The Shan Speaks: Notes from the Small but Wise

Screw Henry Higgins and F Open Book Productions

2010-10-21T01:53:00.000-04:00

Just you wait, Open Book Productions (Chrystal Chappell and Kim Turrisi). Just you wait until I have time to sit down and eviscerate "Straight Girl's Guide to Gay Bars." You're gonna have really sore Cubby Holes.

Readers, please review before we reconvene. Get a load of this shit.

Webseries the Webseries - Episode 2

2010-05-14T22:24:00.000-04:00

Webseries the Webseries - Episode 1

2010-05-14T22:23:00.000-04:00

Gotham Vice Rules!

2010-05-04T13:40:00.001-04:00

My new favorite show EVER! Watch now!

And, while I may be biased, I know I'm right. It's got all the elements a silly crime-show obssessed dyke like me could want:
1. Hot chicks
2. Snappy dialogue
3. Hot chicks making out

Gotham Vice will go down in history as some hot n' heavy ground-breaking TV!

Equality Illinois - Big Gig Coming Up

2010-03-12T21:07:00.000-05:00

Real Quick F.U.

2010-01-05T01:22:00.004-05:00

Today, someone called my humor 'coarse.' Good. I hope it gave him a rash.

Miley's 16th, My 35th. What's the Dif?

2010-01-05T00:50:00.002-05:00

Truth be told, I am not a fan of birthdays. My own in particular. I don't know if it's the history of freezing cold, somebody's always puking, holy shit a blizzard!, Chicago/Boston/NYC in the dead winter birthdays past or the reality that my Big Day happens to coincide with the arrival of tax forms and Christmas-splurge credit card bills. If I were a betting woman, meaning if I had a risk-able dollar to my name, I'd wager that I'm just impossible to please and prone to wallowing. Whatever the reason, my birthday sucks ass cakes.

You know who's birthday was pretty f'in cool? Miley Cyrus' 16th birthday celebration at Disney World. That was the shit! I want that. Shut down the park, have a parade, sell commemorative t-shirts and coffee mugs, put on a fireworks display so awesomely sublime that the dudes who'll lose fingers in its execution won't even care that they'll never snap or effectively pick their nose again. I think she got a Benz, too. Or Hannah Montana did. Who cares? Whatever wig the bitch was wearing, she got German-crafted lovin' on 4 wheels. Me want that. I'll even settle for a yellow one, that's how humble I'm willing to be about it. Access Hollywood AND Entertainment Tonight AND TMZ AND Perz Hilton - they're all there to get their clips, their sound bytes. That's right, Billy Bush, ask my cousin Mary Groholski who she's wearing. Find out how Video One's interns snagged invites to such a swank bash. Perez, tell everybody I snorted coke off your fat gay ass throughout the soiree, and then be all like, "Or did I?" Wink wink.

Yeah, the more I think about it and how it'll all play out, the Who the Fuck is Shannon Ennis and Why Do I Give a Shit It's Her 35th Birthday? party at Disney World is a reasonable idea. Maybe we could to a charity tie-in or cross promotion or something for somebody hungry somewhere who hates their birthday, too.

More Important New Year's Eve Countdown

2009-12-31T00:25:00.004-05:00

Why are you reading my blog when there's money and time to be spent on my birthday? You'd better haul ass in 10, 9, 8, 7...seriously put your coat on...6, 5, 4...I'm going to make you feel so guilty that you won't be able to crap without crying.

3,2,1. Asshole.

Where'd That Come From?

2009-12-15T04:15:00.002-05:00

"Shit balls" is my new fave thing to say. About anything, for any reason. Eh, that's a lie. Usually for despair, horror, surprise, disappointment. Shit balls doesn't translate well into 'things are really goin' my way!' For example, I drop my diamonds on the floor and they scatter across the marble, "Ah, shit balls!" (F-you. That shit happens to me all the time. I'm always chasing my jewels across my marble bathroom floor. Sometimes, when I'm beday-ing, I'll step on one of my big ass diamonds. Lemme tell you, it'll cut glass alright.) Or I see a picture of Jill Bennett and say, "Holy shit balls! No one is that good looking. How does one look away?" And then she's just staring back at me, all "Hey shit balls, don't you have a job? Quit dreaming about my bone structure and make a living." How about I pour a delicious bowl of highly nutritious cereal--dinner-- turn to grab milk from the fridge and realize I ain't gots none. "Fucking shit balls! No MOO for my Ohs!"

Thing is, I have no idea where I got this word pairing. How 'shit balls' sank into my thick skull is a total mystery. Somebody who's ever heard the expression before, please contact me! Cultural anthropologists, I'm talking to you. Who is responsible for originating "shit balls"? I want to shake their hand and then punch 'em in the face.

God Must Really Like Me

2009-12-10T01:20:00.002-05:00

There's no other logical explanation. Magical thinking + Shannon's desperate pleas to The Power Greater Than Herself = Prayers answered!

Note to Self

2009-12-04T00:11:00.005-05:00

Having a hard time deciding what to be when you grow up? Learn from a pro. Study somebody who's talented and worked their ass off for years and years, who's finally getting long overdue, deserved praise. Watch any TINA FEY interview.

Now, don't beat yourself up. "Compare and despair." She's the exception rather than the rule. Though, thankfully, exceptions do pop up every now and then. And she's the type to be flattered by the compliment and humble accepting it. But nobody's perfect. Except, maybe, TINA FEY.

Goal: Some day, in the near future, I, Shannon Eileen Ennis, will have a long, substantive conversation with Tina Fey. And it won't be about how I repeatedly defy the restraining order. It'll be over coffee or white wine spritzers.

Goal: Strive to be the same kind of example for other female writer, performer, actor, comedian folk. Talk the talk, walk the walk. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Best Casting Rumor Ever

2009-12-03T23:43:00.002-05:00

Rumors are circulating that Idina Menzel may be cast as Lea Michelle’s (Rachel’s) Mom on GLEE.

I'm gonna let that stay out there a sec. I slid off my couch in response, so feel free to just let yourself go.

OK. How fabulous is that? I'm sort of, well, gleeful about it. But--and this is so just a tiny, tiny little but--in response to the rumor, Idina’s husband, Taye Diggs, said that he and his wife “are just so happy to see a lot of these theater kids get the opportunity to do some television work.”

Hey, Taye! You buried the lead! Forget about the B’way folks getting TV work. That’s been going on for 20-30 years! How about the future theater kids GLEE is inspiring? That’s the real story. The next Idina, the next Lea, is just starting their “in front of mirror” training thanks to GLEE. And it’s not just the superstars either. The next wave of sublimely talented men and women who will one day write, produce, design, light, costume and inspire another generation is watching GLEE, too.

And that’s why I’ll pray this evening, on my fucking knees, that God allows what is today’s rumor to become tomorrow’s fact. A-(Seriously, God please, please, pretty please!)M-E-N!

Shame Motivates

2009-11-11T00:39:00.002-05:00

Indeed it does. Just took a late-night look at my most recent entries. Oy, mea culpa, readers, mea culpa. While the lack of updates and dull ass 'recent' entries reflect the kind of couple years it's been, my lack of updates belie how things are going lately. So it is with that acknowledgement that I promise to do better. Starting now. Sure, it may take be a few posts to get back into the swing of the blogosphere, to honor a page visit (or accidental click--sorry 'the shat speaks' fans!) with some worthwhile material. But I'm willing to get a little exposed. It's been too long.

Another promise that I will make public: this little midget will get back on stage in the close of '09 and dawn of '10. But seriously, I gotta ask you bitches to hold me to it. Don't let me wiggle on this one. Not only do I miss the feeling of a live mic in my hand, but I've got all this deodorant and no reason to over-apply it. Sweaters! Not the cashmere kind. I mean, where my fellow schvitzers at? Who danced when they saw prescription antiperspirant on the shelf? Can I get an "Amen!"? If Whitney's back, than so am I.

And if my therapist reads this, my real reason for doing stand up again is to a. maybe get laid, b. um, something something 'art' blah blah, 'gift' blah blah, 'joy' yadda yadda, c. just hopin' it'll cut down on the inappropriate shit I say at work.

Don't call it a comeback. I've been here for years.

DSQUARED: Boots & Shoes I Want

2009-01-03T01:02:00.006-05:00

I've got a birthday in a couple weeks. Don't hurt yourself trying to come up with clever gift ideas. Either of these will do. Please note that I'd prefer the boots in cordovan. Also, don't feel the need to spring for these on your own. I'm accepting contributions to Shannon's Well-Heeled Thirtysomething Fund starting...NOW.

7 Dirty Words

2008-12-08T22:30:00.003-05:00

Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cock-sucker, mother-fucker and tits. Because I miss Carlin. Because I'm not a 'lady.' And because there's no such thing as a dirty word.

Much The View About Nothing

2008-11-22T19:03:00.006-05:00

Ten bucks says that Rosie and Barbara are IMing each other non-stop and LOLing their asses off. If I had a variety show premiering the day before Thanksgiving, the biggest bar holiday next to St. Paddy's Drunken Fest, I'd punch my own mother in the face for some publicity. Everyone and their brother will be at the local watering hole, catching up with friends, griping about relatives and ingesting car bombs. No one's scouting the TV guide or channel surfing. So my money's on The View matriarch's latest sound bite feud with her former colleague being a hoax, a stunt, a way to get Billy Bush and Mario Lopez's overpaid lips a-buzzing. One question remains: Will Rosie's well-timed PR skirmish translate into viewers? You tell me Joe Six Pack. Does that loudmouthed fat dyke (a typical description, one O'Donnell herself mocks openly) getting into another fight make you want to watch her new show?

Truthfully, I don't think it's a stunt at all. Two enormously accomplished women are sniping at each other on the talk show airwaves and it's ruining my appetite for turkey. Ladies, how about a little restraint? Rise above this kind of display.

Twitter and Widget

2008-10-28T18:18:00.004-04:00

Twitter and widget are my new favorite words. Well, they're terms really. Any word that translates into 'more people listing to me' turns me on. Big time.

Goodnight Sweet Feline

2008-10-21T19:25:00.003-04:00

The Ennis family bid farewell to its beloved, four-legged member, Dixie, today. Methinks she deserves a proper obit. Anyone who's ever said goodbye to a pet will understand the sentiment. Sure, it's sappy, but I'm Irish Catholic and single, so humor me. For anyone who hasn't experienced the pleasure and joys of being a pet owner, or the PETA-friendly term "pet parent," please consider rescuing or adopting an animal. You'll be the better for it.

DIXIE ENNIS, 17 years-old, a 'ghetto kitty' adopted from the ASPCA, named after Bette Middler's character in For The Boys, was put to sleep today. She was a diva to the very end: entitled and sassy. Few knew of her hidden charms, but were well-acquainted with her foul mood in the company of relative strangers. Thus, only to know her was to love her. The rest, frankly, missed out.

Dixie is survived by her primary care-giver and companion, my Mom, Joan Ennis, a fortunate snow bird, off to Florida for the chilly months. Though Joan will escape the miserable Chicago winter, her sun-filled days may well be brushed by sadness for a while. Perhaps she'll continue to speak out loud to Dix, sharing details of the daily grind as though her furry white and grey ass was still there. And that's more than okay. Dixie's de-facto Daddy, my brother M.J., apt to mourn in solace, should take comfort in his fond memories, especially the way he'd step into a smattering of kitty litter upon exiting the shower.

