A girl secretly videotapes her older sister, who freaks out over eaten dumplings and unleashes a verbal attack unlike the world has ever seen (at least when it comes to dumplings). It's understandable though because "it doesn't come with 18; it comes with six!" Watch:

You've surely heard. And the tributes continue. For my money, "Smooth Criminal" is the phattest of them all. Oh, how liberated I feel when I strut down the street, asking in all seriousness, "Annie, are you okay? So Annie are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?" Watch:



What's your favorite Michael Jackson song and why?

Blogger and artist Superbadfriend is giving away one of her paintings in the form of an archival Giclée print (that's a fancy term for museum-quality, groundlings!) worth more than $400—that's the cost of reproducing, photographing, and printing the 12" x 18" piece.

All you have to do for a chance to win is look at the paintings here and vote for your favorite one in the comments section of that post (or send an e-mail). The contest ends on June 30, 2009. One name will be selected randomly from a drawing.

Formed in 2000, the PS22 Chorus is a continually evolving choir of fifth graders at a Staten Island elementary school in New York. These kids belt out pop and rock hits with such powerful voices and deep emotion that they've become media darlings—appearing on a slew of television news programs, getting covered in newspapers and websites around the globe, winning over celebrity fans such as Ashton Kutcher, and performing with the likes of Crowded House. Here the kids are, led by the inspirational Mr. B, doing a terrific rendition of Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger," with a totally excellent solo by one of their star members, Jared. Watch:



There are tons more videos available for your viewing and listening pleasure.

Here's the PS22 Chorus YouTube page.

Here's the PS22 Chrorus website and blog.

I can't help but be reminded of The Langley Schools Music Project of the 1970s, another kids choir that did contemporary music. These Canadian students could rock out, sure (they do a mean Beach Boys), but their most compelling songs are haunting (borderline creepy?) versions of such fare as David Bowie's "Space Oddity," The Eagles' "Desperado," and my favorite, Klaatu's "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft." (If you don't know the story behind "Calling Occupants," read up here.) Watch:



Check out the choir's album, Innocence & Despair, here.

Check out a documentary about the project here.

[Courtesy of Will Blank.]

In the playwriting classes I teach at East West Players' David Henry Hwang Writers' Institute, I tend to work my students' fingers to the bone and chide them if they are ever brave enough to show up late. Their reward? A full-length play that they can be proud of, one that they've rewritten and rewritten and rewritten until their hands are bleeding. Staged readings of the seven plays from my Writing Is Rewriting class this semester begin this Sunday.

If you're interested come on down to Little Tokyo in Los Angeles for these free performances and study how I sit in the audience inconspicuously, silently judging the proceedings, while furiously taking angry notes on a legal pad.

Lest I've painted a not-so-great picture of the events, please know that I am proud of the progress that these talented playwrights have made and their plays rock more than ever.

Sunday, June 28, 2009 @ 12:00 p.m.
THE LONG ARM OF STANLEY MATSUI
by Paul Kikuchi
As an official for the local basketball organization, Stanley Matsui is assigned to monitor a group of rowdy parents and family members of the 7th grade Tsunami Ladybugs. A comedy where there's more action in the bleachers than on the court.

Sunday, June 28, 2009 @ 2:00 p.m.
ROCK GOD OPERA
Book and Lyrics by Cynthia Ignacio
Music by Timo Chen
Orpheus and Eurydice are the most infamous rock n' roll couple of all time. When tragedy strikes, Orpheus must descend into an Underworld full of rock stars to face off against Hades in the musical showdown of a lifetime.

Sunday, June 28, 2009 @ 4:00 p.m.
MARRIAGE MONKEY
by Aurelio Locsin
In 1930s Los Angeles, Jun, a newly-arrived Filipino student, meets Marjorie, a white co-ed at USC. Will their infatuation blossom into love and marriage or will racial prejudice and anti-miscegenation laws threaten their union?

