. Alt was introduced as the first supermodel. Um, no. Please stop.

Yes, you're beautiful. Yes, you were a big hit in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Yes, you're a health guru promoting the raw food movement, and all that jazz. But, that does not a supermodel make.

Carol, you must meet one (or more) of the following criteria to be considered a supermodel: 1. You slept with half the men in Hollywood, and weren't sure which one fathered your child (and mentioned it in your no-holds-barred tell-all book), 2. You were consistently cast in all George Michael videos in the 1990s, 3. You've been arrested for pelting your cellphone at your assistant, 4. Have a perfectly placed facial mole.

Which leads me to the question, why is Niki Taylor hosting a show on becoming a supermodel? She was on the cover of Seventeen millions of times and was a CoverGirl ... I don't recall Armani, Jean Paul Gautier or Versace begging her to model on their runways. I'm confused.

Happy 2008!

Pammy, do you really expect me to believe that Chanel created the atrocity that you're wearing? Because it looks like you just glued that "Chanel" patch onto a large tank top. I've seen better counterfeit patch work on bootleg bags being sold on CoCo Canal Street. And from the look on your face, I don't think you like the outfit either.

Oh, and it's been over a decade, we all know you have big ta-tas. The gimmick is getting old (as are you), so please do us all a favor and cover those bitches up.

Happy new year everyone! Wishing you a safe, happy and healthy year!

Now, I have lots to write about (JohnPaul was here for almost 2 weeks, so you can imagine the debauchery that occurred), but I want to discuss it with my therapist before I expose it all to you guys. Stay tuned!

What was I thinking?

Everything scares me, so I was quite surprised with myself when I decided to watch the new A & E show, Paranormal State (PS). PS is a reality show involving this group of Penn State students who started an organization that investigates paranormal activity. I was under the impression that PS would be similar to Vh1's Celebrity Paranormal Project or Mtv's Fear. I was wrong.

The premiere episode was about a family that moved to a new house and now their young son sees dead people. So, they called the students to conduct an investigation. Oh. Hell. No.

When a little kid wakes up in the middle of the night and stands in your doorway, waiting for you to wake up, that is unsettling. Being told by your son at breakfast that he couldn't sleep the night because some dead kid was tapping at his window ... that is f--king CRAZY! You don't investigate crazy. You pack your shit up and you leave. Then you hug your son, and tell him not to speak of this again.

In the second episode, a newly single mother and her son moved to a new house (I sense a pattern), and they believe it is haunted. Really? You think the house is haunted? You mean, the friggin' cemetary in your backyard didn't tip you off?

You know what was really messed up - after they bought the house, the previous owner give the mother a copy of an article stating that a family of 6 was brutally murdered in the home years ago. Ooooh snap! And, guess where they're buried ... no, seriously guess ... I'll give you a second ... la la la la ... IN THE BACKYARD!

How badly do you want to be a home owner, that you buy a house with the family still in it?

Needless to say, I had a problem sleeping that night. And, I do plan to watch the show next week. Call me a masochist.

Happy Holidays!

It's that time of year again. Cold weather, greedy children, and disappointment. Ahhhh, I love Christmas.

This year I plan to have all my shopping done before the big day. Instead of what I usually do, which is tell everyone I celebrate 3 Kings Day (January 6th), just so I can benefit from the after-Christmas sales.

Speaking of the 3 Kings, do you think the other two were pissed when the 3rd one said he bought gold for the baby messiah? I mean, the other guys brought frankincense and myrrh. I'm sure one of them was like, "Dude! We said there was a $20 limit. What the hell!"

Dear Public Transportation Rider

Dear Public Transportation Rider,

I support and encourage change. I really do. But for the love of all humanity, why must you decide that rush hour, on mass transit, is the best time to change your cell phone ringtone?

I realize choosing between the Halloween-Michael Meyers theme song, and Ode to Joy is a difficult decision. But 100 hundred strap-hangers, in a crowded NYC train/bus, don't want to be with you when you make your choice. Turn your cell phone off and read Metro or AM. I don't want to hear your cell!