As for myself, I've got to admit that I'm crushed. I was a teenager when I picked Dixie out of a cage. She was all ears and tail, and I sat her on my forearm and watched as she stretched out and fell immediately asleep. It felt like a familiar routine, one that we'd already practiced, perfect and easy. Dixie, like me, could be a real bitch at times. Yet if I was at home sick or feeling droopy, she'd be the first one to crawl up next to me and chill out. She was warm and silent, just what I needed.

There's something about the unconditional love of an animal. It's reciprocal and pure. All you need to do is put a roof over their head and feed 'em, then they give you everything they've got in return. Do well for them and they will do infinitely well for you.

Miss you, Dixie.

Tonight, Tonight

2008-10-02T19:20:00.001-04:00

It's less than 2 hours until the first televised execution, er, um, I mean the Vice Presidential debate. Get your popcorn ready!

L&O: SVU Premiere

2008-09-23T23:32:00.002-04:00

Please join me in extending my one year old nephew, Sully, a hearty congrats for writing and directing tonight's season premiere episode of Law & Order: SVU. Granted, I haven't confirmed that he was in any way involved with tonight's show but judging by the storyline, dialogue and tone, I'm pretty sure either he or one of his toddler buddies was at the healm. When you speak to him, try not to let on how much it really sucked. I mean, he is just starting out in the biz.

Dear Chicago Bears

2008-09-21T16:48:00.002-04:00

Fuck you guys and your overtime loss. Next time you want to push and shove each other after a play is whistled dead remember that I have unfertilized eggs in my ovaries with more sportsmanship. I hope you all get a serious spanking, not the good kind either. The prison kind where something is likely to get stuck somewhere REALLY uncomfortable. The kind that places your shrink on speed dial. The kind that makes you cover all the mirrors in your house. The kind where you cry in the shower afterward.

I'm In Thalthes

2008-09-19T18:17:00.003-04:00

In a phrase I'll borrow from Bill Maher, New Rule: You cannot expect to have a rewarding career in sales if you have a speech impediment. Specifically a lisp. No one wants to get trapped on the other end of the phone while they're pitched "thome thuper opportunitieth."

I will begin with the obvious: Lispers are difficult to understand. Trying to decipher what they're saying it like the first 5 minutes of 'Trainspotting.' Right off the bat, you're like, "What the fuck language am I hearing? Where are the subtitles?" It sounds kind of familiar, but good luck making it out clearly. Might as well be speaking Farsi. Consider, too, how many words contain the letter 'S.' By the time a lisper has uttered one sentence, he or she is likely to have T.H.'d--a new verb I just invented--multiple times. For instance, let's break down "for instance." For-in-th-tanth.

Lisps are fucking funny, too. Someone could actually die laughing from listening to a lisper. Theriouthly. A life lost to the giggles, well, that's tho thad. Thruck down by an uncontrollable rethponthe. Once the laughter fades, the lisp effect starts to snowball. What was slightly noticeable in 5 seconds becomes stark ravingly incessant when given an entire minute. The occasional slurred 'S' piles up after a while. Pretty soon it's all you can hear. At that point, I liken it to torture. Thomebody'th gotta thop it or violenth will enthue.

And though this may cement my asshole status for all eternity, I can't trust someone who can't say 'trust.' Think about it: "Trutht me." You've got to be kidding. Now, if I may be excused, I've got some volunteering to do at a speech clinic as penance. Or should I say, "penanthe?"

Last Will, Just In Case

2008-09-12T01:45:00.004-04:00

Against my better instincts, I ended up watching some 9/11 themed programming this year. One of the shows mentioned that more than 80% of the unmarried victims died without wills causing their friends and families additional, albeit unintended, grief. Since I would never want to burden my loved ones (all six of you) in such a manner, let this be my final will and testament.

Belongings: Please fight over my books and music. There isn't much else.

Wealth: I leave all my debt to no one. Whoever I owe money to can eat it.

That should cover it. Peace be with me.

Next Time You Feel Unattractive

2008-08-18T21:46:00.003-04:00

Take a gander at these babes.

My intention is not to be cruel, but rather to empower gals like myself, who's spirits plummet into the dumper when our jeans feel too tight, if we have more than one zit or a bad hair day. Should any of these and other seemingly insurmountable tragedies strike, remember the happy faces of the chicks pictured above, Olympic medalists in women's weightlifting. Imagine telling them whatever's got your panties in a wad. Sing "I Feel Pretty" at the top of your fucking lungs and sack it up. Or they will come to your house and eat you.

Why I Like Women's Beach Volleyball

2008-08-13T01:02:00.000-04:00

The hand signals.

"Olympic Gymnastics Walk In Park," Says Ennis

2008-08-12T01:25:00.003-04:00

I'm sick and tired of watching miniature chicks and dudes somersault a few times in the air while some TV douche bag commentator calls them "magnificent." Whatever. If I trained 8 hours a day 7 days a week since I was 4, ate nothing but carrots, lettuce and kiwi and my government threatened to execute my Mom, I could totally do what they do. Pussies. Like it's some big deal to sacrifice any semblance of a childhood or adolescence for the chance to compete against to the world's most elite athletes. Snooze.

Look at this idiot. I'd rank this still rings skill right up there with algebra and being able to clean a toilet. Try to put it on a resume, pal.

Un-Friend Me!

2008-07-21T16:28:00.002-04:00

I seek the advice of the masses. OK, how about just the counsel of my Mom and whoever else might read this?

Hypothetical situation: I find someone I went to school with on Facebook. I send a friend request which, when approved, grants me access to their profile. Said profile contains loads of useful information, like, how fat this person may/may not have gotten, whether or not they've procreated and their political affiliation, if any. Let's say that this last factoid is alarming, slightly less offensive than baby raping, like not only is this person a Republican, but a proud one. One who wears a t-shirt that falsely proclaims, "Republicans screw better." One who's posted a link on their Facebook page that sends me to a web site where I can get a JOHN MCCAIN LAWN SIGN. What to do? Can one rescind a Facebook friendship? Should I throw myself upon the mercy of other Facebookians and hope that my connection to this Neo-con is viewed with indifference and sympathy, as I might hope a retarded sibling would be?

At this point in my life, the only Republicans that I have to associate with, placate, mmmm suffer gladly, are the ones I'm unfortunately related to, most of whom by marriage. I can't deny DNA! But to allow myself an unmistaken, visible--albeit electronic and all virtual or cyber--association reminds me of the days when I'd still make out with the occasional boy. Ew, gross! And unnecessary.

Why can't this distasteful conservative lifestyle be lived discreetly? Take a lesson from the pre-Stonewall gays and have some shame! I mean, screw better? Are you kidding me? Of course, in all fairness, it would depend on WHO you're screwing. The poor, yes. The disenfranchised, bingo. The environment, hells yeah. Your own grandchildren, indeed. Wait, I just thought about J. Edgar Hoover. OK, you win.

Best Remake Ever: Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

2008-06-10T17:16:00.003-04:00

Oh, for a muse of mother nature that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention! I've been struck by a brilliant idea. Since the source of a recent salmonella outbreak has been linked to certain tomato varieties, I believe it's time for a remake of the cult classic, "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes." This time the tomatoes aren't super-sized gargantuan villains but just regular old tomatoes, yet killers nonetheless. These tomatoes don't even hunt to kill. They just get put on a sandwich or in a sauce and the carnage ensues.

Imagine a horror movie who's most gruesome scenes take place in bathrooms? Although, from what I understand, salmonella manifests instantly, without warning. So the unsuspecting, tomato eating victim in the car on a Nevada two lane highway in sweltering midday sunshine is as out of luck as the Scotsman in the nastiest bathroom on earth (an homage to Trainspotting's incredible toilet oddessey) who thinks he's just experiencing heroin withdrawal. Au contraire my pale, strung-out junkie friend. Remember that all that tomato soup you lived on during your self imposed detoxification? Turns out it was made from tomatoes more dangerous than smack.

I've already scripted a scene where Jamie Lee Curtis eats a six pack of Activia's new V-8 yogurt. Her digestion goes from regular to super premium.

High Society on the Mag Mile

2008-05-27T20:36:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting in the Starbuck's on Division/Dearborn in Chicago and they're playing "I Love You, Samantha" from 'High Society.' Ah, a latte and a little Cole Porter. It's lovely. How lame does that make me? And do I really care? Super lame and no, I don't.

It's 47 degrees here. I saw people wearing gloves on Michigan Avenue! Pussies. I chose to put my hands in my pockets like a real man. Well, actually, like a real lesbian. For years I have observed that approximately 9 in 10 lesbians always have their hands in their pockets. Trust me. Take it to the stereotype bank.

The Shan's new life officially begins this Sunday as I am move into my apartment. For the first time since Feb., I will have a permanent mailing address and a bed of my own. So long, Oak Lawn! Onward and upward.

PART II

Hours later at Starbucks on Clark/Belmont (hey, I paid $10 for one day of internet access, I'm getting my money's worth) and I am surrounded by a group of about 10 big, black drag queens. I wonder if I could teach them to sing, "I Love You, Samantha."

I'm the Real Shady

2008-05-23T23:49:00.004-04:00

There's a new Girls Gone Wild video installment called Finally 18. It's purchased by guys who don't object to the free bonus video, Pssst...Still 17. My inner feminist finds these spanker vids deplorable, filthy and wrong. And my inner lesbian agrees, until she begins to powerfully desire a sneak peek. It's at that point I'm forced to confront the fact that I'd watch the bonus video. On a loop. In public. Against my will.

Pity the Shan

2008-04-26T00:28:00.002-04:00

www.chessinconcert.com

I seem to be begging again. Whoops! Idina Menzel is stepping into the role of Florence for 2 nights only! PLEASE dear God or anyone capable of scoring me plane tix & concert tix, come to my rescue. Chess is my favorite musical, and since I'm a total theater fag, that's saying a lot. I know my musicals and I've chosen CHESS as my numero uno. But I digress. Someone get me some fucking seats for this show! Uh, I mean please?

Our House of the Undead

2008-03-31T16:48:00.004-04:00

How in the hell is Wilford Brimley NOT dead? Usually I'm pretty "up" on these things but he just offered to help me manage my diabetes. "No way are the airing this TVC posthumously," said I to myself. So I Wickipedia'd and lo and behold, Wilfred's taken a licking and keeps on ticking. For a moment there, it was all very Scrooge. Being visited upon a grisly old man who, to the best of my knowledge, had left this earthly realm. Frankly, I'm still kinda scared of him from THE FIRM. That's right. I'm afraid of Wilford Brimley. What are you gonna do about it?

Elephants should really consider using lotion. Theirs is the ashy-est skin I've ever seen. Just thinking out loud.

You'll Never See Me Again

2008-03-26T18:05:00.003-04:00

I'm imbedded at my brother's house because he's got a huge flat screen TV. I'm mainlining Angie Harmon era Law & Order episodes in HDTV. Ah, my kryptonite! Angie is life-size and I can see her pores. I can almost touch her silky black hair. If there wasn't a screen keeping us apart, she'd could smell my panting "I'm ready to devour you" LISTERINE treated breath. I'm fulfilled, catatonic and sated. My reason for living has been made stunningly clear. Thanks for showing me the sign I've always prayed for,God. In digital no less!

Actually I've been really productive lately and have much to report. But I can't right now. Angie's threatening a perp.

Huge Tuesday Bodes Well for Miserable Wednesday, But Not For Me

2008-02-05T17:37:00.001-05:00

With Super Tuesday and Fat Tuesday falling on the very same day, the Force is with politicos who enjoy consuming mass amounts of liquor and food. It's Nirvana. Voting delights you AND you have serious issues that, on any other day, are discouraged. Wow. You lucky SOB. Hope you don't have a heart-attack b/c of all the excitement. That would totally ruin your very own Nirvana. Fortunately the rest of us can have one without the other. Plenty of excitement to go around. But, as my mother says, don't go getting gay. (She means moderation not catching homosexuality.) Take it easy and you'll escape consequences. But getting gay is gonna get you hungover.