Sunday, June 28, 2009 @ 7:00 p.m.
CRIS CROSS
by Andrea Apuy Cheng
On the day Drew is to take his Medical Boards anything that can go wrong will. Will he pass, or will he just pass gas? Queries of gastrointestinal importance and the universal "WTF" are answered as the Angels, Saints and, of course, Filipino Catholics, en-"rape"-ture Drew's life.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009 @ 7:30 p.m.
PAINTING BY NUMBERS
by Leslie Ishii & Karen Samski
What happens when you can no longer do what's "right?" You either break free or break down. It's the classic struggle of old conventions fighting off inevitable change. What will it be for Kit Yamamoto? In "Painting By Numbers," hearts are broken, secrets are revealed and true love wins out in the end. Or does it? Inspired by screwball comedies, family dramas, and Jane Austen's "Persuasion."

Wednesday, July 1, 2009 @ 7:30 p.m.
THE AMAZING WEDDING RACE
by Peter J. Kuo
1 Frantic Bride + 1 Gay Brother + 2 Fake Asian Parents + 1 Stripper + 1 Racist = A farcical barrage of confusing plans and flamboyant drama where race is not the real issue.

Thursday, July 2, 2009 @ 7:30 p.m.
THE APPLE OF OUR EYES
by Vincent Gabucan
Four friends in San Francisco's Chinatown during the years following the Chinese Exclusion Act. All four men struggle with love, a struggle that is forbidden, difficult, and often confusing. Are they destined to live in a state of sexual and social limbo forever?


East West Players
120 Judge John Aiso Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
213.625.7000

$5 Suggested Donation

Click here for more information.

By now you've certainly heard about celebrity blogger Perez Hilton's scuffle with the Black Eyed Peas' road manager, Polo Molina, and perhaps you've seen Hilton's unintentionally comical profanity-laced diatribe against all in involved. The only really interesting thing to come out of all this is Breckin Meyer's funny video spoof, in which he talks about sparring with Zac Efron. And then there's a very nice surprise appearance at the end. Watch:

Being the responsible parent that she is, fellow blogger Louise Larsen investigated what happened in her daughter's sixth-grade Family Life and Human Sexuality course. What she found sounded run-of-the-mill. Leave it to her own daughter, then, to stir things up. You must read Louise's hilarious account of what goes on behind closed doors, especially if you've ever wondered if there's "ever been a case in which semen has been brightly colored."



Read "Middle School Family Life and Human Sexuality Unit."

And then read "More Middle School Family Life Human Sexuality Unit."

While I recognize the audacity and quality of Curb Your Enthusiasm, I never really enjoyed the show and I never warmed up to Larry David. I mean, I "get it," but it's just not something I want to watch.

So I approached Woody Allen's Whatever Works, which stars Larry David as a very grumpy old man, with great trepidation, especially because the trailer is pretty awful. Even as a huge Woody Allen fan (and staunch apologist), I got a sinking feeling as opening weekend neared.

Much to my pleasant surprise, Whatever Works—which is about a misanthrope who falls into a marriage—is a real treat. While it may not by one of the best Woody Allen films in, say, the last dozen years (I'll leave that designation to Vicky Christina Barcelona and Match Point), it probably is his most consistently funny, thanks to Larry David's aggressive and spirited performance.

Critics have derided the fact that the script for Whatever Works is about 30 years old, something that Woody wrote during his Annie Hall/Manhattan period and threw in a bottom drawer somewhere. But the movie manages to come across as relevant (Woody updates some of the references) and refreshing (even today, no one tackles mortality and the meaning of life as comically as Woody does). Sure, he's rehashing old themes, but that's what artists do. (No one ever hammered Alfred Hitchcock for continually exploring "innocent man" storylines or Martin Scorsese for revisiting violence.)

In the past, I've found Woody Allen's cinematic surrogates to be amusing at best (Jason Biggs in Anything Else, Will Farrell in Melinda and Melinda, Scarlett Johansson in Scoop) and jaw-droppingly bizarre at worst (Kenneth Branagh in Celebrity). Casting Larry David is a stroke of genius because, here, he's not trying to imitate Woody—he's being his usual cranky self. And it works wonders in ways that even Woody Allen himself couldn't quite pull off in Deconstructing Harry. (Woody? Mean? I don't buy it.)

