Dawson's Douche Bag

Per my wife, Katie Holmes is a douche bag.

The former princess of prude who teased all the boys of Dawson’s Creek is now giving it up to all the boys of Hollywood. Katie broke off her engagement with American Pie’s Chris Klein so that she could hook up with Pearl Harbor’s Josh Hartnett. Then she moved on up to the pinnacle of celebrity boyfriends – TOM CRUISE.

So far she has snagged three of the five men on my wife’s “wish list.” Should Holmes claim the black guy from CSI and Ben Affleck (circa 1998), then my wife will have no one left to think about during sex but me.

The House of Douche Bags

My wife has a few special talents – hors d'ouvers, bowling, Kama Sutra pages 23, 77, 92 and 140. She’s also great at balancing the checkbook and picking out things like shams and valances (which may be styles of shoes but I honestly have no idea). But she’s not an actress. No movies. No TV. No infomercials.

She played Dorothy in the elementary school's production of the Wizard of Oz, and my God can she bring on the drama over forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning. But can she act? No. So should I ever write a screenplay and make a movie, I would love to have her mental and financial support. But I would never put her in the picture. It would be downright cruel, both to viewers and to my wife alike, to expose such a weakness.

David Duchovny isn’t so nice.

Duchovny is married to actress Tea Leoni and Tea Leoni is a bore to watch. Her voice is weak and exasperated and she always looks like she just smelled a fart. She’s sexy, if you're into the meth addict look. She brings a level of excitement to her movies so low that you’d prefer her role be filled by a fish. A dead fish.

The good news is that the number of movies she’s been in is pretty low. After enduring a horribly horrible leading lady performance by Tea in Spanglish this weekend, I toned down my frustration by convincing myself that this would be the last of her sleepy acts. The bad news is that her husband now considers himself a director. A director of a movie that he also wrote. And who does the douche bag cast as the star of his new movie The House of D? Tea Leoni as the bereaved single mother.

It’s great to throw someone you love a bone, but the interesting cast that makes up this movie is now stuck with Tea. Rupaul would have been more convincing as a bereaved single mom, but apparently Duchovny’s wedding vows pomised to love, honor and employ. I can’t say I enjoy seeing Hollywood couples break up, but the sooner this guy sleeps with Angelina Jolie, the better.

You're Fired....and Under Arrest.

He’s a little bit hot-headed. As a matter of fact, every conversation with The Apprentice candidate Chris Shelton has gone something like this….

Donald Trump: Chris, you can’t be a bankrupt gabillionaire like me if you keep losing your temper. Do you think you have an anger problem?

Chris: NO I DON’T HAVE A FRIGGIN’ ANGER PROBLEM! GOD! I HATE ALL OF YOU! STOP LOOKING AT ME! I’M NOT YELLING!

Chris is still on the show but his days are officially numbered. Apparently, he’s temperamental off-camera as well, getting thrown in the slammer this weekend for flipping out at a hotel bar. A real estate millionaire, Chris went postal about a $20 cover charge at the bar.

A millionaire. Pissed about $20 bucks.

Cops tried to calm Chris down, but he shouted and cursed until he was cuffed, booked and jailed for disorderly conduct. Trump clearly has no plans to hire this douche bag but his outbursts were entertaining. But going postal every episode got old and he's quickly become the guy everyone wants to see get knocked the hell out. I can't say he's the worst Apprentice ever, but even Omarosa managed to stay out of jail.

Douche Bag Fingered!

I go to Wendy’s more than I go to church, and until the good Lord comes up with a better spicy chicken sandwich, it’s going to stay that way. But I almost lost faith when I heard that a San Jose woman, Anna Ayala, discovered a fingertip in her bowl of Wendy’s chili.

O me of little faith. With millions of shady characters dropping thousands of silly lawsuits, I should have known better than to doubt the sacrament that is enjoying a bowl of Wendy’s chili. Turns out Anna Ayala has a knack for finding, or more like creating, trouble.

The douche bag has about half a dozen lawsuits under her belt. She’s sued her boss for sexual harassment, a used car lot after her wheel “just fell off” her car, and surprise, a Mexican restaurant after, she claims, her daughter got food poisoning (who doesn’t get food poisoning after eating Mexican food).

