Chelsea Clinton's Wedding Haul

As you probably know, Formerly Frizzed First Teen turned Hedge Fund Shiksah Goddess is about to get married. (My invitation must've gotten lost in the mail.) Anyone who's anyone is going to this shindig, including but not limited to: Oprah, Gayle, Spielberg, Streisand, Pelosi, Napoleon, Charlemagne, and Jesus.

According to my dear friends Ann Curry and Al Roker, the ceremony is just a few miles from my own pied-a-terre in New York City, so do not put it past me to go all Salahi on the Secret Service. (Lest you underestimate the effect of my feminine wiles on the men in black: I made out with a drunk Secret Service agent while he was on duty. While I was drunk. In Appleton, Wisconsin. In an Outback Steakhouse. That was next to a Holiday Inn. Wearing a red fleece jacket. From LL Bean. And a Kerry/Edwards '04 button. Standing next to a cigarette dispenser. That had been outlawed in a public space ten years before.)

My reasons for telling you this are: 1) youth is NOT wasted on the young; and 2) obviously Chelsea is going to make out like a bandit with all her wedding schwag. Can you imagine the loot she'll get? The Sultan of Brunei likes to fly her dad around on his private jet just for funsies. Fuck Lady Di. This is the wedding.

Fortunately, with all vast my connections, I was given a peak at all the gifts bequeathed to Chelsea from the A-List who could not attend her nuptials. After the jump, the exclusive shocking super-secret they're just like us bikini body presents:

From the desk of... NeNe Leakes

Dear Mister Levi Palin,

I'm just gonna tell you this straight out NeNe Leakes style: GET YOURSELF A DNA TEST. That blue-eyed child is not yours. Look:

You have brown eyes. Your girlfriend has brown eyes. This little angel has eyes the color of a beautiful She by Sheree blouse. AAAAHHHAAAHAHAHAHA. Sorry, I wasn't laughing at the precious baby. I was laughing because that bitch doesn't make eh-na-thang beautiful. BLOOP!

Now Bristol is cute. Her daddy has blue eyes. She is a carrier of the recessive blue-eyed gene. But unless your daddy or your mommy has blue eyes, you cannot be a carrier of the recessive blue-eyed gene. I can't find pictures of your mommy or daddy, who I think are in jail for running a meth lab or oxycontin string (bless their souls), so I can't tell what color their eyes are. You probably don't know what color your parents eyes are. But I can tell you from my own personal experience that being lied to about who your daddy really is is painful and will cause unending pain. So if you want to make sure that child is not deceived, get yourself to the drugstore and get a DNA.

That reality show money that's coming your way will never be enough to pay for the hurt. I mean, it can certainly help. And I guess your brand is stronger connected to the Palin name-brand... So you know, forget everything I just said and go with it. Kids who are pimped out from the day they were born for political and monetary gain turn out fine anyway, in the end.

Love,

NeNe

PS DOROTHY HAMILL AIN'T GONE NOTHING ON MY WEDGE. Do you love it or do you love it?

A practicum in office sensitivity

It should come as no surprise that I frequently curse under my breath at work when I receive emails from one of the two "intellectually challenged" colleagues whom I'm forced to work with frequently. (One day readers, after I've quit or been fired—chicken, egg, feh—I will post email excerpts from these idiots and YOU WILL UNDERSTAND. You WILL.) My cubicle neighbor, a woman who I don't work with directly but who I've come to know well, is pretty religious. She also has a sense of humor in our dead air anti-WKRP of a workplace, which is why I feel like we've gotten to know and like each other. She's also a Mary J. Blige fan, so we're practically sorority sisters by the dour office standards.

Recently, we had an awkward interaction and I think she doesn't like me anymore. Being liked is literally the only thing I care about, so you can imagine my internal pain. The episode happened in a frazzled moment, after literally working two all-nighters to resolve a crisis of non-BP proportion. So I whispered the sacrilegious expletive "Goddammit!" under my breath. Sometimes, you need to address your rage to the man upstairs, am I right?

