Pornstar 101: Choosing Your Porn Name

One of the biggest decisions you will ever make is choosing your porn name. Whether you're actually going into porn, or you got drunk at a friend's kegger and your waxing hypothetical about your career as "Mike Magnum", everyone has a porn name. To date, their are over 10 billion porn names in existence*. Jason Crystal is responsible for approximately 20% of them**. But how do you choose yours? With this handy-dandy guide. I suggest printing out and keeping it in your wallet or purse at all times. Why? Because your mom.

#1: Don't Use Any Method Involving A Pet's Name
I know the standard method involves your first pet's name plus the street you grew up on, but this is impractical. For starters, if you grew up in New York City, you're gonna end up with a goddamn number. I don't care how big a fan you are of Seinfeld, Seven is a dumb name. And even if you grew up anywhere else, you're still going to end up with a crappy name. Christ, I would have ended up as Kahlua Windmill, which sounds like the most depraved sex act ever.

#2: Keep It Simple...But Not Too Simple

Like any good title, you want it to be short, grab interest, but not give too much away. For example, "Dick Steel" is vaguely sexual, and of course, SHORT. Believe me, no one by the name of "Frederick-Charleston Szczygielski" will ever win a Grabby. Too much work to engrave, really. On the flip-side, "Cum Penissucker" is way too dirty, and you can kiss any chance of ever appearing on The Wendy Williams Show goodbye.

#3: Are You Latino? You Must Name Yourself Ricky Martinez Did you know there are, like, four gay porn stars named Ricky Martinez? Seriously? Come on, there are like an infinite amount of other names you could have picked here. His music isn't even that good anyway. Although considering the original Ricky Martin just came out, chances are they're all feeling pretty vindicated right now.

#4: Pick One Name, Then Stick With It

There's a reason why you're parents only ever gave you one full name: Because there's no reason for you to have a second. mind you, if something comes up and you're forced to change it, totally acceptable. But going back and forth between two names? Annoying. Going back and forth between 19? Grounds for chemical castration.

#5: Middle Names = Fucking Awesome
Middle names are a severely underrated aspect of the porn name. The porn middle name gives you the perfect opportunity to finally say that danger really IS your middle name.

#6: Pick A Name That Corresponds To Your Look
Think of it as advertising: if you're a twink, get a name that sounds youthful. If you're one of those super-giganto muscle bears, use a tough sounding name. Seriously, if you're a bodybuilder by the name of Tracy Young or something, be prepared for weird looks.

#7: Unless You're A Girl, No Pretentious Misspellings Allowed
I have no idea why, but for female pornstars there's this weird thing where every name has to be spelled in a weird way with added, useless double letters and X's thrown in. This doesn't work with men. Just spell your name like a normal person; you'll thank me later.

#8: No Single Names

Unless you're Cher, Madonna or Jewel (and if you are, I'm terribly sorry), just pick a last name. ANY last name. I think you need to earn an assload of money before you can walk around with only name.

#9: Google It

Think of picking your porn name like buying a house or getting a boyfriend: You're going to want to get some history before you make a commitment. It may seem perfect now, but you're face is going to be sooooooo red when you find out you're sharing a porn name with someone who raped and killed a dozen 12-year-old girls in the name of Xenu.

#10: STEVE HOLT!
If you name yourself "STEVE HOLT!", you win at life.

*Completely made up statistic. **Actual statistic.

8 Fictional Characters Who Are Surprisingly Shitty At Their Job

#8 - Mills Lane (Celebrity Deathmatch)

Actually, Mills Lane is a damn fine referee, but let's face it: Is there really a point officiating over a fight where someone is going to end up in a body bag anyway? For the most part, all he really does is stand in the corner in order to keep A-List blood off of him.


#7 - Nancy Botwin (Weeds)

You know, for a weed dealer, Nancy doesn't actually deal that much weed. Actually, the only time we see her doing any dealing, she's getting busted. Not only that, but most of her actual victories are because of other people, and she usually ends up completely blowing them anyway.

#6 - Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

Apparently wisest and most powerful wizard in the series, Dumbledore is kind of a gigantic dumbass for the most part. Despite being the most accomplished man out there, instead of becoming what is essentially wizard president, he decides to become the principal of a school where 1/4 of the students go on to commit mass genocide. And he also got killed by one of his employees, although that was just some double-double-cross or something. Point is, you can't spell Dumbledore without "Dumb".

#5 - Gregory House (House)

House is a doctor, and by "Doctor", I mean he physically and verbally abuses his patients, throws out wild accusations, pops pills and generally acts like a dick to everyone and everything until the disease is halted at the last minute. For the most part, this usually involves a shit load of illegal or unethical practices, but hey, living patients. Woooooo!

#4 - Dora The Explorer (Dora The Explorer)

Ugh, yes, this bitch. She doesn't so much "explore" as she does "walk around, stare vacantly at the screen, and encourage your children to scream like banshee hellbeasts from the deepest pits of the inferno." Hey Dora, wanna find that tree or whatever the fuck it is you're after? Fucking look behind you, you stupid prostitot.

#3 - Lara Croft (Tomb Raider)

For those of you wondering what exactly the fuck Lara does, she's an archaeologist. Yes, really. Which strikes me as odd really since she's perfectly happy to smash various fossilized pots and vases for the little trinkets inside, also she can get her hands on ONE little piece of shiny bullshit. Congratulations on breaking millions of dollars worth of priceless artifacts.

#2 - The entire cast of CSI (CSI: Pretty Much Any of Them)

I'm surprised these people actually manage to get anything accomplished since none of them even know what exactly their job entails. In the show, not only does the CSI team investigate the location, but they apparently perform all the functions of pretty much the entire judicial system as well. Not only that, but forensic evidence becomes some sort of hyper-accurate method where a murder can be tracked down by a cigarette butt and a wad of gum under someone's shoe. Sure, whatever you say.

#1 - The Staff of Seattle Grace Hospital (Grey's Anatomy)

To be honest, the CSIs probably would have taken this one if it weren't for the fact that the doctors of Grey's Anatomy regularly kill their patients through illegal and immoral practices. Seriously, I may not be an expert, but I somehow think letting a patient die so you can score some organ harvesting might be against the Hippocratic Oath. Or at the very least, result in a greater punishment than a verbal thrashing.

