________ Sexy Adult Costume

My excitement over purchasing items from the LTD Commodities Christmas Catalog almost led me to forgetting about Halloween.

Can you really blame me?

Look at this:

insert “you might be a redneck” joke

If it’s too small to read all the jokes have to deal with making a play on the word “crack” while showing a redneck’s ass crack. I do not understand this. If you can explain the joke to me, please do so in the comments area. Thank you so much.

And this:

Made 100 percent out of sparkly marble

**I believe you are purchasing towels, rugs or blankets with the actors’ likeness not the actual actors themselves.**

But thank Great Pumpkin for email. I mainly get emails from WordPress, but sometimes I get something special like offers to purchase white spray paint for my teeth (did you know that oxygen molecules work their way through dentinal tubules?? Science!!) or to buy Halloween costumes.

I am all about Halloween except when I forget about it due to excitement over Christmas catalogs, but that has only happened once.

I am all about sexy costumes…excuse me…seXXXyyyyyyyyejglk costumes. I really like to tart it up for Halloween, but have run out of ideas and really don’t want to go back to an old standby when I pretend to be a child for trick or treating. I’ve been a seXxy, sassy Oedipus Rex complete with Burger King crown and tears of blood from the gouging of my eyes. I’ve been a seXXtifed Vincent Van Gogh with a supersexxxxxxyyyy bloodied bandaged around my ear. I’ve been a too-hot-too-handle Lybian terrorist (this was for the 9th grade Halloween dance. Odd that I didn’t have a boyfriend until college) with a fake beard. So as you can see I’m all about sexiness sells sexshells by the seashore.

So how am I’m going to whore it up this year? I don’t want to do something blah like sexxy truck driver or sexXxy zombie Dick Cheney. I have a child now. I want to set a good example. Luckily I did not automatically trash an email from Buycostumes.com or else I would have lost out on some truly sexily fantastic ideas. Such as this:

KISS Catman Sexy Adult Costume

What is sexxxier than Peter Criss? Maybe Gene Simmons, which they also have as a KISS Demon Sexy Adult Costume. This feline is ready to rock all night long and party every day. I wish I could take credit for that sentence, but it’s from the Buycostume website.

And this:

The Silence of the Lambs Sexy Adult Costume

I remember when Hannibal Lector was eating that guy’s face, I was thinking “That is some sexy cannibalism right there.” Apparently this outfit is an officially licensed Silence of the Lambs (SOTL) product. I wonder what else is out there? Possibly a SOTL® lotion that it can rub on its skin and put inside a SOTL® basket?

If chainsaw-wielding psychopaths are more your thing, they do also offer Miss Leatherface Sexy Adult Costume.

Or this:

Sloth Sinner Sexy Adult Costume

When I think of attaching the sexy label to one of the seven sins, sloth is always first on the list…well maybe it ties with gluttony (unfortunately there is no Gluttony Sinner Sexy Adult Costume). Lazy is the new sexy.

And lastly this:

The Sushi’s On Me Sexy Adult Costume

I really have nothing better to offer so I will let Buycostumes speak for itself:

“Miso sexy! Presentation is everything, right? I guess if that’s how you roll! Costume includes a nude-colored bodysuit with attached leaves and faux sushi. Heads will turn (and mouths may water) when they see this impressive spread.”

Very, very tasteful. Classy, too.

I’m so..excuse me… Miso buying all of these.

Two Front Teeth Would Be Preferable

The holiday season is upon us–actually it began seven weeks ago so if you haven’t started your shopping yet, you’re basically %$%!&. With the holiday season comes the joy of spending money on marvelous gifts for marvelous people you marginally like….ahem..marvously like.

I love shopping. Love, love, love it!!! The movie Confessions of a Shopaholic was completely based on my life although I cannot say that with the utmost certainty having never actually seen it. I’m that person who tramples over that other person to buy that StirChef™ Hands-free Saucepan Stirrer every Black Friday at every Walmart in the country. I don’t just shop till I drop, I drop other people while I shop because I want me some delicious crap made by the tiny, tiny hands of children in foreign lands.