Alright, perhaps I didn't whisper it, but after massive diarrhea and two sleepless nights, you see where I'm coming from. Also, let's call my coworker "Schmeisha." Upon hearing me say this harmless little phrase, Schmeisha stands up, makes the effort to walk around our shared cube wall, and says: "What is God's last name?"

Me: "Um. Does He have one?"

Schmeisha: "I don't think it's dammit."

Me: "Oh. Ohmygod. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! BLAH BLAH WHITE GIRL NEEDS TO BE LIKED WAH WAH WAH BLAH WHINE WHINE—" Stop. So ever since then, she's not been her friendly self. Now, she very well could have other things going on in her life, but since I'm clearly a class-O narcissist, let's pretend it has everything to do with me. Great? Great. 

I then went to sleep, thought about it and realized that I've uttered some pretty heinous curses she's overheard before. Why was she offended by a timeless, universal Goddammit? And God doesn't care what I have to say about Her. To illustrate the range of my profanity untempered rage, here is a sample of SOME of the expletives that I've uttered in a whisper growl to myself in the last three months, and you tell me which one you think is the most offensive:

1) Motherfucking cuntrag
2) You spineless chode
3) * Mothershitting FROG YOU SHOULD NOT EXIST BUT MY GRANDDAD HAD TO SAVE YOUR MOTHER'S ASS IN '44 JUST SO SHE COULD SPAWN YOU!
4) You stupid piece of motherfucking shit
5) ** YOU MOTHERFUCKING LOBSTERBACK WE BEAT YOUR GAY ASS MONARCHY 234 YEARS AGO NOW GET OVER IT GOD BLESS AMERICA.

*** Ahem.

This has bothered me enough that I sought the wise counsel of former colleague and Schmeisha-knower Schmusannah. You remember her, right? Schmusie and I were talking about it this evening and she came up with the genius idea to tailor the divine insult "goddammit" with a new last name so you don't insult the Jesus followers around you. Example: GODZIMMERMAN!

Here are other last names you can use to invoke a higher power so as to not to offend the Christians around you:

GodLaden
GodBoyardee
GodJameson
GodDepardieu

You can see this is going to make it all the way to the AP World Civ test. Anyway, I hope you can take this to your esteemed scratchy cubical walls and use it to Change the World For Good.

Godspeed,

Schoprah


* I hate the French
** I hate the British
*** If you had to work with these Limeys and Frogs, you'd feel the same way.

Coverline contest!

This weekend, I was fortunate enough to loll around a beach house with my pals Schmalison, Schmeah, and Schmarianne. (The house was located—fist pump—on the Jersey Shore! Sadly, there were no Snooki sightings.) The slightly-younger Schmarianne, being an Empress of Pop Culture, brought with her the most recent Glamour magazine. Perhaps you've seen it on the newsstand?

Scmeah, bless her heart, took one look at it and said: "That is the stupidest cover I've ever seen." Indeed, we all concurred. Poor Vanessa Hudgens was styled to look like Elmyra from the Tiny Toons. Being a former pauper of The Printed Media, I immediately thought up a few coverlines I'd like to see. (Coverlines are exactly what they sound like.) My coverline: Vanessa on Zac: "I'm gonna love you and squeeze you and kiss you and never let you go UNTIL YOU CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE."

Longtime: I would love to know your coverline, being mother to Chris. Readers, please submit your coverlines in the comments section! And let this serve as inspiration:

Mathlicious Equation of the Day: Special Back Away Slowly Make No Sudden Movements Edition

Michael Lohan

+

=

(Special thanks to Schmalison for the inspiration.)

My next degree will be an MJB

At 39, Mary J. Blige is going to college! Hopefully, she can find her real love at Howard University. Through late in life academia, she found her everything and decided she was goin' down to school. No doubt Mary is gonna breakthrough and get the one thing she wanted for herself, an education. College, she thought, I just can't be without you. She said goodbye to the family affair and told the Admissions teams to "take me as I am."

And as she watches those little coeds' parents hold back tears, saying they're not gon' cry as the little dears move into the dorms, she will undoubtedly show by example that there is no more drama needed. It's gonna be just fine.

You can't keep a good woman down. After all, she's just Mary...