Suck It Saturday

Remember No Whining Wednesday? Well, consider today the opposite day: Suck It Saturday. It's the end of the week, so from now on, Saturday is the new day to air out all of your grievances and start the new week! So here are something that can suck it:

#1: People Who Don't Understand "Personal Space"


Here's the thing: If I stretch my arms out to my sides and whip them around and they touch you? You are too damn close. If it's a really crowded room or we're in an elevator or something, then okay, whatever. Totally cool with that. However, if it's a big-ass room, and I don't know you, and you're close enough for me to smell what you had for breakfast (which, as far as I can tell, was a steaming bowl of poo) I'm automatically filing you under "P" for "Probably a serial rapist".

#2: People Who Order A Ton Of Food Then Barely Eat It And Throw It Out Instead

Did you know people invented doggie bags for a reason? Yeah, it's so that you don't make your waiter throw out a shitload of perfectly good food. So help me Godtopus, next person who makes me throw out a gigantic slab of meat will be tied up, forced to watch a homeless person eat the food, and then I'll probably bitch slap them a couple times for being a total dickhole.

#3: Bloody Caesars

So apparently, this is some sort of Canadian thing, so I might need to back this one up a bit: A Bloody Caesar is exactly the same thing as a Bloody Mary, only instead of Tomato Juice, it's CLAMato Juice. As in WHY ARE YOU PAYING TO DRINK CLAM JUICE?! Seriously, do you know how gross that is? Gag. Oh, and they take damn near forever to make because they have a bajillion ingredients. They're totally annoying.

#4: People Who Have No Sense Of Humour

I'm sure this comes as a huge shock to you, but did you know I do this thing where I make fun of people? I know, I'm as shocked as you are. Well apparently this doesn't go over all that well sometimes, which strikes me as odd because they seem to have this belief that I'm not allowed to make fun of certain things. Here's the thing: I make fun of things because it's funny. If I don't make fun of something, it's not because I like it; it's because it's not funny. So yeah, if I make fun of you? It's because you did something funny. That's all it is.

#5: Owl City

If you've never had the (Dis)pleasure of experiencing Owl City, don't Google them. For your own safety, don't. Imagine what The Postal Service would sound like if instead Ben Gibbard they got that whiney emo kid from your Intro to College English Class who thinks his poetry is amazing when it really just makes him sound like a huge pussy. Read these lyrics and try not to start clawing at your computer monitor:

'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs
From ten thousand lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance

A foxtrot above my head
A sock hop beneath my bed
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread

One thing you should know about this is that a grown man is singing this. And people love it. Ugh.

Anyway, that's what I think can suck it. Feel free to spread the hate and come up with things that you think can totally suck it.

Cannonball Read Entry #18: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies - Jane Austen & Seth Grahame-Smith

[Ed. Note: Today's Cannonball Read Entry is dedicated to CBR co-founder Amanda "Alabama Pink" Amos, who a year ago lost her fight with Leukemia.]

It's a truth universally acknowledged that Jane Austen books are actually pretty boring. Unless you're a high school student or a middle-aged housewife in a book club, chances are you probably wouldn't need to read an Austen novel by choice.

It's not that Austen was necessarily a bad writer; actually, she was a pretty damn good one. Plus, she actually wrote for pleasure rather than profit, making her one of the first known example's of a true artist. That being said, her books just haven't aged well. The communication between characters is unbearably proper, the standards of feminism too antiquated and anachronistic. In short, it was a well prepared but ultimately bland serving; it just needed a little kick.

Enter Grahame-Smith and a legion of zombies.

The first rule of parody is that if you want a good spoof, you have to be in love with the subject matter, and it shows: the pieces that are Austen's and those of Grahame-Smith blend together so seemlessly that, if it weren't for the talk of ninjas and beheadings, it would be damn near impossible to accurately tell where one person's narrative ended and the other's began. There's a tender loving care to the story, so that the basic tone, style and sensibilities of the original are still ever-present, with the zombies playing an integrated, if somewhat jarring, part of the story.

For the most part, the plot remains the same: It's still the story of the five Bennet sisters trying to find a man before they're inevitably kicked out of their home due to inheritance law. Only now the London of past happens to be over-run by zombies, and the Bennet sisters aren't so much refined, dainty flowers as they are kick-ass wushu warriors with as much bloodlust in their systems as estrogen.

To be honest with you, the original Pride and Prejudice, though lacking in a gripping story, did offer a glimpse of a sort of feminism refreshing for its time, even if it doesn't really hold up to modern standards. For the most part, Austen was probably something of a ye olde Diablo Cody, in that she was an amazing writer who just needed a good story. The zombie bits are probably the better parts of the book, if only because they marry Austen's classic prose with a story-line that's far more appealing.

In short, for those of you who want to read Pride and Prejudice? You're better off just going with "and Zombies" addendumed version. Although considering that zombies are pretty much a pinnacle of the Pajiban way, I might be a tad biased.

View Askew

In large part, Kevin Smith has become something more of an idea than an actual person; In 1994, he released Clerks, a movie with a budget that Hollywood considers to be pocket change. And it was fucking fantastic. The movie wore its indie badge on its sleeve, was adored by critics, and became a cult classic. Even with the post-production budget multiplying the movie's budget almost tenfold, it still managed to gross almost 14 times its investment.

He became the force outside of the machine; the person who, for a lot of people, manifested the idea that you could work outside of the system and still be able to turn a profit while maintaining critical success by making movies for people who actually appreciate the art of film, rather than simply those who had $20 on them and needed to waste two hours of their life.

And then he released Cop Out and took a big steaming dump over everything he worked for.

Actually, it wouldn't be fair to say that it was simply the release of Cop Out that did him in. Despite massive critical acclaim, Smith never managed to earn over $30 million at the box office. After a while, that probably starts to get annoying. So he decided to do a studio movie. I'm not about to jump on the high horse and start calling him out for it. I mean at this point, the guy's been building up god will for about seventeen years. Hell, after this long, most people (including myself) were more than happy to give him a free pass.