Tomorrow will bring 2 distinct hangovers:

Courtesy of the Fat Tuesday excess! Hey fat alcoholics! Listen up. Your body is pissed. That headache, that diareha, the dark circles around each eye your prooves your body isn't just pissed. She's also a mean bitch. Too much booze and rich food, most of which is all Southern and gumbo-y, good luck in the corporate bathroom! Ask HR to install seatbelts if necessary. Turbulence isn't pretty. Safety before pride.
Sleep deprived cranky nerds who stayed up all night to watch returns. Be nice. We're good people who need to care about local politics, too. Listen up morning show bitches: you don't count. If you're cranky there's no excuse. Meredith, Matt, Al and Ann, you too Gibson. I see your eye roll Diane and I know who's spoiled. Oh, almost forgot the ABC black lady who's got breast cancer. You get a pass on this one. The rest of you had better smile like you mean it. So a couple times a year you have to be up so you can be prepared for your pretty easy job. Sack it up. News personailities are also exempt. I mean you Russert. You're gonna have to give a quickie on the TODAY show. Secretly you get off on this shit and there's a LIVE TV danger about it. So what if you make some off-collar remark about Meredith's sandpaper looking ghoul face? You're just punchy. Dead on and punchy.

Super Tuesday really does for me. I do love me primary! Aw yeah. 22 states are voting tonight, hence Super Tuesday. James Carville and Mary Matalin are married b/c of nights like tonight. If you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em. Kidding. Strictly along party lines Republicans and Democrats alike can enjoy this evening. They're both gonna have winners. It may not be the exact candidate that they prefer, but it's still cause for hotness. Therefore I'll bet my student loan debt that those opposed theorists are getting it on this evening. Primary election night gets Carville hard. (I should but that on a t-shirt.) Sadly I am marking the evening solo in Oak Lawn, IL. Unsexy in anyone else's eyes, semi-hot in mine. I've got the necessities. Cable and survival food b/c I ain't sleeping til it's over. No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn! - sorry I mean 'Til They Call It! 2 liters of Coke Zero (calorie-free caffine), some frozen lasagna with meatsauce (Stouffer's b/c I am no peasant) and candy (sugar, oral fixation). Word.

Churchill's Pissed. I'm Just Very Surprised.

2008-02-03T23:48:00.000-05:00

HEADLINE TODAY:

Quarter of Brits think Churchill was myth: poll

Sun Feb 3, 7:12 PM ET LONDON (AFP) - Britons are losing their grip on reality, according to a poll out Monday which showed that nearly a quarter think Winston Churchill was a myth while the majority reckon Sherlock Holmes was real.

The survey found that 47 percent thought the 12th century English king Richard the Lionheart was a myth.

And 23 percent thought World War II prime minister Churchill was made up. The same percentage thought Crimean War nurse Florence Nightingale did not actually exist.

Three percent thought Charles Dickens, one of Britain's most famous writers, is a work of fiction himself.

Indian political leader Mahatma Gandhi and Battle of Waterloo victor the Duke of Wellington also appeared in the top 10 of people thought to be myths.

Meanwhile, 58 percent thought Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's fictional detective Holmes actually existed. Precisely 100 percent of these fucking idiots said that evolution is true.

That last sentence is me. This news relieves me in special, intellectually superior ways. I've been worried that Americans are getting dumb and dumber, that we may be the most daft nation ever. For example we allowed ourselves to be hoodwinked by a mental midget with the initials G.W. yet no one said a word. More citizens will vote for 'American Idol' than for a candidate this Super Tuesday. CBS is the most watched TV network. I rest my case. Well, thankfully misery loves company! Welcome Redcoats!

Brits racked up bazillions of 'probably smart' points for years based on their accent. So, if one's accent has no bearing on intelligence, the reckoning is upon us. Let's hope the brain surgeon from Kentucky, the novelist from Louisiana, the info tech code programmer in Tennessee and the Rhodes scholar in Alabama (OK, that one doesn't exist) can benefit from this latest discovery. Twang away you leftover Confederates, you second generation segregationists, you who DO know the difference between shit and shine-o-la! Let everyone at Oxford & Parliament hear you. "Ye can go forth and suck it!"

One more thing: I am a petty, sad little person. This petty, sad little person thinks it's awesome the Giants won the Superbowl. Why do I delight in the Pats' failure? One name: Tom Brady. Two words: baby daddy. He knocked up Bridget Moynahan and broke up with her while she was pregnant so he could sink it with Giselle Bundchen. I hate him and I hope he has a hard time getting an erection now that he's a loser. 18-1 bitch. Again, sad and petty.

News Headlines That Aren't Headlines

2008-01-30T23:00:00.000-05:00

Today on my Yahoo homepage was the following lead story: Forbes Names Madonna Richest Woman In Music

I immediately rewrote it for myself and anyone else who can read or hear: Forbes Names Madonna Madonna

They Call Me Ms. Tibbs

2008-01-23T16:44:00.001-05:00

"How are you going to make money if you're not going to get 9-5 job in Chicago?"

Stop asking.

I will be teaching English as a second language. First things first, my students will learn the difference between bull shit, horse shit, chicken shit and a pig in shit. How can someone assimilate if they're not familiar with the connotations of farm animals and their relation to poop? Once that's finished I suppose we'll conjugate some verbs, throw in a couple nouns and recite prepositions in sign language. I'm getting a body guard for the day I teach present perfect or past perfect tense. That concept might entice someone to stab a bitch.

Wholly Unrelated to MLK Holiday

2008-01-21T16:56:00.000-05:00

Almost forgot: I will be at Rubyfruit tonight for the "Dykes on Mics" show. 8 pm. Here's the address: 531 Hudson St. (between W. 10th and Charles, NYC) As far as microphones and lesbians go, we're pretty good.

Almost forgot this, too: It's a comedy show. Stand up comedy. Hence "Dykes on Mics"

Sully

2008-01-21T16:12:00.000-05:00

As much as I don't like to brag, except for my You-can-suck-on-this-Forever dance or my top 40 smash hit single 'I'm So Better Than You It Hurts My Balls' song, I must declare, without bias, that my nephew is cuter than your nephew. He's actually more handsomest than your son or grandson or brother or stolen Lindburgh baby. He's so cute that I cannot look at him for more than 5 minutes without breaking down and praising Allah and Yahweh and 666 The Number of The Beast for offering mankind sucha symbol of beauty. Then I take an hour nap. I'm afraid he may burn my corneas.

Below: Here he is drunk. Ha, ha! In addition to his aesthetic prowess, like a good Irish boy, he can drink 6 year olds under the table. Bitches!

If you stare at this photo intently, note that the Green Bay Packer blanket is actually a Chicago Bears blanket. My how the eye deceives! I'm sure his Wisconsin born Daddy was joking when he bought it.

Drugs, Ass and Tennis

2008-01-19T15:00:00.000-05:00

Dude, I am addicted to Celebrity Rehab on VH1. Shitty metaphor here, but it's reminiscent of a k hole. A 60 minute one with commercial interruptions.

This week Brad Renfro, a talented young actor who publicly struggled with addiction, died. He was 25. I wish he was on Celebrity Rehab.

In lighter news, I was born ass first 33 years ago today.

Tipsaravic pushed Roger Federer 5 sets at the Australian Open. Hewitt and Baghdatis went 5 sets, too. That's two amazing tennis matches in less than 24 hours. Grand Slam, baby! Whew! What a great present. Thanks, gentlemen.

New York to Chicago, Older and Wiser

2008-01-18T20:44:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I will be 33. years old. This year my birthday is amazing in that I am actually delighted to celebrate it. First time for everything indeed.

The typical course of a Shannon birthday is marked by a murky sink into birthday pathos, morose brooding and other fun stuff like that. It's very glamorous and dramatic. Granted, I don't write suicidal poetry. Sylvia Plath and Virginia Wolf's examples keep my head out of the oven. But I do analyze the hell out of my life. The results fall into 2 categories: accomplishments and failures. I take stock of where I am compared to where I thought I'd be "by now." That's the part that salts the wound. By now. Ultimately I end up comparing myself to everyone I know, especially friends who are my age. Whoever taught me to compare and contrast inadvertently led me astray. Comparison has never served me well. And at 33, I have learned that I need not sit and writhe in isolation and misery (light with 2 sugars). No more showing up late to my own parties because I'm depressed.

My evaluation of self is a daily process, not an annual one. (Showering is still annual. My oily hair is sexy and I don't care what the health department says.) The yearly comparison to my comrades no longer takes place either. I am responsible for my own happiness. It's an inside job. Am I physically, emotionally and spiritually fit? Do I have several pairs of killer shoes? My answer to those questions has nothing to do with accomplishment or failure. If I'm nodding yes to any of those inquiries it's b/c I'm doing the work I need to do.

Steve Martin writes in Born Standing Up that his secret to success isn't formulaic. In the entertainment business, hard work doesn't necessarily produce results. To have success as an artist, whether you're an actor, writer, dancer, painter (or stand up comedian), be prepared to work your ass off. But magic time happens when talent and skill meets opportunity. Be ready to knock 'em dead when your number gets called. I'm funny and smart and they're s gifts that I'm lucky to know how to use.

I'm moving back to Chicago to do just that, to dedicate myself to my craft, to finally take comedy seriously without 9-5 interference. I've dumped the marketing career for the time being. With low overhead I can sustain myself on a PT job. (I'm not afraid to hook if I need to. It's served me well in the past. I'm good on my back and my knees, so I'm told.) The applicable adage in poker is "going all in." Well, I'm shoving all my chips into the center of the table. My therapist told me to shit or get off the pot. I'm shitting. $200 an hour, kids. I'm shitting.

Good lord, I've written a tome. Oops.

I just read this over to spell check it. I must think I'm Oprah. Or Bono. Or Marianne Williamson.

My Big Head Movie

2008-01-12T00:14:00.000-05:00

The movie industry can suck it. As long as huge multiplexes exist, I am never making a film. OK, I'm scripting delusions of grandeur. If an offer should be extended to me, it'll be for a movie. I AM NOT A FILM KIND OF GAL. Me no Merchant Ivory. They make films. I'm totally McG. Way McG.

Here's my McG pitch! A wacky trio cooked up by studio execs who like cocaine: Jackie Chan, Demi Moore and ME as FED EX employees. Driving trucks without doors, scanning tracking numbers, asking people to sign the box in that calculator looking thing with the plastic fake pen. Jackie will employ martial arts when delivering packages, kicking boxes to doors. Demi, who looks like a giant next to Jackie and I, shows her tits so customers don't get wicked pissed if we miss a deadline. I'm the mean, tiny boss, who happens to have a limp and it's hysterical! But that turns out to be just our cover. We're really bakery chefs. Our specialty is pornographic cakes. Like lemon boob cakes with chocolate frosting nipples. Hot fudge penis cupcakes which, at first glance, look like little Washington Monuments. Upon second inspection, it's an uncircumcised wang. Somebody's going to get a mouthful of strawberry filling cum! Movie's title? Priority Confections. Tag line: All kinds of packages.

I smell a hit. 40M opening weekend. At the premiere Entertainment Tonight's Mary Hart asks me, "How do you like stardom?" And I retort, "I'll tell you who likes my stardom. Poor relatives and student loan collecting cunts." Mary faints.

