Today in the news!

It's Friday! Here are today's top news stories as decided by my cat, who just *graduated journalism school.

*emerged from inside a wine box

Today in Please Just Stop Talking You're Making It Worse, America's Favorite Dad Rapist Bill Cosby appeared on Good Morning America (which I'm assuming is now searching for a new booking agent) to promote his new campaign to improve upon education in Alabama.

Hello friend. I am in total control of this interview just as long as you ask me zero questions.

But things went south fast when anchor Linsey Davis asked Cosby what he might say to a child curious about the endless sexual assault allegations leveled against him. He responded:

"I am prepared to tell this young person the truth about life. I’m not sure that they will come like that. I think that many of them say, well, “You’re a hypocrite. You say one thing, you say the other.” My point is, okay, listen to me carefully. I’m telling you where the road is out. I’m telling you where, as you’re driving, you’re gonna go into water, and it looks like it might only be three inches deep, but you and your car are gonna go down. Now you wanna go here? Or you wanna be concerned about who’s giving you the message?"

Then, unsure his point had been made, he thoughtfully added, "Listen. Lets talk about the big white airplane here. It has four walls, a roof, a pool, a second bathroom. Okay? Listen to me carefully. You look out the windsheild. Fish are coming at you, but they have teeth, the teeth may actually be robots, do you understand? Do you want to go there? Or you wanna be concerned with who's giving you the message? Look. I could tell you where the road gives out, but you're in an airplane and all the roads are down here. Where are you? You're a hypocrite. Do you understand? My point is, piranhas are gunning for you and the plane's going down and you're nowhere near the highway. Niagara Falls is burning and where are you?  In the air underwater. Fudityblughtfibitit Jello Jello Jello Jello." And then he just crawled under a chair where he said only his real friends could see him, and asked if somebody could please be so kind to send for that delightful intern with the nice ass and tits who seemed kind of interested in show biz, he'd like to make her a drink. This story is ongoing.

In WTF Are You Even Talking About News, Fox has once again bravely protected the viewing public from deviant rampant sexuality --this time, from 19th Century Cubist and Known Pornographer, Pablo Picasso, whose Les Femmes d'Alger sold for $179 million at auction this week, making it the most expensive painting on Earth. Luckily, a local Fox News affiliate managed to get the real scoop on this "painting"--namely its controversial, pornographic and lewdly realistic depictions of deviant female sexuality:

Fox News protecting us from the rampant slutty whorishness of this painting

I just want to say, thank you Fox News for censoring this painting. For a minute there I was worried I might have to explain to my children why cubed women always flounce around with their three breasts flapping about. And what an uncomfortable conversation that would've been.

Finally, in Jobs and the Economy, for those of you looking to spread your professional wings and fly off in search of  "new challenges" I ask you to please direct all inquiries to Amtrak, who --despite some very minor recent struggles -- is totally hiring! So if you're looking for the PR challenge of a lifetime that  will be totally worth the shitty pay once all the various body parts and brain matter have been hosed off the tracks, Communications Lead at Amtrak is the job for you! Just like they say in the job description, your success is just a train ride away!

So that's all the humanity I can be bothered to pay attention to this week. Here's a video of Ariana Grande and Miley Cyrus wearing animal-shaped Onsies doing a (pretty good) cover of Crowded House's Don't Dream It's Over, because really, can there be anything more apropos than that?

Enjoy your weekend, guys. I know it's hard leaving this blog for a few days, but try not to jump off any buildings.

The Hammer Weilding Maniac is Dead! That's The Good News!

The bad news? Literally everything else.

Did you know that the Universe is slowly expanding and that Earth will eventually destroy itself?

