California Tax Refund IOUs? Bite Me, California!

Okay California, it's ON. Living in one of the most liberal states in the nation is hard work for hard working peeps like me. We have all kinds of cozy social programs for people who'd rather stay home and have lots of babies instead of go to work. In my city, such persons can get subsidized waterfront housing for about $100 a month if the property owner would like some sweet tax breaks for taking in Section 8 tenants.

Now me, I'd rather give a quarter of my paycheck to the State of California and the rest of it to my mortgage lender instead of living the high life on the waterfront for one Benjamin. And today, as an added screw off, the State of California has informed me that if the budget is not approved by February 1st, which is highly unlikely the pundits say, I will be getting an IOU instead of my state tax refund.

Bite me Cali-frickin-fornia! How 'bout I send an IOU instead of my property taxes? How about you make all these loafs living in free housing take back their 52" plasma TVs and Cadillac Escalades with 22" chrome rims and use those millions to give me my damn refund, eh California?

Sweet dreams to me. I better go to bed. I have to work in the morning. Effffff it all! And a special giant bird to Hollywood who thinks it's so politically savvy. Ass wipes.

Subway Sandwich Artists: Stop Smashing my Sandwiches

I'm a sandwich shop lover and I especially enjoy Subway's Philly cheese steak and ham & cheese with added avo sandwiches. I like them so much for lunch that even though their relentless $5 promo song will be looping in my mind for the rest of the afternoon, I cannot resist spell of the Subway sandwich artist.

On several afternoons during the work week, I can be found waiting patiently in a moderate line at one of two Subways near my office. I look forward to my loafy lo-cal friend on Subway lunch days. I choose my bread carefully, alternating varieties for Philly or ham fixings. I watch the Subway artists keenly as they place the trimmings I request on my sandwich, making sure they don't overlook the extra feta and withhold the salt, but add the pepper.

'Anything else?' they ask. Nothing else. We're home free and I turn my attention to the register as the sandwich wrapping paper crinkles. Out the door, back to the office, behind my desk with my precious freshious at last!

I unwrap the goods and DAMMIT! Again. The fat, fluffy number I last saw before the wrapping process is smashed down to a mere sliver of its former self. Its innards squishing out on all sides, flattened avocado goo sticking to the paper and rogue onions refusing to go down with the ship poking out all willy nilly. Enough. I will Not Stand For It any longer.

I will go back to Subway. This situation is most certainly manageable. I will not stray from my sandwich until it's safely cocooned in its plastic tube bag and we're both on our way, far from the devil hands of the flattening sandwich wrapping Subway artist. You've been warned. Watch your subs.

Hanging Palin Halloween Display Legal Reaction Proves USA is Insane

The jackasses living in West Hollywood hung a Sarah Palin mannequin from a noose in front of their home and burn a John McCain likeness in a chimney. Yeah, that's art...Not. It's disrespectful, inappropriate and should be considered a hate crime, according to the definition of hate crimes. What? You don't see any violation against Palin and McCain based on race, religion, sexual orientation or ethnicity? Because they're not black, gay or Jewish? Has it been proven that this display is not based on hate of white heterosexual Christians?

Sheriffs say the whackness is alright because it's part of a Halloween display, which doesn't make it a hate crime. So, am I good if I want to set a cross on fire in a circle of white hooded figures on my lawn around Halloween? How about hanging an Obama figure from noose on my tree tomorrow? It's art. It's Halloween creativity at its best. No problems. That is so totally FUBAR.

Of course I have no desire or intention to do these things. But if I did, how fast would I see Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton postulating in front of my house, followed by their bus loads of protesters and obedient liberal media posse? Probably within the hour.

How would the gay dudes who live at this West Hollywood house like it if their neighbors hung figures dressed in rainbow pride clothes from their roofs? All in the spirit of Halloween, of course.

Why is this insanity tolerated so well by the majority? Does something cross the ethical line only if it offends a minority group? I'm so sick of the anything goes attitude in this country today. We are so twisted in our interpretation of freedom of expression. It's true what they say about the squeaky wheel getting greased. It's time for a different wheel to squeak, America. Stop spooning us bullshit. That is all.

Someone Cursed Me With Itchy Red Hives

A hive spell is the only remaining explanation. Allergy panels are negative. No new products tried during the onset of the devilish hives. No new pets acquired. What else could it be?

