Marco was handsome and hunky, which would have been enough to get me out of the party and into the back seat of his car. But then when he told me he was a researcher at NYU working on the genetics of single-cell yeast, the whole room went dark as love finally found me. I told him I nearly had a bachelor's degree from a major university. Unfortunately, it didn't impress him: it just made him assume I was smart.

He talked about his work for probably half an hour, thinking I knew something. Eventually he noticed the blank stare. "You do know that genes mean DNA means protein fabrication, right?" he asked.

I nodded. I'm not particularly stupid. I just didn't realize there'd be a quiz.

My first contribution to the conversation was telling him about a scientific study I'd recently read about. These scientists were testing how children mimic their parents by having kids watch two scenes starring their Mom. In the first, Mom walks into a dark room holding a bunch of packages. She goes over to the light switch and, because her hands are full, she flips it on with her nose.

All the kids think to themselves, "Well, that's how you turn on a light when your hands are full."

In the second scene, the mother isn't carrying anything, yet she walks over to the light switch and still flips it on with her nose.

And the kids all look at each other and go, "WTF is wrong with her?"

Now, this study is supposedly quite the milestone in behavioral psychology. By running this test on various age groups, scientists learned exactly when children develop the notion of WTF is wrong with her? See, if a three-year-old watches this, he'll go, "Oh. Hey. There's Mommy! Hi Mommy!" But if a three-and-a-half-year-old sees it, he'll be all, "WTF is wrong with her?"

Marco countered with his own favorite study. It seems some psychologists put on a puppet show for six-month-olds. In the show, a round-headed puppet tries to walk up a hill, but it can't. A triangle-headed puppet comes along and pushes the round-headed puppet, and together they make it up the hill. At the top, though, a square-headed puppet comes along and shoves them both back down.

Afterward, Marco said, the psychologist lets the baby pick out a puppet to play with. And what puppet do you think the babies always pick?

"The triangle-headed puppet," he said.

"That's amazing," I said. "That's incredible," I said.

And then some chick sidled up next to Marco and said, "Hey, honey."

I wanted to push her into the bean dip, but I'm no baby. "WTF is wrong with her?" I said.

"Camille [Grammer] said that filming the [Real Housewives of Beverly Hills] reunion show was the longest eight hours of her life. Camille thought the filming was never going to end, eight hours seems a little long. It was extremely draining for her, emotionally." -- her pal Allison DuBois

Dear Camille,

Sorry, girlfriend, but you just can't keep playing "And I can top that!" until the end of time. It didn't work for Mel Gibson's girlfriend, and it isn't working for you. Because really, after you sat through fourteen years of Kelsey Grammer apparently turning up at your bedside every night naked except for a lace bustier and asking you "Who's a pretty girl?", we're not gonna have a lot of sympathy for the hell that is being paid to be on TV.

Hope this helps,
RomanHans

There appeared to be more protesters in Liberation Square in Cairo on Monday than on previous days, above.


I'm going to divert from my usual pointless drivel today to discuss something slightly more important: the crisis threatening Egypt. As a semi-respected political pundit, I think we can all learn a very important lesson from the precarious situation there:

If you're a ruthless dictator and you've got a big public plaza in the middle of your capital city, don't call it fuckin' LIBERATION SQUARE.

Honestly, you'd think any self-respecting despot would know this. See, after you deny civil rights to an entire country, somebody's eventually going to get mad. They'll picture their little hovel next to your castle. They'll compare your diet of champagne and caviar to their day-long search for old bread. They'll wonder if you really dumped the voting machines into the bay to make an artificial reef for fish.

After your army kills all your enemies and you bankrupt the treasury for mink coats and gold-plated toilet seats, people are going to be pissed. "Let's have a demonstration!" some dude with ratty hair will suggest.

"But where?" a chick with a Che button will ask.

They'll think for a minute, and then a lightbulb will go off over some Ayn Rand fan's head. "I've got it!" they'll shout. "Liberation Square!"

And next thing you know, there's half a million people throwing root vegetables at a giant portrait of you wearing a scowl and lots of khaki.