Naturally, the movie sucked. It's not like people were standing at the sidelines, foaming at the mouth to see him fail. Simply put, it was a tired formula, stale jokes with stilted delivery, terrible acting (unless it begins with "30" and ends with "Rock", don't put Tracy Morgan in it) and overall, it was just a huge letdown. Some people were calling it the moment that Kevin Smith officially sold out, but it wasn't.

That would come later.

Here's the thing about Kevin Smith's anti-critic rant: it, along with Cop Out, managed to alienate everyone who had elevated him to his status. The film itself was a swift kick in the balls to those who looked to him as proof that you could beat the system, and his rant was his way of implying zero-accountability. He didn't make a bad movie, you're just too elitist to appreciate a dumb movie.

And here's where the bullshit detector starts to blip a little. There are plenty of brainless movies that were perfectly enjoyable. Hell, I even made a list out of it. The only thing is, they didn't just settle for being brainless. They evened it out by actually being funny. You didn't.

Now, as for the comments about critics...If anything, considering that they're getting a free-screening, not to mention various other free swag, they'd probably be more inclined to go easier on you. Bad reviews rarely, if ever, result in a huge loss in revenue. But good reviews can, and usually do, result in a sort of longevity. Think about it: Alvin and the Chipmunks made tons of money. Will people remember it through the ages? No. But a movie like Juno, which earned critical success, which lead to commercial success, will be remembered far longer.

But when it comes down to it, it's not a matter of Kevin Smith versus his critics. Rather, it's a matter of Kevin Smith versus his fans. Critics are meant to be objective in their subjectivity (if such a thing exists), in that they can't let personal opinion cloud their judgment. Their job is to deconstruct a movie from a purely artistic standpoint. In this sense, they're quite fickle: They can love one movie from a certain writer/director/actor, only to hate the next one, and vice-versa. It's a matter of being a professional. But fans don't have to be professional. They're just along for the ride.

Here's the thing: If I'm paying $20 to go see a movie (this is factoring in the absolute ass-raping that occurs while trying to get a Hefty Bag full of popcorn and five liters of Diet Pepsi), it had better be a goo fucking movie. If I'm not thoroughly entertained, you better goddamn believe someone is losing their head.

But that's what happened: he made a movie that appealed to the lowest common factor, and he pulled the "elitist" flag that so many use when trying to avoid personal responsibility. The absolute worst thing you can do is pretend there's nothing wrong when something is, and let's face it, there's something wrong with this picture. He made a crappy, and people called him out on it. You can pull out every excuse in the book you want, but getting mad at critics for calling something like it is is like taking a dump in the middle of someone's living room then getting angry when they ask you to stop.

But all in all, the worst part is that, as a symbol, Kevin Smith is no more. Hey, I'm looking forward to Red State as much as the next guy, but at this point, Kevin Smith has pretty much stomped out the idea that someone can operate outside of the standard while maintaining critical adoration and artistic credibility. But hey, he finally made $45 million, right? Hope it was all worth it.

The Penis Mightier

So guess who just finished writing his first book ever?

Yeah. So after months of writing and blocks and random discombobulation and such, I finally finished writing it. As in holy shit, I just wrote a fucking book. Suck on THAT, everyone who said I would never amount to anything! Especially YOU, Mr. Donovan. You're a dick.

Okay, so technically, "Finished" might be jumping the gun a little bit. I still have to actually edit the damn thing (which I am really not looking forward too because UGH, more work) and then I have to send it to agents and get it published and blah and blah and blah...So, ummmm, I guess it's really only partially finished then, huh? Well whatever, I wrote a rough draft of a freaking book. That calls for some celebratory drinking, right? Well whatever, I'm gonna drink anyway.

Anyway, gonna go ahead and jump right over the gun here. I decided to dedicate the book to the following people:

#1: To Mama and Papa Feist. Not their actual names. For just loving me no matter what, and because if I don't they will hunt me down and beat me with sticks. Seriously, they said so.

#2: To Clyde. I loved you more than you could ever know. And you returned the favour. For this, I'm forever grateful to you.

#3: To the good folk over at Pajiba. There's a good chance you people are completely insane, but that's what I like about you. Thanks for being awesome.

#4: To all the single ladies. Now put your hands up.

Okay that last one might just be a joke. But still, I wrote a goddamn book. Sweet.

Suck It, Lady Gaga

Alright, so by now you know my opinions on Lady Gaga's Telephone video (The tl;dr version: It sucked,) but to prove that I'm not completely heartless, here's Pomplamoose's cover of Telephone. Believe me when I say that it is easily the most adorable cover song you will ever hear. If your ovaries don't explode and your heart doesn't cave in on itself, then obviously there is something seriously wrong with you.

A Very Gary Busey Day

Today was actually kinda fucking weird.

First thing in the morning, I got a really nasty comment on Litely Salted (since been deleted. Thanks Stace!) that pretty much went above and beyond the usual nastiness we get on there to the point of it being a personal attack. To be honest, it was kinda obvious from the writing style (not to mention the IP Address) who wrote it, but whatever, I'm not about to be bullied into a fight over something like that.

Anyway, next came the shocker that I won Eloquent Eloquence over on Pajiba, which came with the addendum that I had to take a picture of myself humping a screen that prominently featured Gary Busey's face.

Even in context, this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
But I did it anyway. The results earned some pretty rave reviews I must say, which is kinda weird because A) it wasn't really the best picture of me, and B) it featured Gary Busey. Actually, Gary Busey seemed pretty gung ho about it. He was giving the camera a big Chiclet smile and a thumbs up and everything.

And then everyone got all pissy over the definition of "Skank" when Stacey called the chick that Sandra Bullock's husband is banging a skank. The only problem: She was a porn star. To be honest, I know Stacey by now; she's totally down with the porn stars. Hell, she hired me, didn't she? Anyway, I agree with her that the girl and Jesse James are both skanks, not because she does porn or anything, but because they had a fucking affair. Affair = skank. It's like science and shit.

Anyway, whatevs. Weird day I guess. I'm going to be. Cheers.

Hung Geekster Porn Star

Fun fact: Only three of the four words The Sword used above actually describe me. Guess which!