Finally, for those of you still bristle at the whole older-man/way-younger-woman scenarios that Woody Allen continues to dream up, get over it. He's been doing it since 1979 (starting with Manhattan). It was fine the first 86 times you complained about it. And if you keep on complaining, you'll totally miss a completely winning, effervescent, and hilarious performance by Evan Rachel Wood.

Anyway, since I hated the trailer, I won't post that, but I will post Larry David's funny appearance on the Conan O'Brien show. I'm now a believer, Curb fans. Watch:

In the fine tradition of "Cat vs. Mirror," "Cat vs. Desk," "Cat vs. Photo of Cat," "Cat vs. Roomba Vacuum," "Cat vs. Printer," and"Cat vs. Bat,"a big white kitty repeatedly attacks a toy helicopter like some cheesy Japanese mutant-feline sci-fi flick. Watch:

I am doing jury duty this week, and I am happy to report that the building I'm in (the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center) has free wireless internet service. I can't access YouTube or Facebook because of their firewall (oh, the pain of being denied!), but I can thankfully check e-mail, blog, and download porn. Oh, I can also write, of course (no internet necessary to do that), but I choose not to. I mean, I can't create works of genius while being surrounded by all these common people!

In the fine tradition of "Cat vs. Mirror," "Cat vs. Desk," "Cat vs. Photo of Cat," "Cat vs. Roomba Vacuum," and "Cat vs. Printer," a cat attacks a pesky bat in midair! Watch those mad skillz:

I took my mom to see The Proposal this weekend under the pretense that it was a chick flick she would enjoy and that it was something I would graciously suffer through for her. "It's a romantic comedy, and you like romantic comedies," I explained to her. "Sandra Bullock plays a she-bitch of a boss who forces her hot underling to marry her in order to escape deportation! And it has Betty White in it!"

After the film, which she enjoyed and laughed lots during (I know my mother so well), she cornered me in the theater. "Why did you want to see that movie?"

I sighed. "Because of Ryan Reynolds! I love Ryan Reynolds!"

"I thought so!" she declared triumphantly. (She knows me so well.)

Yes, I enjoyed the movie too, but on a whole different level. I've seen more Ryan Reynolds movies than I should (Van Wilder: check! The Nines: check! Chaos Theory: check! Etc.) because not only is he incredibly hot (Ryan Reynolds, will you father my children?) but he is also a perfectly charming and expressive comic actor with impeccable timing. And he's one of those people who is smarter than you expect (magazine interviews: check!).

Anyway, The Proposal is a pleasant and surprisingly funny chick flick (wish fulfillment for career women with cougar impulses), even as it hurdles toward an implausible—no, preposterous—ending. I suspect, however, that what you think about how the story resolves itself falls along gender lines.

But I don't have the patience to think it though too much. I have the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, so I'll be busy for a while. Thank you once again, Entertainment Weekly, for producing some of the best pornography on the market!

Remember the crazy dancing man who single-handedly inspired a dance party at an outdoor music festival? Well, I just interviewed him for The Bilerico Project.



Read "The Dancing Man (YouTube's Latest Viral Sensation) Talks With Bilerico."

In the fine tradition of the piss-your-pants funny piss product, the UroClub, comes...Comfort Wipe! You won't want to believe this is real either, but, oh, it is. It's a perfect gift for those people who have a tentative relationship with their own ass. Watch:



"Being a big guy certainly has its advantages and its disadvantages": ha ha ha ha ha!

First of all, the following video clip is totally not safe for work. A news reporter and a cameraman are doing woman-on-the-street interviews about bilingualism in Canada. A crazy high lady struts up to the duo and proceeds to do a jaw-dropping striptease that throws the cameraman into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Watch (if you dare):



I believe in "equilibrium" too. But I don't believe I will ever recover from watching that video.