Seriously. Which shitty awful thing do we want to read about today? The horrible Amtrak derailment in Philadelphia or how we probably could have prevented the horrible Amtrak derailment in Philadelphia? The fire that killed over 70 workers at a slipper factory in the Philippines because bars over the fucking windows prevented workers from escaping, or the fact that probably this factory made your beloved Isotoners? Also, just FYI: US honeybees are disappearing, Australia would like to kill Johnny Depp's dogs and we now live in a world in which The Craft is remade without Fairuza Balk and The Simpsons exists without Harry Shearer. Also you kids get your damn ball off my lawn or I will keep it. You hear that, kids? KEEP YOUR DAMN JOYFUL RACKET ON YOUR OWN LAWN OR I WILL KEEP THIS BALL.

But hey, at least the Hammer Wielding Maniac of Union Square is dead.

Dance Moms: Proof that humanity may not deserve to live

So I'm a huge fan of Sia's Chandelier video, which features the adorably talented Maddie Ziegler from Dance Moms, a reality show about horrible middle-aged women and the mature nine year olds who raise them.

Maddie Ziegler in Sia's Chandelier. She is the only sane person on this entire show.

And while we're on the subject of insane musical works of art starring Maddie Ziegler, let's drop Elastic Heart--Sia's sister video to Chandelier--right here, because you must enjoy the two of them together like cheese paired with a fine wine:

ART!

So, Dance Moms. You guys, I tuned in expecting to see little Maddie Ziegler and instead what I saw was an Amtrak train wreckage of middle-aged horrors; some sort of bedazzled crazytrain of shrieking and hair-pulling and absolute madness sandwiched in between the occasional wide-camera shot of dancing children. Like what is even happening here?

If your kid beats my kid at this meaningless local dance competition I swear to God I will SLASH YOUR MOTHERFUCKING THROAT.

As I watched this televised black hole of catty stupid misery, I couldn't help but realize that this is all we as humans have now to represent us to our eventual alien overlords. Just imagine it, okay? It's the future and visitors from a neighboring galaxy have just touched down. They emerge from their glittering space capsules in search of information about the crux of humanity, and some asshole in nowhere Kansas hands them a video of the season four finale of fucking Dance Moms, and they immediately destroy us.

An eight year old covered in blood playing Carrie White at the prom (PS: This routine will win or I will SLASH YOUR MOTHERFUCKING THROAT.)

One of the final dances of this particular episode is called Citizenship. It is about a little girl's ability to triumph over adversity but also somehow about the glory of a little girl (AKA an adult coach's) desperation to get revenge against her enemies but also, truly, it's about America and oh who am I kidding, it's about absolutely nothing, you guys. The girls all wear American flags here because PATRIOTISM! and the instructor's adopted daughter from Bolivia runs in at the end with a literal American flag. She climbs a ladder and all the other girls salute her as a metaphor because ART and AMERICA and TRIUMPH! Or absolutely nothing. Later, the moms of these impossibly talented children all go fucking insane and instigate a physical fight with the other moms of other children on other teams because women be crazy bitches. ART! AMERICA! TRIUMPH! This is the lynchpin of Lifetime's "television for women" Tuesday night lineup, you guys. This and a show about lady midgets who dress sexy and love to party. Welcome to twenty-first century pop culture, fellow humans. This is what we're offering now to the universe.

I may never stop throwing up.

Today in the news!

Good afternoon! Here are today's top stories as decided by me because there's noone else in this living room.

Second Amendment Mascot George Zimmerman, the gunman who shot and killed unarmed black teenager Trayvon Martin two years ago, was himself shot in a road rage incident in Lake Mary yesterday in what members of the local community are describing as both "a delightful turn of events" and "completely hilarious." Matthew Apperson, the shooter, insists that Zimmerman threatened him multiple times and that Apperson was merely defending himself, while Zimmerman's lawyer, Don West, insists Zimmerman himself was not the aggressor. Members of local law enforcement responded today to West's claims, stating, in between full-belly laughs, "Sure, there's one we've never heard before." Zimmerman is unfortunately expected to make a full recovery.

