If I were a sportscaster, I would not look like this,


I would look like this:


So I could do this,


...among other things.

Greasepaint Optional

Remember, ladies, as the Super Bowl approaches, that there's a right way and a wrong way to represent your passion for the hometown team, no matter the sport.

The photo above, of course, represents the right way.

It's Time Again for the Jake-o-Meter

This is Chace (note the cool mis-spelling of chase) Crawford (same last name as Cindy-no relation!) from Gossip Girl, the latest teen/tween "hottie".

>
And this is Jake. He really needs no introduction.

And....


Jake is still, by far, the hottest (and most masculine).


Nice try, Hollywood.

Tatted Out Trickster

The New York Times reports that the latest trend to surface is temporary tattoos. Just like nowadays you can rent a Harley and be a Hell's Angel for the weekend, rent a Prada and be a Paris for the night, you can apply temporary inkage and be a bad-ass for the evening. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. See, like most of you I have some tats. Some were impulsive, some were agonized over for months; but they're all mine, and I plan to take 'em with me to the grave. Having a smigen of common sense, even in my late teens, I had them strategically placed so that only intimate friends would see them. You know, kinda like finding the prize in the Cracker Jack box. I'm proud of 'em, my little landmarks in the journey of life. And at least I can say I'm an authentic bad-ass...in bed.

Your Job Made Better By Cameron Diaz' Ass

This weekend, felled by a nasty cold, I spent the weekend huddled in front of the TV, pumping aspirin and NyQuil into my system with wild abandon. Too weak to put some porno in the DVD player, I put myself at the mercy of cable TV programming. Luckily, one channel was showing Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, starring Cameron Diaz and her otherwordly rear end.

There likely were some other actors and actresses in the film, but I didn't really catch them. As far as plot... something about some crimes. Also, both films may have been in English.

Oh, wait... I do know that both films were directed by music video impressario McG. Just to give you an example of how fucking awesome it is to be McG, let's compare and contrast a typical day at the office for McG with a typical day at the office for, say, me.

Me [in meeting]: I've just drafted the copy for some new marketing brochures I'm sure you'll enjoy.

McG [on the set of Charlie's Angels]: Okay, now, Cameron, could you bend over just a little bit more so we really get a good shot of your ass.

Now see, in such a position, I'm not so sure I could keep myself from abusing my power. I mean, I could easily fritter away millions of the studio's dollars by having Cameron and her arse submit to my every whim. Eight hours of footage of Cameron bending over to pick up trash along the Pacific Coast Highway? Why the fuck not!

Anyway, yeah. My job blows.

Free Advice Fridays Presents: Caution! Cougar Crossing

Ken and Ariel: I like your column, and I have a question: I've been dating this girl for about 6 months, and when she took me home to meet her mother, I was instantly smitten. She's 53 and incredibly hot. Also, she's been giving me these flirtatious signs, and now I've got this incredible urge to bang her. Am I sick, or should I pursue this?

Ariel Says: Ken? Ken, is that you?!? OK, "not Ken", what do you think I'm going to tell you? I'm going to tell you that Mrs. Robinson is so last century, the "Rumor Has It" movie tanked, and MLFS are for teenage boys. In my humble opinion, this is about your fear of commitment. You've only been dating six months, and she's already taking you home to meet the parents, which is the next logical step towards eventual monogamy (and she's not that young if her mom is 53, so you think her clock may be TICK! TOCK!-ing) so you're freaking out. You wouldn't be having these thoughts if you came across mom in her Saturday morning mall walkers group, would you? It's the forbidden fruit, the ultimate taboo that would conveniently get you kicked out of domestic bliss and the youth soccer coaching gig they're lining up for you right quick. So suck it up, shake it off and deal with the real issue at hand -- whether or not this girl is really the one for you.

Ken Says: Dude, take it from me. Beware the elder pussy. Not that there aren’t a lot of scintillating older women in this world. God knows that nothing conjures more evil thoughts in my loins than the sight of a forty-something mom with a tramp stamp on her lower back, trying to snake her ass into the same skinny jeans as her teenage daughter. But it’s typically better in theory than practice, no matter how much of smokeshow she may be. For one thing, you’re gonna risk losing your young and undeniably tight-assed girlfriend for a woman whose ass – no matter how nice it may look in jeans – has got 53 years of mileage on it. Second, you run the risk of having two women want to slice your balls off with a cleaver. And lastly – and this is most important – think of your girl’s dad. Bad enough he’s already pissed that you’re trying to make time with his little girl. If he finds out you’re after his wife as well, you may find yourself at the bottom of the Charles River. And not in a good way. Roll with the young, my friend.

Hotness Prevails

You know how sometimes you'll have this really hot chick, and she has a friend who's not quite so hot, yet that not-quite-so-hot friend assumes that, by virtue of hanging out with the hot friend, some of her hotness effectively rubs off on her as well?