Really, I can't believe I have to school so-called third-world dictators here. Isn't this obvious? It should be the first thing you do after you stab your rivals with poisoned umbrellas and marry all the sexy widows. Rename anything called "Revolution Square," or "Upheaval Place," or even "Cul du Sac of Irked Citizens." For the new name, pick something that's going to discourage people from gathering there.

Bedbug Court would work. Plague of Psoriasis Circle would do it. I can't picture a lot of folks hanging around Unattractive Transvestites Park, no matter how many fountains it's got.

And the next time insurrectionists make plans for a public protest, they'll be screwed. "I know!" some random vegetarian will announce. "Let's all meet at the Plaza of the Wee-Dicked Sissy Men!" and all of a sudden everybody else will remember they've already made other plans.

A new sex tape featuring Kendra Wilkinson with a female partner will be hitting the market very soon.

"Kendra has sex in the video with Taryn Ryan," a source told RadarOnline.com. "And there is nothing left to the imagination."

Well, unless you've been wondering what it looks like when non-whores have sex.

The Chinese government apparently tried to convince its citizens of their defense superiority by showing clips from Top Gun on television and claiming it was an air force training exercise.


The movie footage, shown during the state-run network news, was said to show one of their fighter planes shooting down an enemy aircraft during a practice exercise.

Later they claimed they've made even greater advances in automotive technology, and illustrated that by twenty minutes of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Family Research Council head Tony Perkins is calling on Hawaiians to rise up against the proposed Civil Unions Bill.

"If you live in the islands, it's time to start making waves on marriage!" he said.

Of course, he may have gone a little too far when he added that if gays don't lei down, his group will hang ten.

In 2009, Evangelical Pastor Don Schmierer went to Uganda to teach them how to detonate "a nuclear bomb against the gay agenda." A few months later, the government responded with an Anti-Homosexuality Bill that proposed murder as the solution. Pictures of gay activists appeared on a magazine cover with the strict instructions to "hang them," and this week one of those gay activists, David Kato, was beaten to death.

Mr. Schmierer is being blamed, in part, for this horrendous act, and naturally he's furious.

“I don’t feel I had anything to do with that,” he claimed, adding that he'd received threats and more than 600 hate mails. “I spoke to help people, and I’m getting bludgeoned. . . .”

The good news is, it's just by harsh glares and sharp words rather than a hammer.

John Travolta May Take To The Mattresses, Offer His Slick Head To The Mob

Really? So who's there now?

A grand piano has mysteriously appeared on a sandbar in the middle of Miami's Biscayne Bay. It's been there for a week and no prankster or PR wonk has yet to claim credit. The Coast Guard says they have no plan to remove it and that with the next big storm, the piano will likely join hundreds of boats as just another sunken habitat for bay creatures.

I've suspected this for some time, and I'm glad to have the Coast Guard confirm it. Trash is good for fish. Where we see rusty old refuse, they see luxury condos.

Being altruistic, we Americans have been providing fish with housing for quite some time. That's how the Navy gets rid of old boats, including the USS Arthur W. Radford and the USNS General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, both of which are bigger than football fields.

Here in New York, we dump our old subway cars into the ocean. They turn into artificial reefs, the city is spared a lot of work, and dozens of homeless fish get housed. (I'm not real clear on exactly why fishes need housing, since they don't seem to own a lot of stuff.)

You might feel guilty ditching your old crap in that clear lake, but it's like a Christmas for crustaceans when they see human detritus hurtling toward them. See, life underwater is the opposite of life on land. Here, if you abandoned your car, the police would drag it off. It'd be dangerous. It'd be an eyesore! When you dump it into the ocean, though, it magically transforms into a fabulous home for fish. Within days that rusty old wreck has turned into some bream's bachelor pad.

Working on this theory, I've been tossing all my old trash into the sea. Empty soda cans will make great new shells for hermit crabs, I think. I toss in all my old clothes, because there's gotta be fish that build nests. I fling in old newspapers and magazines, because if dolphins are all that smart, they'll probably want to read. I know whenever I fling a car battery in the water, some sardine will get a charge out of it.

Still, I wish I could offer something like this piano. I know the fish are going to love it. I mean, you might imagine it'd turn into a dangerous mass of broken wood and rusty wire, but I'm picturing a barnacle-covered piano bar and a dozen gay crustaceans singing, "Under the Sea."