Moving on to Reasons To Not Ever Leave My House, a woman was randomly attacked in Union Square last night by a hammer wielding stranger because apparently my nightmares have begun to leak from my brain. WNBC reports that among the five billion people clogging Union Square like a toilet, not a single person noticed a woman being bludgeoned practically to death with a hammer, because sorry it's rush hour and I was looking at my phone, what were we talking about again? Oh, right. A hammer-wielding maniac. With so few leads and details to go on at this point, the NYPD has put out an APB for either an 8-bit Nintendo turtle or the first available black man they can find.

If you see either of these dangerous hammer-wielding turtles, please call the NYPD. They're right on top of it.

In a related story, I will be nowhere near Union Square.

Finally, in News That Will Definitely Fuck The Environment But Who Cares Because America! Capitalism! Freedumb!, the Obama Administration has granted conditional approval to Shell to begin exploratory drilling in the Arctic, which will allow the oil company to begin drilling in earnest this summer in the Chukchi Sea off the northwest coast of Alaska. Shell's drilling plan proposes up to six wells in an area about 70 miles offshore, a move scientists and really anyone with a working brain describes as "mindblowingly stupid," although proponents of the move like former Alaska Governor Sean Parnell and South Park's Satan and Saddam Hussein have all praised the strategy, insisting, "This is totally perfect for our plan to turn Earth into a horrific fiery molten lava hellscape."

"Congratulations. You're doing great work, America." - Satan

Shell, for its part, maintains that the work they're doing is top notch and totally safe, seriously so safe, like really super SUPER safe, so please don't worry you guys or pay any attention to any of Shell's previous environmental catastrophes because that would be unfair, like really, really unfair to Shell because they're 100% all about thoughtfulness and safety now:

"We have taken a thoughtful approach to carefully considering potential exploration in the Chukchi Sea, recognizing the significant environmental, social and ecological resources in the region and establishing high standards for the protection of this critical ecosystem," BOEM Director Abigail Ross Hopper said in a statement. She then added:

"We here at Shell are committed to getting you to your extinction not just on time, but early. This is our thoughtful approach. Whether it's making sure you never use biofuel or drilling in the arctic against the advice of literally every climate scientist on Earth, we're committed to fucking the environment right in its pretty little asshole. And in fact our commitment to excellence requires that we fuck not just the environment, but literally everyone on planet Earth, all of the species currently living. Here at Shell we believe this is part of our mission, and drilling in the Chukchi Sea will provide us with an unparalleled opportunity." She then smiled and finished, "So get ready to bend over, Antarctica." And then paused thoughtfully to add, "A little further than you're already bent."

So. Depressed yet? Aren't you glad you're alive? Isn't it beautiful, being part of this giant quilt of human interaction that we call life? Well, here's something to either cheer you up or make you feel way worse. It's Jimmy Fallon and U2 performing U2's greatest hits on the 42nd Street subway platform, which really only goes to prove that regardless of who you are -- whether U2 or a hammer wielding maniac-- nobody gives a shit about you during rush hour in New York. Enjoy! Happy Tuesday!

Happy Mothers Day, Mom

Here's Mommie and I at my fifth birthday party: 

Oh, Mommie.

Even though Mommie made me give away all the presents but one, I feel like I learned an important lesson about selflessness and how to clean up after a belligerent drunk without dirtying my pretty dress. Later on we would play the wire-hanger game. Classic Mommie.

This is us a few years later, doing the Burlesque circuit:

Sing out!

Sure Mother and I fight sometimes over why I have to be the ass of the cow costume or why we're sleeping in the loft over a goddamn Chinese food restaurant again, but mother's always got big ideas and she always includes me in (most of) them. Sometimes we do big musical numbers together and sometimes I cry alone at night while contemplating our own murder/suicide. It's a real rollercoaster! Mother and I have a great relationship.

And here we are now, thirty-five years later:

The cats are always getting away, but at least we're together.

