Maybe Bristol and Levi can get John McCain to officiate their marriage ceremony in a vain attempt to get votes in the November election.

Surely you are anticipating the I Mean…What?!? Gross Baboon of the Year Award, which will be granted later this year. Yes, move over Razzies, because the Gross Baboons are coming. For you newcomers, the GBOTY Award honors those annoying people that have graced monopolized the media to the point that it makes me say, “I don’t need to see that”. Nominees to date include: Mel Gibson, Real Housewives of New Jersey, Rachel Uchitel, Tiger Woods, Jon Gosselin, Joselyn James…get the picture? Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston are the latest nominees and their new-found togetherness has even created a new category, A Couple of Gross Baboons. The awards show is gearing up to be quite a fete…even if it is in my own mind.

Now this is the episode I want to watch.

Word is that the soon-to-be newlyweds…though I would imagine that ceremony will only happen if they get a reality show…are demanding a full season from networks for their wanna-be television show. These kids, annoying as they are, seem to be better negotiators than friggen Lisa Kudrow, who couldn’t get a fair shake from HBO on her terrific show, The Comeback. Can you imagine a series based on two teenage delinquents whose mother’s are feuding, one of which is trying desperately to run for President of the United States while the other one is cooking up crystal-meth in her trailer? First of all, where do these kids live right now? Together? Separately? And who is with Tripp while Bristol is being the neglectful mother, off negotiating in Hollywood with cable networks and / or partying at 1 OAK in New York City? Now, if we can get an all-access pass to the aforementioned activities, then by all means, I would even produce this crap for IMW-TV. But if they think that we want to watch those two idiots act like phony, happy newlyweds, legitimizing their baby’s existence…well…think again. TLC…listen up.

Kathy Griffin is sure to turn up on an episode to co-promote My Life On The D List.

Rachel Uchitel, shown here in her natural habitat.

We knew that Rachel Uchitel would not fade into the woodwork forever after taking the alleged millions of dollars from Tiger Woods in exchange for shutting her uber-collagen enhanced lips about their illicit sexual affair. The good news is, who needed her to tell us anything, my sources told me plenty. In particular, Tiger would demand sex AT LEAST three or four times a day, that she would have to drop what she was doing and run to his side…no questions asked. Clearly, the slogan “Tiger in his tank” has new meaning. Woodsy also preferred a different orifice each time, or else. That’s a lot of poontang…even for a hooker. She knew from the moment this tryst started that it would be her life-long meal ticket. Rachel also became so obsessed with her own notoriety and image in the media during that time, that she was impossible to be around. Ummm, I am sure she still is.

Rachel Uchitel has a real talent for handling snake-like objects.

Now Rachel is back in the media with a vengeance, signing on to do two reality shows. Who does she think she is…Bethenny Frankel? Anyhoo, La Skank is going to be on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew as well as The Celebrity Apprentice. The thing I take issue with is…SHE IN NOT A CELEBRITY. SHE IS A LOW-LIFE, EXTORTIONIST HOOKER! But, what do I know? According to the New York Post in regards to her upcoming appearance on Celebrity Rehab, “She will be treated for an addiction to pills, the network said without disclosing what type of pills”. Well, that’s a no-brainer. She is clearly addicted to birth control pills because she’s never been pregnant and has had more sex than perhaps anyone on Earth. As for The Celebrity Apprentice, I am not so sure that Donald Trump is going to include some kind of cheesy sex act into the show’s format in order to have her conceivably win one challenge. I mean…can she do anything else? Oh, right, she used to work the door at a tacky nightclub. Now that’s a real talent needed at the Trump Organization. And (B) what would her charity be, The Ashley Dupre Writing Camp, who takes wayward girls off to a farm to learn how to write a tell all?

Bristol Palin, the Ma Barkey of the Palin Clan?

