Te Gusta Losing, Numbnuts?

Hey, everybody, and welcome back to the blog. I want to get the somber stuff out of the way first. Yesterday, pop music star Whitney Houston was found dead in her hotel room. It's starting to sound like she drowned in her bathtub. It's a tragic end to the diva who, quite frankly, I'm surprised hadn't died of a drug overdose during her marriage to Bobby Brown. I'm not sure if she had a drug issue before she married him, but it sure became a BIG problem after they married. It's sad that someone with such an amazing career in the 80s and early 90s went on to have so many troubles. And I can think of only a few less glamorous ways to die than in the bathtub of your hotel room (possibly surrounded by drugs...but that has yet to be proven). So, Whitney Houston fans, try to keep "The Bodyguard" Whitney in your heart as you mourn her passing...and not the "Bobby Brown fucked that chick UP" Whitney.

Alright, so let's get down to this. Hey, in case you missed it, the New York Giants won the Super Bowl last Sunday in dramatic fashion. This followed an email sent by Patriots QB Tom Brady's wife, Giselle Bundchen, to family and friends, asking them to "pray for Tommy." Well, her behavior only got weirder (and more obnoxious) during and after the big game. She was quoted by The Insider after the game as saying "My husband cannot fucking throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time." At least one of Brady's teammates says she should shut up and go back to looking cute. I don't think she can do either. Have you seen her face? Ugh. And honestly, with that attitude, I think she ought to rename herself Giselle Bitchen. (I wish I could have come up with something clever that went with "Cum Dumpster," but I couldn't)

Hey, have you had a bad break-up recently? You might be able to find out WHY your heart was shattered on the new website WotWentWrong.com. Dumpees can register and send an email to the heartbreaker in question, who in turn can respond to the website and not to the user him/herself in as much or as little detail as desired. Because nothing says "I wish you all the best" than letting everyone on the internet read "Teresa was so bad in bed, it was like fucking a fish. And don't even get me started on how she SMELLS..."

Thirsty? Looking for a bridge between your meal and your dessert? Jack in the Box can help. The fast-food joint is offering a Bacon Shake. Yes. That's right. A BACON milkshake. Don't worry about getting chunks of pork as you're slurping your straw...it's made with a bacon syrup with no chunks whatsoever (unless you count the ones I'm blowing at the THOUGHT of this monstrosity). Sixteen ounces of this bad boy will get you 773 of your daily calories...and 24 ounces will give you 1,081. But don't go looking for this on the drive-thru menu. It's a SECRET item that you can only get if you know about it ahead of time. It's like walking up to that shady-looking dude on the street corner and saying "No, that meth you're selling won't kill me fast enough...but that BACON SHAKE in your pocket is EXACTLY what I'm looking for."

Finally, a lesson from local television...not to pimp out a weather forecast that may or may not actually happen, but to ALWAYS know who you're about to interview ahead of time. Anchors hate surprises:



I'm sure the anchor yelled at the producer for this error...because that's all anchors ever do. They yell at, berate, criticize and talk down to producers. Though in all fairness to Fox, I'm sure they're used to fuck-ups like this during every newscast. It's in their contracts.

-B-