I Luv TV

When it comes to award ceremonies, there is nothing worse than the People's Choice Awards – except the Sophie's Choice Awards. (SHE MAKES THE SAME CHOICE EVERY YEAR!!!) If you ask me, you shouldn't let “the people” decide anything – present company excluded. As a general rule, “the people” are dumber than a pool of saliva, and have absolutely no business making any decisions that actually matter. And that includes deciding which TV shows and characters are “best”!
Now the reason my thong's all in a knot is because the nominations for the 2011 People's Choice Awards came out this past week – and the results are particularly ignorant and drooly! Take for example “the people's” nominations for “Favorite Network TV Drama”: There's House, there's Grey's Anatomy, there's The Good Wife, there's Supernatural, and there's The Vampire Diaries. THE VAMPIRE DIARIES??? I'd rather watch somebody dangle a powdered doughnut over the head of a diabetic fat kid. Now that's drama!

I've spoken at annoying lengths about how Aquaman is the worst superhero in the universe. [Short version? A) Talking to fish serves absolutely no purpose unless I'm able to talk them into my mouth. B) With the small exception of Somali pirates, 98.99% of all crime happens on LAND. And C) Aquaman's Boooooooooooooring!! End of short version.] HOWEVER! I rarely if ever talk about the second most worst superhero in the universe, Green Lantern – and I'm about to correct this grievous error.
While not nearly as terrible as Aquaman, Green Lantern is moderately to mostly terrible. Long version: A) He gets his powers from a ring. Why not a butterfly hairclip? B) His weakness is the color “yellow.” My weakness is the color “chartreuse” – especially when paired with white loafers and a floral scarf tied around the neck. In other words, Green Lantern can use his ring to move the moon out of its orbit, but he can't capture the Gorton's Fisherman? THAT'S BULL-POOP, MY FRIENDS!

Let's talk… TECHNOLOGY. Now, while I am generally in favor of technological progress, there is definitely some room for improvement. Example: And I hate to play “Monday morning quarterback” here, but… before Steve Jobs died, I kinda wish he'd spent a little less time on the iPhone, and a little more time on making a FUNCTIONING INTERNET. I'm sorry, but my internet STINKS! When I flip on a light switch, does it take anywhere from ten to 45 seconds to turn on? NO! It comes on immediately. And yet, when I hit the internet porn button on my internet, I'm forced to wait… and wait… and wait – sometimes up to a full minute for it to come on! THAT AIN'T RIGHT, AND I'M TIRED OF WHAT AIN'T RIGHT!

Pro tip! Did you know there was a federal law passed this year specifically prohibiting certain “sexy” Halloween costumes? (Pro tip! This is absolutely not true – but tell everyone it is… you'll understand why in a bit.) Thanks to recent “Anti-Halloween Annoyance” legislation passed by congress, women will no longer be allowed to dress up in any of the following annoying Halloween costumes:
Sexy French Maid. Sexy Cheerleader. Sexy School Girl. Sexy Native American. Sexy Kitten. Sexy Bee. Sexy Ladybug. Sexy Pirate. Sexy Cave girl. Sexy Policewoman. Sexy Disney Princess (any and all). Sexy Witch. Sexy Red Riding Hood. Sexy Power Ranger. Sexy Olive Oyl. Sexy Strawberry Shortcake. Sexy Eskimo. Sexy Prisoner. Sexy Angel. Sexy Devil. Sexy Angel/Devil Hybrid. Sexy Fairy. Sexy Captain America. Sexy Clown (there is absolutely nothing sexy about that by the way). Sexy Skunk. Sexy Hippie (again, nothing sexy about that). Sexy Robot. Sexy Statue of Liberty. Sexy Sherlock Holmes. Sexy Hillbilly (this goes triple for guys!!).

Okay, as you know, I've got an undetermined number of illegitimate children scattered across the country, blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH. However! If I ever decide to get in contact with any of them, or (god forbid) “raise” them, I will most certainly NOT be reading them any Grimm's Fairy Tales – because these things are the children's story equivalent to the Saw films. THEY ARE FREAKING FREAKY, YO!
Example one! In the original version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Goldilocks doesn't get a chance to try out any chairs, porridge or beds – because when the bears return home to discover the little girl in their house, they rip her apart and devour her. MORAL: Don't break into a bear's house if you value your intestines.
Example two! In the Disney version of Snow White, the evil queen is so jealous of Snow's beauty, she sends her huntsman to murder her. In the Grimm version, the queen also plans on eating Snow White's liver and lungs for supper, and when she's ultimately defeated at the end of the story? She's forced to wear red-hot iron shoes, causing her to “dance herself to death.” MORAL: Cannibalism is no substitute for a good plastic surgeon.

There's two ways of knowing that something exciting is about to happen within the “geek community”: 1) They squeal. A geek squeal is not the squeal of a regular person. It's high-pitched, uncontrollable… and sounds like an elongated version of a basketball court tennis shoe squeak. 2) The smell. When geeks get excited, they emit an aroma not unlike a combination of sweat, burning tires, and Doritos (Cool Ranch).

I don't hate “people.” I really don't. In fact, I love “people” – as a general concept. I love them in the same conceptual way I love “hamburger sandwiches.”
Now, generally speaking, “hamburger sandwiches” are incredibly delicious and fortifying. That being said, occasionally a specific hamburger sandwich will go awry. For example, when a vegan is behind the grill, and your “hamburger” sandwich suddenly tastes like a “grass, hair, and chalk” sandwich. Or when you accidentally sleep with/impregnate the girlfriend of the cook at your favorite hamburger sandwich restaurant – and your hamburger sandwiches begin to acquire not-so-subtle “spit or semen” overtones.

It's a big week for television, and we're gonna talk about some of the new Fall shows in just a moment – but first? Christina Ricci's forehead. Can someone please tell me what's going on with it? If you have no idea what I'm talking about, take a moment to Google search “Christina Ricci's forehead.” I'll wait.
(Pause. Pause. Pause.) I KNOW, ISN'T IT AMAZING?? You could play Canadian rules football on that forehead! Her forehead is so big, it's a “fivehead.” You could write the entire Star Wars prologue on that forehead. Her forehead is so big, Republicans want to drill for oil on it. Hey Christina, IMAX called. They want to rent your forehead. Her forehead is so big, it's got it's own zip code (9021-oh shit, that's a big forehead!). In 1974, Evel Knievel tried to jump her forehead. Christina's forehead is where the National Association of Foreheads hold their annual forehead convention. What did Moses say to Christina Ricci? “Dude, I spent 40 years wandering around your forehead. So back off, I'm mad at you right now.” SHE… HAS… A BIG… FOREHEAD!!

Let's take a moment to talk about a very serious subject: INSECURE COPS. You know, our city's police officers have a very difficult job.

In case you haven't heard (or haven't been reminded in the last 45 seconds), this coming weekend marks a very important day of remembrance for Americans – and those who hate Americans. (And NO, it's not Free Slurpee Day at 7-Eleven!!! That was JULY 11, idiot, not SEPTEMBER 11!! Confidential to terrorists: Free Slurpee Day isn't really important to us or anything… I mean, c'mon, right? So there's no reason to, like… oh, I don't know… blow it all up or something. That would be a huge waste of your time. Huge. FYI. BTW. Ahem.)