Wait a sec…..oh, yes, that’s right. I hate shopping. Hate, hate, hate it!!! The movie Confessions of a Nonshopaholic would be a movie based on my life if it was written and directed by me and then sold to a studio and distributed nationwide.

I think why I hate shopping, and in particular holiday shopping, is because I never know what to buy other people. What do you mean you don’t want a Thigh Glider®?

This year may be different, thanks to LTD Commodities. They sent me their catalog because they must have known I needed help or possibly some website I shopped at sold my personal information to them–six of one, half-dozen of the other.

And this catalog is a white Christmas wonderland of non-island-of-misfit-toys splendor. So so much to chose from. Let’s take a walk down Candy Cane Lane together, shall we?

Shot Gun Shell Shot Glasses

Shot Gun Shell Shot Glasses – the name just rolls off the tongue especially when you have downed several shots of whiskey. This is marketed as “ideal serveware for your hunting lodge” and I couldn’t agree more, but it would be also perfect for every day use, baptisms and shotgun weddings.

Mom & Dad sweatshirts

D.A.D.D. & M.O.M.S Sweatshirts

The D.A.D.D. sweatshirts stands for Dads Against Daughters Dating and the M.O.M.S. for Mothers of Marvelous Sons. These are  “humorous.”  Yes.

On a side note, I appreciate that the catalog has labeled both the mom and the dad in the picture.

Call of Duty® Fleece Throw – Nothing softer or cozier than war.

“We’re Watching You”

Instructional Eye Shadow Sets – Learn smoky eye or experiment with your own color combination under the surveillant eye of Big Brother.

Smells just like fried chicken

Paula Deen Scented Candles – Captures that perfect Southern-fried Crisco scent.

Peace Sign Tables – Give peace a chance… to hold up your Paula Deen scented candles.

This is by no means a tired worn-out expression

Man Cave Stool – Allows one to “mark his male territory.” It will be easy to clean up any urine that hits the vinyl seat as one is marking his territory on the floor around the stool.

Football Team Bedroom Ensemble – To guarantee that you will never, ever score.

Forget Your Daily Forecast

Things are bleak man.

More children are living in poverty. The unemployed are staying unemployed for longer durations. Kate Plus 8 has been canceled, which will contribute to eight more children living in poverty and one more adult qualifying for unemployment.

But the real reason I’m saying “things are bleak man” is that the horoscope has even become godawful depressing. I don’t normally read my horoscope mainly because I don’t believe every human born within the same month share the same qualities.

Like take Harriet Tubman, a woman who risked her life for freedom and risked it again and again so others could be free. She was a spy in the Civil War and the first female to lead a raid against an enemy camp. She was a Pisces. So is John Stossel. He has a show on Fox News and is known for whining the phrase “Give me a break.” He is a douche.

Or take Mother Teresa who devoted her life to helping the poor and sick in India. She was a Virgo. So is Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil makes his money exploiting the bewildered. And is a giant-headed turd. So is Dr. Drew Pinsky. He’s a Virgo, I mean. His head is normal-sized, and he is a bespectacled turd. And he makes his money exploiting the bewildered who once had some semblance of fame if you consider porn and reality TV as legitimate entertainment careers.

So I don’t put much faith into astrological signs. I’m a Scorpio. So is John Boehner. And Charles Manson. My father and George W. Bush were born on the same day in the same year so they should be pretty similar. Yet my father is actually competent in his job. And he did not fabricate evidence to start an unnecessary war and then later say his most regrettable moment in his presidency was when Kanye West said my father didn’t care about black people. At least I don’t think that happened to him. I will ask him tomorrow and post an editor’s note if I am mistaken.

I know, I know, George W. Bush jokes are sooooo 2008. But I’m a little off today, and my horoscope said I would be. My horoscope told me a big urgent responsibility (i.e. writing my next blog post) that I’d been artfully dodging in hopes that someone else would do it (i.e., Les from Best Bathroom Books, Nancy from Not Quite Old), would be dumped in my lap. And–get this–Me and my lap asked for it. Like, what the &**!^&$#@! horoscope. That is really hostile.

