Conan O’Brien is still a piece of ass

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Damn, look at that man! Maybe if I didn’t know him as the charming comic/writer he is, I wouldn’t think this lanky, pasty Irishman was the sexiest man on the planet. But after watching years of his hilarious antics, not to mention going to see his show live and shaking his hand, after which he dropped my hand in such a way that it brushed across his crotch, yeah, he’s the sexiest man on the planet. Although he was a little paunchier in person than I would have thought.

Holla at me if you agree that Cone Bone is a sexy piece!

I should also note that in my list of the 5 Best Shows on TV Right Now, I didn’t include Conan only because I feel it goes without saying that his show rules. I would also like to amend my comment about how Tina Fey is OK by me now. You see, last night, while watching 30 Rock Season 1, I got to the episode where she has an awkward encounter with Conan, her ex. Granted, she’d made a passing mention to dating him in the past, but it’s a joke-filled show, so I took it as just another funny celebrity name punchline. But now that I’ve seen what was really going on in this fictional world, I’ve decided that Tina Fey must be destroyed.

Dammit! Now DirectTV is cancelling Passions! Can’t Passionistas like me get a break?

It was bad enough when my favorite supernatural soap, Passions, decided to move to DirectTV, which I do not have (and I don’t know anyone who does).  Now after only a few months, they’ve announced they’re sick of it, and they’re dropping the show too!  Is there any hope for the kind citizens of Harmony?  My guess: no.

Read the terrible news for yourself.

Holiday Gift Ideas

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Everyone knows that besides the promise of eating pie to the point of bursting, the best part about finally reaching the end of the year is that it marks the gift giving season. While the holidays are excellent for all the feasting and togetherness that come along with them, not to mention the time off work, nothing beats receiving loads of crap from family members and acquaintances who barely know you. That said, it’s always insanely difficult and stressful to shop for gifts for other people. For some reason I’m great at buying myself things I desire, but when it comes to others it’s always a huge darn mystery. What the hell do they want? How the hell do I carry illegal drugs on the plane back home? These problems and more may lead you to feign poverty and purchase absolutely nothing for anybody, but no one likes a holiday jerk. You’ve pretty much got to show up with armfuls of carefully wrapped and bowed packages or face the danger of being labeled a scroogely cheapass who doesn’t love their family.

I used to firmly believe that purchasing gifts for family members was plain foolish. You see, if I were to run out of money entirely at some point in the future, who would I turn to in order to beg for beer pennies than my very relatives? There’s an understood monetary flow between family members, so it seems odd to douse them with junk on a holiday when really we’re all working from the same pot. Unfortunately, this convenient theory gets you labeled as “no fun” pretty much instantly, and sets you up for a lifetime of comparisons to a certain Dickens character. And really it would be plain sad to gaze upon a Christmas Tree/Menorah/Kwanzaa Sculpture (they gotta have something, right?) that didn’t have oodles of gifts piled all around, making one giddy with anticipation and jealous that the largest package has their siblings’ name on it. So you see, much like ham (or latkes or whatever), presents are a vital aspect of enjoying the holidays, no matter what the cost or stress necessary to procure just the right item(s).

Thus I propose to you the most excellent of gift-giving options: a membership to a something-of-the-month-club. Just think about the lasting potential of such a present. Much how Oprah’s famous book club has inspired lonely couch potatoes to consume questionable classics each month, so your gift recipient will be reminded how awesome and thoughtful you are twelve wonderful times. Inspiring someone to praise your name every 1st can only be a good thing, for while a year later no one remembers Grandma’s hideous ducky sweater, they’ve all the while been receiving constant reminders of your overwhelming generosity. And here’s more good news: the item-of-the-month membership comes with hundreds and hundreds of options in order to meet the needs of all in your circle. Mom? Flower-of-the-month or something-kitchen-related-of-the-month. Dad? Tie-of-the-month or steak-of-the-month. College aged sibling or cousin? That’s easy: beer-of-the-month (hint hint, oh please, oh please). There’s even something for Grandma: the candle-of-the-month club. Seriously, I’m not making that one up. Even Fido can enjoy the wealth with his very own adorable membership to the dog-treat-of-the-month club. And the bacon-of-the-month club is appropriate for anyone and everyone, your teacher, your landlord, your boss, whoever. I didn’t know there were twelve kinds of bacon, but by God I want to try them all. Monthly. Bacon that arrives in the mail.

In conclusion, if you’d like to sign Liz and Laura up to receive something awesome every single month, please shoot us an email for our address. We’ll surely send you twelve thank you notes.

Women picking out wedding dresses can be right bitches

Here’s one thing that pisses me off: women who act like picking out a wedding dress is a legitimate science worthy of academic pursuit. With absolute panic in their eyes, they say things like “My husband’s family booked a daytime outdoor wedding on a cruise ship, but I bought a floor-length gown with a train! This is a disaster! A cocktail-length sleeveless gown would be much more appropriate!” Then come the tears.

This goes double for the ladies who actually take the virginity equals white dress rule seriously, and, say, won’t wear ivory if they’re actually virgins, because they think only dirty whores and divorceés wear anything but the purest of snowy white. Or if they secretly screwed every guy in their alma mater (and that includes the professors and the TA’s) and are about as far away from virginity as Paris Hilton, they worry that wearing white would be dishonest and/or wrong. Like the wedding gods will take their violent revenge if the bride’s off-white gown is a little too on. Are we still in 19th Century feudal Spain, hanging our bridal sheets in the town square so all can see the blood? We might as well be, according to these women.

I’d much rather wear something colorful any day. For one thing, I don’t do well with white things, especially when I’ve been drinking. Liz can attest to this. You should see what was once our white couch. Secondly, who wants to look like every other boring cookie-cutter suburbanite marrying some bland guy with a boring job and ED? Throw some personal style into it! It’s the biggest day of your life, or so the TV would have you believe, so shouldn’t your outfit represent you? Frida Kahlo knew what was up.

