Katy Perry and Russel Brand to Divorce

"Smile, dear God, for the love of Christ smile."

Well there goes one of Hollywood's favorite odd-ball couples.

At the risk of potentially getting a cease and desist letter from Tosh.0 lawyers, "let's see how many jokes we can make in 30 seconds."


"I guess her boyfriend did mind it."

"Alright, this facade is getting a little difficult to keep up."

"Why would anyone ever want to divorce a person whose head is made of cotton candy?"

"If two obscenely wealthy celebrities with private jets can't make a bi-continental relationship, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

"I guess he got tired of her spraying her whipped cream boobs all over other guys."

"Being a recovering addict must be so hard when your wife acts like a stoned high schooler and looks like an acid trip you went on while playing Candyland."

"This is a major blow to inter-Muppet marriage equality."

"I always figured being that outlandish on camera, Katy Perry must be horrible in the sac. Turns out she's too stodgy even for and Englishman."

"I wonder if they're also getting divorced inside a tiger sanctuary."

"Yeah, okay, that's about how we feel too."

Falty Wisdom of '80s Classics

• I've heard it said that big girls don't cry, but I've certainly seen some fat girls tear up in my day.

• Ignore Men Without Hats; leaving your friends behind, even if they don't dance, is never very safe.

• It is very likely that we did, in fact, start at least one small fire.

… or Are You Just Happy to See Me | Other Reasons for Inopportune Erections

• I am happy to see your mother.

• I crushed a Viagra into my food earlier and it's just starting to kick in a little early.

• Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about Betty White/Marlon Brando in The Island of Dr. Moreau.
  
  
• My blood pressure is spiking and I am about to die.

• It's easier to hold my pee in this way.

• I just woke up. From a dream about you. Dying in a plane crash.

Greeting Cards for Exes

I freakin wish Mila Kunis was my ex. Except I'd never want to
screw that up. Maybe that's why we fail, I love too much.
Anyway, I saw "Friends With Benefits" last night and it was
amazing. No lie. Go see it.

I'm thinking of starting a line of cutesie greeting cards for exes, suitable for circumstances generally considered to awkward for audible comment.

The Getting Back in Touch:

 "Hey! How's your vagina?"

The Request:

"Hey, Dickbag, can I have my TV back?"

The "How's Your Family":

 "Is your sister still available?"

The Reacquainting:

"Heeeeeeyyyyyy … Guy!"

The Apology:

"I'm sorry I [broke/lost/killed/slept with/like that one really specific thing when we were in] your [possession/pet/relative/bedroom]. Please don't tell anybody."

I was also considering "The Get the Hell Away from Me," but that's pretty much what a restraining order is for, and I mean who really takes those seriously?

Are Fat Santas a Sign of a Burgeoning Economy?

Falling off roofs is one thing, adult onset diabetes is another.

I was buying Christmas cards in the mall last week when peered over the side of the escalator to spy jolly old St. Nick.

He's been losing weight. He sure had a paunch, but this was not the rotund, jelly-riddled Chris Cringle I know and love from his Coca-Cola storybook. Santa's been watching his carbs, kiddies.

Which has me wondering if authentically fat Santas are indicative of a sprawling, growing economy.

I'd imagine even the Old Man needs to tighten his belt in these recessive times, but then, frankly, he'd probably lose his job to a more … shall we say "naturally glandular" Father Christmas. The presence of a svelter Santa would seem to indicate then a relative dearth of fat Santas, so where have they gone?

Ostensibly, they weren't exactly leading the healthiest lifestyles, maintaining a heavy build and high cholesterol all year. With that kind of lifestyle, I can only surmise that all fat Santas either slimmed down for health concerns or went the way of the Brachiosaur.

Yes, an uncertain immediate future tends to make us a little more pragmatic, but does the opposite hold true? When we're feeling bright and shiny about our futures, do we abuse ourselves more? Or are we simply more readily able to hire another fat, bearded man should one accidentally give himself an aneurism? Do we, in fact, become utterly ambiguous to the blight on moderate obesity  among the elderly, because once every year they become useful to us? Like wiener dogs and pot-bellied pigs, ave we bred Santas only to be occasionally pertinent curiosities? Luxury items?

Maybe we just feel less responsible when what we're losing is already in surplus.

Why I am Thankful for My Nerd Friends

Merry Christmas, browncoats.

How the Jew Saved Christmas (A Bonus Blog)

But down in the Thunderdome they say, that the Jewish boy's heart grew three sizes that day.

Of course the beer can ornament and sock nailed(?) to the mantle were the residents' doings.