On a day like today who can write fan mail to reality TV stars (Nene Leakes deserves a shout out after throwing down with Star Jones last night on Celebrity Apprentice) or baby-making songstresses (Mariah Carey finally popped!) or the object of random celebrity sightings (I did a show with Brian Dunkleman — the original host of American Idol — on Friday night; not braggin, just… well yes, I guess I’m bragging)? Celebrities schmelebrities, today my heart felt fan mail goes to the brave ass-kickers who wacked Osama bin Laden last night!
As many of my readers know, I spent some time in the Navy myself. Granted, the most dangerous thing I ever did was attempt a 10-minute jump rope workout on the flight deck of a Guided Missile Destroyer* that was rocking and rolling in the unpredictable seas of the Northern Arabian Gulf (very, very bad idea). Oh, and then this one other time I got into the habit of eating a pie (no shit, a whole pie**) every single day for like two months of a six month deployment so that I no longer fit into any of my uniforms… not really dangerous but trust me, VERY uncomfortable. Tight pants are a girl’s worst enemy. Speaking of enemies (what a segue!), we all have one less of them today thanks to a handful of brave Navy SEALs. Thanks, guys. keep up the good work. You, and everyone else in our military are what make us the best damn country on earth! (well jazz and corn dogs helped too, but it’s really mostly you guys)
* Shout out to USS HIGGINS!! What what!!
** Seriously, another day, another pie: lemon meringue, pecan, strawberry cream, apple, key lime… it was amazing! Until I put on 18 pounds. Then it was the opposite of amazing.
It’s being reported (as if this is real news or something) that Mariah Carey’s husband Nick Cannon won’t let her wear heels anymore, now that she’s pregnant with twins. Men, do you not realize that we gals aren’t wearing heels for our health or because they’re comfy (surprise surprise — they’re not). We wear them because every woman is secretly obsessed with Cameron Diaz’s legs in Charlie’s Angels and the only way mere mortals can attain anything even close to those sticks is by hoisting our heels up a few inches, thereby creating an optical illusion that we are tall and long and lean. Fooled ya! It’s a tried and try method which, by the way, is a shitload easier than eating right or doing time on the elliptical.
With that in mind, it seems like now (when she’s at her fattest/most pregnant) is a really crappy time for Mariah to be forced to give up her heels. Sure she doesn’t want to go toppling over with babies on board, but what good is she to any of us if she quits her diva ways and turns into a fat ass in flats?
Each year around this time Mariah pops up on morning shows, late-night show, middle-of-the-day shows — oh and if there’s a parade, forget about it, she’s there — singing that one epic song I wait for all year and then, by December 20th or so I’ve heard it so much that just the first few chords make me want to strangle myself with a strand of Christmas lights: “All I Want for Christmas Is You”. Since I can’t bear to see a short and squat Mariah, all I want for Christmas is for her to ignore that impish little boy she calls a husband and let her true diva reign free this Christmas season. Bring on the stilettos!
ps. Here’s a version of Mariah’s song I did with a couple comedian pals of mine a few years ago…
pps. I posted this from 41D on a Delta flight thanks to handy free wi-fi. That’s the back of my boarding pass up there.