Frida

Anyway, all these bride-to-be bitches need to go somewhere and sit down. They’re getting on my nerves. The End.

The 5 Best Shows on TV Right Now

1. Weeds

Yes, I’ve written about Weeds before (see Weeds: The Best Show Ever Made, which was quoted on the official Weeds website), but I can’t help but continue to sing its praises. This show’s writers are fantastic at getting characters, especially our hapless lady protagonist, out of seemingly impossible situations, but seriously, after watching the finale of the third season, I have no idea how in the world they’ll be able to continue the story. No spoilers here, it’s not that kind of website, but let it suffice to say that the fourth season premiere is going to be something to watch. Also, Justin Kirk is hot.

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(Photo courtesy of Showtime)

2. House

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I just want the same things every girl wants — marriage, a house, to marry TV’s House — is that too much to ask? It isn’t much of a secret that I find Hugh Laurie to be something of a dreamboat (see my article “Hugh Laurie is a dreamboat” if you don’t believe me), so it should come as no surprise that I am a faithful viewer of the medical dramedy House. But guess what? As if I didn’t already need to turn on the TV every Tuesday night at nine prepared with a drool rag in one hand and a jar of smelling salts in the other, now those diabolical studio heads have gone and added my other heartthrob of the moment to the mix! I am referring, of course, to sexy Kal Penn.

kal penn from desiclub

(photo courtesy of DesiClub.com)

Thank you, FOX. Thank you.

3. MANswers

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Just when I thought that no TV show would ever fill the hole that Max X left in my heart when it went off the air, along came Spike TV’s MANswers. If Maxim were a TV show, this would be it. It attempts to answer the really tough questions, like “Are women with fake boobs hornier?” And as if that wasn’t enough, all the while they provide sassy commentary that sounds suspiciously like the voice-over on Max X. Whatever you do, don’t miss the opening credits — they’re just amazing, a testosterone-oozing, quasi-surrealist collage of symbols of manhood, such as a chainsaw and fire. It really has to be seen to be believed. Sheer genius.

4. Big Love

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Yeah, I know, Season 2 wasn’t so great, and the writers really need to leave the plot twists to 24 and focus on the relationships that made us want to watch the show in the first place, but it’s still one of the most daring shows on TV, and I think it’s making a lot of people wonder what they saw in monogamy in the first place. At least, I hope so. I read a while back that quite a lot of actual polygamists (many of them Mormon or of a related sect) watch the show, ahem, religiously, and that makes me really happy, that they are finally being represented in a fair way on TV. This show is like the Will and Grace of the poly community!

Oh, and I almost forgot, David Byrne does the original music for the show now. David Byrne! This is clearly a show after my own heart.

5. 30 Rock

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It took a little under a decade, but I’m finally starting to like Tina Fey. Mean Girls made me give her a second chance, but 30 Rock sealed the deal. I really can’t say anything bad about this show, except it sucks that they didn’t let Rachel Dratch play the role she was originally given. I’m not surprised, but it sucks. Oh well, NBC isn’t known for making good decisions, or even decisions that make a lick of sense, goddammit!*

*Full disclosure: Laura has applied for several dozen jobs and internships at NBC and has been summarily rejected every time. Plus, the head writer at Passions never responded to her fan mail. Stupid James E. Reilly.

Ween

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Well kids, I’ve now officially attended my first show at the gargantuan Terminal 5, located far, far away on the outer reaches of the exotic West Side. Well, sort of attended. I noted that my ticket said the doors opened at seven, so I called the venue and asked them if there were any opening bands, and what time Ween were “supposed” to go on. The kind lady told me they’d go on at eight. How very informative. After this point is when things started going horribly awry. I decided that 8:30 was an appropriate time to arrive, since we’ve all heard of musician’s time and Dean and Gene are certainly no sticklers for rules, timeliness, or even sobriety, so I figured they’d stumble out later rather than earlier. After exiting the train we still had a fair walk ahead of us, and this was a chilly evening to be sure. I remember declaring to Laura “You know, this Terminal 5 establishment, not so convenient.” But I don’t like to complain. When we finally reached the mysterious venue, we were none too pleased to see a line stretching sickeningly far down the block. By this time it was approaching nine o’clock, but we drudgingly accepted our stupid mis-planning and walked another mile to take a place at the end. The technologically savvy among the waiting crowd informed everyone that sadly, Ween had actually gone on at eight. The horror! There’s nothing like that feeling of realizing you paid a pretty penny to see one of your favorite bands live, but that you’d in fact be missing most of it.

So, I arrived pissed and pouty. True, some portion of this mess was due to no fault but my own, but I still feel justified in some percentage of my anger. We ran in just as Ween started playing one of my favorite live songs “Touch My Tooter.” This immediately stirred my juices and I began to feel giddy with the joys of seeing a band I so adore. These guys haven’t played NYC proper since 2004, and have apparently been rocking significantly across the country on their way here, so what I was able to see was at least special despite its not being the whole shebang. Spirits were high (heh) through numbers such as “Ocean Man,” “The Mollusk,” and “Booze Me Up And Get Me High.” My heart wept for one fan with an enormously proficient whistling talent who kept screeching out the looping vocal part on “Big Jim.” His requests were noted by the band, as was his perseverance, but they did not in fact play this song. Terminal 5 as a whole wasn’t too shabby – there was at least decent visibility from the various areas of the place I found myself in (bar, the second balcony, floor, bar) – but all the annoying elements listed above plus the fact that it just ain’t no intimate experience make it not the most awesome place to catch a rock concert. But hey, at least I sorta saw Ween. Sigh.

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