Friskies has apparently created a cat food that gives your pets the same experience that people have when they're super high on hallucinogenic drugs. How else would you explain the following commercial for Friskies' Adventureland line? Watch:



[Thanks to Superbadfriend.]

If my mom has a CD in heavy rotation in her car, it's a sure sign that I should avoid whatever musician it is at all costs. I mean, c'mon, someone as young and hip as I am should not be sharing his life's soundtrack with his parents, for Christ's sake. I should be listening to music that makes my mother's ears bleed with disgust.

But, goddamn, I love Michael Bublé.

My mom's been a fan for years, and I've tried to resist his big-band charms and effortlessly smooth voice while in her car. For the most part I've been successful, but Bublé's new album, Crazy Love, is crazy addicting. Additionally, I can no longer deny how absolutely HOT he is and how much I want him to teleport to my bedroom every night and croon bedtime songs to me.

And how can I not adore a man who says the following gay things in a me-me-me.tv interview?:

me-me-me.tv: Do you get big pairs of granny pants thrown at you?

Michael Bublé: I get loads of weird shit happening but most of the places I'm going now it's young people. It’s 60% young women, 25% gay men and the rest is couples.

me-me-me.tv: Do those gay men pinch your arse?

Michael Bublé: Yeah, I’ve had that and I think it’s fucking great! Gay fans are the hardest to get, the most loyal and they’re the tastemakers.

me-me-me.tv: Have you ever done any gay stuff?

Michael Bublé: Sexually? Unfortunately, I've never had that much to drink yet. Listen, the uncle I was named after is gay and him and his partner have been together for forty years, so I just grew up with that being a cool thing.

Oh, Michael Bublé, come to my house! I have a refrigerator full of King Cobras!



Yes, I know you have a hot Argentine girlfriend, but, if even she thought you were gay at one time, then you can be turned! According to Starpulse:

Michael Bublé nearly missed making a love connection with Argentine girlfriend Luisana Lopilato—because the singer spent so long chatting to her male pal, she assumed he was gay....

[Bublé] tells Britain's The Sun, "I spotted her in the crowd and thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on, but she came backstage with this good-looking dude and I assumed it was her boyfriend. The other problem was that I don't speak Spanish and she had no English. But the guy did, so I just spoke to him. I was a bit nervous because of how beautiful she was. The more I drank, the more I made things worse. I was saying to him, 'You're a good-looking dude' and 'You guys are a good-looking couple.'" Once the star learned Lopilato was single, he rushed to ask her for a date—and the pair has been inseparable ever since."

Okay, fine, Michael Bublé, maybe alcohol won't work, but can I entice you with drugs? I mean, according to that same interview:

The 34-year-old admits that he was forced to smoke joints and drink alcohol in secret—to keep fans from finding out about his vices: "There I was pretending to be this sweet boy. It was hard trying to be that nice guy the whole time. Truth is, I was a Canadian kid who loved women, partying and ice hockey.... I grew up in Vancouver, which has the best weed in the world and good alcohol. You can score [buy drugs] just walking down the street, so I did. I've never done cocaine or heroin or anything stronger. But I don't see anything wrong with relaxing with a joint."

Anyway, Michael Bublé's rise to fame reads like a fairy tale. According to good ol' Wikipedia:

At the age of 18, Bublé entered a local talent contest and won. But after winning, he was disqualified by organizer Bev Delich because he was underage. After that, Delich entered Bublé in the Canadian Youth Talent Search, which he won. Following that win, Bublé asked Delich to be his manager. Delich signed on and represented Bublé for the next seven not-so-fruitful years. According to Delich, Bublé would do every gig imaginable; including talent shows, conventions, cruise ships, malls, hotel lounges, bars, clubs, corporate gigs, theatres, music revues, and even the occasional singing Santa Claus gig....

But by 25 years of age Bublé had moved from British Columbia to Toronto, Ontario and was ready to give up the dream of professional musicianship to move back to Vancouver, British Columbia to pursue a career in journalism when his lucky break came in 2000.

Read the rest on Wikipedia.



Have you seen the music video for the first single off of Crazy Love? It's time, folks. The incredibly catchy "Haven't Met You Yet" (a Bublé original) is a delirious grocery store fantasia, and the hot model in the video is the aforementioned girlfriend. Curses! Watch:

The following commercial is for The Back Up, and once again I swear that this is totally real. What is The Back Up? Why, it's a shotgun rack that fits snugly underneath your bed mattress! Folks, when evaluating whether or not you should buy The Back Up, just know that it's not a matter of want—it's a matter of need. You know you need one of these things! Watch:

In the restroom of the Chinese food court that my mom and I always go to is the following sign (below—click to enlarge). I don't totally understand the first picture (the one with the X over it). Do Chinese people actually try to stand on toilet seats like that?!