Here we are at home. Even though we've allowed the big beautiful house to fall into disrepair, my relationship with my mother is stronger than ever. We have lots of friends (cats) and lots of enemies (cats) but Mother darling and I are best friends.  We live in a pile of our own garbage inside a crumbling house of sadness and sometimes we listen to the radio as mother berates me for being an enormous disappointment. Our relationship is the strongest its ever been.

For anyone who's ever had a complicated relationship with their mother, this one's for you. And for my own mother, who is a weirdo lunatic nutcase and helped make me the weirdo lunatic nutcase I am today, thank you. Our relationship isn't some Hallmark card ideal, but imperfect and bizarre and real. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Thanks, Mom.

I Am Not Liz Lemon and Neither Are You: A Rant For Single Ladies

So I'm coming up on t-minus 20 days until my 1st wedding anniversary and sometimes I still can't believe that someone actually accepted this job.

First off, I'm a lot of work. I require maintenance. Like, MAINTENANCE. Also it's long hours, terrible pay (technically no pay), a ton of manual labor and dangerous heavy lifting (well it's not my fault I can't reach any of the cabinets), and a guaranteed slew of uber-uncomfortable, terribly awkward  situations in which definitely you will want to kill yourself but unfortunately you won't be able to. Which I suppose makes me that Craigslist ad people share on Facebook with the caption: OMG check out this hot mess insanity. Also, I was frankly the kind of single girl who had been single for so long that her singledom had begun growing mollusks and coral and moss, like some sort of Yacht that sank long ago to the bottom of the ocean. At one point I think I agreed to marry my Chinese food deliveryman because at least he smiled when he brought me my wonton soup, and that was better than nothing. This was where my bar was set. Like I was Liz Lemon on the couch in a Snuggie happily munching on her night cheese.

This is how I see myself

Because I was such a mess (and by mess I mean a woman who has told herself she is a mess, because we women are raised to be queens of self-recrimination) I ended up dating a bunch of doucherags who, in retrospect, only validated this mythology I had written that I was a terrible person. I'm not sure if my intent there was to actually prove to myself that I was a terrible person by dating terrible people, but it felt like I needed to win at Fucking Myself Over. Like I was loading up the bases to hit my own ass out of the park so that I could collect my Congratulations You've Sold Yourself Short trophy, and my Yes You Were Right You ARE A Fat Ugly Loser medal, and be on my way in my sad old maid's clothes to knit sweaters for my three hundred heirloom dolls.

Except usually it was the barista at Starbucks.

At some point, my net worth became so entangled in my inability to date that I WAS a mess. And like plenty of other women I just lost all sense of myself. What I didn't realize, of course, was that I was looking at myself and everything all wrong.

Just as soon as I realize I am not actually horrible or disgusting.

The man who would later become my husband asked me out four times and I turned him down all four times, all the while chasing other men who had zero interest in me. That's like constantly turning down delicious chocolate cake to stuff empty candy wrappers in your mouth, sorry I can't help myself with the food analogies. But to give you an example, the last guy I chased before I dated my husband actually hit on my sister while I was in the hospital. Literally, a nurse was shoving a foley tube up my vagina and my sister turns to me and says, "You know your boyfriend just texted me to ask if I would jump on his dick." True story. Also TMI. Moving on.

Each time my husband asked me out I remembering thinking to myself, "What the hell does he want from me? Why is HE coming after ME?" like I was fucking Orphan Black or Agent Scully and any man who showed any interest in me could only be a contract killer or a degenerate who wanted to skin me and wear my breasts as a hat.

What do you want and why are you calling me?  I'm assuming you saw my TV ad?

As a woman I was taught long ago that my personality, such as it was (weird, tom-boyish, sarcastic, blunt) was wrong. My body, such as it was (short, stout, top-heavy) was wrong. It would not land me anyone. No, if I truly wanted a man I would have to give him a reason to want me back; I would literally have to justify my worth to him. I would have to twist myself into an emotional and aesthetic pretzel, I would have to just stop focusing on who I was and what I wanted and focus instead on what a man might want from me. Which is just as much of a horseshit strategy as this:

You're never going to get her, Pepe. This is futile, surely you realize this by now.