There’s something fishy going on here. My guess is that the unexpected news of the pending nuptials between Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston is really just a ruse and not even true. The whole story is a publicity scam generated out of Sarah Palin’s office. Well, seeing that her publicist is Bristol Palin, BSMP, LLC, the idea was to show the world just how forgiving and generous Sarah Palin is. And given the sensitive, personal nature of this matter, Sarah will come off as a magnanimous force of nature, hence a great candidate for the Presidency in 2012. Here’s how it went down:

INT. PALIN HOME OFFICE / WASILLA – DAY

SARAH: (Wringing dish towel) These friggen Tea Baggers are driving me to drink.
BRISTOL: Yeah, I see what you mean. I leave your side for a fashion photo shoot in New York City and one little party and this is who you cozy up to? You can’t be left alone for one minute?
SARAH: What am I going to do? These nut bags are dragging down my Q rating.
BRISTOL: Look, I am not the head of my own PR firm for nothing. I’ll figure something out.
SARAH: Well, hurry up. Barack Obama and I are quickly becoming the laughing stocks of politics. And I’ll be damned if I let Hillary Clinton waltz into the top spot.
BRISTOL: Oh Mother, stop being so paranoid. (Beat, light bulb) I got it. You won’t like it, but it is a doozy.
SARAH: I’m desperate, shoot.
BRISTOL: Well, what were you thinking with that prayer for the oil spill. Yikes.
SARAH: Listen young lady…
BRISTOL: I’ll marry Levi.
SARAH: That’s ridiculous. I’d rather become a Democrat.
BRISTOL: No, hear me out. We will stage a secret rekindling of our romance, announce it to a tabloid, and not tell you first. Total betrayal.
SARAH: That’s disgusting. I love it.
BRISTOL: You will be the unsuspecting victim that any parent in the same situation would be mortified. You and Daddy with get millions of sympathy votes beyond.
TODD: Do I get to pose nude for Playgirl, punkin?
BRISTOL: Oh, daddy, please. (Scratches head) Hmmm, we’ll make that Plan B.
SARAH: But darlin’, I can not stand that little pervert.
BRISTOL: Oh, Ma, what mother actually likes her son-in-law?
TODD: Yup, she’s got a point there.
SARAH: (Winks) Alright, let’s do it.

Seems like Bristol Palin has turned out to be the smarty pants of the Palin clan. Come on…she became the first out of wedlock, teenage mother to serve as spokes-model for abstinence…an Emperor’s New Clothes situation like no one’s business. She has proven to be a PR maven at the ripe old age of nineteen. When I was her age, I was already on my third addiction.

SIDEBAR: What are the two saddest words in the English language? What party.

Pardon me for being Neanderthal, but I do not know who Amanda Ruisi...whose birthday it was...is.

However, clearly the somebodies of the Jersey Shore know her well enough to glom onto the prepared photo-op. JWoww was in attendance sporting one of her couture pieces.

Move over John Galliano...or Frederick's of Hollywood.

Here we have another major somebody. Now, is it me...or did DJ Pauly go to the same eyebrow waxer as JWoww?

The same goes for Vinnie? Was it eyebrow waxing or threading? I need to know.

Oy, Snooki, Snooki. What color are you?

DJ Equal spun at this fest, but I much prefer DJ Splenda.

Cat Deluna was the big get at Amanda's party. Look, what do I know?

Gross Baboon of the Year Front Runner

Not that I didn’t predict this, but Mel Gibson has put the final nail in his own coffin…and all I can say is, “Toodles, you psychotic nut bag”. Listening to the chilling tape of Mel ranting to the mother of his newest baby, whom he has recently clocked in the jaw, I agree with Oksana Grigorieva when she says to him that he needs medication. However, the only the medication I would prescribe to that anti-semite is arsenic…to put him out of his misery once and for all. The pity here is that Hollywood has continued to go back to him for more, showing their spinelessness. Perhaps now that the movie-going public…a.k.a. $12.50 per head…has gotten wind of his evil antics, they will cut all ties. Alas, we ain’t heard the last of him, trust me. Some right-wing producer will come running to Mel’s side “in the name of salvation” and he will be welcomed with open arms by the Tea Baggers. Look, they need a celebrity endorsement, right? Maybe Mel could run as Vice President alongside Sarah “The Other Self-Righteous Zealot” Palin in 2012. Let’s face it, they’d make a great couple.

Anita Bryant got her just deserts....where it belonged.

Here’s what I love about Mel Gibson, and any other self-righteous celebrity ass like Anita Bryant, Ted Haggard, Jim Bakker, or the many Republicans currently in office like Sarah Palin: They know that “the Lord giveth and then taketh away”. (NOTE: That quote comes from The Ejaculatory Prayer. Get where I’m going here?) Anyhoo, when celebrities lives get all convoluted because of their desperate need to be seen and heard, coupled with their pathetic attempt to spread Godliness like venereal disease, is when they get a good dose of God for themselves. And not in the way they were hoping. Every scandal that involves one of these maroons ends up with them begging for salvation…in public…on television…sobbing.