But yeah, look everyone! I was on The Sword and stuff! How fucking awesome is that? (The answer to this is SO GODDAMN AWESOME.) Actually, it was up on Friday, but since nobody told me, and also because it was St. Patrick's Day weekend which meant drinking to a near-comatose state, I only found out today. Anyway, point being, this is fucking rad as hell, and I'm totally honoured right now. And for the record: The Sword described me as a full-fledged Porn Star. THE FUCKING SWORD. So anybody who says I'm not a porn star is obviously a lying liar who tells lies, and they can totally kiss my Chrissy Behind (it's fine most of the time.)

Anyhoodle, thanks!

Oh, and for the record: Brita Filters? Naaaaaaaah. I like my men like I like my alcohol: cheap, poorly filtered and quite possibly poisonous.

The Art Of Gaming

I really don't talk about this often enough, but I'm something of a huge gamer. Mind you, this is the 21st Century: Saying you play video games is pretty much like saying that you enjoy wearing pants or that you don't stone a woman every time she has her period. But that's beside the point.

Despite massive mainstream success, both commercially and critically, gaming tends to be seen as something of a lesser art form. Despite the media of film, television and music being composed of about 90% pure, unadulterated shit, these have all been accepted by mainstream audiences whole-heartedly. Video games however are still usually seen as being quarantined to a niche market, presumably one compromised of geeks, nerds, social lepers and various other schmucks stuck in a case of arrested development.

But the thing is, if we're basing it solely on a purely innovative standpoint, gaming is by far the most evolved form of art available today. Not only that, but it continues to evolve in a way that film, television and music can and will never be able to emulate.

In simple terms, it means that in the space of 38 years, gaming has evolved so rapidly that past titles, though still classic, are obsolete by today's standards. Compare this to film: In 1972, The Godfather was released, and is widely seen as one of the greatest films of all time; Comparing this to 2010, Hurt Locker just (deservedly) won Best Picture, and despite being a perfectly good movie, really doesn't compare.

Contrast this to gaming: In 1972, Pong was released, and people fucking shit themselves because they could make a little rectangle go up and down to keep a little square from flying off the screen into non-existance. Fast-forward to 2010: We have games with full on physics engines, graphics that have gone from little white blocks to almost life-like human models, and an even greater level of difficulty.

Unlike films, gaming is based on the skill that there audience brings into it. The highest level of functioning that you need in order to properly enjoy a movie to it's full potential is the ability to see and the ability to hear. That's it. Gaming, on the other hand, not only requires a greater set of reflexes and hand-eye coordination than the previous generation. It's an art form that actually requires you to be able to grow with it and vice-versa.

Now, don't get me wrong, there are plenty of shit games. And there are games that really only serve as to rehash well-trodden territory. Take, for instance, The New Super Mario Bros. on the Wii. It's not a bad game by any stretch of the imagination. Will I ever buy it? No. Why? For the simple reason that Super Mario Bros. Wii represents artistic stagnation; I mean Christ, Super Mario Galaxy had you running around entire goddamn planets and universes using an engine meant to replicate gravity. It recreated gravity and instead you're going to go back 25 years to "Go left and jump until you get to the end"?

If we're going to pinpoint the exact moment where gaming (in my mind at least) could be considered an art form, it would have to be with the release of Portal back in 2007. It was original, the humour was whip smart, and the entire thing ran off a physics engine so finely detailed it could have been written by God himself. It was the moment where gaming became art; a rapidly shifting and changing form of art that grew with it's audience. One that looked back on its past for the sole purpose of expanding on it rather than ripping it off. One whose value could accurately be measured by its audience, rather than the other way around. If art is meant to be a living, breathing thing, meant to evolve through time, than Gaming is as close to that definition as possible.

A Realtime Review Of Lady Gaga's "Telephone"

0:00 - Alright, so this shit is apparently a continuation of Lady Gaga's Paparazzi video, so here's the story so far: Lady Gaga's boyfriend threw her off a balcony for some reason, so then she was a paraplegic, but then she wasn't, and then there were a bunch of dead whores or something, and then she dressed up like a slutty Mickey Mouse (technically, this would make her Minnie Mouse) and killed her boyfriend, so they threw her ass in jail. Ha ha! It's funny because she's stupid. Anyway, onto the actual video or something!

0:26 - Yes, 26 seconds. Apparently, this is how long it takes for the opening credits to roll and for people to realize this is a Lady Gaga video. On the plus side, thanks to the opening credits, we now know who to blame for this piece of crap.

0:32 - Enter Lady Gaga, who appears to be channeling Gwen Stefani circa whenever the fuck she was still relevant. She's being escorted by two very angry displeased lesbians through the "Prison for Bitches", as opposed to the "Prison for generally pleasant young women".

1:09 - I love how the inmates' first reaction to seeing someone knew is to fuck their prison bars. Apparently, there was some sort of clerical error and Gaga accidentally got sent to AlcaTRAMP. Naturally, first thing the guards do when they get her to her cell is to strip her bare-ass naked because why the fuck not, right? On the plus side, we now know that Lady Gaga doesn't have a penis; although it appears she got herself vagazzled.

1:30 - Now it's outdoors time, and Gaga got herself some cigarettes and...GODAMMIT. Seriously, cigarettes are like money in prison! Money you can SMOKE. And you turned them into sunglasses. Do you have any idea how much crystal meth you could have bought with those?

2:07 - And for no discernible reason, Gaga is now making out with a lesbian. This has absolutely no impact on the rest of the video whatsoever, although it does give us a chance to play "Spot the clumsily disguised product placement." Hint: The name of the company is the exact opposite of what Lady Gaga is.

2:30 - And we're back inside now. As you can see, the previous scene? Absolutely no relevance to the plot whatsoever. Told ya. And now two very angry lesbians are kicking the shit out of each other. You can tell it's serious because Gaga is combing her hair. This is universal sign language for "It is SO on."

2:48 - Alright, lesbian fight is over. The entire time, I kinda expected Shao Khan to step in and be all like "FINISH HER", but now. Way to miss the boat, Gaga. And the music finally kicks in after...Over two and a half minutes of absolutely fucking nothing.