So I checked out the other signs and they were equally belligerent, accusatory and critical.

“If you refuse to go along with the majority, you are likely to create a lot of unnecessary dissension” – Better conform, you goddamn Sagittarius. Don’t be thinking for yourself.

“If you are too indecisive, someone else will make the big decision. Don’t blame them if you don’t like their choice” you $%$!$% spineless piece o’ crap Libra.

“You should take extra precautions when working with tools or materials that you are unfamiliar with” because, frankly Taurus, you are a dumbass and will likely lop off your own head.

And on and on it goes–all bleak.

I’m expecting tomorrow’s will be something like “The zombie apocalypse is upon you.”

I’ll make sure I don’t have any Tauruses with me.

Betrayed by Journey

Okay Today show. I really wanted to lay off you today. I feel like I’ve been continually slamming every “news” bit you try to pass off as real news so I really wanted to give you a break today, Today.

But then you go and do this:

"There is no reason for me to be on TV, yet here I am!"

You have an “exclusive” interview with a loser, and devote nearly 10 minutes to it so what else can I do? You know they’re going to start hydrofracking in my state, right? The state where the Today show is filmed? Yeah, you’ve mentioned zero about that, and that shit is serious. But you give nearly 10 minutes to a bag a crap that did nothing more than sneak into a White House party. I feel like I’ve been betrayed by Journey, but we will get to that later.

So this loser, Tareq Ding-Dong, is weepy because his famewhore wife left him to go live with a leprechaun. Wait…that is a guitarist from Journey. What has happened to his face?

"I am Pennywise, the dancing clown"

Okay so he’s not exactly a clown. He looks more like this:

The clown is actually less scary.

This is a sidenote: To the older people of the world, please, please, please, stop putting plastic or poison into your faces. You do not look younger, you just look horribly horribly disfigured. I may not be the person to take advice from because I’ve already decided I’m keeping my gray hairs because I’m too lazy to go to a salon to maintain a dye job, but I think I speak for the world, when I say, you look so much better if you just age normally. Meg Ryan used to be beautiful, and now she looks like that leprechaun guitarist from Journey. End sidenote.

Ding-Dong had a beautiful marriage to Mrs. Ding-Dong until she went and jumped on a tour bus.

“(Mrs. Ding-Dong) going on a tour bus with a rock band,” weeps douche Ding-Dong. “That’s like what a groupie slut does.”

Mr. Ding-Dong, please do not denigrate the groupie sluts of the world by lumping your famewhore wife in that category. Groupie sluts actually contribute something to society–while that something may be herpes, your type contributes to the decline of civilization.

At first, Mr. Ding Dong thought his wife was taken by a dingo. He even texted Matt Lauer with his concerns. Matt Lauer first, then the FBI.

Matt Lauer is wearing his reading glasses in this “exclusive” interview signaling that this is some serious business.

“Okay dumbass, didn’t you have some clue?” says Matt Lauer, his reading glasses balanced on the end of his nose.

No, says Mr. Ding-Dong. We have new contracts, new TV offers. “We were on a comeback, if you will.” Let me help you for a second, Mr. Ding-Dong. One can have a comeback if one actually had a career to begin with (see: John Travolota and Pulp Fiction)…you cannot have a comeback if you are just a complete and utter loser who, again, did nothing more than a crash a State dinner.

“So Mrs. Ding-Dong left to be with a troll,” says Matt Lauer, peering over his glasses.

“A leprechaun,” corrects Mr. Ding-Dong. “We were best friends. In fact, I was friends with all of Journey. I feel like I’ve been betrayed by the whole gang of Journey.”

Mr. Ding-Dong, in essence, stopped believin’.

Matt Lauer dons a pair of kid gloves. “Here are some comments she made, and I’m paraphrasing,” he says. “She couldn’t take it anymore. Not only was she always in love with this leprechaun, you became unbearable to live with.”

She’s very cold, Mr. Ding-Dong replies. “I twitted (Mrs. Ding-Dong) please our dog is dying right now.” Twitted is just so, so apt.