 The truth is you are fucking great exactly the way you are. And I get that you've probably seen that written on cat posters, but it's true. You are a weird, beautiful, imperfect person and that's great. Basically what I'm saying it's time to re-write your own false mythology. Because you know what my husband was actually looking for? He was looking for ME. Not the me who was convinced she only deserved assholes but the me who thought she was great.  And I feel like as women we tend to just assume we're not all that great. We downplay all of our strengths and pretend we're losers. Like we walk around literally telling ourselves we're awful people for no reason at all.  And then, what's worse? We actually start to believe our own lies.

In the end I found my husband only after I found myself.  And sure that sounds cheesy but the truth is in the cheese, my friends (sorry, more food metaphors.) Because, amazingly, it turns out that when you actually feel you are worth it you tend to attract people who believe you are worth it. I know that sounds like something Danny Tanner  once told DJ on Full House to a bunch of AWWWs, but just go with me here. Or else think of the fabulicious diva RuPaul: "If you can't love yourself how the hell you gonna love somebody else?"

Because I am great.

In any case, my point is that I was more in control of my own destiny than I thought, which means that so are you and so is everyone. Which means you won't be single forever if you don't want to be. Even if you're sitting there on the couch in your pjs reading this and eating your night cheese and wondering whether this is all there is. I promise you, there's more out there.

Just start doing terrific things for yourself and something else terrific will happen, I guarantee it. You just need to say YES to it regardless of whether that scares you. It only took me thirty years of telling myself NO and YOU'RE AWFUL and SHUT UP FATSO to figure that out -- that actually, I am pretty great. And now, while I still require a lot of work and maintenance and I still can't believe there's another human on this Earth who is super into that, I no longer question my worth. And that's huge. Happy 1st Anniversary, me!

And to my husband, if you're reading this, I love you. Thank you for loving me just as I am. Also, bring home cat food, we're out.

And now if you'll excuse me...

Things That Are Brilliant: 12 Angry Men Inside Amy Schumer

I think I may just change the name of this blog to Marry Me Amy Schumer And Birth All My Comedy Babies, for this week's Inside Amy Schumer offering is truly next level. Really, it's like there's the normal ground-level bar where most comedy is set, and this sketch (below) just rockets clear over that lowly bar and sets a whole new bar in fucking outer space. And for those of you wondering whether it's even possible for a comedy sketch to be not just good, not just funny, but artistic, truly a work of art-- the answer is yes.  And perhaps that's what's so exciting and refreshing about Amy Schumer; her sketches are NOT the same old packaged sophomoric bullshit geared towards a universe in which only straight white males live. Her sketches have resonance and weight.

"See that face? That is a butter face, damn it!"

FYI: the sketch below is 20 minutes long, takes up the entirety of Amy Schumer's run time, and is a pitch perfect play on the classic black and white movie (which is based on the play) 12 Angry Men. And I promise you, it is worth every second of your time.

Here, instead of the defendant being tried for murder, Amy Schumer is tried for the egregious crime of not being attractive enough for her own prime time TV show. The fate of Inside Amy Schumer then is left to a jury of old, paunchy, unattractive men who must decide whether Amy gives them enough "reasonable chub" to allow her to stay on the air. (Hilariously, the question of whether or not Schumer is funny is dismissed immediately. She's a woman so of course she's not funny. The question is would you want to fuck her? Would you want to mash your face between her breasts and make helicopter noises? Would you want to jack-off on the couch while picturing her face?) Once again, Schumer takes an issue most women deal with on a daily basis and turns it into next-level comedy; Why is it OK for men to put women on trial when male attractiveness is never ever an issue?

Guys, this is a tour de force. It's rare that I get the chance to say I feel like I've seen something new but truly, I feel like I've seen something new. Give this one a watch and then watch all of her other sketches because she's a genius and I wish I had written all of them.