Kid Logic and some other Childish Thoughts.

In a 3-year-old's mind, the words "face" and "head" can be suffixed to just about any other word in the English language and Voila! Instant insult. Here are some examples that I've heard recently:

Gas Station Face, Sock Face, Laundry Head, Raincoat Face, and, my personal favorite, Poopy Diaper Head, which I've actually used recently, when Some Dumbass thought that the fact that Their SUV is bigger than My Mazda automatically meant that it was her turn to proceed through the 4-way stop first. Just cuz I'm smaller doesn't mean I won't sue that effin Lexus right out from under your fat ass, Poopy Diaper Head!


So last night as I was watching the Golden Globes, I got to thinking. I wonder if Sir Anthony Hopkins ever sits around his Ancestral Estate in his Boxers eating Doritos and watching porn. Maybe nobody else in the world's brain works like mine does, but that's the kind of stuff I think about.

The Golden Globe Red Carpet as well as the upcoming premiere of American Idol also got my mental gears turning. Don't these people have friends who try to talk them out of making asses of themselves? I mean, didja see Marcia Cross in that Orange Toga? And Drew, honey, I love you (and your boobs), but for cryin' out loud, would it stifle you artistically to put on a Bra?

Sometimes I think I should give these people my phone number and have them call me before they leave their houses so I can talk some feckin sense into them. I mean, alls I would have had to hear from Marcia Cross is the word "ORANGE", and I'd have had her zipping by the mall to pick up something less heinous. Then again, I guess if I were Ridiculously Rich, I'd pay somebody just to tell me I looked great even if it wasn't true. Why can't I get a gig like that?

And American Idol just kills me. I don't care who wins. I wish nobody would win. I'd rather see 8 weeks of hideously abysmal singers who all think they're going to be the next Ruben Studdard (who??). Isn't it amazing to think that even the worst singer in the competition stood in line for days thinking they were going to grab Hollywood by the ballz and run?

And I actually love Simon Cowell. If I had the knitting knowhow to design a haughty, pretentious-looking cowl-neck sweater, I'd call it the Simon Cowl. It would be inspired by his ubiquitous black T-shirt, and I'd make the pattern completely illogical and nearly impossible to follow. (Then I'd make one for Randy Jackson made out of DAWG hair! HA! That just came to me! Y'know how he's all "Ya did yer thang, Dawg!" Well, I thought it was funny. I crack myself up. Does anybody read this?)