Ted Haggard on his knees...what else is new?

This is why religion should always remain a personal, private matter. Ask any recovering addict, spirituality is an inside job. That’s why God is invisible. If he wanted to be seen and heard, he’d have his own talk-based/reality show running on several channels, like an Oprah meets The Kardashians hybrid.

Bruce Willis: For the man who has everything...except maybe a clue.

Here we go again….yet, another celebrity-turned-stink. This time, Bruce Willis is the man of the hour. Yup, because I know how much you have wanted to smell like Bruce Willis since his Moonlighting days. I personally wanted to smell like him when he was in Death Becomes Her, with Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn. Speaking of which, these gals would NEVER sign on to become a fragrance. Back to Bruce. The Bruce Willis Collection includes an eau de parfum, hair and body wash, deodorant spray and after shave balm. HAIR?!? Have they seen him in the past 20 years?

Now here's a guy whose namesake hair wash makes alot of sense. Fotz.

This guy needs to have a hair wash named after him like I am going to the moon. What’s in it? Nair? All this to say, more power to anyone who brands their ass…Lord knows, I would love to have a line of something, NOT schmattas, the playing field is too crowded. Who knows, if this I Mean…What?!? thing goes over, you could be driving in an IMW…but I digress. To refresh your memory, this season Beyonce, Jennifer Aniston and Anonio Banderas have launched a signature schtoonk. That is on the heels of 50 Cent, Rihanna, Mariah’s 3rd, Paris Hilton’s 6th, Britney’s 4th. Frankly, I would love to know how they are selling. We see the launch, the hype, the ads, the red carpet photos and then nothing. I wish Women’s Wear Daily would do their due diligence and update us will sales reports. Chop-chop.

Be sure to read Smell Like a Movie Star…Stink Like a Bee or The Sweet Smell of Celebrity or Beyonce Wears JWoww For Heat.

Ashley Dupre will show you more than just an apartment.

Ya gotta give Ashley Dupre credit for her uncanny ability to reinvent herself over and over again. She’s gone from a Jersey Shore-type girl to Girl’s Gone Wild party gal to hooker. Then she went on to hooker with a master plan to fashionista (vis-a-vis Kelly Cutrone) to Dear John Abby, to desperate for acting reality show career (hence moving to Los Angeles) to her most recent claim of wanting to be a real estate mogul. This girl makes cats seem one dimensional. Anyhoo, imagine the line of guys who will want to be shown an apartment by Ashley. Clearly she will have a leg up…or two legs up for that matter.

Nominee, Gross Baboon of the Year Award

Hi there. Big holiday weekend. Am already away and wondered what to write about today, sitting idly by a pool. There’s not that much happening in the news, beyond the controversy between Mel Gibson and his Russian gold digger, Oksana Grigieva. Who knows, maybe she is a Russian spy, too. We all know what a sick f#&k Mel is, now we can officially add him to the list of nominees for Gross Baboon of the Year Award. This is shaping up to be quite a year. The first annual awards presentation with be held at the end of the year. There, a bit of news. Have a great holiday.

New of Sarah Palin's breasts traveled faster than the whereabouts of Joran Van Der Sloot (he is that murderer for those of you who are stuck in between Sarah's boobs).

The news of Sarah Palin’s seemingly larger breasts almost overtook the BP Oil Spill as the most talked about item of the week. Once again, it shows how deep the American conscience runs. Dead birds…awww…can’t deal. Big, shiny new breasts…let’s discuss and re-Tweet. We must stop trying to act like the leaders of the free world when all we can think about are tits and ass. Our obsession with body parts has tainted our ability to see the forest from the trees. Or the war and the peace, frankly. To my point:

1. Every men’s magazine has actresses in skanky positions, (if not nude, hello Jennifer Aniston).
2. Vanity Fair had bikini clad soccer players on their cover last month, and a vintage picture of Liz Taylor (yes looking stunning) in a swimsuit this month, but it is somewhere close to acceptable Maxim, really.
3. We spent more time on Heidi Montag’s redux than on the financial crisis.
4. We pay greater attention to the details of Victoria’s Secret models than knowing who our Congressmen are.
5. We make celebrities out of participants of ill-gotten sex tapes (Paris Hilton and Danielle Staub, brech) and obsessive texters (Tiger Woods‘ entire posse of skanks).