Back to reality, back to life. Hear me now and believe me later. The real reason I won't make a movie is that I am thoroughly opposed, really diggin' in the heels here, to ever see my own head on a 70 mm screen. A grainy close up of my uneven nostrils, huge face and prominent frontal lobe jumps the catastrophe shark. Ugh. Not only would I decline viewing such a horror on my own behalf, I would caution any Cro-Magnon walking upright to avoid a mere glimpse my big, big head. My forehead has caused blindness in mice.

IMAX = unparalled carnage.

Gorgeous

2007-12-29T20:35:00.000-05:00

Idina Menzel sang the national anthem before the Giants/Pats game tonight. Usually I get really tense right before "and the rockets' red glare" because them are some dangerous notes. Those notes separate the men from the boys, the shit from the shineola, the playas from the played.

I know Idina's voice defies gravity. She's got some wicked pipes. (Cheese bucket allusions.) So I was actually excited to hear "and the rockets' red glare" because I knew she'd spank it. And spank it she did. Whoo-we! Her "Land of the freeeeeeeeeee" blew the roof off the joint. Wait, the Meadowlands doesn't have a roof. Well, you get my drift. Damn that girl can sing! At "home of the..." I held my breath b/c it was almost over. "...brave" I needed a cigarette. Too bad the sound of the broadcast sucked. The echo was a bitch, thus I didn't get the full girth of it. I hope someone recorded it.

I'm praying that the Giants win. I'm also recommending Menzel's new single, "Gorgeous." Lastly, I'm experiencing a little post-Cinnamon & Spice oatmeal gas. I only speak the troof.

Items may shift during flight.

2007-12-26T17:53:00.000-05:00

I found my first grey hair today. Actually, it was white. I'd been getting a few white hairs in my left eyebrow. The right soon followed. But who cares? They're just eyebrows. That's what brow pencils are for. But this hair was on my head, toward the front. It felt like hay. I don't want to look like Lindsay Wagner and her Sleep Number Bed ass. Every time my hairstylist asks me if I want a conditioning treatment, I think, "Oh, no thanks. But Lindsay Wagner sure needs one!" When she brushes her hair I'll bet is sounds like she's making a skim cappuccino. (Would the original bionic woman drink whole milk? I don't think so.)

See how far I went off topic? I'm distraught. This growing older thing is progressing mighty fast. First I had a few little wrinkles around the eye. Visible to only my naked one. No biggie. I've got a Bliss catalog library. I can choose from the best preventative measures known to Oprah. Sure, the wrinkle cream costs a much as a down payment on a home, but it's worth it. And I caught it early. With treatment and a healthy diet I should be good as new in 5 days or my $3,000 back.

Then I noticed my boobs relocated. Not south for the winter. Just south. Don't go thinking that they're anywhere near my belly button, tho. They're only slightly gravitationalized, I swear. People would still want to look at them. I'm not shopping for any "boost-y" bras. No, sir.

In light of recent events, I gotta give a bitch a shout out: Thank you for my fat face, baby Jesus! It's finally coming in handy. I take back all that smack talk about your being a big loaves and fishes phony. My bad. Let's chalk it up to original sin, shall we?

What's NOT WRONG With this Picture?

2007-12-12T00:01:00.001-05:00

Tom & Katie, frequent tabloid targets, who wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, nothing about this photo is telling me, "See? We're just a normal couple." I keep staring at this, trying to sort out my thoughts and it's hurting my brain. The Big Bang of all jokes is in there somewhere. I've got at least 10 or 12 begging to see the light of type and they're all trying to get out at once. Emancipation must have been a frenzy! I'm literally exhausted trying to figure out which target to strike first. There's too much happening here. The height material alone has me reeling.

Somebody's stylist had a breakdown. I'm distracted by Tom and his First Communion haircut. Is Katie trying to look like Tutankhamen, Boy King? Is she subliminally promoting museum visitation or a History Channel special?

They've swapped ages. She couldn't get a callback for Dawson's Creek in this getup but he could easily reshoot the ending of Risky Business tomorrow.

Actually, in another context, this could be in the News section of The Advocate with the caption : In a stunning progressive decision the Grove Hills board of education approved the first transgender prom date. Jake Notgayerson was permitted to bring 'girlfriend' Danny Betweenlegs to this year's event.

I broke a sweat just writing that. Phew! Give me 5 minutes...

Full Life, Non?

2007-12-10T23:29:00.000-05:00

not proofread. so sue me.

My life is insanely busy and I'm always having to use time wisely, more so than the average person. You see, I have no job. So my schedule is a big donut hole every day. There are no weekends, just days. Day after day after day. My calendar pages are crisp, clean and blank as hell.

I've begun to leave myself "To Do" lists, for motivation, which are theoretical at best. Who's going to check on the completion of my assorted tasks? I'm the boss of me. Last night I wrote myself a To Do, "No Country For Old Men, 11:30am, Union Sq." My big plan for the day was to be at the movie theater by 11:30am. I conratulated myself after writing the goal b/c I honestly figured it was a reachable one. How hard could it be? Quick shower, grab a bagel or something, hop on the F and bingo! Cohen brothers genius time.

Sigh. Missed that. At about 1pm I rose from slumber b/c I heard the doorbell ring. I was expecting new boots. Dreamt about them, too. UPS made my dreams come true.

At 4pm I caught a bit of Chris Angel on OPRAH. His show is called Mindfreak and cudos to Chris for self awareness. He is a fucking freak. He walks out to the adoration and applause of Oprah's audience, a mix of 40 something female ethnicities going apeshit. Oprah herself is flipping for this dude, giving him all kinds of props. Thanks, Oprah, I did need to know that at age 11, creepy young Chris made shit levitate. And Chris is sucking it all up like he's a semi-deity. He reminds me of someone. Does he have an accent? No. His teeth are feminine. Fake tan. Dude, he's Celine Dion. His false humility aura is just like hers!

"You are so kind, so kind. Thank you. Yes, I am so blessed. I have a talent and God gave it to me. He did. And I am here to give it back...to you. I share my gift b/c it can change people's lives and that's what really matters. When some schmuck from Timbuckfuck pays $1,500 to sit in the 12th row of my Celine Vegas show and he stands, weeping when I sing Love Can Move Mountains--they can, Oprah. Non? Love moves mountains. It does. Anything is possible. I am just girl from Montreal from musical family of 43 children. Ask my husband Renee--and I can feel his energy coming to me, to my face, my soul, you know? He's feeling I am an angel. Well maybe, Oprah, maybe he is right. And if I am God's angel I should sing to the world, non?"

It's too easy to rag on Celine. And over done. Damn you, Kathy Griffin! Back to Chris. He's all pimped out in ice, yo. The man dripped himself in diamonds. Ugly ones. Earrings, rings, necklace. He bares a passing resemblance to Liberace (who, incidientally, would blow him, deep throat blow, in a Garland heartbeat) or Chris Brown, it's a toss-up. And the man's hair is a poorly dyed bird's nest, layered distastefully by a buzzsaw. One thing is clear: he's and his AquaNet caused An Inconvenient Truth. Chris would blend very well if this Oprah show wasn't about him but rather 'Hair Horrors.' A whole panel of bitches done wrong by their sad selection of salon lined up on Oprah's stage with Chris smack in the middle. He would fit right in. He's got a faux leather jacket on too. If it's not faux, it's so brand new that it looks fake. There's an anarchy logo on the upper arm. Wow, Chris, you're a real boat rocker. Someone should have pulled Chris aside and told him that Skid Row was cool in 1990, that he shouldn't wear those shoe boots, oh yes, SHOE BOOTS he bought from Aldo b/c he saw Andre wear them on Real World season 1, New York. Why must all magicians look like idiots? I'd like to see some dude in khakis and a blazer slide himself out of a straight jacket. A Republican escape artist. Too rich!

I had to change the channel because their egos started eating themselves.

After Oprah I surfed youtube for about 5 hours, no joke. I won't tell you exactly what I was watching but common search words were South of Nowhere, teen lesbians and Christmas blind girl. Busy me.

Hey, I got a tattoo on Friday.

Here's my To Do list for tomorrow:
Try NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN @ 11:30 again, wear new boots

Football Observation #2

2007-12-09T20:24:00.000-05:00

Payton Manning's frontal lobe is so pronounced that when he removes his helmet it looks like Frankenstein got a sunburn on his forehead. It's a mighty tight fit in there; no room for another eyelash.

Kanye West Feels Me Down There

2007-12-03T20:12:00.000-05:00

All a woman wants is to be loved and understood. Hence, I have fallen deeply, wildly, unabashedly, HOT HOT HOT, head over heels in love with Kanye West. Below are lyrics from the second verse of "Stronger."

Heard they'd do anything for a Klondike
Well I'd do anything for a blonde dyke
And she'll do anything for the limelight

Fame hungry blonde lesbian coming right up! Hark, my boo is calling for me! How romantic! Blonde dyke? I'm melting. Don't take this the wrong way, I've heard the entire Richard Marx catalog, and sure, I teared up (Hold on to the night...hold on to the meeeeeeemories). And Kylie Minouge pouring her soul into "La, la, la, la, la, la la, la. La, la, la, la, la, la, la." Play that twice and I slide out of my chair. Shakespeare's sonnets, too, hello? Beautiful shit, really. The man had a gift. But nothing prepared me for the moment I went from grabbing my crotch with one hand and waving the other in the air like I just didn't care, jammin' on the mic and getting mad stupid up in my house when--in iambic pentameter, no less--Kanye killed me softly with his words. He completed me. He had me at Klondike. Kanye makes me wanna be a better blonde dyke. One caveat: He's got be into S&M because it's always been a dream of mine to whip a black man and call him my bitch.

Football Observation #1

2007-12-02T17:25:00.000-05:00

Eli Manning makes Rex Grossman look like Johnny Unitas.

Facetious + Flippant = Flapetious

2007-12-02T12:30:00.000-05:00

Ginger Spice, world renown sage and personal advisor to George "Ain't a Real Word" Bush, once said:

"Calm down! Haven't you ever heard of the word "compromisation"?

MY TURN, NOT YOUR TURN. MY TURN!

2007-11-28T16:06:00.000-05:00

I've been doing stand-up comedy in New York City, on and off, for nearly 10 years. I love stand up. I love getting up on stage. I even love feeling anxious, somewhat nauseated and juiced up like I'm on 'roids every time I do it. Seriously. TuPac releases another posthumous record before I calm down after a show. If I could shoot applause intravenously, I would; store it in a jar like a fart; buy a laugh track and play it on tiny speakers strapped to my belt. It's important to remind everyone, from the bodega dude to my therapist. Approval proves that I'm a good person.

I can count on my breasts, nose, eyes, ears and four toes the number of artist interviews I've read or seen where the subject says one or another version of this statement, "I don't do this (act, write, paint, sing, dance, fuck sheep) because I want to. It's a necessity. It's who I am and can't NOT do it. I'm compelled." And as much as I'd like to dismiss such a pretentious-sounding load of horse pee, they're right.

I cannot watch stand up. I just can't. I can't sit through a set without aching to get up there. It doesn't matter if I'm stuck at an open mic night in the middle of happy hour at a strip mall in Queens. I want the microphone. It hurts my face to go support my friends at their gigs. First, I am not paying $10 and a 2 drink minimum at Don't Tell Mama to watch my comrades do a 7 minute set that I've seen more than that fucking "music is my boyfriend" iPod commercial. Frankly, I'd have an easier time watching ONE NIGHT AT McCOOL'S on a loop while being rubbed down by the the Guinness Book of Records ' world's longest fingernails lady.

