Cell Out

When I give my number to hot, filthy rich models, I expect them to keep it on the down low. I am married for Christ’s sake! So like Lindsay Lohan, Eminem, Ashlee Simpson, DJ AM , Jay Z, other celebrities and Pauly Shore, I too am so pissed that Paris Hilton basically downloaded all our numbers to the common folk. Her T-Mobile Sidekick was hacked, and now I’m getting thousands of calls from teenage girls asking if I’m really me. Now my wife knows that I sleep with models. That’s not hot, douche bag.

And they better not find out about the video tape.

Gotta Go Go

George Michael is tired of all the media attention. He’s tired of being a celebrity.

So he called a press conference.

To announce he's going to disappear.

And to announce his new movie.

A movie entirely about him.

The co-creator of Wham! and the only man to successfully pair jelly bracelets with a five o’clock shadow, is quitting the biz that actually quit him about ten years ago. "It's never suited me very well, the business of media and celebrity," Michael said AT HIS PRESS CONFERENCE. "Now I just find it unbearable."

Michael also blames the popularity of pop bands who churn out silly hooks and too many songs about sex as the reason for his distaste for celebrity. "Nobody want to hear about politics, or any kind of strong ideas in pop any more," whined the singer who’s list of hits includes Wake Me Up Before You Go Go and I Want Your Sex.

Michael’s last run in the spotlight came after being caught on the wrong side of a glory hole in a public restroom. After lots of Letterman jokes and a few headlines in the National Enquirer, he did disappear from the media’s spotlight. Ten years later, the douche bag comes back from obscurity…standing before the media…to tell them that he doesn’t want anymore attention…except for his movie about himself…and the musical he hopes to write and make into a major motion picture. Other than that, no more attention. None. He’s disappearing. For good this time. Again. No one is sure if he really means it this time. But you gotta have faith.

30 Years Too Late

Hey Hey Hey. Sounds like Bill Cosby can’t keep his Fat Albert under control. Two women have come forward with claims that the Cos drugged them with a super-powerful decongestant and then went straight for the pudding.

But Dr. Huxtable won’t be wearing prison-stripped sweaters anytime soon. While Cosby has become an unbearable puss in his twilight years, and while he probably does indeed lace his Actifed with a little rohypnol to bypass the small talk, the claims against Cosby are about as solid as his 70 year old wiener. The strongest and most recent of the two claims comes from a basketball coach who said Cosby slipped her a couple of pills that made her a little loopy, then copped at feel a little later that evening.

She claims that the incident happened one year ago. She can’t say why she waited 12 months to press charges.

The second charge is identically bogus. Model-turned-lawyer, Tamara Green, says Cosby gave her a couple of decongestants at a luncheon that caused her to become incapacitated. Cosby took Green back to her place to demonstrate his stand up routine, but the incapacitated Green somehow managed to fight off the comedian with a lamp. Cosby tossed her $200.

This was 30 years ago.

Thirty. Three-Oh.

Three decades.

15 million days.

Why women’s rights groups and victims’ advocates aren’t running this model-turned-lawyer-turned douche bag out of town is beyond me. Her ridiculous claim is too hard to ever believe, and that makes it more difficult for those who have actually been assaulted by old farts like Cosby. If a 30-year delay in calling the police didn’t kill her credibility, then her legal troubles might. Green was hit with a 13-count bar association complaint for mishandling money and skipping town on three clients. She’s also a not-so-proud member of a program for lawyers with substance abuse and mental health problems.

And when was this woman ever a model! Take 30 years off her chins and cankles and Cosby still paid about $195 too much.

Booty Shakes

There is nothing I love more than getting a lap dance whilst enjoying a delicious nutrition shake. Why anyone would want to deny such a common pleasure is beyond me. But the 15-member strong Citizens Against Nude Juicebars is doing their best to separate the ginseng and the ding-a-ling.

Racehorses Gentlemen’s Club owner Bob Rieger was the first to blend the love of g-strings and implants (yummm....implants) with a healthy dose of glucuronolactone and vitamin B12 (yummm...B12). After a group of fellow South Dakotans...South Dakotites…South Dakotars…snow-covered hicks protested Rieger’s adult establishment and forced the city of Salem to create a no titty-bar law, Rieger changed his club into a juice bar, keeping the butt-naked dancers and adding a menu of protein enriched shakes (protein…hehehe). And the all-nude juice bar was created. And it was good.

Definitely not health nuts, the small band of protesters stepped up their efforts and formed the Citizens Against Nude Juicebars. While Racehorces Gentlemen’s Juice Bar is still open, growth in the pole dancing/power shake industry has taken a huge blow. Now I'll never lose this beer gut.