Remember when I declared that I could "karaoke to 'Bet on It' like a 13-year-old Filipino girl?" And remember how that comment elicited fury unlike the world had ever seen? Somebody actually wrote this in response:

uhm. excuse, but who the f*ck are you to say that? did you hear what happened when desperate housewives talked about the philippines' doctors? all the filipinos who heard complained and were going to sue. what youre saying when you said that is, "come on SUE ME!" let me tell you something there are a lot of filipinos in the united states. many of the teens and tweens, as you call them, have AIM. most of them read this. they will report this to their parents. you will get notified and will probably have to apologize, AND MEAN IT! youre an effing racist PERIOD. sure people think its gay, but who was this show created for?? sure its called high school musical, but the people on disney wernt really aiming for high schoolers, THEY WERE GOING TOWARDS YOUNGER KIDS! and finally (for now anyways) WHY DO YOU STILL POST BLOGS ABOUT HSM AND HSM2 if you HATE it soo much?!?! give me a straight answer to that. and your answer better not be, 'people keep telling to talk about it.' or any bs like that because thats BS! i want a straight answer. and remember youve been warned what filipinos can do. adios Prince Gomolvilas...if thats your name

My statement was grossly misinterpreted, of course, something that somebody else so deftly pointed out:

That comment about angry Filipinos was hilariously ignorant. The poster obviously has never seen a 13-year-old Filipina karaoke singer. If they had, they would have understood the intensity, passion, and pure joie de vivre that your comparison conveyed. Karaoke is an important part of Filipino culture, and so is being able to have fun and joke about it. It's something I love about my Filipino and Filipino-American family.

Well, today I was at the Eagle Rock mall, which I like to call "Little Manila" because it basically is. I mean, c'mon, there's a Jollibee and a Goldilocks bakery there.

In the middle of the mall is a cart that sells karaoke machines. I saw a petite young woman confidently march up to the cart, ask the salesperson to throw on a song, and proceed to belt out a powerful rendition of Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody," filling the entire echoey mall with the sweet sound of her voice.

I was fully expecting every single mall patron to burst out in raucous applause after she finished, but only the salesperson bothered to clap. You see, singing Whitney Houston passionately as if you were performing at the American Idol finale is just part of a typical day in the life of a Filipino.

This is real. No, really, it is. It's called a UroClub, and it's designed for golfers who need to discreetly take a piss. Watch:



[Courtesy of Scott Heim.]

Longtime readers know that through an unusual set of circumstances I wield so much power over Broadway. And if I were a better person, I would vow to use that power only for good. But I'm not; so I don't.

A few months ago, my New York producer friend Rachel contacted me about another assignment. A colleague of hers was searching for a play in a particular genre (I won't reveal it to protect the guilty), and there was a show running in Southern California that seemed to fit the parameters of the genre and that could potentially do very well on Broadway. She asked me to put on my talent scout hat, go see the play, and report back to her.

When the box office person hassled me about the comps that were supposed to be available for me, I knew it was a bad sign. "Do you realize that I have the power to destroy someone's Broadway dream right here and now?!" I wanted to scream. "Let me in the motherfucking theater!" After some explaining, they granted me entrance, albeit suspiciously.

Although the production was pretty well-conceived and designed, they play itself bored me out of my freaking mind. The producers and director attempted to resurrect an outdated script and to treat it seriously—but the play is so badly written that only approaching it with a postmodern wink could've possible worked. But even then, I'm not so sure.

I got on the phone with Rachel afterward.

RACHEL: How was it?

PRINCE: It bored me out of my freaking mind.

RACHEL: Oh my god.

PRINCE: As much as I miss you and want you to fly out to L.A. to scout the show, I cannot in good conscience let you waste a plane ticket and a trip for this. It's horrible. Stay in New York.

Look, I don't feel good about destroying a Broadway dream. But since somebody's got to do it, why not me?

In the fine tradition of "Cat vs. Mirror," "Cat vs. Desk," "Cat vs. Photo of Cat," and "Cat vs. Roomba Vacuum," a cat attacks a printer. Oh, printer-attacking cat, how is it that you bring such joy to my life? Watch:

Since I've been hanging out with straight guys lately, I've been unconsciously adopting their lingo and mannerisms, and I must say that I'm currently doing a stellar job at keeping heterosexual male obnoxiousness alive and well in the 21st century—much better than my attempt at ending every sentence with "brah" last year, a personal inside joke that was pretty much lost on everyone aside from myself.