The dog died, but did Mrs. Ding-Dong care?

“You are clearly emotional about this,” says Matt Lauer, seriously straightening his glasses. “And I apologize for being blunt here, but there are probably people watching, saying this couple became famous for all the wrong reasons. They then tried to stretch that 15 minutes of fame for as long as they possibly could and this is not an unexpected turn of events in what is in some ways a slow-motion train wreck called the (Ding-Dongs).”

Mr. Ding-Dong wishes Ashton Kutcher would jump out of the wings and blah blah blah, but alas, Mr. Ding-Dong has been lied to and duped.

“Do you want to say anything to Mrs. Ding-Dong? And let me just say that another million children now live in poverty…wait, I don’t want to say that because that is actually of some concern…um…right, do you want to say something to a person no one should ever care about,” states Matt Lauer.

“She broke our family,” drones Mr. Ding-Dong. “She broke our love. . . she wanted more fun, more fame, more celebrity. . . She jumped on a tour bus from the 1980s.”

Now that would be something I would like to see….only if the tour bus went off a cliff…and Mr. Ding-Dong was on it.

Faceblecchh

Change is hard.

I remember when my parents were about to drop me off at college, I made the announcement “Thanks for the lift, but I believe I will be going home with you.” I felt I had given it the ole college try although I hadn’t actually set foot on campus, but I wanted my life to remain unchanged.

So I get it. I understand. Facebook has changed its newsfeed and your life is in a #$!!@%$ tailspin. At least it seems that way from the amount of times you keep posting it as your status update, which I’m reading using the new newsfeed. Look, I drew you this picture:

Aw snap.

There seems to be two camps: those whose lives are in $#(@*! tailspin and those who post things like “An innocent man was executed today and everyone is upset about Facebook changing.” The former should probably get a bit of perspective and the latter should realize posting that kind of status update on Facebook makes you look a bit like a self-righteous prick, especially since you posted that right after posting a skateboarding video.  By the way, a dog was shot during the time it took you to upload that video so I hope you’re happy.

I am in neither camp. I don’t participate in Facebook enough. I use it to keep track of “friends” birthdays so this way I can post a generically short “Happy Birthday!” and never have to use the phone again.

I have noticed that I seem to see more of people’s daily astrological missives before I get to the status updates challenging me to copy something to my status update thereby curing world hunger. I have yet to do it because I’m all about the status quo.

While the times they are a-changing, I will leave you with this: While you were reading this blog, an innocent man was changing his status update.

Chew on that.

News You Can Lose

It will be hard to sleep tonight. I had been watching back-to-back episodes of Top Chef–Just Desserts while my 18-month-old son stuck metal objects into electrical sockets, but turned the channel when The Rachel Blows pfftttt came on, and so I serendipitously caught the beginning of Access Hollywood Extra In Touch Newspalooza.

Access Hollywood Extra In Touch Newspalooza had a sneak peek into an exclusive interview between Matt Lauer and Brad Pitt. What a scoop! How did an NBC-based entertainment evening news show ever land a video clip from an NBC-based entertainment morning news show? I don’t think we’ll ever know, but my hat is off to you, sir Billy Bush, the future 47th president of the United States.

Brad Pitt is at the center of controversy because he told Parade magazine that his former wife Jennifer Aniston was dullsville. I was most surprised that Parade still existed. Matt Lauer was going to get to the bottom of this controversy while wearing dark sunglasses.

Brad, if we can get to more serious questions...how seriously cool do I look right now? Scale of 1 to 10.

“Wow, man, doesn’t it just suck that you can’t say kind of a dickhead thing without being interviewed by a ton of media just before your new movie is released?” Matt asked.

“I’m handsome,” Brad Pitt replied.

And we will have to wait until tomorrow’s Today show to hear the rest, and as I said in the beginning of this post it will be hard to go to sleep.