I think it's congenital. When I was 12 or 13, circa 7th grade, I tried to be a cheerleader because that's what the cool girls did. And I tortured myself. There I was on the sidelines, urging the boys basketball team not to suck so bad clad in a ridiculous orange (always my BEST color) sweater, a skirt, 'grundies' and Keds clapping my hands shouting, "Let's go, Let's go! L-E-T-S G-O!" as if I gave a shit. I wanted nothing more than to put the damn ball in my hands and show them how a shooting point guard would handle things. Incompetent, untalented douche bags. In all fairness I am talking about mid-pubescent white boys from Rolling Meadows, IL. Mighty, mighty St. Colette Tigers, my ass.

Us 80s kids used to wear small pins on our backpacks, jackets, painter's hats. The intent was to declare 'This is who I am.' My contemporaries wore Corey Haim, Def Leppard, Lita Ford, Sk8 or Die and INXS (among others) pins. I had Belinda Carlisle pins. But my favorite pin was a gift, though I can't remember who gave it to me. But they sure had my number. As though scribbled hastily by a 4 year old, in primary colors, it read, "IF I CAN'T WIN I DON'T WANNA PLAY." Latent attention seeking perfectionist anyone?

It started innocently enough. I was a skinny little blond girl who weighed 40 wet. Still, I would show everyone, I was a force to be recokned with, a non-robotic Small Wonder. (Vickie?) I would be better, faster, smarter, hungrier, more clever and sly than anyone, especially the boys. Well, first I wanted an invite to the boys' club. As Ali G would say, "Respec." After that I had clearance to beat the pants off 'em. No wonder I cannot stand anyone else holding MY MICROPHONE.

Separate But Not Equal

2007-11-24T00:46:00.000-05:00

I got laid. GREAT NEWS!

I got off. MORE GREAT NEWS!

I got laid off. OUCH.

Only that last part happened to me a few days ago.

Return of The Juan

2007-11-01T11:51:00.000-04:00

Discussing possible locations for the company Christmas party...

SHANNON: We could have it at my house. It’ll cost $450,000 but it’s totally worth it.

JUAN: You better have a nice bathroom.

How Many Ounces?

2007-10-17T20:00:00.000-04:00

Damn terrorists have ruined the ease of air travel for everyone. Only recently did I decide to care as it finally affected me.

I tried to sneak some liquids past the airport security poeple.

Here's a list of what they made me jettison:

Keihl's deodorant/antiperspirant
RUSK Wired styling cream
Kerastase mousse
Keihl's Creme de Corps lotion
Keihl's Rare Earth Mask cleanser
Keihl's tea tree facial toner

That's it. The total product value = $85.00

What they missed:

The 5 bags of heroin I swallowed in Namibia to pay for my entry into the United States.
Several cans of aerosol deodorizer & Correctol...for extraction
The mummified head of a guy from Taco Bell who sold me Nachos Bell Grande that one time
Travel size straight edge razor blades keenly stored in my vajayjay for sundry potential Harry Jones protective purposes (As the Girl Scout's saying goes, "All weapons should be stored in thy vagina. ")
Gunpowder, electrical tape, tampons, tobacco, ethyl alcohol, drain cleaner, a Sanyo 9.6V 1700 mAH NiCad Large Battery and a previously viewed VHS tape of "Darby O'Gill and the Little People."
Pictures of Laura Bush tossing a few salads
My subconscious

That's it. Street value = $70,000

Hot Tip from Auntie Shan

To check or not to check? If you have a moment's hesitation when answering this quesiton, check your freakin' bag.

As I Towel Dried My Hair Today

2007-09-30T21:07:00.000-04:00

I was thinking about this girl I had a major crush on in high school. That made me think of 'There's Something About Mary.' And that made me think about getting my nuts stuck in a zipper. That made me think I'm glad I don't have nuts.

I guess my think tank invites got lost in the mail.

Emmy Noms & South of Nowhere: My Demise

2007-07-20T09:45:00.000-04:00

The South of Nowhere Season 3 premiere has been moved to August 10th. This information is devastating. That's a 168 hour delay. Who do the programmers at The N think I am? Some kind of superhero? William Wallace? Joan of Arc? Jesus? I'm not that strong, really. Mental fitness is not my forte. End this torture, please!

And here's the icing on the cake of a shitty morning:

WHAT THE FUCK WITH THE FUCKING EMMY NOMS? HOW FUCKING FUCK HOLE RETARDED ASS MUNCHER LAME ARE THEY? 3 BITCHES FROM GREY'S ASTRONOMY GET NOMINATED? THREE? REALLY?

SOPRANOS: I AM SO GLAD YOU’RE GONE. I’M CELEBRATING WITH A CANOLI BINGE. YOU WILL NEVER GET ANOTHER NOMINATION. ACTING IS ONE THING, PARODY IS ANOTHER. YOU'RE A CHARICATURE WHOSE REIGN IS OVER.

ENTOURAGE: YOU ARE THE MOST MISOGYNIST SHOW I’VE EVER SEEN ON TELEVIISON. AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN FUNNY. GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH YOUR 10 NOMINATIONS OR WHATEVER. HOW ANYONE BELIEVES THAT YOU’RE AMONGST THE BEST COMEDIES I’LL NEVER KNOW. JEREMY PIVEN AND KEVIN DILLON HAVE OBVIOUSLY GIVEN A TON OF BLOW JOBS TO THE MEMBERS OF THE TELEVISION ACADEMYOF ARTS & SCIENCE.

WHERE THE FUCKING FUCK IS THE CAST OF FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS? WHAT A FUCKING BLACK HOLE OF MISSING AMAZING ACTORS? I MEAN LET'S JUST TAKE CONNIE NEILSEN FOR ONE...SHE ACTED CIRCLES AROUND THOSE GREY CUNTS, AND SHE RAN PAST THE SOPRANO BITCHES AT 130 MPH! HOW ABOUT KYLE CHANDLER? HOW ABOUT FUCKING 'TYRA,' ONE OF THE COOLEST FEMALE CHARACTERS ON TV IN EONS? I MEAN IT'S A FUCKING HOLLYWOOD FUCK ASS FUCKING ROBBERY!

This is gonna be a tough day to stay sober. Not to mention the 144 hours after that.

Ha ha & Grrr

2007-07-18T09:18:00.000-04:00

Works of art should be revered and respected unless there's significant funny potential. If that be the case then ready, set, desecrate! I'm not saying it's OK to pee on the Mona Lisa. But feel free to approach a Jackson Pollack painting with a can of spray paint taunting horrified onlookers, "Who's the genius innovator now?" Use some restraint.

Is it monsoon season in New York City? I swam to work today. Guess I won't be seeing Ani DiFranco in Prospect Park tonight. I'm out $45 and the opportunity to cruise a sea of single lesbians. Hey, Mother Nature! You're a mean, mean bitch.

HOORAY MIKA BRZEZINSKI!

2007-06-29T15:39:00.000-04:00

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WATCH THIS. PLEASE PLEASE SEE A JOURNALIST FED UP WITH PARIS HILTON NEWS. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IT'LL BE THE HIGHLIGHT OF YOUR WEEK.
http://zeitgeist.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2007/06/29/249575.aspx

The Shan wrote an actual "comment" on the msnbc site, and they posted it. The entire text follows:

I found out about this b/c it was the LEAD STORY in U.S. news updates as reported by RADIO WIMBLEDON. Between matches they will run a few quick news bits. I'm delighted to share this b/c it clearly illstrates the theory that when someone (in a position of some influence) finally stands up and says, "Enough," it makes a difference. How powerful the actions of one person! Mika, not since Edward R. Murrow has a television news personality shown such conviction.* Can you believe that the same brand of courage and defiance was once used as a weapon against political propoganda has now been used to fight the grand media darling, Paris Hilton? McCarthy vs. Paris: how low can we go?

I might bake that gal a cake.

*When I wrote this response, I had forgotten than Carol Marin of NBC news Chicago quit when they hired Jerry Springer to do commentary in 1997. That predates Brzezinski and it was pretty fierce, too.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

2007-06-27T12:42:00.000-04:00

Much to celebrate, bitches. Here a 3 quick reasons why you should perform a jig.

1. I killed at Caroline's on Monday. Here's a blurry picture of the domination in action. I like to think it's 'artsy' not blurry.

2. A coworker and I were discussing the fact that today is Tony Blair's last day in office. Everyday hysterical comedy birthed by the ignorance of your man-on-the-street ensued.

Check it out now:

"Who's Tony Blair" -anonymous coworker #1

"He's the Prime Minister of British Columbia." -anonymous coworker #2

3. Reaching the finish line first, by far the most fantastic news of this post, SOUTH OF NOWHERE Season 3 begins August 3rd! For yet another spectacular year, I get to repeat high school vicariously through scalding hot 20 somethings acting out trite teen lesbian drama. When I get excited about something, I giggle and have a hard time breathing. I'm like The Joker with asthma over here.

2007-06-22T01:21:00.000-04:00

Stuff I Know

2007-06-21T01:21:00.000-04:00

I'm impatient to the point where I will stand outside the microwave with ants in my pants whining, "Ugh, come on!" I rarely let it hit 0 and beep. When 2 seconds are left I'll hit stop b/c I just can't stand the wait.

When there's a line for the bathroom I have no ethical code. I will cut in line like a Mo Fo. Screw No-cuts-no buts-no coconuts. I gotta wiz NOW and mine need to empty the ole bladder is far more pressing than anyone else's. I'd knock my dead Grandmother out of the way.

I've heard people say,"It's not Adam and Steve, it's Adam and Eve," as their objection to homosexuality. They're so ignorant. It's Adam and Steven. Obviously they don't know any gay men. There's not a Mike or Bob among them, just Michaels and Roberts.

I look hot at weddings.

I'm not making this up

2007-06-12T08:50:00.000-04:00

"Man, this thing is packed to the rifters!"

-Louie, a dude in my office, upon discovery of a full cabinet.

Mary Mary Why You Buggin?

2007-06-03T11:18:00.000-04:00

I knew Botox was popular. It's use, prevalent use, does not surprise me. But it's one thing to know something and quite another to see it. Then I saw her face. Now, I'm a believer.

I am looking at a Botox overdose in the form of Mary Matalin on "MEET THE PRESS." I've seen burn victims exhibit more facial expression! She's trying to smile and it looks terribly painful. Her forehead WILL NOT wrinkle, not even a little mini brow line. She's been sandblasted by botulinum neurotoxin. You could set off a grenade 10 feet from where she stands and her "holy shit!" face would look eerily similar to her "eh, whatever, I'm sleepy" face.

About Lindsay But NOT REALLY ABOUT HER BECAUSE GIVE THAT GIRL A BREAK

2007-05-29T22:26:00.000-04:00

She's a fucked up 20-something. I wish her all the best in her recovery. Trying to get sober under that kind of spotlight surrounded by showbiz diks and bitches, shit. I can't fathom talking to my publicist about the 'official statement' I'm expected to make to Access Hollywood while checking into rehab. Perez Hilton et al have a lot to say but if they knew any better they'd shut up and let that girl try to get better.

INTERIOR. BRITNEY SPEARS LIVING ROOM. BRITNEY sits in front of TV, texting like a hurricane.

The TV television V.O. in background PAT O'BRIEN'S unmistakable tenor: "...not 48 hours after a DUI, hit and run incident, another sorry stumble for Lindsay Lohan..."

BRITNEY (to herself): Whew! Party on, Lindsay. Outta my business into yours. Hot spotlight, ain't it?

INTERIOR. ACCESS HOLLYWOOD STUDIO.