It's pretty ingenious, actually. Consider:

• Humiliation: The hives appear at the most inopportune times. I got free tickets to the grand opening of The Laugh Factory from a friend who works security there. A mere 15 minutes before we arrived, my scalp tingled, my neck flushed hot. Filthy red welts erupted on my face and neck - so attractive. People do tend to shy away from you when you have such things on your face. I think it suggests a degree of contagiousness.


• Insanity: The itch of these hives could very well drive me mad. They itch so intensely that I harm myself trying to stop the torment. I squeeze the rubbery welts between my fingers to make them go numb. Too bad one was close to my carotid artery and I almost fainted. I stab them with my fingernails to give myself another sensation besides the bloody itching. Lately, during the peak of the itching curve I burst out in hapless giggles, which worries me a little.


• Expense: I am now a constant Benadryl customer. Not too expensive and well worth the price, but an extra cost just the same.

I am not sure who has done this to me, but I do have a cagey coworker in mind. I recently revoked her refrigeration privileges in the lunch room because she repeatedly harvested colonies of mold on rotting old left-overs. By the way, why is it so hard to just throw your old food away? This, I have never understood.

Anyway, this particular coworker came up behind me a few weeks ago, touched my back and said, "There! You had some hairs on your shirt." So that's how it's done, isn't it? Snatch a few hairs and commence with the hocus pocus?

Well, fine, girlie. I'll have you know that not all is lost. I do get one pleasure out of my hives. When two or more are close together, it's great fun to watch them merge into one gigantic super welt. So there! Take that. And watch your back for stray hairs. Or just buy your own mini fridge.

One Birken Bag or Plumpynut for 9,000 Starving Kids?

Birken Bags start at $9,000, about the same cost for feeding 9,000 starving children in third world countries with Plumpynut, a vitamin fortified peanut butter backed by Doctors Without Borders in Niger. A daily dose of Plumpynut costs about $1, thus my calculation. I have made quantifying things into shocking realizations a fun hobby.

The World Health Organization says 178 million children suffer from malnutrition across the globe. That's only about 20,000 Birken Bags at the bargain model price of $9k each. I read Posh Beckham owns about $1 million worth of Birkens. That's a LOT of Plumpynut! Well, how can you compete with the thrills of choosing from precious metals of silver palladium, ruthenium, guilloche or 24 karat gold for the hardware on your bag, or waiting on Hermes' purse list for two years?

All Plumpynut has to offer are life-saving nutrients for starving kids. The mixture is simple to prepare and does not need refrigeration. Reports say its sweet taste appeals to children and they eat it willingly. But, the Plumpynut tube is not paveed with diamonds or made of pink ostrich skin, so really that's like bringing a knife to a gunfight.

The Birken Bag's been around for 24 years and took off right away with celebrities recognizing it as essential. Plumpynut was created in 1999 but has only recently received international media attention thanks to CNN's Anderson Cooper and Doctors Without Borders.

Our world's funny that way, idden it? Things are different in the Divasphere. Plumpynut over Birkens, hands down.

Victoria's Secret Thong Lawsuit: Thongs Behaving Badly Part II

The thong assault lawsuit filed this week puts Victoria's Secret right in front of a whole new level of the creative lawsuit floodgates! I've put some thought into the circumstances of Marcrida Patterson's case and have some predictions beyond my original thong article. It's time for "Thongs Behaving Badly, Part II".

If this suit is settled in favor of the plaintiff, stand by. If the court finds that Victoria's Secret sold underwear with faulty design capable of personal injury, where does this abstract interpretation end? This particular thong is part of their "Sexy Little Thing" line. Some gal buys the thong with hopes of being sexy and gets no sex. What then? Does she sue Victoria's Secret for false advertising? Well, sure, because someone's always to blame for our misfortunes, right? Riiiiiighht.

Another scenario: someone, say a 52-year-old woman, wears her thong in the locker room at the gym. Mean girls laugh, they say things, mean things, like "OMG! I would die if my mom wore a thong," or "I threw up in my mouth a little bit". This hurts and angers the thong wearing woman. Should she file a lawsuit? Of course! Mental stress and psychological suffering incurred from a product marketed without warnings of such risks sounds like a slam dunk to me.