Here is what else I learned from Access Hollywood Extra In Touch Newspalooza:

• Billy Bush wondered who Jennifer Aniston voted for on Dancing with the “Stars” since she attended high school with Chaz Bono, but is best friends with the former Mrs. David Arquette. Or did she do something boring, like not watch the show.
• X Factor premieres and it is so unlike Simon Cowell’s previous show American Idol according to a magazine writer. There are many, many differences such as zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. “It’s going to be fun,” lies the writer.
• Madonna’s 14-year-old daughter has her own clothing line. What a surprising accomplishment. She must be very talented.
• Billy Bush is surprised by the number of Spice babies.
• Alex Trebek clarifies his naked robbery. It’s still unsettling.
• Some tarted-up toddler says “I’m a little Southern girl, but no not snooty” and we will spend a day in her life….aw shit, it’s on tomorrow’s Access Hollywood Extra In Touch Newspalooza
• Mel B., mother of a new Spice baby, will lose the baby weight by “sexercise and exercise.” I will cut her some slack since she just had a baby and that could be why she’s talking like a crazy person.

Good night, and good luck.

The Newest Member of the Baby-sitter’s Club

Working is very difficult.

It has caused me to miss the answer to the greatest bombshell question in the history of question-asking. I got a little teaser from the Today show when Matt Lauer said we would get the answer to this earth-shatterer: Would Casey Anthony’s parents let her babysit her brother’s child?????

Well, if he had a child. He doesn’t. But that is still a fucking awesome question. It made me do this:

I know this question kicks balls because the Today anchor interviewing Dr. Phil told him it was “a very interesting” question. And I looked up “very” and “interesting” in the dictionary and they continue to have the same meanings. This Today anchor knows what he’s talking about–although he also knows when Matt Lauer retires, he will never take the anchor chair because he’s older than Matt and must content himself with Matt’s dinner scraps, but he makes himself feel better knowing that he has his Matt Lauer voo-doo doll at home under his pillow and he will be able to stick pins in it later and that stops the roaring in his ears.

If you hadn’t read my previous post of the very un-turdlike manner of Dr. Phil, you may be unaware that Dr. Phil has conducted 1,321,408 interviews with Cindy and Anthony Anthony (I don’t know the father’s name, and am too lazy to Google it, but believe this is “a very interesting” guess). He has done this because this is the biggest story in my lifetime and any person’s lifetime born in the next 75 years–hence the nuclear bomb question of amazingness. The Today show even had on a judge to give her perspective. She was very normal-looking.

Speaker7 sentences you to more lip injections *bangs gavel*

While Dr. Phil’s question was truly terrific and I did have to pick my jaw up off the floor and I was saying “Wha…wha…wha…” because I couldn’t even get the word “what” out of my mouth because my brain had so totally exploded, I think he missed an opportunity to ask even better follow-up questions. Here it is the biggest news story of our lifetime and anyone else’s lifetime born in the next 75 years, and Dr. Phil, frankly, dropped the ball and continued on with the next line of questioning, which I believe was:

“Do you think my giant head could fit inside the grand canyon?” (The answer is no.)

Here is what I would have followed up with:

Let’s say Casey brother is in a tight spot and really needs a babysitter, and the only choices are Casey or OJ Simpson. Who should he pick?

What if the choices were Casey or one of those mothers from Toddlers & Tiaras?

Say you have a time machine and you can send Casey back in time, would you allow her to babysit herself?

If Mary and Joseph needed a night out on the town, would you let Casey babysit Baby Jesus?

What if it was Adolf Hitler’s parents?

Do you think Nancy Grace would ever ask Casey to babysit her twins, and if so, do you think Casey would do a good job?

Would you let Casey date someone who suffered from adult baby syndrome?

I know it is canceled, but would you let Casey star on the show Casey and Kate Plus 8?

Would you let Casey be adopted by the Duggar family? What about the Manson family? What about the Jolie-Pitt family?

Would you let Casey adopt a virtual baby? What about a Furby®?

Would you let Casey adopt Lindsay Lohan? What about Michael Lohan?

Would you let Casey care for a Baby Think It Over® infant simulator? What if it was a sock puppet with a baby’s face drawn onto it? What if it was just a sock?

