Okay, the original title of this piece was “Selena Gomez Must Die” but I changed it for two reasons:
1) I agree we should tone down inflammatory language. It’s not nice and psychos might take our words literally.
2) When it comes to psychos, Justin Bieber fans top the list.
Okay, okay. Not all Justin Bieber fans are lunatics, but some? Off the charts. Just look at these tweets Selena Gomez received after word spread she was dating him:
“I’ll kill you I swear on GOD!!!”
“If you are the Girlfriend of Justin I will Kill you I HATE YOU :@ !!!”
“wh*re cancer wh*re…like i’m kill myself cuz I saw you and Justin kissing well thank you Selena thankyou now i’m killing myself”
“stay away from Justin pedophile, retard wait i’m gonna kill ya in the night underneath your smelly bed”
Ain’t they sweet? I bet Justin would dump Selena in a heartbeat if he knew he had a chance with one of those pretty, pretty princesses.
Sure, there were other girls who told her ‘good for you’ and ‘those girls are sick,’ but they don’t concern me. They're sane. The haters, however? They need a good talking to. If you're one of them, read on....
First of all, knock it off. You're acting like a moron. It's embarrassing. Not only do other girls think your crazy, guys think you're REALLY crazy. Think they want to be with someone who goes ape crap over stuff like this? Kiss those potential dates goodbye. And by the way, while were on the subject of dating, I hate to break it to you but you’ve got no friggin’ chance with the Biebs. Not even one.
Now don't start arguing with me. I know all about the movie where that superstar singer drops his phone, a regular girl finds it then, after many touching and comedic moments, the two end as close friends. There's that other one, too, where the superstar singer accidentally hits a regular girl on the head, takes her to the hospital, blah, blah, blah, similar ending there, too. Of course, this 'evidence' suggests it could happen to you, right?
Wrong. We're talking about movies, remember? As in NOT REAL?
You know, movies are a mixed blessing. They allow us to escape, to believe that the good guy always wins, gets the girl/boy in the end, etc. even though it's not always (rarely?) true. Fantasizing about meeting the man -- or petite pop star -- of our dreams is kind of the same. It's like creating our own mini-movie in our minds. Most of us know life won't really play out that way. It's just a fun diversion. Others, however, need a wake-up call.
So here is yours: WAKE UP.
You're making a fool out of yourself, acting all mentally imbalanced and what not. Cut it out.
I mean it.
You can go now.
Dang, what's it going to take to make you leave? Another Justin Bieber photo?
Fine. (Jeez, you really ARE nuts....)
From my own collection. Davy's in front.
When I was twelve I had a major crush on a Monkee. No, not the cute, furry animal. I’m talking about one of The Monkees, a popular band from the late Sixties. Every afternoon I watched reruns of their old show, which featured Micky Dolenz, the funny one, Peter Tork, the shy one, Michael Nesmith, the one with the hat (don’t ask), and Davy Jones, the totally hot and groovy one.
I LOVED DAVY.
He was soooo cute and, boy, could he rock the tambourine. I would spend hours daydreaming about him, envisioning us slow dancing to ‘I Wanna Be Free’ in a flowery meadow while the sun’s rays danced in our hair. So magical.
Well, guess what? A few months into our fake relationship I discovered Davy Jones was only 5’3”. 5’3”!! I was already 5’5” with no signs of shrinking and, as much as I ‘loved’ him, visions of his head resting on my shoulder didn’t have quite the same affect on me. I was devastated.
As I got older, and taller, my celebrity fantasies continued to suffer. Tom Cruise? 5’8”. Johnny Depp? 5’10”. Oh, the humanity!!
In order to keep you from the same fate, I wasted considerable time researching the heights of Hollywood’s hottest young celebs. You can check out my ‘Hotties for every Height’ chart below or search my more comprehensive list of over 60 of Hollywood's finest young celebrity males' heights(Channing Tatum or Chace Crawford, anyone?) by clicking here. Either way, I've got a hunk for you, no matter how tall you are.
Unitl next time, sweet dreams. And don't say I've never done anything for you. ;)
Yes, girls. Justin Bieber is that short.
New weapon of choice?
Did you hear the wonderful news? A 36 year-old mom of three, posing as a 23 year-old, recently seduced a 13 year-old boy. And how’d she do it? Through Xbox Live.