Lately, whenever I walk into a party or a bar that is comprised of more desperately single men than desperately single women, I exclaim with indignation, "What is this, a freaking sausage fest in here?!" That comment gets me high-fives because I am vocalizing collective thoughts, giving voice to the pent-up frustrations of an entire group of people. Hey, it's what I do.

On Saturday, Loren took me to a restaurant called Wurstküche in downtown Los Angeles.

PRINCE: What is this, a freaking sausage fest in here?!

LOREN: Uh...almost literally...yes.

PRINCE: Oh.

You see, my attempt at humor fizzled because Wurstküche is an actual sausage grill that serves a number of exotic sausage sandwiches (hot dogs to those of you who are unsophisticated). Sure, you can get your run-of-the-mill bratwurst, kielbasa, or hot link, but, if you're adventurous, there's rattlesnake and alligator too. For me, there are three vegetarian options, and, if you know me, you know how much I love fake meats. After a while, you can't tell the difference, especially if you drown your food in mayo, salt, ketchup, and goop like I do:



Though there's usually a line that goes out the door during peak hours, Loren loves this place and says you should opt for the rattlesnake over the alligator, if you are indeed a risk taker. I chose the vegetarian Italian sausage on my first visit, and it's yummy.



The Belgian fries are insanely good, especially with the white truffle oil glazed over them, which makes the outside layer particularly crispy. There are about a dozen dipping sauces available for your fries, my favorite being the sun-dried tomato mayo. (The chipotle ketchup is pretty damn good too; I say pass on the curry ketchup.)



And for all you lushes, there are a couple dozen imported beers on tap. For sweet innocent boys like me, there are gourmet sodas—hello, strawberry soda, I love you!

Check out the Wurstküche website and menu.

If you can stomach the shaky camera work in the following video, then you will be justly rewarded. The place is some outdoor concert in a park or field somewhere. The focus of attention is a guy who dances crazily on the grass by himself. It's kind of embarrassing, really, but then another guy joins in and then another. Soon, the individual joie de vivre of a dude with no shame becomes contagious. Alas, this is the evolution of a dance party. Watch:



If I were there, I of course would've been the sole holdout, sitting stubbornly with my arms crossed. "Harumpf!"

[Courtesy of Will Blank.]

Koalas are not very social creatures, especially when it comes to humans, but a heatwave in Australia earlier this year forced the furballs out of hiding and into the suburbs to go begging for water. A collection of photos depicting koalas buddying up with water-dispensing humans or taking matters into their own hands has been doing the rounds online, and it just hit my inbox. These pictures are so cute that you might actually throw up:













[Courtesy of Superbadfriend.]

The Financial District of San Francisco is home to a mischievous bird that swoops down to peck at the heads of unsuspecting passersby. This raw footage from CNN is not quite as terrifying as Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, but it'll do if you need a quick chuckle. Watch:

The following clip is vacation footage of a Polish family who thinks it's being attacked by monkeys. However, it becomes clear that the animals are just plain horny. Oh, to be wild and uninhibited! This reminds me of my younger years. Watch:



[Courtesy of MK.]

Perhaps the best "What the Fuck?" of the week comes to us courtesy of TMZ, who has obtained photos from Barbara Bush's 84th birthday bash. First, the world was subjected to the sight of former President George H.W. Bush getting a sort-of lap dance from a girl in a bikini. Now, here's Mrs. Bush posing with a chiseled piece of man meat wearing nothing more than a Speedo:



What a total slut.

Both swimwear-clad partygoers are actors from a local (Maine) production of A Chorus Line.

David Letterman found himself in hot Republican water this week after making a series of jokes about Sarah Palin and her family on Monday. The Palins expressed their outrage on their website, news programs reported about the feud, and last night Letterman responded to the controversy by apologizing.... Well...not really. Here he is, as fierce and funny as ever. Watch:

Have you heard Lily Allen's "Fuck You" from her new album, It's Not Me, It's You? The song is an angry rant (sung sweetly) against homophobes, racists, and warmongers. She's not turning the other cheek, and that's what makes the tune so damn fun. Listen (lyrics below):

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind
And look a bit harder
'Cause we’re so uninspired
So sick and tired
Of all the hatred you harbor