3:10 - Someone apparently gave a shit enough to call Gaga while she was rotting in jail, and how does she thank them? By basically telling them she was too busy to talk, dropping the phone then dancing. Christ, you'd think one of those angry lesbos from before would walk over, yank those stupid Diet Coke cans out of her hair and violently beat her with the receiver for dancing like such a fucking spazz.

3:20 - And back to the cells now, which are all open and all the inmates are walking around freely in their bras and panties. I could make a joke about this being Sing-Sing or some shit like that, but more accurately, the name of the jail should be Syph-Syph.

4:05 - Nice to know that in between all the gang-rape, violent assaults an race wars, the prison's art program can still churn out perfectly timed choreographed dance numbers. Your tax dollars at work, people. Anyway, now Gaga is decked out in "Crime Scene: Do Not Cross" tape. That's funny; since when did they start classifying herpes as a crime?

4:26 - Oh Frabjous Day! Someone bailed Lady Gaga out of jail! Nice to know we live in a country where all a murderer needs to walk out of jail scott-free is a friend with cash. Isn't that right, Roman Polanski? And for those of you who ever looked at the Quaker Oats guy and wondered what he would look like as a prostitute...

5:08 - And here comes Beyonce in the Pussy Wagon from Kill Bill. Can you believe Quentin loaned it to them for free? And all they had to do was let him cum on their feet....A win-win situation for all involved.

5:30 - "Once you kill a cow, you gotta make a burger." Ummmmm...No? You could make leather, or steak, or fucking gelatin or maybe some milk even. What I'm trying to say here is that Lady Gaga is fucking retarded.

5:57 - And now we're in some fucking podunk diner that is inexplicably packed despite being stuck smackdab in the middle of fucking Nowhere. Beyonce is meeting Tyrese Gibson for lunch, and is apparently doing that "Smize" thing Tyra Banks won't shut her gigantic mouth about. Either that or she has the power to randomly make subtitles appear.

6:17 - While Tyrese is busy playing grab-ass with the town bicycle, Beyonce slips some poison into his coffee. Didn't Gaga try this shit in her last video? Seriously, just shoot the fucker point-blank in the face already, it'll save everyone a lot of time and grief. Either way, it apparently isn't very good poison, as all he does is cough a little bit. That's what you get for trying to kill him using a travel-sized bottle of Colgate mouthwash.

6:21 - Problem: We're about six and a half minutes in and so far there's only been two telephones in the entire thing. Solution: Staple a phone to Gaga's head, then get a bunch of gay guys to dance around while talking into food. I'm especially fond of this guy, who is having WAY too much fun talking with a head of lettuce.

7:08 - Alright kids, time to learn how to make a sandwich! First, spread unhealthy amounts of mayo on some Wonder Bread, dance around with a bunch of gays, then just dump a shitload of poison on everything and call it a day. This is what happens when you take cooking tips from Sandra Lee.

7:32 - So Gaga serves up the poisoned food and Tyrese Gibson croaks and dies. In all fairness, if you're dumb enough to eat food served to you by a woman whose hair has been sculpted into a telephone receiver, you deserve to die.

7:43 - And just because they can, they go ahead and poison everyone else in the diner too. Christ, you'd think after the first 20 people mysteriously keeled over while clutching their throats they would have gotten the hint, but apparently not.

8:07 - Of course, now that everyone is dead, it's time to throw on an American flag bikini and dance on their grave. U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

8:23 - Oh darn, can you believe Beyonce almost made it through an entire video without patting her weave? What a shame, she was so close too...

8:45 - Alright, so Gaga has time for one more stupid costume, and it is...A leopard-print catsuit? Really? Ugh. At this point, unless she's taping live lobsters to her nipples or wearing a hat made out of copies of Kafka's Metamorphosis, it's just not doing it for me.

8:57 - Oh wait, they got one more stupid outfit in and...CURTAINS AND COWBOY HATS? Goddammit, if you're not gonna try anymore, neither am I.

9:20 - Alright, so apparently they're gonna drive off far, far away, and then they both sort of do the whole Thelma & Louise hand-hold thing. Only instead of driving off a cliff, they do absolutely nothing. What a friggin' rip!

Self-Sucking 101: A Beginner's Course To The Fine Art of Auto-Fellatio

(An alternative title to this lesson: How to ensure that you will never leave your bedroom ever again)

Woody Allen once said "Don't knock masturbation — it's sex with someone I love." While I don't want to discredit Woody, mostly because he makes good movies, you can always do better than your right hand. Which is why I'm sharing my secret on how to self-suck. Let's face it: if you want the job done right, you gotta do it yourself. And I'm here to teach you how to do it yourself.

There are two methods of pulling this off: The first is the "Be Born With A Huge Dick" method. The only problem with this is that you really only get one shot at this, and let's face it: if you're reading this, it might be a little late to change that part. The second method is the "Flexibility" method. If you have a normal sized-dick (I'm packing six inches, which I think is about 7 in porn length), all it takes is a little stretching and some good ole fashioned determination to pull this off. But I'm rambling now; Let's start the lesson.

Step 1: Find A Comfortable Spot

You're gonna need a lot of room and a soft area. If you have a decently-sized bed, use it. The softer the better too; it allows you a little more bending in your back. And believe me, you're gonna need it.

Step 2: Drink Up
Actually, there's really never a bad time to start drinking, but in this case, the booze will probably take some of the initial discomfort out of the equation, which is always a plus really.

Step 3: Limber Up
You want to focus on two areas here: The abs and the lower back. These two are gonna be stretching and pulling in order to get point A to point B, so feel free to stretch these out as much as you can without breaking and/or tearing something.

Step 4: Drink Some More
Because really, why not, right?

Step 5: Get Hard
This one is kind of a no-brainer; the bigger your dick is when you're trying to pull this off, the better. Throw on a good DVD, light some candles, put on Barry Manilow or whatever it is you people listen to, just get yourself in the mood. This step actually just goes further than your dick: sexual stimulation actually causes your body to become less receptive to pain and allows for greater flexibility in the joints, both of which are useful to going down on yourself.