Who the fuck takes a dump standing?!

For the last time, Pork Chop is not fat. As you will see in the following video, this cat in Japan is fat! Yup, this feline is as "Precious" as they come. Since the clip is a little on the long side (man, Japanese TV programmers have a lot of time to fill), let me give you a few highlights: the cat gets weighed and comes in at a whopping 12.06 kg (26.59 lbs.) at the 0:23 mark; has its girth measured at 0:34; hangs out with ceramic animals at 0:53; unsuccessfully tries to scratch itself at 1:16; attempts the treadmill at 2:32; is subjected to utter humiliation at 3:41; gets stuck in a baby toy at 4:17; and watches bubbles at 4:39. Watch:



[Thanks to Superbadfriend.]

On Saturday afternoon, I put on my Sunday best and drove out to the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. My secondary task was to infiltrate the press junket for the upcoming culture-clash comedy, Our Family Wedding, and lob questions to celebrities in order to generate enough entertaining material for the Fox Searchlight website. My primary task was to shovel as much Four Seasons catering into my gullet and as many high-end bottles of water into my satchel as humanly possible.

Having prepared some well-constructed questions (designed to achieve maximum results with minimum effort), I interviewed Forest Whitaker (who starred in one of my favorite movies of all time, Smoke) and Regina King (who played Sandra Palmer in Season Six of my favorite TV show of all time, 24)—they were super friendly and possessed enough gravitas to crush a bag of walnuts. I also had face time with Carlos Mencia and Anjelah Johnson (who functioned as a well-oiled comedy team), Lance Gross (who was all smiles), and Ugly Betty's America Ferrera. (Video to come...if there are enough shots of me!)

After getting Oscar winner Forest Whitaker to talk extensively about cake, I rushed to the "hospitality suite" to eat pasta, pizza, and things dipped in chocolate. I say "rushed" because I didn't want to be too late and end up having to fight Ugly Betty for the fondue bucket.

Under normal circumstances, I would act weirdly nervous around celebrities, but, when you've got a journalistic mission to execute in a relatively short period of time, it's hard not to focus on the task at hand, no matter how much you may want to set aside your note cards and challenge Forest Whitaker in a karate match. (He's a black belt.) I can't think of a better way to get beat up.

[Update: The video footage has been released!]

[Watch me in word-association action here.]

[Watch me coax descriptions of cake here.]

I knew that only my friends Rachel and Scott would fully appreciate the following video because we all used to watch the Maury Povich show regularly, so I posted it to their Facebook pages. But now I'm sharing this Maury parody with you all because maybe you'll find it hysterically funny too. The thing is, this bit is shot and cut just like a Maury segment, which is why it's so brilliant. Watch:

I don't read French, so my guess is that the following video was an assignment in some middle-school, visual-effects elective. This student is either getting an "F" for bargain-basement work or an "A" for pure unadulterated genius. Don't take hallucinogenic drugs—all you have to do is watch this:



[Thanks to Gabriel Fleming.]

Have you ever seen Rejected, the Oscar-nominated short by animator Don Hertzfeldt? It's a compilation of his funny, irreverent, and sometimes absurd promotional cartoons for the Family Learning Channel and Johnson & Mills, all of which were rejected. You'll soon understand why. I mean, I never imagined I would ever see a talking piece of popcorn bleed from its anus. Watch:



Visit Don Hertzfeldt.

[Thanks to Gabriel Fleming.]

I am so excited! Through a set of Prince-like circumstances, this weekend I get to conduct interviews with an Academy Award-winning actor who you would recognize in the bat of an eye, an Emmy Award-winning actress from a cult TV show, a stand-up comedian turned cable star, two up-and-coming actors that you may have seen on television, and a fantastic woman who played a former recurring character on my favorite series of all time, 24! I hope they like my tie.

More later.

What better way to show someone you love how much you love them by pulling off a loving prank...that involves water.... Wait.... Water...? Um..it's such a fine line between love and cruelty. Watch:

I went to see Henrik Ruben Genz & Dunja Gry Jensen's Danish film, Terribly Happy (Frygtelig lykkelig), this past weekend, and I don't think I've repeated "what the fuck is going on?!" so many times during a movie since David Lynch's Inland Empire molested my mind.