OFF CAMERA V.O.: And we're out. Back in 3 minutes, Pat.

O'BRIEN: Got it. (to self) Party on, Lindsay. Been there. Drank that.

EXTERIOR. LOHAN'S BLACK MERCEDES pulls up to PROMOSISES. PAPARAZI everywhere. Lights. Cameras.

INTERIOR. INSIDE LOHAN'S CAR. LINDSAY sits in passenger seat, sunglasses askew.

LOHAN: (Sung.Garbled.)They try to make me go to rehab I say NO, NO, NO.

Lastly, for those who read about the "useable amount" of cocaine found in her cracked up car wondering whqat in hell is meant by 'useable amount' lend The Shan an ear.

The newspaper editor knows it to be a bullshit term made up by Team Lohan.

Team Lohan is terrified to find out how much Escobar Love in Dust was there, so they firmly believe that useable amount is just that: we don't have a clue.

The police on the scene know that it's not worth stealing to sell later as an ancillary dontation to their retirement fund.

In reality, the casual observer, the layperson getting 25 Cents worth of Tough News in THE POST, assumes that a useable amount might be a couple of Splenda packets worth of blow. They'd probably need to look at it then determine whether or not it's jail-worthy.

To the dealer, a useable amount means at least the gram equivalent of $50.

The 'weekender' or 'day player' considers a few lines in the bathroom QUICKMYTURN a useable amount. And this useable amount is so not a big deal, whatever!

For a cokehead/addict/expert, a usable amount is a single microscopic grain of powder you nervously rub on your gums thinking, "Oh yeah...yeah that's good. That's the stuff." This same person simultaneously fantasizes it's a mound like what Pacino shoved his face in a la SCARFACE. Never too little. Never enough.

I only know all this b/c I read a lot.

This is all for you Steve Nash!

2007-05-18T23:55:00.000-04:00

Perhaps watching sports on TV isn't the best thing for me. I am a single woman in New York City. Tonight I've chosen to sit on my futon, on a beautiful Friday night and the Phoenix Suns (a team I love) are self-destructing right before my eyes. I'm emotionally invested in this game. Every missed shot, stupid foul or crap defensive effort causes stress and anger. I'm frustrated because it's somewhat pathetic. The whole scene here. I'm a lost cause, just like this elimination game ass beating:94 - 80 in the 4th quarter w/ 6:28 to go and I hate Tim Duncan, Tony Parker (Eva Longoria by association), Bruce Bowen, Manu Ginobli.

COME-BACK! COME-BACK! The lead has melted a bit. Phoenix Suns like a phoenix rising from the ashes? Could it be so? Please God, I want a game 7. That'll really give me an excuse to choose the futon yet again. How about a string of 3-pointers, God?

I'm going to invent the basketball equivalent of a rally cap. Pants on inside out? Keeping your hands in the air just like when you're on a rollercoaster?

So Much for the So Little

2007-05-18T17:37:00.000-04:00

I have a lot of funny, silly shit to write, but I'm behind w/ real work. And real work is hows I pays my bills, yo. So, here's teaser:

I'm sitting in the Dr.'s waiting room and the check-in lady shouts to some patient seated right next to me: WHAT'S YOUR INSURANCE? He answered: CASH.

That's pretty badass. N'est pas?

I have a homo hoedown of a show on Sunday, in case you (Mom) are interested. Spread the word. JUST the word. Spread nothing else whatsoever. Eh, maybe your legs every now and then, voluntarily of course.

See that little flyer? That's everything you need to know so you can get your ass to my gig. Please come! With your kind support, perhaps I won't want to shoot myself in the face after my set. But I'm not putting any guilt-driven motivation out there. I'm just saying if you come I might live to see another day.

Betcha I'm More Smartest Than You Is

2007-05-11T00:01:00.000-04:00

The 2007 NBA finals will pit the Detroit Pistons against the Phoenix Suns and the series will go 7 games. I'd be willing to bet $2 on my prediction, no more, no less. That's really more of a reflection of my meager bank account than anything else.

I shit you not: While in Chicago on business I was brought to a piano bar called, "Howl at the Moon." Trust me, my expectations were LOW. I mean righteous, holier-than-thou, judgemental bitch LOW. Man, I shoulda gone lower, like first date with weird bitch from internet dating site LOW. As if being surrounded by suburban drunk 20-something bachelorette partiers wasn't a sign of my ultimate sink to the cultural armpit of G.W.'s USA, I sat through 45 minutes of two piano narks singing the fight songs of every Midwestern Ra Ra schools in a "Who'lll pay more to hear their shit tune" contest. $5 bucks for On Wisconsin was just the beginning. Then it got nuts. $15 for Indiana University, $17 for Marquette, $25 for U Michigan and $32 for Ohio State. Even Minnesota alums coughed up a measly $40 bucks! Even the Iowa Hawk something-or-others spent $50. Then it got all "My alma-mater's song is better than yours" up in da house. Just to be a superior vagina hole, I went up to the stage, handed the piano fucks $125 and said, "Boston University. Hit it!" OK, I didn't but it woulda been funny. More funny b/c we didn't even have a fight song. Jeez, if we did I wouldn't know it if you played it on a Casio in my bathroom.

I don't quite know how I can effectively comunicate how INCREDBILY IRRITATING it is to hear "On Wisconsin" followed by "something something Illinois" only to be followed by "On Wisconsin" again!?! For fuck's sake...didn't anyone apply to fucking Nebraska? Any state school that doesn't TOUCH Illinois on a map? Anybody?

Wisconsin won for $73. I shit you not.

Man, it was an aural nightmare to be reminded how fucking better than anyone else I am. Plebians!

Lookit What I Did!

2007-04-16T19:05:00.000-04:00

I expect to be pat on the back for doing very basic adult tasks. For example, I actually did my taxes. On time, too. And I really want someone to say, "Alright, Shan. Way to go." I want the same sort of congratulatory wishes when I pay my phone bill. "Well done. Well done." As I write RENT in the memo section of a check I want to hear some damn golf claps.

Until you're about 2, everyone and their brother Oooohs and Ahhhs your every smile, fart, drool, step, even poop is praised. And until you're 10, you get congratulated when you read or spell words like 'chaos' correctly on a spelling test. Ladies, when we began to, well, you know, menses blah blah, we were welcomed into 'womanhood' with hugs and, in some families, cakes were baked for the occasion. And all we did was bleed, involuntarily!

Official statement: I would like to have all my oohs and ahhs rescinded. I'm 32 and single and relatively poor. I want my adulations NOW. I need them NOW. Something tells me that I'd have keept walking and pooping even if I never heard, "Ooooooh, look at you go! That's a big girl." In the interest of staying on this 'responsible adult' track, as a preventative measure, humor me. Please reply with Oooohs and Ahhhhs. Someone had better hug me or I'm gonna swipe some LIFESAVERS or gum.

The Shan The View The Lezgend

2007-04-12T14:58:00.000-04:00

HEY KIDS! The Shan Has a Show:
"Menage-A-Ha"
At Pieces Bar
8 Christopher Street (bet Greenwhich & Gay)
This SUNDAY @ 9:30 PM

If you get there earlier you can catch Drag Bingo and when you arrive you get drink tickets. For drinking.

The Shan will also be on THE VIEW this Monday, April 16th (with or w/out completing her taxes) at 11:00am EST. Before you get all hoppin' and excited, I ain't no guest. I'll just be in the audience making eyes at Rosie.

Last thing: Have you ever heard of Jodie Foster or k.d. lang or Billie Jean or any other prominent out lesbian refered to as a 'dykon'? As in dyke + icon = dykon. It's new in my lexicon and I've decided to focus on becoming a dykon, too.

Consider this one: Lesbian + legend = lezgend. Can I get a 'whoo whoo'? Try both: Martina Navratilova is a lezgend in dykon history. How's that?

Just Do It

2007-03-15T16:03:00.000-04:00

LISTEN TO AMY WINEHOUSE.

Intimacy

2007-03-13T18:48:00.000-04:00

Here's a picture of my love life:

Retard Formula Movies

2007-03-05T12:08:00.000-05:00

If you want to laugh your ass off, rent "The Other Sister." It's the one where Juliette Lewis and Giovanni Ribisi play 'developmentally challenged' young people who fall in love. (Not to be confused with "Benny and Joon," the one where Johnny Depp and Mary Stuart Masterson play 'developmentally challenged' young poeple who fall in love.)

The film's burning question: Will they be able to face the Big Bad World together? After all, they're retarded, for Chrissake...And action!

Look. Special kids can kiss, too.

A girl in my office agrees. "My college roommates used to watch that and get high." She graduated last year. "The Other Sister" is approaching legit camp classic territory.

"Wahoo! I'm retarded, but I can still show you a good time on my bike!"

I'm no Stella Adler, but I notice that the courageous actors who've portrayed the 'developmentally disabled'--thank you Sean Penn, Tom Hanks, Tom Cruise as himself, Leo DiCaprio, Cuba Gooding, Jr.,--choose to do weird things with their hands. That how we know they're retarded. They picking at their fingers and tentivively hold their hands in front of them. I've seen the same kinda sternum level hand twitches from children. They do it when they're embarrassed, like when they've crapped their pants and don't want to tell you or if they're about to ask you what a blow job is.

Benefitting from Anna Nicole's "Bye Bye"

2007-02-11T16:52:00.000-05:00

Guess who's the new TRIM SPA spokesperson? C'est moi, bitches. C'est moi!

Unrelated TOY FAIR P.S. - "Smokin'" Joe Frazier just left my office. Swear to God.

2nd Unrelated TOY FAIR P.S. - I got my picture taken with the Cheetah Girls on Friday. (Will post soon.) Jealous?

Afro to Homo Afro

2007-02-05T10:56:00.000-05:00

This year, 2 African American men coached their teams to the Superbowl. That's a first-ever benchmark.

I say we keep moving forward. Next year, 2 major African American lesbos coach their teams to the Superbowl.

DA BEARS - Superfan

2007-02-02T11:44:00.000-05:00

Some Bears fans just don't know when enough is enough.

GO BEARS!

Oh, When the Saints Go Limping

2007-01-22T17:07:00.000-05:00

The CHICAGO BEARS are going to the SUPERBOWL. I repeat, the CHICAGO BEARS are going to the SUPERBOWL. They will be one of the teams competing for the NFL Championship at the SUPERBOWL.

I finally have a perfectly reasonable motivation to wear my Bears' paraphernalia every day. Color me navy and orange. Game on!

I'm backing my boys all the way. The Bears will win by a margin of no less than 10 points. I'll bet my 3D velvet poster of Peyton Manning on it.

Dear New Orleans Saints,

I am sorry for your loss. My sympathies to you. If I had a heart, it would hold you in it. But I don't. Blah, blah, the team helped rejuvinate the city and vice versa, lifted the spirits of a devastated community, blah, blah, blah. Last time I checked, the NFL wasn't the Special Olympics. So, suck my sentimental ________ (insert preferred genital area here), cry babies.

Think of it this way, now you'll have all that extra time to build new houses! There are roofs to shackle** aren't there? Think ahead for once, go on and rastle up some arcs for next time. Strike up the ragtime band and roll up your sleeves! OK, so it's two weeks earlier than you'd hoped. Sack up.

Not to be a bitch, but I thought you'd realize that God is soooooo not answering your prayers these days. Sucks to be you.

**Of some concern: I know that roofs are shingled, not shackled. But I chose 'shackle' b/c it makes me sound like a bigger ignorant asshole.