A mom turned her Xbox into an XXXbox.
She started by live chatting with him, moved on to phone calls, etc. etc., then made a visit to his home while his parents were asleep. You can guess what happened next. If you can’t, don’t ask me because I’m just too sick to explain. I hate it when moms turns to the dark side.
So how do we keep this from reoccurring? Simple: No more Xbox Live.
That’s right. Get rid of it. Ban it. Close the whole shebang down right now. If we don’t it could happen again, right?
You know, having kids and internet access under the same roof isn’t always easy for a parent. Take my nine year-old son. He lives and breathes roller coasters. Last week he found a super cool, family-friendly website where he could download computer-simulated coasters he’d created, share them, as well as view and comment on other people’s coaster creations. How fun! To download coasters he had to join the site. He asked me if he could, I checked the whole thing out, saw it was fine, and said, 'yes.'
A few days later he got his first comment on one of his roller coasters. He couldn’t wait to read it. Then he did. Oh, boy….
I won’t go into details, but the message ended with the commenter calling my sweet, loving boy something that begins with an ‘F.’ It wasn’t ‘friend.’
When my son showed me the comment, I hit the roof. What kind of website was this? How could comments like this be allowed? I was one inch shy of pulling the plug on my son’s membership right then and there.
Then I thought about it. The problem didn't stem from the site.The problem stemmed from the kid who commented.
With my son at my side, I shot an email to the site’s administration and explained the situation. They immediately shot back an apology, saying the comment - which they deleted - somehow slipped through. The commenter? Penalized. They also said a feature allowing users to instantly report comments would be instituted ASAP.
Justice in action. Sweet.
Looking back on it, I’m glad I didn’t just rip my son off the computer and cancel his membership. Instead, he learned a far more valuable lesson -- and skill. As he gets older it’ll be harder and harder to shield him from the a-holes of the world. I can, however, show him how to deal with a-holes when he meets them. I have to say, he took no small pleasure when the commenter got the equivalent of an internet spanking. I also have a feeling he’ll think twice should he ever feel inclined to make a similar comment to someone later on down the road.
So I’ve changed my mind. We don’t have to get rid of Xbox Live, we just have to get rid of moms on Xbox Live. Let’s face it, it’s unnatural, and I'm too lazy to make a Chat Room Dream Date from Hell: Mom Version.
Seriously, no matter how friendly or safe something may be -- a roller coaster site, Xbox Live, the Starbucks on the corner -- there's always the risk of encountering jerks or flat out scary people.Know how to deal with them. Report them if need be. Sooner than later you'll be on your own and life will only be as safe as you make it.
So be smart, be aware and, while I have you, don't be a potty mouth. It might get you into trouble when you least expect it.
Oh, what a 'Life.'
Right now I am angry, sad and more than a little confused. Why?
Because no one will play Boggle with me.
That's right. Not even one of my kids will sacrifice their precious time to play a board game with me. Yeah, yeah. It may sound petty to you, but think of where I'm coming from. In the last decade and a half...
- I've played Candyland and Chutes and Ladders over 3,267,014 times. Oh, the joy I felt of witnessing crushing disappointment when a child landed on squares forcing them back near the beginning of the game. The fact that it extended game play an additional half hour was even more pleasurable.
- In the hours upon hours of 'Barbie' play time I've played the roles of Ken, Barbie's sister, Barbie's mother, Barbie's teacher, Barbie's cult leader, but NEVER BARBIE. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Sigh.
-Elefun? More like Elepain-in-the=a**.
- Devoting five full minutes to set up Don't Break the Ice only to have some sweet toddler with a demonic facial expression smash the whole dang thing in two seconds flat? MOST. FUN. EVER.
- Sorry? Absolutely.
-Think I ever got to choose my game piece color first? Nope. Always last. Getting the race car in Monopoly was a dream never realized. It still haunts me.
I could go on, but it's just too painful. Yet I did it all with a smile folks, even when I was pleading inside for sweet Jeezus to take me away. And where is my reward? Certainly not sitting across the table from me, pencil and paper in hand, ready to find as many words as possible in three minutes flat.
That's right. You heard me.
Boggle takes only three stinkin' minutes to play.
Oh, how it feels to be appreciated after all those years of torture.
Thanks, kids. Thanks a lot.
photo link from nutmeg on flickr