Step 6: Assume The Position
You can either go at it from a regular sitting position, but if you want to make this easier on yourself, the legs-over-head position work best. The added gravity will help get your dick closer to your mouth, which is a huge help. Simply lie on your back and swing your legs over your head. Also, be sure to grab your dick at the base. It'll keep the blood in your erection while still allowing you to maneuver and pull your dick as needed. For the sake of getting a good shot, I kept one leg extended, but honestly, unless you're filming yourself, just send bother legs over your shoulders.

Step 7: ???
???

Step 8: Profit!
Now, just go to town. If you have enough bend and enough dick on your side, it's just a matter of finishing yourself off. Don't be afraid to swallow too: Self-Sucking is actually a pretty decent ab workout, and that's some primo protein shooting out of your junk there, homeskillet. Waste not want not.

Step 9: Get Up Slowly

Once your done, roll yourself out and get up at your own pace. Chances are you just placed all your weight on your neck and head, so getting up too fast might result in a serious head-rush.

Step 10: Fuck It, Let's Drink Some More
What? Vodka goes bad once you open it. Do you know how many starving Ethiopian kids would love to get a drink in their bellies? Think about that, you uncaring asshole.

Well, that's it. I've taught you everything I know. Go forth and go down on yourselves, kiddies.

Burrito, The Golfing Dog: Greatest Thing EVER

I really have no other way of prefacing this one, other to say HOLY CRAP, they dressed up a little dog as an itty-bitty caddy, then gave him a mini-mini-putt, then taught him how to golf. Part of me thinks this might count as animal cruelty and the other part is currently looking up animal shelters in the area that prodominantly feature pets that can also play sports...Although technically I don't really think Golf is so much a sport as it is a bunch of rich white men hitting a fucking ball. But I digress. Point is, this dog is fucking AWESOME.

The Hairy Vs. Not-As-Hairy Debate of 2010

Yeah, I buzzed my body hair. Not shaved, buzz. Which means I still have body hair like a normal, sane human being, it's just a little shorter. Anyway, now it's your turn to tell me which you guys prefer. To be honest, chances are all the hair will probably be back in, like, a week or something, but whatever, let's hear it guys: Hairy or Sorta-Not-As-Hairy? Choose motherfuckers choose!

Oh, and as always:
First, here's the frontsies:And here's the backsies:
Well, there you have it. Choose bitches, choose.

A Drink & Think

So as it turns out, being single really isn't all that great.

I know, who knew, right?

My list of weekend activities isn't comprised of activities so much as it is a list of what might come out if you gave me a stomach pump. For example:

Friday: 4 cans Pabst Blue Ribbon (A great pick for oh-so-cool hipsters everywhere, as it tastes so goddamn awful, you have to drink it ironically,) and some Nyquil I found in the medicine cabinet.

Saturday: Jack and Coke, a healthy dose of white wine, and the 2 remaining cans of PBR.

Sunday: Orange Bacardi Breezers (the ones that taste like Creamsicles,) Vodka, and screwdrivers. LOTS of screwdrivers. Oh, and a Moka frappuccino that I threw a shot of vodka in. Just to keep things fresh.

As you can see, most of my weekend has been spent working my way up to Dialysis. In my defense, everyone knows that Vodka starts to go bad once you open it, which is why I had no choice but to drink as much as humanely possible. What can I say, I'm just old fashioned like that. You kids today with your crystal meth and your Lady Gaga and your Ecstasy and your Ed Hardy...Give me a bottle of liquid heartbreak and a pack of cigarettes and I will be just spiffy thank you kindly.

Apparently, I'm supposed to feel good about being single or whatever, but really I just sort of feel like I made something of a lateral move here; I'm no better or worse off really. I'm in the same place as I was before, but the furniture has been rearranged.

Meh, maybe I'm over-thinking this or something, or maybe I'm just being a total weenie because I've spent the last three days cycling between inflicting and inducing hangovers, but whatever. If the experience has taught me anything, it's that actions have no intrinsic value; only the value that you give them. Fact of the matter is, good people get fucked over by the rules of society and bad people get fucked over by karma. I surrender to destiny; go ahead and bend over for fate already. You might as well make this as quick as possible.

(Edit: This isn't a stab at anyone or anything. This is just my way of saying I've been drinking and kinda bummed out at the moment. That is all.)

Cannonball Read Entry #17: Why We Suck - Denis Leary

Despite what most people think, there's a marked difference between funny and controversial. Here's the thing: Anyone can be controversial. Anyone. Octomom was controversial, George Bush was controversial, Tila Tequila was controversial. Fact of the matter is, you don't need even an iota of intelligence to get people to talk about you; Hell, the fewer brain cells you have, the easier it probably is.

Being funny, on the other hand, requires an amount of brain function that, quite frankly, the controversial are simply incapable of. Take Rush Limbaugh for instance: He may wobble about in his chair mocking Michael J. Fox's Parkinson's, he may wiggle his jowls to crack jokes about ethnicity and gender and sexual orientation, and he may take periodic breaks between self-medicating and having myocardial infarctions to go on the record saying he hopes our president fails, but he will never be funny. Why? Because he's simply not smart enough to be funny.

Such is the underlying issue with Denis Leary's "Why We Suck": It's hysterically funny, and I highly recommend it, but for all it's grand-standing, it's machismo and it's desperate attempts to puff out its chest in a display of masculinity, it's just not as controversial as it thinks it is.

Not that he doesn't try. He gives his chapters titles like "Matt Dillon Is A Giant Fag" or "Autism Shmaustism", but never lives up to his own lofty expectations. What he's saying is either already true, and widely known by all but those with no sense of reality, or it's just too generalized to his own life for it to apply on a larger scale. Let's face it: despite what you might believe, women are generally just as awful as men, and men as generally just as awful as women.

Actually, this would probably be almost irritating if it wasn't for the fact that this book is just flat-out fucking funny. It is balls to the wall, all or nothing, fuck you and all you stand for funny. In a way, it's sort of the literary equivalent of watching Supersize Me; yes, we all know that eating McDonald's is bad for you and that it will make you fat, but we watch it anyway because it's entertaining as hell. That's what it is: It's a collection of well-known or stretched-out truths, but retold in a way that at least makes them fun to relive again.