Temperature's Rising

2007-01-04T08:36:00.000-05:00

It's January in New York City. The dead of winter should be upon us yet the temperature has not fallen to zero, not even overnight. During the daylight hours it's damn near 50. Over the holidays I traveled to Sweet Home Chicago and the weather situation there is pretty much the same. As a matter of fact the two NFL teams most accustomed to battling it out in conditions resembling a noreaster, the Green Bay Packers and my beloved Bears, played at Soldier Field on New Year's Eve. It should have been colder than my sex life but no. No folks, thermometers on the lake front hovered around 45. That's unthinkable! An Inconvenient Truth indeed.

So Jonathan Edwards was right. We're all gonna burn. Not in hell, though, but on the surface of the microwaveable earth.

I'm buying a Doppler 2000 and headin' back to the bottle.

Why I Hate Dakota Fanning Part XXIV

2006-12-11T13:18:00.000-05:00

From the Associated Press...

"I would love to direct someday," Fanning told Time magazine for editions on newsstands Monday. "I've learned a lot from watching directors I've worked with, like
Steven Spielberg and Gary Winick, whom I worked with on Charlotte's Web. I would love to have that relationship with another actor."

Sure, she wants to direct. Don't all annoying actors want that? But what really sticks in my craw is that the little bitch used the word "whom." She's 12 for Chrissake.

All I want for Christmas is a video of her beheading. A real rough cut, get it? To the guillotine, Fanning! To the guillotine!

Ah, wait, there's more.

Fanning's latest movie, "Charlotte's Web," will be in theaters next month, and an independent movie, "Hound Dog," to be screened at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah in January.

She's excited to go Utah, but not necessarily because of the movies.

"I've never been somewhere where there's that much snow," she said. "I totally want to go skiing. I've heard skiing is super hard, but I'd like to try it."

Yes, Dakota, skiing is quite super hard. However, if another blond girl, let's say a 31 year-old expert skier with malice in her soul, agrees to 'spot' you, it'll be super easy. Once you reach the blazing speed of125 mph, she'll be sure to show you how the pros finish a swell run. Ever heard of the famous downhill skiers Sonny Bono or Michael Kennedy? Well Dakota, add your name to that list.

With A Little Help From My Friends

2006-12-07T09:49:00.000-05:00

One day my stand-up aspirations will come true for I am blessed with the love and support of my friends, dealers, creditors, pimps and family.

3 Dykes Whining

2006-11-29T15:24:00.000-05:00

Kids, read this shit. I know it's old hat to complain about THE L WORD, but it's gotten unconscionable, really. These dykes are pissed. Start reading the thread from at bottom--email exchanges go backward. Wait, that makes no sense. Ah, you'll get it.

PS - I never write LOL b/c it's totally gay. One more thing: sometimes I can listen to an oldies radio station and happily doo-wap along, but sometimes oldies make me wanna stab a bitch. The Bangles and polka music make me feel the same way. Good at first but then the voices start.

Leah: No.

Marin wrote:
Are you calling me fat?

Leah wrote:
Are you going to go Tina on me?

Marin wrote:
i miss tim. sigh.

Leah wrote:
These are all very good points Shannon.
Why with the BETTY? WHY? I want that played in a loop at Ilene Chaiken's funeral. That sounds like something an angry blogger might put up on an L word fansite. Reel it in Dubie...Reel it in.
South of Nowhere...I'd watch it if it wasn't on channel 8 million. But I'll watch anything. I don't discriminate. I'm kind of awesome that way. I'll even watch Rosie O'Donnell embarrass herself on The View. Anything...

Shannon Ennis wrote:
Dude, if I were Jennifer Beals I'd quit before I even THOUGHT about having to "tap that" on camera. Unless she could do it w/ 1987 Moonlighting Cybil.

Whatever. They killed Dana. Tina is banging a dude and they made us WATCH, hello? Not what we're paying for! The BETTY theme song is so horrible. I'd rather, while in a steaming hot stanky subway, hear an old ass Chinese dude playing one of those weird-ass saws.

Fuck you Ilene Chaiken. Fuck you.

FUCK IT. I'm drawing the line. SOUTH OF NOWHERE, exclusively. They're in high school, they're cute and they only fuck each other.

Leah wrote:
Power suit on power suit=yuck
Why didn't they just do this last season with Helena's mom? I find her more visually appealing anyhow.
Also, from the looks of the tease on Showtime.com....Max STILL hasn't become a man. How long does this take? Felicity Huffman got in done in under two hours...you really need two years L word?

Marin wrote:
Bette is totally going to tap that old ass!

Leah wrote:
This is from Cybill's website:

Cybill has joined the cast of the fourth season of "The L Word." Shepherd will play a married mother who suddenly begins questioning her sexuality. Her character is the executive vice chancellor of the fictional California U. and boss of Jennifer Beals' character Bette Porter.

SNOOZE! How many more questioning their sexuality storylines must we sit through! And old lady questioning is the worst kind. That ship has sailed Cybill! At least the interesting/hot part of it has....
I'm CCing Shannon. This might break her.

Leah wrote:
Apparently Cybil Shepard is on L word this season. Great...now in addition to horrible writing...The L word is getting old. I think she's older than my mom.

From HX Magazine's "Homo Dish"

2006-11-27T15:32:00.000-05:00

Well, there are always friendly folks at Barracuda - like DJ Javier and bartender cutie J.R. - so we headed there first on Sunday for Last Comic Kneeling, where every last faggot was on the floor with laughter. Emcee and LCK creator Cole James opened and let us know why he’d never be welcome on Oprah’s couch, followed by hysterical underwear promoter Jason Scarletti, Shannon Ennis’ rant on her recent firing from Midget Snatch magazine and brother-sister duo Al & Patty’s crowd-pleasing ditty celebrating gay marriage. Headliner - and gay mom - Jessica Kirson then dished on her growing feud with Rosie O’Donnell, who has allegedly banned her from performing on her cruise ships because she’s afraid of a lesbian look-alike who might be funnier.

Lies, Lies!

2006-11-21T19:55:00.000-05:00

I love boys and totally partying a lot.

2006-11-20T17:48:00.000-05:00

Herself at LAST COMIC KNEELING @ Barracuda last night.

Tina Fey, HERO

2006-11-20T10:35:00.000-05:00

Tina Fey was on the Howard Stern show yesterday and said that Paris Hilton was a piece of shit and looked like a transvestite up close. She also revealed that Paris asked the SNL writers to make a skit where she could play Jessica Simpson "because I hate her ... she's fat." Howard Stern: What is Paris Hilton like?

Tina Fey: She's a piece of shit. The people at SNL were like maybe she'll be fun, maybe she won't take herself so seriously. She takes herself so seriously! She's unbelievably dumb and so proud of how dumb she is. She looks like a tranny up close.

Howard Stern: Was she bad on SNL, was she hard to deal with?

Tina Fey: She was awful. People never come in and say "I'm not doing that." So, this guy Jim Downey wrote a really really funny sketch, it was supposed to be Lorne Michaels just finding out that she had a sex tape and telling her she couldn't host the show because SNL has standards... So she was like "I'm not doing it!" and refused to come out of her dressing room. Also, you would walk down the hall and find what just looked like nasty wads of Barbie hair on the stairs... Her hair is like a Fraggle.

Howard Stern: Did she give you ideas for sketches?

Tina Fey: Yeah, she wanted to make fun of all the girls she hates. She was like "I want to play Jessica Simpson, I hate her." She would come in the room and say "you should do a show about Jessica Simpson because she's fat."

Howard Stern: What was the bet you guys had going about her?

Tina Fey: The cast had a bet if she would ask anyone on the cast anything about themselves, you know like how are you? where are you from? anything. I think Seth Meyers won because at one point, she asked him if Maya Rudolf was Italian.

Tina Fey called Paris Hilton a tranny on national radio. I've called Paris Hilton my favorite comedian. Tina Fey wins.

2006-11-13T15:10:00.000-05:00

Hamlet's Other Dilemma

2006-11-10T13:03:00.000-05:00

Bangs or no bangs: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler of the hair to suffer the full frontal lobe and conventionality of a naked forehead, Or to take up scissors against a sea of folicles, And by shearing begin a new?

What Would Rick Do? WWRD?

2006-11-08T18:07:00.000-05:00

Dear Ex-Senator Rick Santorum (R), PA--

I heard that you lost your seat in the Senate. Now would be a perfect time to catch up on your gay porn/beastiality videos. The Nature Channel or Animal Planet sometimes shows clips of GAY ANIMALS FUCKING EACH OTHER! I swear. After copulating, they "cleptomanialize" the food and natual resources of nearby endangered species. You'd really like it.

Might I suggest one more activity? When my grandmother retired she took up knitting. She found it relaxing and we ended up crochetted to within an inch of our lives. I think she knit my cap & gown. But that's not where I'm going with this. Why not knit a huge rainbow flag? You know, as a gesture of thanks to the many PA homos (including the entire cast of "Queer As Folk") whose votes denied you another term and gave you all this leisure time. Hell, the chances of a possible Presidential bid are lower than your polling #s. Ha! I kid, I kid. Use those meet n' greet skills, though. Go door to door soliciting donations for all the yarn it'll take to make your flag. Do you have any money left in the campaign coffers? Grab that, too, before the party takes it back. Jerks. Create a faith-based initiative, gather members of your church together and make a friggin quilt! The only things Those Gays love more than hand-knit flags? Quilts.

Gosh, there's so much for you do to. Thank God for giving you all the time you need to work on projects like these. And the willingness to accept your new role as a political failure. He's great at that, isn't he? Doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves. God knew you were a one-termer and that is his will. Be humble in the service of The Lord, Rick, for he too loves a good quilt. Or maybe a cross cosy?

If you need any help, just call me. I hate Republicans and bigots, but I've got an open mind and a generous spirit. I'd totally roll up my sleeves for you as you do pennance, a shit load of pennance.

With Love and Kindness,
Shannon E. Ennis

Shame On Me

2006-11-06T18:39:00.000-05:00

OK, so I haven't posted nuthin' in a long ass time. My life is a tragedy. Get off my back.

How tragic? How tragic is it that as I write this I am lip synching to "HOLD ON" by Wilson Phillips and I LOVE IT! Sophocles (spelling?) Ennis, c'est moi. Remember when Chris Farely used to do Carnie Phillips and he'd make that pop wannabe excited/please like me look how positive I am face. Then he'd wack Chyna and that other bitch out of his way and eat chips or something. Or am I flashing back to a party during which my goodest pal Wilson and I mocked them on our own and gorged Doritos while we slathered the same damn Doritos all over each other trying to look as repellant-sexy as possible?

Oh, it's the brigde, "Dont you know that things'll change, things'll go your way if you hold on for one more day." Lyrics deep as a wading pool...for pygmies.

Moving on. I hereby decree that all ye who partake of this blog use thy Common Sense and get your butts to a screening of "Shut Up and Sing," the doc that follows the Dixie Chicks "embarrassed that Bush is from Texas" ado about nothing. Natalie Maines has serious balls. They're huge. I don't know how she manages to walk. More importantly, she also happens to be a heck of a songwriter, smart and funny as hell. (Marry me, Natalie?) When shown a pic of the dude who threatened to assasinate (spelling?) her during a Dallas performance she wipes the tension in the air with a casual, "He's kinda cute." I, for one, am proud that I tried to take my melting Dixie Chick CDs out of the flaming garbage can. Granted, I realized that I could sell 'em instead of burning them in effigy (ugh! spelling?). But whatever. Actions speak really strongly or something like that. And FUTK.

Vote tomorrow.
Not convinced?
Listen to Angie Harmon.