Could you leave Casey and Dr. Phil alone in a room with only a bottle of chloroform? Please.

Not Reading This is a Mortal Sin

My last few blog posts had a tinge of the seriousness–postpartum depression, the turd-like manner of Dr. Phil, the season finale of Bachelor Pad 2.

Now it is time to lighten the mood, which is why I’ve chosen religion as my topic. Religion is fun and people can be really funny about their religion.

I like when people say “My sky deity is better than yours” and then other people say “No–mine is better, prick!” and then the first people say “I’m going to blow you off this planet, assface, in the name of my sky deity” and the other people say “I’d like to see you try it, dickweed. My sky deity is totally going to smite your sky deity’s ass.”

I like how people use their religion to excuse their abhorrent behavior. We have an annual summer relay race. This is a long-standing tradition, almost dating back to the time when Enoch begat Methuselah. It requires blocking a few roads. Well this one man decided to barrel his giant black SUV directly into the path of soon-to-be arriving runners. A race official stopped him. He rolled down his window, stuck out his sweaty, tomato-red face  and screamed “I have to get to church!!!” Bits of spittle flew in every direction. He then peeled off to go angrily pray, I guess.

I like how around the time Christmas trees show up in stores (Sept. 21), millionaire pundits immediately get on the airwaves to once again decry the invasion of Christmas by non-christian boogeymen. Apparently every time someone says “Happy Holidays,” an angel loses its wings.

So there is much I like about religion, but I will admit that I have a tricky relationship with it. I was raised Catholic, but I began to have problems with it around the age of 7 when I had my first Communion and read in my little sin book that it was mortal sin (i.e. you will burn in eternal hell fire) to miss church. My family notoriously missed church or made it for the last 10 minutes to stand in the back and then leave early. By 14, I was done, and only got confirmed because my mother made me. The conversation went something like this:

But I don’t believe in any of it!! (in a teenagey, whiny kind of voice)

Well you’re going to do it.

But you don’t even go to church!!

You’re doing it.

For some reason I ended up going to a Jesuit college. This was not the best fit. I remember in a mythology class, the teacher talking about beliefs in the afterlife and asking students what they believed. The general consensus was clouds, harps and angels. He then asked if anyone believed that nothing happened and I was the only one to raise my hand. He asked me how I could lead an ethical and moral life if I didn’t believe anything happened after I died. Um….because I’m not a sociopath, maybe? I think I might have said something like “because I don’t need the threat of punishment to not act like a douchebag” or “what the f*** is wrong with you?” For some reason, I did not get a good grade in that class.

So like I said–tricky relationship. Just for the record, I have no idea what happens after you die. It hasn’t happened to me yet, so I will have to get back to you.

How Kendra and I Got Our Groove Back

Giving birth is hard, but I found raising the actual child harder. I had certain expectations.

Like this:

The reality was a little different–especially in the beginning. In the first few weeks, many people come by your house to coo at your baby. This usually happens when you’ve just begun nursing. It’s typically your father-in-law or father. These are the fun moments.

You change a lot of diapers. You cannot believe someone so small can produce the waste of an entire elementary school on a single day. You keep track. Since you’re breastfeeding you have no idea if the baby is getting enough to eat. You begin to realize that you have one hour and 20 minutes between each 40-minute-bouts of nursing when you can be something other than a food source. These are the even funner moments.

I think I suffered from postpartum depression the first two months of my son’s life. My therapist at the time said I had adjustment disorder in order for me to submit my visits to my insurance provider. It was a very lonely time. I remember distinctly my mother showing me an picture of my baby on her iPhone and me just wanting to be left alone so I could watch Dancing with the Stars.  In my defense, it was the episode where Kate Gosselin stomped around to the song “Paparazzi.”

It was in these profoundly sad moments that I turned to tabloid magazines for support. And wouldn’t you know, a “celebrity” could articulate exactly what I was experiencing.

