ABC has decided to add some testicles to their nightly programming.

Chuck Liddell will bust a move

The new line-up for the upcoming season of Dancing with the Stars has been announced and along with the typical rag tag group of D-list celebrities, a shot of testosterone has been thrown in the mix with the addition of two manly celebs:  Kelly Osbourne and Chuck Liddell.

That’s right, the Mohawk donning, haymaker throwing, skank fisting son of a bitch: Chuck Liddell.  Although we just as easily could have been describing Osbourne, right?

Kelly Osbourne’s butchiness and skank fisting aside, we will be the first to admit that these additions are somewhat intriguing.  But as exciting as they may seem; it is still Dancing with the Stars. You know, the show that guys suffer through only so their girlfriends will blow them later in the night, yeah it’s that show.  And just throwing Chuck Liddell onto it isn’t going to change it from being the prologue to the blowski.

That’s why we are going to propose a few changes to make Dancing with the Stars a little more guy friendly: Read more »

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It’s midnight. Your best friend and his girlfriend are hanging out with you at the bar. They’ve been bickering all night about the guy she hooked up with before they got back together. Other Dude is not even in the same state anymore but your buddy just can’t let it go. She did start it, though—by making some snide reference to the other guy at a point when your friend’s confidence was just starting to grow legs. Finally, the cacophony of the bar seems to crest and fall silent just in time for her to say:

“He had a huge dick alright?!”

The Birth of Damaged Goods

Holy shit. You look around. Time stands still and everyone in the blast radius is picking proverbial shrapnel out of their ass. You can see your friend’s teeth clenching but you know he could go the other way and just cry like a little bitch. You can’t even describe what comes out of his mouth. It’s not even sputtering. It’s more of a whining gag noise like when you swallow a bug. You almost laugh because it reminds you of that scene in Ace Ventura. But you don’t, because the room is so tense you’re f*cking swimming through air. The second she said it, everyone’s mind flashed and the Token Loudmouth pipes up, “Dayum!”

Her arms are crossed with a smug grin as she  awaits applaud. There’s none.

And…close curtain. Nobody expects them to stay together. They might as well start looking for other places to live because who wants to hook up with a girl that got poled by Peter North. Jesus… she may have just turned your friend into the next George Sodini. Don’t go to the gym next week, you think, trying to remember if he has any guns.

If only Lisa Turtle knew... Screech would have turned her out like a ho fo sho.

A few months pass by and your buddy is still in rehab. He’s starting to regain color but it’s not looking bright. He’s developed an addiction to mommy blogs.

After that you see his ex walking down the street with Dustin Diamond.  You get his autograph and take a picture of them for your blog. You don’t post the photo because your friend has internet access in rehab and he might open up on you someday. You decide to upload the photo through your other friend’s computer and post it on his blog instead. That guy was kind of a douche, anyway.

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"You, You, and You. No, Not You, You."

Want to be around hot women all day, but the tanning salon won’t hire you because you have a felony aggravated assault on your record? Maybe you could be an MMA fighter, but you don’t like the idea of having fair ground with your opponents. That’s okay… just become a bouncer.

Heralded as one of the coolest no-brainer gigs available, bouncing can get you to places where your stint in juvie doesn’t matter. The better gigs let you dress up like secret service agents but really, a black shirt that says ‘security’ on the back will get you laid just as fast.

Maybe you’re not really a fighter. That’s okay. Nobody’s going to f*ck with you if you’re wielding a Maglite and a frown. You’ll occasionally have to deal with hipster kids trying to give you an ID that looks like Charles Manson fucked a bear and had kids, or guidos that rub Preparation H all over their arms to make their muscles stick out more. Seriously… they do this. Well, some might use the Walgreens brand, but nevertheless—every job will have a few items on the bad list.

There will come a day when a fat guy is beating on some skater, and you break up the fight by pulling his shirt off and grossing everybody out with his big man titties. Instant game over.

Most bouncing jobs start out as the door guy—checking ID’s and making sure the line stays long. Eventually, with a firm hand on the upward ladder, you can make your way to the bullpen—fielding takedowns in the crowd and hauling out the creepy old guys that try to sketch a group of girls with pastels.

Patrons will be thankful when you, in the middle of your break, take a shot to the face with a pool cue and proceed to beat the everloving crap out of everyone. You even get to toss that crazy chick that tried to stab someone with her heel. Here’s a hint—earrings are the equivalent of gloves. When they come off, shit is going down.

So fill out an application at your local cowboy-themed dance club today. You’re on your way, superstar!

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This is actually a guy.

I’m not saying it’s wrong to be fat. A big ass is all the rage these days. I’m just saying, don’t lie about your figure. It’s right up there with those rubber bra-boosters and that weird bee-sting lip-gloss. It’s one thing to take a picture of yourself at a flattering angle, and another altogether to bleach out the photo until the only recognizable body part is a pair of eyes and some cleavage. Besides– bleach photos don’t make you look like angels, ladies… it just makes you look like that alien from Cocoon.

Update your pics! Listen, I had a six-pack and a discernible jaw line…. three years ago. Things change. I didn’t turn into James Spader but sh*t! At least I’m being honest. If your profile photo on Myspace is from before you started smoking and had a bunch of babies…you probably look a little different now.

My most recent pic

Guys… a few tips. If a girl only takes pictures of herself with her ugly friends, then she’s aware of the Theory of BootyRelativity. Adjust your monitor accordingly. If she’s in the back of a photo when a bunch of hot chicks are in front… she’s skillfully using their bodies to create hotness-by-proximity. This is a sneaky tactic. Be advised.

Giant sunglasses can be used to conceal lazy eyes, and dark colors are naturally slimming. If you can’t find the lines in her outfit, then it probably means she’s a circle… because circles go on forever. It’s a circle. Circle means fat.

Back to the ladies. As I see it, the only sure-fire way to be honest about your body, is to get buck-ass naked and snap away. I promise, I won’t think you’re a whore. I encourage and appreciate your honesty. You go girl. Empower yourself by living a life of truthiness and integrity. If you want to pose on some kind of backless couch, that’s cool too. I’ll be cheering you on every step of the way.

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