So you say it’s not okay to be gay
Well I think you’re just evil
You’re just some racist who can’t tie my laces
Your point of view is medieval

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
'Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
'Cause your words don’t translate
And it’s getting quite late
So please don’t stay in touch

Do you get, do you get a little kick out of being small-minded?
You want to be like your father
It’s approval you’re after
Well that’s not how you’ll find it

Do you, do you really enjoy living a life that’s so hateful
'Cause there’s a hole where your soul should be
You’re losing control of it
And it’s really distasteful

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
'Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
'Cause your words don’t translate
And it’s getting quite late
So please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you

You say, you think we need to go to war
Well you're already in one
'Cause it's people like you
That need to get slew
No one wants your opinion

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
'Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
'Cause your words don’t translate
And it’s getting quite late
So please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you

Remember Sharon and Fred, those bizarre yet lovable entrepreneurs who offered their video-making services to the world? (Check out their unintentionally hilarious/borderline genius videos here and here.) In a cosmic stroke that laughs in the face of improbability, Sharon and Fred happen to be friends with Lily Allen and made a video to promote her BBC variety series, Lily Allen and Friends. Again, inspired moments abound, but my favorite part is Sharon and Fred's stiff role-playing in the middle. "Great idea!" Watch:



[Song courtesy of Peter Varvel of Plastic Bubble World.]

Believe it or not, I've always liked Howard Stern. I used to tune into him occasionally when he was on regular radio (before jumping over to satellite a few years ago) because I thought he was irreverently funny and, surprisingly, one of the best interviewers in the business. I also dug both the book and movie versions of Private Parts. However, most of you, dear hyper-literate readers, probably recoil at the thought of him. I guess you're just not as butch as I am.

Anyway, Stern showed up on the David Letterman show last night and gleefully ripped into Jay Leno (approximately at the 4:00 mark in the first clip below), as well as chatted about a number of other entertaining topics. (By the way, if you didn't see Stern's classically uncomfortable 1995 appearance on the Jay Leno show, here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. These segments feature a lesbian kiss that the network scrambled to cut away from; Jay squirming in his seat; and Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert trying to talk over the screams of out-of-control audience members/Stern fans.)

Watch the new David Letterman clips:







For those of you who refuse to rally behind Stern, at least know that he's long been a proponent of gay rights. Here's a recent audio clip of him talking about same-sex marriage:

I never saw the indie horror flick, Teeth, because the thought of a vagina with fangs that bites off men's penises makes me think that waterboarding ain't so bad. As a movie watcher, I'm not so sure how much more acceptable is One-Eyed Monster, a film that kills off roly-poly porn legend Ron Jeremy only to have his detached penis come to life and slay people in unique ways. Yes, the movie is available on DVD, but I don't think I can handle watching anything that depicts penises—oh, glorious penises!—as things of evil. Watch the trailer:

I wrote a new post for The Bilerico Project.



Read "Licking James Bond."

I had heard Willie Nelson's "Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly (Fond of Each Other)" some time back (at the height of Brokeback mania, I believe), but I never saw the accompanying music video until now. (Note: It's actually a cover version of the 1981 song by Ned Sublette. Learn more here.) The video features Willie, Burt Reynolds, and a bunch of gay-ish cowboys. Hot! Watch:



The lyrics:

Well, there's many a strange impulse out on the plains of West Texas
There's many a young boy who feels things he can't comprehend
And a small town don't like it when somebody falls between sexes
No, a small town don't like it when a cowboy has feelings for men

And I believe to my soul that inside every man there's the feminine
And inside every lady there's a deep manly voice loud and clear
Well, a cowboy may brag about things that he's done with his women
But the ones who brag loudest are the ones that are most likely queer

Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other
Say, what do you think all them saddles and boots was about?
And there's many a cowboy who don't understand the way that he feels for his brother
And inside every cowboy there's a lady that'd love to slip out

And there's always somebody who says what the others just whisper
And mostly that someone's the first one to get shot down dead
So when you talk to a cowboy don't treat him like he was a sister
You can't fuck with a lady that's sleepin' in each cowboy's head

Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other
What did you think all them saddles and boots was about?
And there's many a cowboy who don't understand the way that he feels for his brother
And inside every lady there's a cowboy who wants to come out
And inside every cowboy there's a lady that'd love to slip out

[Courtesy of Mike Valentino, proving once again how curious he really is.]