Plus, does it matter what the ringtone is? Your cell won't ring in the subway ... ass.

What the Hell of the Moment

What the hell is up with people sending forwards via text message?

Hey! I don't even want forwards when they are free and sent to my email address. What the hell makes you think I want to pay 5 cents for one on my cell phone?

Please stop.

If you truly feel that I am an angel sent from heaven/one of your best friends/whatever the hell else the forward says, just call me and tell me.

To the Moon and Back

In 1969 astronauts supposedly landed on the moon.

Well then, riddle me this: why haven't we gone back there to visit?

Hey, if the landing really happened, then it shouldn't be a problem to go back. Especially now with 21st century technology.

Someone oughtta go back and check to see if the American flag is still a-waving.

Plus, why do we have a space station floating in space, when the moon has some prime, and available, real estate?

What the Hell of the Moment

What the hell is up with smokers on the move; Those people that walk and smoke at the same time.

I'm not one of those people that walks up to smokers and tells them to quit; unless your names are Fred and Liz. If you want to die a horrible death with the added bonus of bad skin and teeth, that is on you. Puff away, my friend. Alls I'm saying is, stay in one frigging spot while you smoke.

My mother has a tendency of making her rounds through the apartment with a lit cigarette. All the damned smoke makes it look like she's in Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video. Mom, stay in one room. No one wants the scent of Eau de Nicotine in the house. My mother's poetic response would be, "Shut the f--k up Cory."

The outdoors isn't any better either.

Hey smoker in front of me! Yeah, you. I know this might surprise you, but when you go outside there is something called wind. And, you see, wind is funny, because it takes things like the smoke from your cancer-stick, and moves it around so that other people who aren't smoking have to breathe in the poisonous air that just spewed forth from your yellow-teeth infested pie-hole. So, pick a damned corner, turn your face away from the general public, and smoke your cigarette in peace. Thank you.

The Wonderful World of Disney

Walt Disney World needs to stop making up shit to celebrate. Every year it's a a new celebration.

Millions of people visit Disney World/Land every year. It's a wonderland of joy and happiness. Apparently if you win the Super Bowl you get the sudden urge to go there. We get it.

You don't need to sell it any more. How many f--king celebrations are there? The next thing you know we're going to be celebrating Mickey's first colonoscopy and Minnie's first PAP.

What the Hell of the Moment

The picture to your left is Chanel's Inimitable (i-nim-i-tuh-buhl) mascara.

What the hell is up with a friggin' 5 syllable word to describe mascara?

It's mascara ... a liquid that makes eye lashes fat and long. It's not that serious. It does not require an SAT level word to describe it.

Not only is the mascara unaffordable, but thanks to the marketing geniuses at Chanel it's unpronounceable.

Mtv Video Music Awards

Last night the Mtv Video Music Awards aired, and I'm not even going to get into the travesty known as Britney Spears. Y'all saw it. I'm embarrassed for her. And, sadly I think we need to start "Countdown to 'Full-Blown' Meltdown" on this heifer.

What I am going to discuss is the apparent spat between crackies Tommy Lee and Kid Rock. Like a classic episode of Jerry Springer, two pieces of trash fought over a chick. The prize in this fight being Pamela Anderson. According to tabloids, Kid Rock slapped Tommy Lee on the face during the awards ceremony. Tommy complains that security got to him before he could defend himself ... yeah, okay.

Now, I've seen the Tommy and Pamela sex tape, and I really don't see the appeal these men feel for her. Sure she has a nice body and face (scratch that), she has a nice body. But bitch didn't do anything by lay there like a human pin cushion. I don't think she should get fought over for being a star-fish.

Does Pamela win in this situation? You give me the choice between Tommy Lee and Kid Rock, and I'm going to choose what's behind Door #3; whatever the hell that is.

Who am I kidding! I'm taking Tommy ... if you've seen the sex tape you'll know why. Momma didn't raise no fool.