All finger tips at Wendy’s are attached and accounted for. And after learning about Ayala’s love of lawsuits, the police have now shifted their focus to the skank with bad hair, searching through Ayala’s home for other fingertips. I pray to Wendy’s that they discover a whole body under this woman’s house. To sue is human. But to make me question my faith in Wendy’s chili? Unforgivable!

Desperate Douche Bags

Marcia Cross’ last job came about ten years ago when the world’s largest forehead played a crazy on Melrose Place. Anna Nicole Smith wanna-be, Nicollete Sheridan, had her last big gig several decades ago when she played a ho on Knots Landing. Eva Longoria played a chihuahua on The Young and the Restless. Terri Hatcher’s last job goes back to the early 90’s, when she played Lois Lane on Lois and Clark. And the only major role Felicity Huffman has snagged is as the real-life wife of William H. Macy.

You would think that for such a motley crue of out-of-work actresses, they would be elated that not only can they afford to eat again, but that they are part of this year’s biggest television hit. Desperate Housewives dominated the media before the new television season started, and has stayed at the top of the ratings chart since it aired. And rightfully so. It’s well written, the cliffhanger endings are great and each episode features one of the leading ladies in a bra or bikini, earning it the top spot on the Tivo list. Life is great again for these girls, and they should totally be in love with one another for their combined success (and by "be in love", I mean that they should totally have a pillow fight and then make out in a hot tub).

But the ladies of Wisteria Lane got caught up in the hype, obviously forgetting they were unemployed for a majority of the last ten years. As soon as the credits rolled after the first show, the housewives got catty, bitching about lines and who got to wear what on (and off) the show. The infighting came to a head recently during a cover photo shoot for Vanity Fair magazine. Hatcher, professionally punctual, arrived at wardrobe and got dressed for the shoot. Cross and Longoria, arriving later with their publicists and assistants, pitched a ridiculous fit when they found out that Hatcher got her outfit first. Lots of screaming, lots of crying. In the end, they all smiled long enough for the camera to click, but it’s obvious that these neighbors aren’t going to get along.

Whether the other girls like it or not, Hatcher is the star of the show. Her name is the most recognized out of the bunch. She’s a hottie. And she fucked Superman! The rest are co-stars, and they can yell and scream all they want, but they shouldn’t let their egos get out of control. Hell, for a couple of ladies who haven’t had jobs in awhile, these douche bags shouldn’t have egos to begin with. On Eva’s last soap opera job, writers sent here away to prison for life. Marcia Cross’ writers gave her a brain tumor. So learn to get along ladies, cause it's along way back to Melrose Place, and Heather Locklear could easily have your job next season.

Forever Your Douche Bag

I don’t think anybody cares who wins the third season of American Idol. The big bet is when will Paula Abdul enter rehab.

The Lakers cheerleader turned 80’s pop singer turned hit-and-run driver is making it pretty evident that her on-screen sappiness with Idol contestants and fellow judges Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson is chemically fueled. In the past few years, her odd behavior was reserved for appearances on talk shows, where she slurred and slept her way through interviews with Jay Leno and MSNBC.

But lately, she’s maintained her buzz right through American Idol tapings. Three weeks ago, perhaps on a hit or two of ecstasy, she licked, kissed and drooled all over Simon during judging. A week later, it appeared that she was on a mixture of margaritas and No Doz, as she lap danced Randy and performed her old cheerleading routines during performances.

But last night’s performance showed Paula at her sloppy worst, with eyes half shut and barely an audible word uttered. Cutting off the other judges, Paula, now sounding like a mixture of valium and Guinness beer, shouted "brilliant!" after every performance, though it sounded more like, "Bilyant! Absolut…ely bilyant!"

Various spokespeople claim that Paula has had the flu for over two years now. Others claim that the eight weeks American Idol is on makes for a hectic work year. Whatever the excuse, she’s been too stoned to hear it. And worse, too stoned to hear the wanna-be Idols, claiming that off-key covers of Janis Joplin, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Stevie Wonder and Barabara Streisand were better than the originals! That alone makes Paula a straight up douche bag.