But "what the fuck is going on?!" isn't necessarily a bad thing. Inland Empire never gelled and became comprehensible; Terribly Happy, on the other hand, wickedly begs for your understanding (and complicity).

The plot is simple. A disgraced big-city police officer (Jakob Cedergren) gets reassigned to be the sole cop in a small town filled with oddball residents (straight out of the Lynch canon), their own code of conduct (they do things their own way around here), and an ominous bog (the final resting place of the town's legendary two-headed cow—yup, I said "two-headed cow").

The film moves rather slowly for most of its 90-minute running time (warning, children of the 80s!), but Terribly Happy isn't supposed to be watched as much as it's meant to be experienced. It's one of those cinematic head trips that, if you give in to it, makes you feel like you're on drugs. (Um...not that I would know what being on drugs feels like...um.)



Aside from paying homage to David Lynch, the filmmakers also probably owe a debt to Hal Hartley (the film has some of his rhythms) and the Coen Bothers (this is a dark comedy disguised as a thriller, after all).

Oh, dear god, please tell me this isn't real.



Because if it is real, that means the apocalypse has begun.

Thank you, Honorable New Hampshire State Representative Nancy Elliott, for vocalizing your opposition to same-sex marriage by describing in graphic detail your understanding of gay sex. Can I quote you? Okay. "We're talking about taking the penis of one man and putting it in the rectum of another man and wriggling it around in excrement." Watch:



I am compelled to say, without hesitation: "Nancy Elliott, shut the fuck up."

Okay, so not only does this dog give a duck a piggyback ride, but they have their afternoon fun in the water. It's a swimming piggyback ride. This is like a miracle! Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No? Well, watch this video:

I wrote a new post for The Bilerico Project.



Read "3D Porn: The Cutting Edge of Technology? Or the Decline of Western Civilization?"

Speaking of Brent Rose and his wacky characters, his latest creation is Cassie—also known as "UglyGirl37." Based on the grating vlogs of girls on YouTube, the following video is hilarious, sure, but, once again, it ain't far from the truth. And who knew that eating would be so goddamn funny? Watch:



More Brent Rose.

In the following video clip, David Lynch (yes, the actual David Lynch) describes his first meeting with George Lucas, who wanted Lynch to direct Return of the Jedi back in the day. You thought Lynch was weird? Get a load of this Lucas guy! Anyway, somebody created animated images to match Lynch's audio monologue. Watch:

This 30-second commercial for Old Spice Body Wash is funny, boasts great special effects, and features a hunky black man. You really can't ask for anything more in a TV ad. Watch:



[Thanks to Isaac Butler at Parabasis.]

Do you all get spam text messages? I do. But instead of ignoring them, I am always compelled to respond to them. I checked the last six one-line texts that I sent back to spammers, and I noticed a recurring theme:

• Fuck you.
• Fuck you.
• Leave me the fuck alone.
• Leave me the fuck alone.
• Go fuck yourself.
• Stop texting me, asshole.

Do I have an anger problem?

In a previous Bamboo Nation post, we established Mr. Colin Farrell's love of a woman's vagina, which I assume can be attributed to the fine scent it emits. When you go down there, I'm sure you too want to scream, like Mr. Farrell, "Breakfast, lunch, and motherfucking dinner right here!"

It was only inevitable, then, that a product like Vulva Original (this is 100% real and not a joke!) would hit the market with such shameless force. It's not a perfume or anything like that. It's a container of vagina scent that you can sniff whenever you want.

According to the manufacturers:

The vaginal scent of a beautiful woman. VULVA Original is NOT a perfume. It is the feminine, erotic, intimate scent for your own smelling pleasure. The NEW scent filled into an exclusive glass phial with a comfortable roll-on-applicator with more content of that precious, organic substance.

Our greatest challenge was to preserve the intimate scent without altering the essences thereof. After many years of extensive testing and an especially developed preservation procedure, we have succeeded in capturing the sought-after organic vaginal scent with a long lasting effect.

The phial is shaken gently...only a tiny amount of the slightly yellow, desirable substance is applied onto the back of the hand and the irresistible smell that exudes from a sensuous vagina immediately intensifies your erotic fantasies and starts the film rolling in your head. Breathe in and enjoy, anytime, anywhere, the intimate smell of an irresistible woman.