Jim Bob Duggar and his wife Michelle are just good God-fearing people with 19 kids, their own TV show and a lifelong love of guns.

In between reading Bible verses and praying for the souls of heathens, they whip out the guns and play with them. Here's your average Thursday night at the Duggar house:


That's John David Duggar and a foreign exchange student. (Dad is the head in the middle.) Yup, those are assault weapons the kids are holding. Don't worry: they're Christians, though they look about two hand gestures away from being Crips. The family needs that massive firepower for shooting squirrels, Michelle says. I don't know. Maybe squirrels hang around in groups of fifty, and if you don't get them all at once, the survivors will fight back.

On the positive side, I really have to show a little respect. Taking part in a foreign exchange program is really brilliant. Just think: somebody with a second-grade education, who has to scramble for food anywhere he can find it, who's lived his entire life crammed with dozens of people in a few tiny rooms, can hang out with a dude from Bangladesh. That's cool.

Now, back to hunting, guys. Peace out!

Cher is angry that her movie Burlesque didn't get an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Song.

The veteran singer/actress' power ballad "You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" earned songwriter Diane Warren a Golden Globe earlier this month, but the track was ignored by the Oscars.

In a series of fuming Twitter posts, Cher writes, "We didn't get a nomination 4 best song! That sucks! . . . It's hard to understand how u win the Golden Globe 4 Best Song & not even get nominated by the Oscars?"

In a related story, Arkansas housewife Orleen McClurkey was crowned Miss America today after a drunk dude declared her "hot."

Cop Asks Dudes to "Show Me What You've Got," Then Arrests Them For Indecent Exposure

Palm Springs police decoys in the 2009 Warm Sands gay sex sting said they did not entice those arrested to expose themselves, as court hearings on whether to drop the charges continued Tuesday in Indio.

“I pretty much just stood there. People would walk up to us,” Palm Springs officer Chad Nordman testified. He did say “show me what you’ve got” to those arrested — but only after they approached him first, Nordman added.

Even if the decoys were coy, another policeman, Sgt. Matt Beard, testified he simulated a sex act by himself behind a pool filter while providing undercover security for the decoys.

Beard said he wasn’t instructed to do that, but he aimed to mimic “what was going on around me” and “dispel any suspicion that I was an undercover officer.”

Let's set the scene. Hunky Chad Nordman is standing around under the palm trees, enjoying the fresh air. Over by the pool, Officer Beard is watching Hunky Chad to make sure he's okay, while simultaneously pretending somebody's fucking him. Wait, or do you think he's pretending to jerk off? That makes more sense, because it's hard to keep an eye on your partner when you're swaying like a sick camel and your face is aimed at dirt.

It's quiet, because Hunky Chad always waits for dudes to approach him. He's got standards: he doesn't approach dudes, and he doesn't ask dudes to expose themselves if they don't approach him. And he never screams "SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!" at cars that are driving by.

Officer Beard wipes the sweat from his forehead and keeps pretending to jerk off. It's tough, because they've been there since two.

Somebody walks up, and Hunky Chad doesn't "entice" the man to expose himself. That would be wrong. No, he just growls, "Show me what you've got."

Hunky Chad holds his breath. Officer Beard switches hands. The man says, "Full house, aces over queens."

"Shit!" says Hunky Chad. He's got a pair of deuces and a four. Dude takes the pot and wanders off. Looks like they're not busting any perps today.

Of course, there's a small hole in this scenario. Officer Beard was "mimic[king] 'what was going on around [him].'" If he's jerking off, doesn't that mean there were other dudes jerking off?

In which case, you know, shouldn't he arrest them?

Still, that's not to say I don't appreciate the effort. I mean, when I'm outside jerking off and a stranger sees me, it can feel a little awkward. I'd really appreciate somebody like Officer Beard pretending to jerk off too, just so I don't feel out of place. It's like the owner of a Greek restaurant smashing a plate to encourage you to do it. Well, and then arresting you for vandalism afterward.