I am not crazy…this is what we are all about. Heck, even our politicians and priests are preoccupied with body parts. We have to call a spade a spade and realize that we are lost little lambs looking to cling onto our mother’s breast and in this case they are Sarah Palin’s. Whether she actually had breast augmentation is less the story than the fact that we made the possibility of her new breasts the big story of the week. If you are her supporter/follower, then get your mind out of the gutter and talk about her policies (?) and the Gulf. If you are from my camp and want her to fade into the sunset before 2012, then shut the hell up about her tits. (After this piece I will never  mention her again…ish.) In doing my research on Sarah Palin’s breast, I pulled out this vintage Palin video and my take away is that has the same breasts as her days of modeling and pageantry. She may very well have just been photographed at the Belmont Stakes wearing a bra that does not hold her in. Most of the other images available of Sarah has her wearing cheap suits, so it is hard to tell. And (B) the fact that she would do something that stupid is mind boggling…even to me.  Hence, I am giving her the benefit of the doubt. So, let me know what you think once and for all and then we can drop this subject for fear of being ruled by The Vatican….those righteous hypocrites.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnT9W0ONycc

These two Jersey creatures are the Grossest of Gross Baboons.

Announcing the newest candidates for Gross Baboon of the Year Award, Real Housewives of New Jersey, Teresa and Joe Guidice. Reading about their spendaholic, bankruptcy-inducing shenanigans made me really angry. As someone born in that fair state, the recent bevvy of Gross Baboons with New Jersey blazoned on their foreheads is enough to make anyone lie about where they hail from. We now have The Real Housewives, that lame show Jeseylicious, and even the cast of Jersey Shore, though none of them are from there, but MTV has managed to muck it up anyway. Until recently, it was Woody Allen who had make it difficult to admit that I was originally from there. Here is an excerpt from my book explaining why that is:

In Sleeper, Woody Allen pokes fun at people from New Jersey.

LAST FIVE MINUTES OF FAME

I will never forgive Woody Allen. No, not for what he did to Mia Farrow by taking Soon Yi, her adopted daughter, as his lover and then, wife. That transgression was much easier for me to excuse compared to what Woody Allen did to me, personally, being a resident from the state of New Jersey. Let me explain. Back in the 1970’s, Woody Allen made movies people actually went to see. His classics like Sleeper, Play It Again Sam and Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex were brilliant, however, these films contained condescending (and yes, perhaps humorous) references to my home state. These scathing digs made audiences howl with laughter, and he ingrained into pop culture the notion that people from “New Joisey” were disadvantaged. Sitting there in the dark sold-out Baronet-Coronet theater, I would slink down deep into the burgundy, polyester, uncomfortable seat, covering my head with the large tub of extra buttered popcorn as though a flashing neon arrow identified me as the lone resident from that sad little state. Seething, I vowed to get my revenge on Woody Allen one day. He’d made it so that I wished I had never heard of New Jersey, let alone being a resident. This surely was a conundrum. How was I going to achieve greatness along the lines of Bette Davis, Spencer Tracy or Mahatma Gandhi? How was I going to become a member of the fabulii? Once they discovered where I was from, was my membership to the fabulii at risk of being canceled? (Sigh.) Somehow, someway, I was determined to wiggle my five foot-by-five foot frame into the pop culture vernacular and once there…happily crush Mr. Allen like a bug.

To be continued….

Back to The Guidos, I mean, Giudices. According to the New York Post, they earn $79,000 a year, however, they live in a multi-million dollar home and are hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt on credit cards. According to court papers, they are eleven million dollars in the hole. $11,000,000?!? How does that even happen? Both them and their banker should be pussy whipped. Well, Joe must be already, so we can just bitch slap her and the banker. The excesses of the 90’s and 2000’s is long over. And seeing the residual effect of that time is enough to make my skin crawl. It is the selfishness, greed and pretense of the Giudices that is systemically wrong with our culture. How are these people going to keep up with the Jones’ of their own mind? Hence…nominees for Gross Baboon of the Year Award.