Seriously, guys? Seriously?

Here's the probably not-safe-for-work promotional video. Watch:



The naked-woman photos on the definitely not-safe-for-work website are kind of hilarious.

[Thanks to Brent Rose.]

Every time I see a Shakespeare play or movie adaptation, I am reminded of how Shakespeare is responsible for so many phrases in the English language. After catching Chalk Repertory Theatre's playful and spirited production of Twelfth Night this past weekend at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery (seriously!), I was once again struck by Willy's lasting influence—for example, these common terms were probably first coined, in some form, in this play:

• jaws of death
• caterwauling
• night owl
• cakes and ale
• in stitches
• the third degree
• rack your brain
• horse of a different color
• well-hung

I've seen Twelfth Night several times over the years because, perhaps, it is arguably the easiest to understand, text-wise, of all of Shakespeare's plays. But what struck me most about this viewing is that Olivia—the play's lovestruck countess—may very well be the original cougar.

Now there have probably been plenty of May-December romances depicted in literature before 1602 (Twelfth Night's first recorded performance), but I bet none of them feature a woman who so vocally expresses a desire to pounce on a young man.

I should mention that we don't really know how old Olivia is, so my cougar reading may be way off—but she does frequently refer to the object of her affection, Cesario, as a "boy" and a damn young one at that. You go, girl! Get yourself some young man meat! (For the uninitiated, Cesario is actually a girl named Viola, posing as a dude, for reasons that are still unclear to me even after repeated viewings. Go figure.)

A few more things about this production.

Loren—who can at times be arts phobic, particularly when it comes to theater—really enjoyed the play and production, so much so that he Facebook-ed it and told me over Thai food in Thai Town afterward, "Based on that show alone, I want to subscribe to that company's entire season."

One of things that he is responding to, perhaps, is Chalk Rep's effortless interracial casting practices (which they've pulled off time and again). It makes me think about those theaters who say they aim for diverse casts but fall short because actors of color "don't audition for our shows" or "we don't know where to find them" or "none of the few we managed to see were good enough to be cast."

When it comes to the theater industry's lack of diversity in non-ethnic-specific theaters, I've heard these kinds of excuses since the beginning of my theater career a dozen years ago. My response to those theaters? You are not trying hard enough. Or: your theater has not built a reputation of being welcoming to actors of color. That's it. It's one or the other. Seriously. And if it's one or the other, you have to figure out why and what the hell you're going to do about it, if indeed your desire for diverse casts is more than just lip service.

Anyway, Chalk Rep's Twelfth Night, directed by Jerry Ruiz, is chock-full of strong ensemble work (with actors sporting hipster clothes) and features a groovy live band. And while I don't really want to single actors out because of that strong ensemble, I am compelled to mention Guilford Adam's appropriately funny and energetic jester, Peter Wylie's emotionally centered Antonio, and Owiso Odera's smooth-as-silk Orsino.

Chalk Repertory Theatre's production of Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare runs through February 28, 2010, at the historic Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

Visit the Chalk Rep website for tickets and more information.

In the fine tradition of "TRMITK," "Jesus Is My Friend," and "No More Bacon," the following video once again tries to ignite your religious conversion. The messengers this time are Henrietta, Merna, and a cameraman who likes zooming in on things. The song? "Go Tell It on the Mountain," complete with awful karaoke backing track! Watch:

By no stretch of the imagination am I an expert on Nina Simone, but indulge me and let me present to you my three favorite Nina Simone songs. I mean, hasn't that pressing question crossed your mind before, while you were, say, driving your car or doing your laundry—"what are Prince's favorite Nina Simone songs?" Well, I'm glad you asked.

"Love Me or Leave Me" (1958). I first heard this song on the soundtrack of the fun and funny Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss, which features a pre-Will & Grace Sean Hayes in hot pursuit of gay unrequited love. Here's Ms. Simone performing the bouncy song live and in glorious black and white. (I'm not sure what TV show this is from or what year it is.) Damn, girl, watch her tickle those ivories! It's riveting! Watch:



"I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free" (1967). I stumbled upon this track on a greatest hits collection, and I wanted to listen to it over and over again until I got tired of it. It hasn't happened yet. Here's Ms. Simone live at the Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland in 1976. This soul-stirring performance is such a thing of beauty that it makes me tear up a little. Wow. Just: wow. Watch:



"Save Me" (1969). I loaded this funky song as one of the pre-show tracks for the world premiere production of The Fabulous Adventures of Captain Queer. Here's an audio recording:

I swear to you—these contests aren't rigged. Even so, after I randomly chose an entry from a plastic bag, dedicated Bamboo Nation reader John has once again emerged as the winner of this blog's latest contest! That means he gets a fabulous 27-issue subscription to Entertainment Weekly, which marks his fourth win.