Remember the Grandview Topless Coffee Shop, that gutsy (or shall we say "chesty?") cafe in the sleepy town of Vassalboro, Maine, that boasts a shirtless waitstaff? Well, last month the owner took a proposal to city officials to turn the place into a full-fledged strip club.

Let this be a lesson to all you ladies out there. Guys will start out saying something like, "Let me put in just the tip," but they will end up thrusting away, leaving you crying and knocked up.

But the strip-club plans have been temporarily thwarted because of an arson fire that has destroyed the uninsured business. According to the Associated Press:

The fire at the Grand View Topless Coffee Shop was reported just before 1 a.m. by an ambulance that happened to be driving past. Owner Donald Crabtree and six others who live in the converted motel escaped unharmed.

The coffee shop, which featured waiters and waitresses without shirts serving coffee and doughnuts, was not insured. Crabtree said he spent $277,000 buying and renovating the property. He had met last night with planning officials to discuss adding a disc jockey, expanding parking and staying open longer.

Crabtree vowed to reopen the business.

"I'll keep going.... I've got some girls out of work, and I'm going to do all I can to get in there," he said.

Crabtree fails to mention that there are some hot shirtless guys out of work too. I demand gender equity!

By the way, strip club fires are nothing new. The Body Shop in Los Angeles burned last year. Watch:



[Can't get enough hot-girl commentary, photos, and videos? Click here for more blog posts about hot girls.]

A couple days ago, you were delighted to experience the earnest lessons inherent in "Get Your Mouth Away (From My Dick)." Today, I present to you a rockin' remix that by itself would be blog-worthy, but filmmaker Vadim Newquist has created an accompanying music video that is amazingly shot and an awesome viewing experience. How did he do that?! Watch:



[Courtesy of Kate B.]

I wrote a new post for The Bilerico Project.



Read "Achtung, Baby! Gay German Penguins Hatch a Chick."

I never watched Little House on the Prairie, but this 30-second recap of Sylvia's character arc is pretty funny anyway. Some of you may get it on a deeper level than I do, so enjoy. Watch:



Apparently, there are a series of these 30-second recaps. Search on YouTube.

[Courtesy of Mead Hunter.]

The music video for Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is, on its own, head-scratchingly bizarre (scary choir boys with glowing eyes!) and gayer than your average 80s ballad (shirtless dancing guys abound!). But some comic geniuses have create a new set of lyrics that are a brilliant literal translation of what's happening in the video shot-by-shot. It's hysterically funny. Watch:



[Courtesy of Annie of It's Not the Thing You Fling, It's the Fling Itself.]

I remember when I totally destroyed my future by misspelling "suede" during my middle school's spelling bee, shamefully shattering model minority stereotypes and scarring myself for life.

But I am able to show some appreciation for those kids who valiantly kick ass in these brutal competitions. So these are my two favorite clips from the collection of National Spelling Bee memorable moments that The Huffington Post recently compiled (in honor of the now-completed 2009 competition).

First, in 2008, Sameer Mishra mistakenly thinks that he is supposed to spell "numbnuts." Watch:



And way back in 1997, Rebecca Sealfon screamed her way to triumph. Watch:



By the way, one of the most thrilling and complex documentaries of all time is Jeffrey Blitz's Spellbound. It's a smart, funny, and surprisingly emotional look at the National Spelling Bee (and, by extension, America itself) that will have you on the edge of your seat. Sure, it defies logic, but that's one of the movie's charms. So is its heart-tugging portraits of eight kids across America who want desperately to win a competition in which there can only be one winner. Watch the trailer:



Lest you doubt the excitement of spelling bees, let's revisit a past blog post that may open your eyes to the effect that bees have on the public....


Fame! I Wanna Live Forever; or, Fame! Makes a Man Take Things Over
May 9, 2004

After my play reading last week at the New Conservatory Theatre Center in San Francisco, some of the actors and I headed around the corner to Judy's, our default watering hole, a straight bar with a bizarre cast of characters—mostly drunk middle-aged men who think we're famous because our photos appear from time to time in free local newspapers that most people don't even let their dogs crap on.