Kendra Wilkinson, a former Playboy bunny whose claim to fame was dating the host of Tales from the Crypt, recently had become a mother herself. She now peered at me from the magazine covers, exclusively sharing her new mom confessions with Us Weekly and exclusively sharing her new mom worries with In Touch and exclusively sharing her new mom anxieties with Life & Style. To use the parlance of reality television, I felt a connection.

It was like she had a window into my brain when she discussed her decision to breastfeed. Anyone who says this is a natural, beautiful process has blocked out the first two months when neither participant knows what the hell to do, and where you wish you could do something gentler to yourself, like rub sandpaper on your nipples and coat them with lemon juice.

Kendra, like many mothers, worried about her ability to nurse with Triple D implants. It was like Kendra channeled my own thoughts when she said: “Right up until I went into labor, I was like, I don’t want to breastfeed! Then the baby came, and I was like, Ooh! I want to breastfeed!”  I might have even said those exact words.

In two sentences, Kendra perfectly encapsulated the internal struggle of nursing vs. formula.

And as difficult as the decision to nurse was, it was nothing compared to the sadness Kendra felt. I, too, felt trapped and overburdened. I felt like I had nothing to look forward to, that my life would forever be an endless cycle of diaper-changing, feedings and CNN-watching. Kendra recounted the story of a visit by friends a few weeks after giving birth. Her words were like a lifeline:

“It was bad timing. They were really hot and had really nice bodies.”

Thank you, Kendra, for explaining why I was feeling so hopeless and forlorn.

And the story ends well for both of us….I no longer want to get in the car and drive as far away as possible from my son…and Kendra consumed Abdominal Cuts, a weightloss supplement filled with conjugated linoleic acid, to get her body back in shape. Win-win.

Dr. Shrill

How could I have missed this? Dr. Phil had the exclusive interview with Casey Anthony’s parents over the last two days and I did not watch it.

I was at work, which is not a good excuse, but a better excuse is I have no idea when the Dr. Phil show is on. I might have been home. There’s a 91 percent chance I was.

Why don’t I religiously watch Dr. Phil? It was his 10-year season premiere after all.

Well I will try to put this delicately because I don’t want to offend people who have an affinity for Dr. Phil.

Dr. Phil is a giant turd.

Wait, I think that is too insulting . . . to turds.

I will have to think of something else.

Dr. Phil is the male version of Nancy Grace.

He is the reason when people say “Don’t you just loovvveeee Oprah?” I say “meh” because she birthed him out of her vayjayjay into our world.

Since I missed the interview(s)–I believe there are 345 of them because this is the biggest story of our lifetime (second biggest story: sugar baby students–tune into Dr. Phil on Friday)–I had to rely on the Today show and the Dr. Phil website to find out what I missed.

I did not pay attention to the Casey Anthony trial, but it seems like a lot of people got really worked up about it from reading Facebook status updates around that time. That is where I get my news. Let’s see who actually pays attention and keeps this going. Repost this if you get your news from Facebook. I bet 93 percent won’t have the courage to make this your status update.

Matt Lauer asked some questions that I can’t recall and Dr. Phil was dickish in his response because he’s awful. He seems to be a really good therapist.

They show some clips from the interviews.

“Do you believe she borrowed a shovel,” Dr. Phil turds.

Matt is incredulous that the mom didn’t say “yup, she borrowed a shovel to bury her daughter whom she killed.” Good thing no real news is happening today.

On Dr. Phil’s website is a very tasteful and very non-turdlike promo for the interviews that is in the style of a Fast & Furious XXXIIXXVVVV: Fasterier Furiouser Fastest Fastener Fast trailer.

“There are millions of people in America now who want to shake you awake,” turds Dr. Phil.

“Will it be the breaking point?” asks the narrator.

“I was going to kill myself,” says the dad.

“Or the BREAK THROUGH” drones the narrator.

“In your mind you know the truth,” bleats Dr. Phil.

*fade to black*

Yes. The truth is that you, Dr. Phil, will make a lot of money on this–the same way you make money from parading out and self-righteously judging the sad, lost people of the world for enjoyment–and I will be writing another blog post about your 20-year season premiere because for some reason people feed on others’ misery.