If I recall correctly, he's been victorious in just about every Bamboo Nation contest he's entered.

Now if only Match.com held a contest, maybe we can stave off his desire to cock-punch douchebags who happen to be with cute girls. (In the comments section, he recently asked, "Why are the cutest girls always with pricks in suits who call you things like 'sport' that you just wanna cock punch?")

Don't you hate it when you go skiing and you and your friends accidentally get stuck on a ski lift high in the air and the resort shuts down for the week and no one knows you're there and you have to figure out if you should stay put and freeze to death or attempt to jump down to the ground and risk getting your legs broken and getting eaten by a pack of wolves? Yeah. I hate when that happens.

Mere days after premiering at Sundance, Adam Green's nifty and nasty little thriller—which opened this weekend in Boston, New York, Los Angeles, Salt Lake City, Dallas, Denver, Philadelphia, Minneapolis, and Chicago and may expand to other cities next week—takes place mostly on a chairlift in the dead of winter.

Through a set of unfortunate circumstances, the three appealing lead characters—with an instantly recognizable relationship dynamic (a couple and a third-wheel best friend)—become trapped high above ground and have to figure out how to get out of their predicament. I don't want to give away too much, but I should mention that, although there's nothing supernatural involved here, the film is unexpectedly gruesome. I had to look away multiple times, groaned in disgust, and contorted in my chair from tension.

The characters—portrayed by the beautiful Kevin Zegers (remember the super hot son in Transamerica?), Emma Bell, and Shawn Ashmore (you know, Ice Man!)—are a scooch more interesting than the ones in Open Water, which shares Frozen's premise somewhat (characters stuck in a shark-infested ocean), and the pacing moves along at a clip much faster than Paranormal Activity, which shares Frozen's sense of claustrophobic terror.



I like Frozen more, as evidenced by how many times in the theater that I actually uttered things like, "Jesus Christ!"; "oh my god!"; and "heeeeel nah!"

Adam Green, I don't know who you are and I'm too lazy to look you up (it's late, and there's sorbet in the freezer), but I salute you. And if I ever bump into you, I will say, "Heeeel nah!" You know why? Because of that one scene. You know the scene. The scene where I was all like, "Stop showing that thing! For the love of all that is holy, stop showing that thing!"

Speaking of hot actors, I met this guy, Alex Beh, at a party. And because he was nice to me even after I tried to fondle him near the bean dip (or did that only happen in my imagination?), I decided to watch a short movie that he wrote and directed and that he told me about. Of course I expected to be sorely disappointed because guys who seem to be only good for fondling near the bean dip are typically not good at things like, oh, say, filmmaking.

But you know what? Alex Beh's Sugar is great. It's as if American pop art fucked French New Wave and spawned this short. It's charming and whimsical, and it perfectly depicts infatuation with unusual flair and exuberance. And it did the film festival circuit a couple years ago, also with unusual flair and exuberance. How's that for an endorsement? Watch:



Visit Alex Beh.

I pay attention to the business end of my writing career about as well a gay kid with sports, so I may have some the following details wrong.

Last year, stage director Peter Darney in the UK expressed interest in producing my stage adaptation of Scott Heim's Mysterious Skin. He dug my script, so he arranged to do a staged reading to convince the Arts Council to fund a production.

The accompanying photo (click to enlarge) is the super-cool artwork promoting the reading, which is happening on Monday, March 15, 2010. If you happen to be in the area, go see it! And lean over to the arts council people and say, "Oh my god, this is the best play ever! I hope they get the money to do a full-ass production!" Be sure to use the word "full-ass."

By the way, U.K. readers, where is The Drill Hall? It's in London, right? What part of town? A good part? A crappy part?

Visit The Drill Hall site for more information about Mysterious Skin in the U.K.

No, that's not another title for yet another Japanese TV clip. It's just explaining how you're about to witness a kitten. Disappearing into a couch. And then reappearing moments later. That's all. Really. That's it. Watch:

This super hot actor named Brent Rose has recently come to my attention because he's a new blog commenter who's been making his presence known in various comments threads on Bamboo Nation. (He uses the handle "Brent Rose" and "50in50.") Anyway, you know what happens when super hot actors cross my path, right?