Well, maybe manufacturers should be more responsible with their product design and marketing. Someone might go blind if they used a certain shampoo incorrectly and a little bit ran down their head and into their eye. The shampoo's consistency was probably too thin and the company should be accountable for any burning, redness and whatever mental stress results. "Warning: Keep Away From Eyes" is not the same as "Warning: This Shampoo Might Run Down Your Head and Into Your Eye Even Though You Didn't Purposely Put It Into Your Eyes So Be Very Careful And Hold Your Head Back With Your Eyes Shut Tight!"

I think manufacturers of everything better follow the alcohol industries examples and put warning labels on all products that say misuse or just plain regular use may result in injury or not getting exactly what you want in life. Or maybe we as a society could simplify CYA and have every parent sign a declaration on behalf of their child when they're born that reads, "Shit happens. I will be a reasonable human being. Promise."

Lindsay Lohan to Emmy: Thanks but No Thanks, Emmy: Huh?

Lindsay Lohan's cart was out in front of the horse this week when she withdrew her name from Emmy consideration. For her four-line appearance on "Ugly Betty". The Diva (me, not her) is not amused...well, maybe a little amused in a guffaw and teeth sucking kind of way.

Is this noble or obnoxious or just plain meaningless Lohan drama? "All of the above" is an acceptable answer, by the way. When you withdraw your name from consideration of anything, you do so because you don't want to win. And you make this effort because you are fairly convinced you will win, right? Otherwise there's no point.

So I'm going with obnoxiously meaningless drama. Saying thanks but no thanks to Emmy means you must have something to be thankful for in the first place. How hilarious is it that Lindsay Lohan would think she's on track for an Emmy for nano seconds of face time? Hil-Frickin-Larious.

Is this the blissful self image you spawn once you're swallowed up by the land of milk and honey? How sweet it must be to sit yourself down and really try to minimize all that adoration coming your way in hopes of evening up the playing field for those in your shadow. I can't type that sentence without the circus big tent theme playing in my head.

I think it's totally fantasmic to do such a thing! Just leave your name alone. Lindsay's minimal guest role on Ugly Betty couldn't possibly have clenched a nomination let alone the win. No, it's much better to draw droves of attention to yourself and your altruistic nature by following in Katherine Heigl's footsteps of mercy and deference to those more deserving.

Burp.

Five Men Who Pinch Themselves

Do you ever wonder how ijits get so lucky? It happens under so many circumstances: the donkey playing rags sucks you out with trips on the river on Full Tilt Poker; the drunk driver creams a car, kills the victims and walks away with a broken toe into the loving arms of rehab; the welfare baby mama wins the state lottery; the boring dork gets his own talk show. Grrr.

That last one yanks my chain. I really want my own talk show. Since it always makes me feel better to take cheap shots at people anonymously online, here are five men who must surely pinch themselves each day in total disbelief at their luck. The winners in descending order of obnoxiousity:

1. Ryan Seacrest: Can you say overexposed? Say it with me: Over-effin-exposed! If this little boy and his funny pubescent hair show up on one more shitty reality show, I'm going to.....do nothing. Because the lamer among us think he's fantastic. He produces reality shows for skanks the Kardashians and Denise Richards, hosts American Idol and owns about 10 restaurants. He must be laughing his ass off.
2. Carson Daly: He looks like a monkey and he's not funny. Enough said. Jennifer Love, what were you thinking?
3. Howie Mandel: Where to start? He's a constant irritation on Deal. Repeating yourself and stating the obvious shouldn't earn you a salary to live large on. When I'm enjoying myself watching people piss away thousands of dollars, I don't want him cutting in with, "You're about to make a very big decision" three times before the commercial. And you are so not rocking the soul patch, Howie.
4. Furnell Chapman: This NBC anchorman has the worst comb-over known to man. If a woman news anchor has split ends she's fired. Actually, Grandpa Furnell's hair is more of a comb-around and up rather than a comb-over. Just shave the filth off.
5. Wolf Blitzer: CNN's anchor robot. Take speech lessons or someone load a jalapeno into his ass. Anderson Cooper could wiggle in there and do it. Please.

None of these people would be employed in my cosmos (except Anderson, he's a cute little moy!). They would have to clean litter boxes for food. Oh, try this for your cat boxes. It's the best! What do you think of my list?

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