There's a girl in my office, probably about 23 years old. Red hair, big blue eyes, porcelain skin, gorgeous round ass--total smokeshow. She's often seen in the company of a co-worker who's not quite as hot. Dirty blonde, a bit overweight, heavy smoker, way too much make-up... you get the picture.

Anyway, as I walked into the office yesterday, I see Red and her pal hanging outside the front door. Red's on her cell phone and Blondie's having a smoke. As I approach them, ever the gentleman, I nod and smile and say, "Good morning." Red just kinda rolls her eyes, as if to say, "Why in god's name are you talking to me?" And it's perfectly fine. I am, after all, the office pervert.

But then I see Blondie pull the exact same thing--her heavily mascara-ed eyes rolling and her hand going up as if to say, "Buddy, keep your distance." And that bothered me.

Of course, my first impulse was to throw down my briefcase and say, "Okay, I'll take that crap from Red. But you [pointing at Blondie here for maximum effect]--I know I've fucked better than you."

Instead, however, I just looked away, walked into my office, and spent the day fantasizing about the two of them double-teaming me.

Huh?

This may well be the most inadvertently unsexy video ever filmed. Seriously.

Bundle Up and Put The Weed-Wacker In Storage

When I get waxed down there, or should I say when I participate in paid torture, I tell myself that it's really for me. I like to feel clean, neat..hygenic. Like hair removal from my upper lip or, say, my toes. It's just part of the basic upkeep for being a well-groomed gal, regardless of whether or not my nakedness is a one-woman show or more of a comedy festival tour. But then the winter comes. And we hunker down. And we bundle up. And suddenly I de-evolve to one of my more hirsute ancestors. Nothing, especially down there, is touched for months. Is it really an innate desire to keep warm, just as animals get thicker coats when the seasons change? Or am I just supremely lazy person who would certainly be the walking equivalent of Busch Gardens if it weren't for Spring, Summer and (early) Fall?

Ruth Buzzi: Suprisingly Do-able At One Time

I used to watch reruns of that '60s show Laugh-In when they were on TBS or Nick at Nite or whatever the fuck channel was showing 'em. Mostly because of the hotness that was young Goldie Hawn, who seemed to show up in every episode in a bikini or hotpants or something equally pleasing to my Bud Light-saturated eyes at 3 in the morning.

I do recall, however, that one night while I was watching, I was more taken with a young Ruth Buzzi who, god help me, actually prompted a little arousal in me. And, being Irish, a little is about all I can muster most days, sadly.

Check this clip at the 6:30 mark and tell me if you, too, find the young Ms. Buzzi equally fuckable. Or was it the beer? Could have been the beer. But hey, what guy hasn't found himself hunkered down in his apartment, pleasuring himself to Ruth Buzzi at least once in his life?

Giving It a Name

Guys are notorious for having names for their junk. Not that I need to hear any guy reference his cock and balls in my presence, but still. It happens. Women, on the other hand, always seemed a bit more discreet. Until I hooked up with a former Kennette who affectionately referred to her holiest of holies as "The Princess." And, yes, she did on more than one occasion utter the line, "The Princess will see you now."

Outside of another Kennette who simply referred to hers as "my snatch," I haven't encountered too many other pet names.

Future Baby Mamas

Please note: 2008 is the the year of future baby mamas in Hollywood. Halle Berry, Nicole Richie, Jessica Alba, Christina Aguilera, Nicole Kidman...some are married, some are not. But who cares? (Never mind also that I look like many of these women when I've had a large meal or PMSing.) But anyway, as the the world coos and aahs, it does, almost successfully, make pregnancy look like the easiest, coolest thing to happen to women since Sex & The City episodes. And it is "cool". But my understanding of pregnancy from the rest of the world is that it's a bitch. You swell up, you are insane for 9 months, you feel like some kind of alien host. Hey, I wanna have a kid someday, I just am not looking forward to my formerly slimmish ankles resembling an elephant's and stretch marks that put the San Andreas fault to shame. I doubt very much I'll look like a lolipop holding a Dum-Dum. But soon these babes will have their babies and will go back to their size -2 and I'll abhor the fact that these women have given birth and are still 10x skinnier than me.

You're Making My Eardrums Bleed

In other cultures, as well as our own, being a girly-girl seems to be a popular route. Cute, "girlish" outfits, big eyes, difficulty walking or speaking in full sentences, and a high-pitched voice and laugh. I knew a woman (I'm calling her a woman because she was 23 years old. She however, preferred to be called "a girl") whose voice was rather high-pitched to begin with, but whenever she came into contact with a man it was literally ultrasonic. As in, dogs started barking and dolphins poked their heads out of the ocean. I wanted to confront her on this, only to learn that other disgusted women had already beaten me to the punch; however, she was either a very good actress or honestly did not have a clue that her voice changed around men. Hmm...maybe she went to intensive children's beauty pageant training?