I put my online stalking skills to work!

Anyway, it turns out that Brent launched an interesting project last year called "50 Characters in 50 Weeks," in which he writes and performs a monologue (or scene) as a different character just about every week and posts the videos on YouTube and on his blog, with accompanying behind-the-scenes commentary.

When I was properly lubed, er, I mean, when my interest was properly piqued, I went to his site to discover that he's already been at it for months—he's on character 27. Well, I wasn't about to watch all 27 videos (I'm not crazy), so I decided to look for all the ones that seemed like he might take off his shirt or pull down his pants. Turns out, he enjoys appearing in various states of undress in some of his videos. Which is why I'm devoting an entire blog post to him here. I mean, a guy who plays with a penis pump so joyfully in music videos like "Me and My Penis Pump" deserves a few mad props.

Anyway, my favorite video from the ones that I saw is actually a comedy sketch performed in front of a live audience called "The Christian Campers," in which three hardcore Jesus lovers present an educational anti-drug skit. The sketch may seem like it's exaggerated for comic effect (and it is funny), but it ain't too far from the awful truth. Watch:



In my stalking, er, I mean, in my research, I came to realize that I've actually seen Brent in a play before! He played Romeo in Joe Calarco's R&J, a brilliant adaptation of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet that uses an all-boys school as a jumping-off point. The west coast premiere was at the New Conservatory Theatre Center (where I was formerly playwright-in-residence), and it was one of the best theater experiences I've ever had. That production honestly blew me away. And it's also the show in which I first saw Taylor Valentine, who later starred in the world premiere of my stage adaptation of the Scott Heim novel, Mysterious Skin.

By the way, where is Taylor Valentine? Holla!

Visit Brent Rose and 50 Characters in 50 Weeks.

I have to agree that the late August Wilson must be lauded for completing the wildly ambitious "Century Cycle"—ten full-length, sometimes epic, plays that depict African-American life in every decade of the 20th century.

But you know what? As difficult of an achievement it may have been to write those ten plays, I swear it's more difficult to coordinate seeing all ten plays as an audience member in the course of a lifetime.

I mean, first of all, you have to live in a city that has a theater scene or travel very often to New York. Second, companies within your city have to mount productions that happen to align with all the Wilson plays you haven't caught yet. (Or Broadway touring productions have to travel through your town.) Then, the various productions' schedules have to fit your play-going availability, providing you have the funds and the transportation. That's a huge undertaking!

This weekend I drove down to South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa to catch Fences, which is now the fourth August Wilson play I've seen, after Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, The Piano Lesson, and Jitney (my favorite so far). For my age, that's a lot, isn't it? Where my freaking prize?!

When the bear in the following video clip tries to steal a big bag of trash off the front porch of a house, an aggressive cat decides to play the hero by going one-on-one with the big lumbering creature. This cat's got balls. (Well, maybe not actual balls, but it's brave.) Me? I would crap my pants. Watch:

My friend and USC colleague Coleman Hough (see her affecting Steven Soderbergh collaboration Bubble if you haven't already) recently told me about a comedian named Suzanne Whang, who also happens to be the host of HGTV's House Hunters. (I'm not going to pretend to know what that is, so if there are any super-gay gays or shut-ins reading this, then fill me in. I assume it's a reality show about people who stalk Hugh Laurie.)

After seeing the following video clip of Whang's irreverent stand-up act, I look forward to catching her live this weekend in Los Angeles. (She's playing in Silver Lake on Friday and Saturday, February 5 and 6, 2010.)

In this clip, Whang takes on the persona of wide-eyed, innocent-looking, fresh-off-the-boat Sung-Hee Park, who proceeds to tell the most jaw-dropping, racially offensive jokes this side of Sarah Silverman. I'm not a huge fan of Silverman's stand-up (I mean, I get her, but she's not for me), but Whang's shtick comes across as fresh and perhaps even a little bit groundbreaking. The first two words out of her mouth alone may just stun you while making you laugh at the same time. But it's definitely not for the easily offended and probably not safe for work. (I mean, it took me a long time to decide whether this clip was okay to post on this blog.) [Addendum: Even Loren said about one particular bit in the clip, "That was the most offensive joke I have ever heard. I will never repeat it." You've been warned.] Watch:



I'm going this Friday. Make it out there if you can.

Check out Suzanne Whang's stellar bio here.

For tickets, go here.