Anyway, I've got to applaud these guys. They do what they have to. Hell, how else can somebody “dispel any suspicion that [they're] an undercover officer" without, like, pretending to read? While Hunky Chad's day couldn't have been easy -- I've been attractive before -- I'm thinking the police department should give Beard some kind of trophy.

Though maybe they'll want to set it on the table until he can wash his hands.

A married father of two has left his family at home for a dream vacation around the world with his sex dolls.

Dave Hockey, 57, admits to having fourteen sex dolls, which cost up to $3,000 apiece, and says he's spent another couple thousand to dress them in glamorous outfits, wigs, and high heels. For his vacation this year, he's blowing $25,000 to take his six favorite dolls to Britain and America, stopping in Stonehenge, the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls, and taking the molded mistresses sky-diving, horseback riding and on motorcycle rides.

Dave insists his wife "doesn't mind." "My wife understands it is a hobby. She isn't threatened by the dolls. She knows I'm not going to run off with an eighty-pound piece of silicone shaped like a woman."

Eighty pounds of silicone? What, does it only have one boob?

Hey, let's hear a round of applause for Dave. What a catch! He didn't skip out on his wife in the middle of the night. No, he walked out in broad daylight, after packing suitcases full of lingerie and stilettos for Samantha, Carley, Miyuki, Bianca, Janelle and Nita. And then he called the press and told them what he was doing, and claimed his wife was totally cool with it. That's nerve. Personal note to Ms. Hockey: it's not gonna cost $3,000 to replace dumb, bald or paunch.

Anyway, if you want to meet Dave, keep an eye out for a motorcycle with one happy rider and six blank stares. Listen for the throaty putt-putt as he approaches your town.

No, it's not the bike: he always forgets to wash out Bianca.

Why Clarence Thomas Didn't Declare His Wife's Income on Financial Disclosure Documents

For the last thirteen years, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas has certified and filed official financial disclosure forms that declared that his wife Virginia had no outside income. Over that period, however, his wife worked as a consultant for several conservative organizations, including the Heritage Foundation, a far-right think tank that deals with many of the issues that face the Supreme Court, earning in excess of $690,000.

Reasons Why Clarence Thomas Didn't Think He Had to Declare His Wife's Income:

1. He's an originalist, so he only fills out forms correctly when they begin with "Prithee."
   
   
2. Sure, his wife is a working lawyer, but he thought chicks could only make serious money if they knew how to dance.
   
   
3. He thought "women's work" was an oxymoron, like "jumbo shrimp" or "affirmative action."
   
   
4. He thought he'd put a check mark in the box, but it turned out to be a pubic hair.
   
   
5. He could have sworn the dude they picked for president repealed all that "ethics" shit.
   

Unhealthy Lifestyle? Helen Mirren: I'm Going to Eat Russell Brand's Underwear.

Terri Orbuch, author of 5 Simple Steps to Take Your Marriage From Good to Great, on how to have healthy disagreements in USA Weekend magazine:

Start with "I." Say things like, "I become anxious when you leave the stove on."

This is an important lesson. See, when you accuse people of things, they become defensive. If you say, "You have to stop guzzling Jägermeister and aiming the car at old ladies in crosswalks!" they'll say, "Hey, why don't you try and make me?" Rather than solving problems, it escalates them into fistfights.

Besides, can you ever really be sure that the other party stands alone in guilt? Frequently there are gray areas. If you say, "Stop dangling our baby out the hotel window," they might just snap back with something like, "Oh, yeah -- like you never dangled the baby out a hotel window!" Resolving the problem is forgotten in favor of a dispute about who did what.

So, when you encounter questionable behavior, take pains not to be accusatory. Don't point a finger with the word "you." Say instead, "I become anxious when your crack pipe sends flames racing up the curtains and all my belongings start to melt." With the pressure off, your partner will respond with something like, "Well, let's take you to the doctor and get tranquilizers," and then everybody goes to bed happy.

Uh-oh. Fingers crossed DJ Questionable Deductions will be okay.

Though one may not understand the goals of others, a true friend supports them nonetheless. Our job is not to label a roommate's search for a Japanese girlfriend as racist or sexist; no, it's our job to pat him on the back as he heads out the door and say, "Good luck finding Hachiko."