MISS MYSTERIO

2006-10-26T17:02:00.000-04:00

This is me wearing the actual mask worn by the WWE's Rey Mysterio. Wrestling geeks, eat your hearts out!

Come for Coming Out Day

2006-10-11T11:48:00.000-04:00

Me Show. You Go.

2006-09-27T16:12:00.000-04:00

This Saturday, September 30th

The New York Improv @ 7pm.

The Improv is on West 53rd St. between 8th & 9th Avenues.

Tickets are $15, $12 with reservation.

Call 212-465-3343 right now.

Thanks.

"Studio 60" Stunning

2006-09-19T12:07:00.000-04:00

I reached climax watching STUDIO 60 last night. Aaron Sorkin's new show was a perfect pilot, a wonderful ride with great pacing, fabulous tone transitions, inspired writing, character-driven plot, a boob tube pinacle of beauty. If you're a TV nerd, STUDIO 60 is PORN. Seriously, my heart was aflutter. I jumped up and down overwhelmed by joy during every commercial break. I haven't celebrated like that since SPORTS NIGHT premiered in the Fall of '98. At the very end of the show "UNDER PRESSURE" (my all time favorite song) started in the background and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven, like it was just for me.

Rant Section:
I have a new show in my life. AWESOME. I love AMANDA PEET and BRAD WHITFORD. I love that Sorkin always puts a character in recovery IN EVERY ONE OF HIS SHOWS. I loved how Whitford described falling off the wagon, like it 'just happened' after 11 years' sobriety. That shit happens ALL THE TIME. I adore Peet's female, savvy, newbie network president character. I also LOVE the Christian cast member chyck. What potential for amazing television! More, more, gimme some more!

Aaron Sorkin is GOD.

WITH YOUR LOVELY HOST...

2006-09-15T11:00:00.000-04:00

Miss Shannon.

I'm hosting tomorrow night @ The Improv - 7pm. I'm also doing a little 'nooner' there at 4pm upstairs in the Improv Cafe. In the morning I'll be sampling NY Improv Cereal at Nick's C-Town in Park Slope and tonight you can find me grooving out to DJ Improv at Cielo. Improv spins at 12:30, so it's not for the faint of heart with the early bedtime.

See you there.

I'll be wearing these boots.

SNAKES ON A PLANE

2006-08-21T09:42:00.000-04:00

It's trite for yet another blogger to discuss "Snakes On A Plane, " yet this blogger, who's a total movie bitch, had the time of her life at the movies yesterday afternoon. "Snakes On A Plane" is worth all the buzz. So run--don't walk--to see "Snakes On A Plane." DO NOT WAIT FOR DVD. This is a big screen must-see.

2006-08-17T17:09:00.000-04:00

I have a show at THE IMPROV this weekend!

WHEN:
Saturday, August 19th at 7pm. Doors open @ 6:30pm.

WHERE:
West 53rd St. (between 8th and 9th Aves., closer to 8th)

DETAILS:
$12 with reservation, call (212) 465-3481. $15 w/out reservation. Two item minimum.
CALL SOON!

Please let me know if you plan on coming!

A Courtesy Note to My Housemates

2006-08-17T17:05:00.000-04:00

Guys,

Should I fall "in love" w/ a 5 year old beauty pageant queen and strangle her accidentally, I might bring her dead body to my room and stare at her lifeless form for a few days. But I'll do something w/ her before the smell gets too bad.

Thinking of You,
SHANNON

Coming Soon...

2006-08-15T12:14:00.000-04:00

The Best and Worst of Hollywood Boobs, an in-depth look at toplessness in film. Top 5 (or 10--I haven't decided) in 2 categories: Quality vs. Jesus, Put Your Clothes Back On!

THE NEWS IS FIXED

2006-08-07T18:03:00.000-04:00

I came across a stupid ass "newz" story and decided I could write it better. So, the stuff written in black is from the original article and stuff in purple-ish whatever is my version.

Sexual lyrics, math quizzes, detention, the new Jordans, hard-ons, deaths in the family and books of any kind prompt teens to have sex

CHICAGO - Teens whose iPods are full of music with raunchy, sexual lyrics start having sex sooner than those who prefer other songs, a study found.

All teens since the beginning of time, listen to music with raunchy, sexual lyrics. They’re horny and like horny music. Those who prefer other songs are called Band Geeks and they don’t have the option to start having sex. Band Geeks couldn’t get laid at the Bunny Ranch. Wait, yes they could. Bunny Ranch gals would have a “trombone party” for $50. Still, BGs aren’t likely to get any within a 30 mile radius of their hometown, provided that the Bunny Ranch isn’t located within said radius.

Whether it's hip-hop, rap, pop or rock, much of popular music aimed at teens contains sexual overtones. Its influence on their behavior appears to depend on how the sex is portrayed, whether the participants are black, Puerto Rican or just plain white, how many ‘sexy’ moans/groans are uttered and the releasing record label, researchers found.

Songs depicting men as "sex-driven studs," women as sex objects and with explicit references to sex acts are not scientifically more likely to trigger early sexual behavior than those where sexual references are more veiled and relationships appear more committed, the study found. Researchers desperately tried to prove otherwise but failed. However they did discover that time spent with other teens, whether walking to school or engaging in no particular activity whatsoever, may also trigger early sexual behavior. Other prominent studies have also found that teenage boys fantasize myriad lewd sexual acts while they are in church, having dinner with their families, taking a bitch for a ride, and at band practice. Many of those fantasies, teens confessed, involve veils.

When I was a young woman, a friend spoke to me of how she lost her virginity. “My boyfriend, Scott,” she fondly recalled, “fucked me in the ass while Janet Jackson , ‘Let’s Wait A While’ was playing in the background.” Later my friend added that she could hear the song through the pillow pressed over her face and that she didn’t lose her vaginal virginity that day, “Just the butt one.”

Teens who said they listened to lots of music with degrading sexual messages like sex is dirty, sex is bad, having sex means you’re dirty and bad, sex is OK only when a man and a woman who are married do it, God watches you masturbate and cries when you think about sex , were almost twice as likely to start having intercourse or other sexual activities, for no apparent reason, within the following two years as were teens who listened to little or no sexually degrading music. Those teens were able to freely express their sexuality. They described their sexual experienced as shameless and natural.

Exposure to lots of sexually degrading music "gives them a specific message about sex, that it’s bad" said lead author Steven Martino, a researcher for Rand Corp. in Pittsburgh. Boys learn they should be relentless in pursuit of women and girls learn to view themselves as sex objects, he said. This knowledge is filtered through every means of communication and expression available to typical teenagers. It has been integral to American culture since the Continental Congress. Boys have one role to play and the girls quite another.

"We think that really lowers kids' inhibitions and makes them less thoughtful" about sexual decisions and may influence them to make decisions they regret, he said. “Maybe we should tell kids the truth about how gender identity is formed, that sexuality is uniquely expressed by the individual, much like hair color and clothing style. Let them know that we can only blame ourselves for the objectification of women in music, all music, not just rap and hip-hop. It is up to educators, families, cultural institutions, communication mediums from traditional news to cyberland if change is to occur.”

The study, based on telephone interviews with 1,461 participants aged 12 to 17, appears in the August issue of Pediatrics, being released Monday. Children aged 12 to 17 are notorious for frank and honest contributions to phone conversations with strangers, especially those centered around the topic of sex. The results of the telephone interviews, therefore, should be regarded as facts.

Most participants were virgins when they were first questioned in 2001. Follow-up interviews were done in 2002 and 2004 to see if music choice had influenced subsequent behavior.

Natasha Ramsey, a 17-year-old from New Brunswick, N.J., said she and other teens sometimes listen to sexually explicit songs because they like the beat.
"I won't really realize that the person is talking about having sex or raping a girl," she said. Even so, the message "is being beaten into the teens' heads," she said. "We don't even really realize how much." Teens. Oblivious. Confused. About music. And sex. Wow.

"A lot of teens think that's the way they're supposed to be, they think that's the cool thing to do. Because it's so common, it's accepted," said Ramsey, a teen editor for Sexetc.org, a teen sexual health Web site produced at Rutgers University.

"Teens will try to deny it, they'll say 'No, it's not the music,' but it IS the music. That has one of the biggest impacts on our lives," Ramsey said. Teens will also elevate television and sports personalities to the level of Gods and Goddesses. Teens’ moods swing rapidly from one moment to the next. Teens want 9 different cell phones just because they’re awesome.

The Recording Industry Association of America, which represents the U.S. recording industry, declined to comment on the findings.
Benjamin Chavis, chief executive officer of the Hip-Hip Summit Action Network, a coalition of hip-hop musicians and recording industry executives, said explicit music lyrics are a cultural expression that reflect "social and economic realities."
"We caution rushing to judgment that music more than any other factor is a causative factor" for teens initiating sex, Chavis said. “Let’s not forget about hormones, you accusatory crackers.”

Martino said the researchers tried to account for other factors that could affect teens' sexual behavior, including parental permissiveness, and still found explicit lyrics had a strong influence.

However, Yvonne K. Fulbright, a New York-based sex researcher and author who knows what the fuck she's talking about, said factors including peer pressure, self-esteem and home environment are probably more influential than the research suggests.

"It's a little dangerous to just pinpoint one thing. You have to look at everything that's going on in a young person's life," she said. "When somebody has a healthy sense of themselves, they don't take these lyrics too seriously."

David Walsh, a psychologist who heads the National Institute on Media and the Family, said the results make sense, and echo research on the influence of videos and other visual media.

The brain's impulse-control center undergoes "major construction" during the teen years at the same time that an interest in sex starts to blossom, he said.

Add sexually arousing lyrics and "it's not that surprising that a kid with a heavier diet of that ... would be at greater risk for sexual behavior," Walsh said. “On the other hand, it’s not surprising that a kid will wake up one morning and stab the mailman in the face either."

Martino said parents, educators and teens themselves need to think more critically about messages in music lyrics.
Fulbright agreed.

"A healthy home atmosphere is one that allows a child to investigate what pop culture has to offer and at the same time say 'I know this is a fun song but you know that it's not right to treat women this way or this isn't a good person to have as a role model,'" she said.

“Let’s sit down and watch Fox News. It’s fair and balanced and will give us the right opinion about what to say, read, buy and do,” concluded parents from all U.S. states, except Maine, Vermont, New York, Massachusetts, California, Illinois, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, Oregon, Hawaii, Minnesota and Washington.

A Responsible Marital Consumer

2006-08-04T12:13:00.000-04:00

Having sex before marriage isn't a sin, it's a sales sample.

Before you buy a car, you test drive it. Before you try a new kind of food, you taste it. Before you get yourself a new bicycle, you ride it. Before you join a gym, there's a trial period. Before you invest in stock, you review that company with the intensity of a science geek. Go to any retail website and note that each product has a thorough, detailed description, an explanation of product features, measurements and pricing. These necessities are followed by Customer Reviews.

How many times have you been really excited about a purchase, taken the item home and discovered it's not at all what you wanted or what you thought it was going to be?

So when the voices of the Holy and Know Betters pipe up and tell you not to boink until the covenant is sealed, assure the well-meaning Apostles that your decision to take 'em for a spin was born from the voice of God. God told you, in no uncertain terms, to look both ways before you cross the street and to take the temperature of your sex life before you say, "Til death do us part." Marriage doesn't come with a money back guarantee.

I've Been Remiss

2006-08-01T14:22:00.000-04:00

Lindsay Lohan and I have been partying our tits off. I can't believe she's only been drinking since she was 6. She's so good at it and has the tolerance of a 300 lbs Marine.