Cannonball Read Entry #16 : A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Bad Beginning - Lemony Snicket

To be honest, I went into this book intending to start some sort of mini-read-a-thon in order to get myself back up and running, but long story short, I ended up veering off into other books and yadda yadda yadda so long mini-read-a-thon, we hardly knew ye.

Anyway, A Series Of Unfortunate Events...It think we can all agree that the better part of books geared towards young adults are, shall we say, shit. They're not shit because they're geared towards kids (to be honest, I hate kids. Hate them. With a passion. No really, I don't think you understand just how much I absolutely fucking despise children,) but because they're geared towards what the authour thinks children are: beings devoid of a functioning brain, willing to fork over mommy's and daddy's money everytime Justin Bieber, or whatever pre-teen sex idol is yapping there whiney little face-hole off, decides to pimp something out to the adoring masses.

Instead, A Series Of Unfortunate Events, penned by the incomparable Daniel Handler under the pseudonym Lemony Snicket, is what a young adult novel should be: Smart, cynical and biting without being pretentious, bitter or mean-spirited. It celebrates intelligence, ingenuity and ambition while admonishing selfishness, vapidity and laziness. Hell, at the risk of sounding like an eighty-year-old man, if kids today read these books and took them to heart, we as a nation might have a shot in hell.

Now get off my damn lawn.

...

Oh, yes, that's right, the plot. Here it is: Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire are a trio of well-off siblings who excell in inventing, reading, and biting respectively. Then one day, their parents die. No rhyme or reason is given to it, they're just dead and they're somehow expected to deal with it because that's the way the universe works.

They're then pawned off onto Count Baudelaire, a man with an at-best tenuous relation with the siblings who proceeds to treat them like shit and plots on stealing the enormous fortune their parents left them. They're abused physically, verbally and emotionally and the only people they have to rely on are each other. And of course, this being a kids book, good triumphs (albeit temporarily) over evil not by some random deus ex machina awkwardly squeezed in at the end, but through their own actions.

To be honest, the book doesn't go all that far, but it establishes the voice for the series as well as promoting the the virtue self-reliance. Chances are, I will never have kids, mostly because kids are the goddamn devil, but if I did (which I won't) they'd pretty much be mandated to read these books.

The 2010 Academy Award Predictions

Alright, the Oscars are just two days away, and you could practically cut the apathy with a knife over here. That being said, the Oscars do provide a great opportunity to place some bets, so let's get crackin' here, shall we?

(A quick word here: I'm only guessing on the major categories here, mostly because the smaller ones tend to veer all over the place...And also because no one gives a shit about Best Editing.)

Best Original Screenplay

The Hurt Locker - Mark Boal (The Dark Horse)
Inglourious Basterds - Quentin Tarantino (Will Win; Should Win)
The Messenger - Camon & Moverman
A Serious Men - The Coen Brothers
Up - Peterson & Docter

Say what you will about him, but while Tarantino's movies may be overstyled at times, he knows his way around a narrative. Get past the vengeance-fantasy aspect of Basterds, and you'll find a surprisingly deep and complex web of intertwined story of deceit and violence. The Hurt Locker may pull an upset here, but don't put money on it.

Best Adapted Screenplay

District 9 - Blomkamp & Tatchell
An Education - Nick Hornby
In The Loop - Armstrong et al. (Should Win)
Precious - Geoffrey Fletcher (The Dark Horse)
Up In The Air - Reitman & Turner (Will Win)

Compared to it's Original counterpart, the Adapted Screenplay field is actually much stronger. Up In The Air, while not the best movie of the year but still perfectly good, will probably end up taking it, although In The Loop really should get some recognition from the Academy. And while the three other nominees all have potential to win, I'd probably pick Precious as the Dark Horse.

Best Foreign Language Film

Ajami - Israel
The Milk Of Sorrow (La Teta Asutada) - Peru
A Prophet (Un Prophète) - France
The Secret In Their Eyes (El Secreto de Sus Ojos) - Argentina
The White Ribbon (Das Weisse Band) - Germany (Will Win; Should Win)

Like you even need to ask...The White Ribbon. By a fucking mile. There is no dark horse in this category. They're already toasting their victory in Germany. No contest. Moving on now.

Best Documentary Feature

Burma VJ
The Cove (Will Win; Should Win)
Food Inc. (The Dark Horse)
The Most Dangerous Man In America: Daniel Ellsberg And The Pentagon Papers
Which Way Home

The Cove doesn't so much pluck your heart strings so much as it tears out your goddamn heart and plays it like a harp. Throw in the added bonus that people fucking love dolphins and some added Hollywood guilt (it was created by the guy who trained dolphins for Flipper, and to a certain extent, ushered in the public love affair with dolphins) and you've got gold. Food Inc. might pull an upset thanks to some indie buzz, but really? Don't count on it.

Animated Feature Film

Coraline - Henry Sellick
Fantastic Mr. Fox - Wes Anderson (The Dark Horse)
The Princess And The Frog - Musker & Clements
The Secret of Kells - Tomm Moore
Up - Pete Docter (Will Win; Should Win)

Usually, Pixar has a monopoly on this category (save for the year they released Cars, although I like to pretend that movie doesn't exist), but this year, it's actually pretty strong. Not to say that Up won't win it; It was an incredible movie, and fully deserves to win. That being said, the other nominees were great movies in their own right, and on the paper-thin chance that the Academy is suffering from Pixar Ennui, Wes Anderson's stop motion throwback may pull an upset.

Best Supporting Actress

Penelope Cruz - Nine
Vera Farmiga - Up In The Air
Maggie Gyllenhaal - Crazy Heart
Anna Kendrick - Up In The Air (The Dark Horse)
Mo'Nique - Precious (Will Win; Should Win)

Penelope Cruz won it last year, but only handed in a mediocre performance this year, especially compared to Marion Cotillard's. Farmiga was great but forgettable, and Gyllenhaal did an incredible job despite weak writing for her character. Kendrick is the only one with a snowball's chance here, but really, Mo'Nique owns this. The bitch was a terrifying force of nature and completely deserves every last bit of praise she receives.

