Pamela Anderson

Every time I meet a guy who likes fake tits, it’s like encountering a strange new life form. I feel like Charles Darwin on his first day in the Galápagos Islands. My dad could have the exact same tits if he wanted them. How is that feminine? Have you ever felt them? You can feel the seams of the bags! I once dated a woman who had them and one day she sat me down and explained that I really need to pay more attention to her breasts. Apparently I was making out with every part of her body BUT those man-made mammary mounds. I flew over the tit area like it was Chernobyl because they”€™re weird. Did you know they cut the nipples off with scissors and let them sit on a bowl of ice while they shape the fake breast? Only a serial killer would find that sexy.

Lou Reed thinks he’s cool because he never takes his sunglasses off, but to anyone sane he looks like a child. Old guys love wearing them because we can”€™t see their wrinkles, and bald guys love putting them on their head to simulate hair, but the only time anyone needs sunglasses is the three minutes a month they are driving with the sun in their eyes. And even then you can just put the visor down. Sunglasses are up there with bottled water as the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled. You don”€™t look cool. You look insecure.

My entire back is covered with a jellyfish that’s eating Chiang Kai-shek and Fidel Castro, and my arms and legs are covered, too. Even the inside of my lip is tattooed. This seemed like a great idea when life consisted of playing in bands and drinking in bars, but don”€™t people with tattoos realize there’s life after 30? Every time I go to the water park with the kids or take a vacation I am the Coney Island Freak Show standing in the corner like a mental patient who joined MS-13. Tattoos are just a gigantic green Mohawk you can”€™t shave off. Way to go, me.

Whenever I see my kids clamoring for cookies I think, “€œWhy?”€ They have the texture of baked sand and they taste like wooden sugar. Maybe when they come fresh out of the oven and they”€™re still soft I can sort of get the appeal, but a bunch of hard cookies out of a box seems like something a doomsday prepper would be forced to dig into after week four.

I watch about two hours of TV a night and I feel the same way about television that prostitutes feel about sex. It’s depressing. I read and write all day and then entertain screaming children after work, so after the dust settles, I want to be entertained. Instead, I get Ice-T threatening strangers, a fat kid who thinks she’s cute, and reality shows that are so obviously scripted, you”€™re watching bad actors do a fake action movie for free. I want to enjoy TV, but every time I open my mind, a TV executive in LA takes a dump in it. Pitching television shows is difficult, but figuring out why shows are popular is way harder. You”€™d need a lobotomy to make a successful show these days. Just when you think the universe couldn”€™t get stupider, it gets stupider than Jupiter. Remember in Idiocracy when Mike Judge predicts that Ow! My Balls! will be the top show in 500 years? Well, about 495 years early, the “€œnut mutilation guy“€ has emerged as one of America’s Got Talent‘s most popular guests. If this is the kind of thing everybody is into, I don”€™t get everybody.

Image of Pamela Anderson courtesy of Shutterstock


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