Paranoia Will Destroya

The typical extracurricular activities of the Colorado native tend to leave them a little paranoid…and with a major case of the munchies. But mostly paranoid, as over-demonstrated by a real life cookie monster, Wanita Renea Young.

A 49-year old mental case, Wanita won $900 in a lawsuit against two young girls living in her neighborhood. On one particular evening, the girls, tired of going to school functions that promoted foul language, dry humping and Ashlee Simpson songs, decided to stay home and bake cookies for their neighbors. The little Martha Stewarts went door-to-door, leaving the cookies and little heart-shaped notes on the steps. One of their last stops was at 10:30 p.m….at half-baked Wanita’s house.

One of the many voices in Wanita’s head convinced her that the footsteps she heard on her front porch were Satan’s minions coming to take her back. Another told her it was the DEA. The girls knock on the door caused Wanita to flip out. She claims to have had an anxiety attack, and, eighteen hours later, decided to go see a doctor. The douche bag sued the girls for the cost of her visit, plus loss of a day’s wages from her job as a Wal-Mart cashier and the cost of a motion sensitive front porch light (which doubled as a mosquito zapper).

The judge, likely an old stoner himself, agreed to portions of Wanita’s delirium, saying that 10:30 was too late for the girls to be outside doing nice things for their neighbors. The judge felt that if the girls were going to stay out that late, they should be at a school function, cussing, dry humping and listening to Ashlee Simpson songs.

The girls still plan on practicing random acts of kindness. Thousands of dollars in donations have been sent in to pay off the $900 fine. And either cookie maker or porn star, Otis Spunkmeyer, has offered the girls their own business. Wanita, who had run-ins with neighbors and aliens before, is staying with relatives until girl scout cookie-season is over.

Diamonds Aren't Forever

Minnesota Viking’s star quarterback Daunte Culpepper is quick to give out the bling bling. He’s even quicker to take it back back.

At a recent press conference, Daunte gave two of the ugliest pieces of jewelry ever made – a gold chain with a medallion featuring his jersey number and another chain with a diamond encrusted pepper – to a young football player confined to a wheelchair after being paralyzed from the neck down during a game. Though too ugly to wear in public, the youth accepted the generous gift, totaling about $75k, hoping to find someone on eBay ready to pay big money for a sparkly pepper.

But as soon as the press conference was over and the cameras put away, Daunte ran faster than he ever did for the Vikings, caught the kid in the wheelchair and asked for his gaudy necklaces back. Had he chased down a football like he chased down a paralyzed kid, the Vikings might have made the Super Bowl. The douche bag took his necklaces back, but promised to send the kid something of real value…hopefully a necklace with Tom Brady’s number on it.

No Duh, Douche Bag

Conservative watchdog group and closet S&M freakniks Parents Television Council has made a startling discovery – MTV TARGETS TEENAGERS!

After watching and most likely masturbating himself silly through 171 hours of MTV Spring Break specials, PTC head prude Brent "Stop Calling Me Bozo" Bozell discovered that MTV shows cater to a younger audience, encouraging shopping at the Gap, excessive text messaging and screaming at the top of ones lungs when requesting Hoobastank’s rad new video. On an even darker side, Bozo found that MTV’s programming also featured lots of bleeped-out profanity (Puff Daddy), simulated sex (Nick and Jessica), lots of smoking (Puff Daddy), lots of drinking (Puff Daddy), and, on occasion, music.

Before the seven-day marathon began, Bozo stated, "There's no question that TV influences the attitudes and perceptions of young viewers, and MTV is deliberately marketing its raunch to millions of innocent children." And shortly after watching MTV programs for 171 hours straight, Bozo returned to say, "Aw shit yo! Check it. Dis sheeznit is wack, ya heard. Dem shows got me all thinkin’ bout nuttin’ but hos and herb. Now I gotta get to da club and party like it’s my birfday. Pour out the Cristal and pimp my ride with spinners on 20-inch doves. Shorty wanna ride wid me? Holla at cha boy, yo!"

How credible really is Bozo and the other PTC douche bags? The PTC just paid nearly $4 million to the World Wrestling Federation for lying about professional wrestling. Lying. About a fake sport. And word has that Bozo is watching a week’s worth of the Food Channel to prove that the programs cater to people who eat. So if you believe the Brent’s MTV study was anything more than an excuse to spend a week watching sixteen-year old girls dance in bikinis, then you just got Punk'd.