Best Supporting Actor

Matt Damon - Invictus
Woody Harrelson - The Messenger
Christoper Plummer - The Last Station
Stanley Tucci - The Lovely Bones
Christopher Waltz - Inglourious Basterds (Will Win; Should Win)

Is there really any point in pretending that this one is even a competition? It's Waltz all the fucking way here. He was a carefully planned balance of charming and murderous in four fucking languages and nailed every single one of them. Christopher Waltz is winning it, end of story.

Best Actress

Sandra Bullock - The Blind Side (Will Win)
Helen Mirren - The Last Station
Carey Mulligan - An Education (Should Win)
Gabourey Sidibe - Precious
Meryl Streep - Julie & Julia (The Dark Horse)

Alright, here's where things get interesting: It's not that I don't like Sandra Bullock or anything. I do, I swear. Miss Congeniality wasn't exactly a cinematic masterpiece, but she's charming as hell. And she turned in a pretty decent performance in The Blind Side, I'll give her that. But fact of the matter is, if you take it in perspective of the bigger picture, it was a mediocre performance in a mediocre movie and giving it to her would be denying a far better actress an award she deserves. Carey Mulligan fully deserves to go home with the gold, and hell, even Meryl Streep is long overdue. Gabby Sidibe is just likable as hell, so part of me really wants to see her win, and Helen Mirren deserves the nomination, if not an actual win. Just please, for the love of God, don't give Sandra Bullock the Oscar.

Best Actor

Jeff Bridges - Crazy Heart (Will Win; Should Win)
George Clooney - Up In The Air (The Dark Horse)
Colin Firth - A Single Man
Morgan Freeman - Invictus
Jeremy Renner - The Hurt Locker

This one is actually kinda boring. Jeff Bridges will of course take it, although Clooney might make a surprise grab for it. Firth and Freeman were both great, but let's face it, they don't have a shot in hell here. As for Jeremy Renner...Well, to be honest he seems like a genuinely sweet guy, he did a great job, and from a personal perspective at least, I really kinda hope he wins it.

Best Director

Kathryn Bigelow - The Hurt Locker (Will Win; Should Win)
James Cameron - Avatar (The Dark Horse)
Precious - Lee Daniels
Up In The Air - Jason Reitman
Inglourious Basterds - Quentin Tarantino

Why hello, awkward situation, how are you? From both an objective and subjective point of view, I'm pulling for Bigelow over Cameron here; obviously, she's the better director of the two, not to mention the fact that Cameron is a grade-a creep. I can appreciate the amount of work that goes into a project of Avatar's magnitude, but who are we kidding, right? Bigelow is just flat-out better.

Best Picture

Avatar - James Cameron (Will Win)
The Blind Side - Netter et al.
District 9 - Jackson & Cunningham
An Education - Dwyer & Posey
The Hurt Locker - Bigelow et al. (Should Win)
Inglourious Basterds - Lawrence Bender (The Dark Horse)
Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' By Sapphire - Daniels et al.
A Serious Man - The Coen Brothers
Up - Jonas Rivera
Up In The Air - Reitman

And here's where it all comes together. Alright, let's deconstruct this piece by piece, shall we? Congrats to Up for breaking out of the animate feature ghetto and earning a nod, but despite being my favourite movie of the year, it won't win. A Serious Man was another good one, but not really the Coen Brothers' best, so we can rule that one out. District 9 was both a critical and commercial hit, but it's Sci-Fi storyline will probably turn off voters. Up In The Air was charming as hell, but ultimately overshadowed by better films. Precious is probably the most emotionally powerful of the year, but once again, a little over its head here. An Education, despite being an incredible strong movie, was mostly unseen by most North American movie goers, so nix that. I'm not really sure how The Blind Side made it onto this list, considering that it was at best an okay film, and at worst, feel-good drivel, but all in all it's slowly becoming the most overrated movie of 2009.

This leaves three movies: Avatar, The Hurt Locker and Inglourious Basterds. Let's Review: As much as I want The Hurt Locker to win it, part of me feels like it's going to get shut out on this one. It had an amazing script, amazing performances, amazing direction...Hell, once you consider the conditions the cast and crew had to deal with, it's hard not to imagine it winning. That being said, it also suffered from one of the worst Oscar campaign stories ever, thanks to a supremely bone-headed producer. Avatar grossed more money than God, had people literally killing themselves in order to get to Pandora, and was visually stunning. That being said, it was overwrought, poorly written, and became something of an easy punchline, not to mention that in the wake of its success, Cameron took quite a few personal hits from various ex-wives and associates. This leaves Inglourious Basterds. Was it a great film? Fuck yes. Would I fuck The Bear Jew stupid? HOLY FUCK WOULD I EVER. Was it the best film? Hardly. However, with The Hurt Locker and Avatar taking swipes at each other, Basterds looks poised to come in from behind and take it while they're busy going at it.

So here's how it boils down: The Hurt Locker should win, based on excellent writing, acting and directing. Avatar will win it based on box office revenue, better visuals and better campaigning. And Basterds is The Dark Horse here, poised to pull an upset should the prior two end up cutting off their own noses to spite their faces.

Here's The Deal...

...Diesel and I broke up. Does it suck? Yes, yes it does. But here's the thing: I woke up this morning and the sun was still in the sky. The waters weren't boiling red with the blood of the innocent and when I went out for a walk this morning the ground didn't suddenly open up and swallow me whole. We broke up, and it hurts, but it's not the end of the world. I know this, Diesel knows this, we're moving on, we're both gonna find someone perfect for us, and we'll be pretty okay.

Let's face it here, we rushed into things a little too quick. We probably should have taken it a little slower, but, well, lesson learned I suppose. What can I say? We gave it a shot, it didn't work. It blows, but, well, there are worse things in the world, right?

Diesel's a great guy, and I know he'll find someone who's best for him; it just won't be me is all.

Oh, and one last thing: Facebook relationship status updates? Worst. Thing. Ever. Lesson learned on that one.

Break It Up

So...yeah, we broke up.

There's no pleasant way to say that, but that's how it is. We broke up. We couldn't make it work. That's that I suppose. The good news is, I have friends and family who love and care about me, and that means more to me than anything. I'm not exactly delirious with joy here, but hey, gotta make the good count for more than the bad.