A bunch of rowdy guys were gathered around the bar when we entered. They were enraptured by the T.V., emitting sports-minded hooting and hollering every once in a while. We tried to ignore them, but they were too loud and enthusiastic. At one point, an ear-piercing cheer erupted. I looked over to the T.V., expecting to see the instant replay of a touchdown or home run or race car crossing the finish line. But what I saw was none of these things.

The barflies were watching the Scripps National Spelling Bee Competition. I scrunched my eyebrows: "What the fuck?!" It was truly one of the most bizarre things I had ever seen, these guys feeling the agony of a mispelled word and riding high on every correct answer.

Competition of any kind, apparently, raises our blood pressure and involves us deeply. The ebb and flow of success and failure, which is a major theme in all our lives, is encapsulated and summarized for our immediate digestion in competition—of any and all kinds. It's like seeing your life flash right before your eyes. No wonder there's a beer in your H-A-N-D.

(Be the first to find the incorrectly spelled word above, and you win a blow job! [Not necessarily from me. I have access to farm animals.])

To fully appreciate a video I will be posting later in the week, you need a little context. It all begins with a song called "Get Your Mouth Away (From My Dick)." The guy who wrote and sings the song insists that it is not meant to be funny. You know what that means, right? It's fucking hilarious! What's supposed to be a serious, spiritual, soul-searching tune about caution and regret has become a guffaw-worthy viral video. Watch:



[Courtesy of Kate B.]

We've discussed J.D. Salinger on this blog previously, so it's only appropriate that we continue the conversation, given the breaking news that the reclusive author is suing the writer and publisher of the upcoming "60 Years Later: Coming Through the Rye." John David California has penned a thinly disguised sequel to the seminal Salinger novel, "The Catcher in the Rye."

Who's the rat bastard here? Discuss.

Read "Salinger Sues to Stop 'Catcher in the Rye' Sequel."

Hot off her hysterical appearance at the annual White House Correspondents' Dinner (and on the heels of its inevitable backlash), Wanda Sykes popped up on the Jay Leno show last week to speculate on "the real Michelle Obama." Comedy gold. Watch:

As you know, we've been following the saga of Levi Johnston rather closely here because he inspires tent poles in the pants of men (well, some men), so it brings us great pleasure to announce that those shirtless Levi Johnston photos that we have only been able to dream about in the past have now become a reality, thanks to GQ.



Be still my beating crotch!

More hunky (albeit clothed) photos are here.

The in-depth GQ interview is here.

[Can't get enough hot Levi Johnston commentary, photos, and videos? Click here for more blog posts about Levi Johnston.]

[Update 11.23.09: Levi Johnston's naked Playgirl photos have finally been leaked! Read more here.]

My favorite piece of ARTWALK Culver City this past Saturday ("a free, self-guided tour of local art galleries and exhibition spaces") was Nick Rodrigues's Porta-Party, an interactive booth that delighted me to no end. It's the size of a phone booth, and it looks like a giant white iPod. Inside is simply a disco ball, a real iPod, and speakers. You close the door and lock it (on the outside it'll read that it's "in use"), and you can dance to your heart's content by yourself (ABBA's "Dancing Queen" was playing when I went in, and, later, Ah-Ha's "Take on Me"). The Porta-Party is perfect for those who are self-conscious about shaking their booty in public. It has all the fun and liberating feeling of a trendy's club's dance floor, but it has privacy and comfort akin to singing in the shower.

More pictures and a video of the Porta-Party are here.

Susan Boyle, who wowed the world with her stirring versions of "I Dreamed a Dream" and "Memory" on Britain's Got Talent, went so bat-shit crazy this past week that her appearance on the show's finale was in doubt and Piers Morgan had to defend her on his blog. Well, she made it to the show this past Saturday, expertly reprising that Les Miserables number...



...only to lose to a dance troupe named Diversity...



...and end up in mental-health clinic.

What a bizarre saga the story of Susan Boyle has been. I know she's poised for a successful singing career despite it all. I only hope she realizes that herself.