TLC Presents: More Spastic 35-Year-Old Virgins.

TLC's train wreck, better known as The Virgin Diaries, is back and ready for action. Unless that action involves anything past first base, then it will be back and ready for a cold shower and a Harry Potter marathon!

Season 2 of the show that made us all feel a little bit better about ourselves, premieres tonight. But before diving into the new crop of hymenally-sealed misfits, lets take a little trip down memory lane.

Butterfly kiss? Stroke? The world may never know.

To be fair, this is her first kiss that didn't involve
peanut butter and a labrador.

Then he unhinged his jaw and devoured
her whole.

Beautiful, isn't it? You're going to have to do a lot to top that, TLC.

Wait, there's a 34-year-old Mormon who lives in his parents' basement, shaves his chest hair into a heart, and collects belly button lint.

I'm listening...

If that man hasn't killed at least one vagrant, I'll take his virginity. 

Oh TLC, what have you done? You're supposed to be The Learning Channel. The only thing I learned from this is that I wouldn't want to meet Skippy in a dark alley. 

At least your first bunch of weirdos were likable. That guy is just sad. And terrifying. TLC, please make sure you don't leave any of the little girls from Toddlers and Tiaras unattended with him. 

Oh who am I kidding, those girls would never fuck him. 

If there's any silver lining here, it's that this creepy Mormon definitely botched Mitt Romney's presidential run. So for that, Skippy, I thank you. Not enough to come anywhere near you, but I'm thankful nonetheless.

Anyway, season 2 of The Virgin Diaries is on TLC at 10 p.m. EST. I'll be watching and tweeting.

TLC Presents: 30 Year Old Virgins and the Basements They Live In

Oh, TLC.

First, you regaled us with the stories of kiddie beauty queens (none of which will hump a strip-club stage by the age of 16). Then, we learned about a family who has 20 kids (none of which will be gay or serial killers). Now, the channel dedicated solely to learning is debuting a new series about people in their late-20s/early-30s who have retained their virginity in an over-sexualized world.

The Virgin Diaries debuts tonight and "takes you inside the lives of adult virgins who reveal the challenges, truths, and anticipations of losing their virginity" (TLC).

Like this lovely, soon-to-be-married couple, who are anxiously awaiting the moment they can figure out how to use those silly, ol' genitals of theirs. But besides being eager to go to pound-town these crazy kids, umm... adults are saving their first kiss until their wedding day also.

I think it's going to be magical. Let's have a look.



Nailed it!

Look at that passion-filled kiss. Can you imagine what he's going to do to her clitoris? I mean, when he finds it in 10-12 years, of course.

Listen I'm a huge fan of awkward freak shows, I do live in the South. But seriously TLC, must you exploit every creepy, unsightly segment of the American population? You're making us look bad to Canada!

But what do I know? This is just a teaser. When I watch tonight (oh, I'll be watching) I might fall in love with these hapless, hymenally-sealed losers. Hell, I might decide to take my own sexuality to task. Maybe I'll reclaim my virginity!

Yeah, probably not.

I love Craigslist and Adult-Baby Fetishists

I think Tuesday is becoming a tribute to weird shit I love and want to share with you guys. Last week, I talked about how much I love religious nutjobs. This week while perusing the miscellaneous romance section on Craigslist, (looking for a little work now that I'm a graduate) I came across a catch. The Adult-Baby Fetishist.

Click on me. I'm awesome.

Now for those not familiar with the adult-baby fetish, first, I question what you are doing on this blog, and second, I think you should watch this video.

All caught up and feeling pretty good about your life decisions now, right? 

So basically I kind of want to respond to this ad. I mean, I love naps and would be in no way opposed to hanging out in my pajamas and coloring all day. 

But then I remember that this 55-year-old Craigslist dreamboat was pretty specific about one thing while looking for his grown-up "baby."

Please be 18-30.

And while I fit into that age bracket, I refuse to be crib-candy for some ageist creep. No matter how many naps David Vitter offers me. 

Lolita: 2011 Edition

Not creepy. Nope, not at all.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

This is what I want to ask to the mom of 10-year-old girl, Thylane Blondeau, who posed like this in French Vogue.

"Are you high off your ass? Seriously, have you been licking a cactus, you crazy bitch?"

This is what I wanted to ask her when I read statements like this, which basically states that she doesn't see what the big deal is.

"I'm going to have a back-alley tubal ligation."

Which is what I'm going to do to make sure I don't have a little girl. Between this and "Toddlers and Tiaras" my ovaries are going to explode.

"Glad Warren Jeffs is in prison."

Well, that one is pretty self explanatory.

I Love Religious Nutjobs

Warren Jeffs, the polygamist leader of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, was sentenced to life in prison today. Jeffs had like 100 child-brides and gave them specific instructions on what to do with his wrinkly, old-man junk. If I had to blow him, I would have killed myself, so life in prison is pretty lax.

Like many of my posts, this has no real relevance, except for the fact that I love religious nutjobs, and want Mr. Jeffs to do an "And I'm a Mormon" commercial so bad I think my brain might bleed. Anyone up for a parody?!?

P.S. I know Mr. Jeffs does not represent all Mormons, and is a Fundy, but we've all heard Mitt Romney speak. Come on, even the sane ones are a little crazy.

Why the hell do you smell like that?

You run across a wide variety of people while working in customer service. Some leave you smiling, some cursing and then there are those that can only leave you asking, Why the hell do you smell like that?!?

I feel the need to ask this question every time a certain customer comes in. I see him before he opens the door and my nose begins to twitch, I assume because it is desperately trying to escape my face.

He comes to the counter, smiling from ear to ear, anxious to order his drink.


"Hi," he says, a fedora placed haphazardly atop of a glorious mane of shoulder length crisco coated hair. He looks kinda like Jesus, if Jesus was into douchebag headwear and had a smell radiating from him, that if bottled could get terrorists to talk. It is usually at this moment of initial conversation that my eyes begin to water profusely. I am afraid that one day he will ask why whenever he arrives I begin to cry like I just saw a puppy getting hit by a firetruck.

It is highly debated what exactly smelly fedora guy actually smells like. Some say he reeks of weed, which judging by the looks of him is not unlikely. However, his smell is definitelty not solely from something that mother nature has so thoughtfully given us. Others believe that this unpleasant aroma comes from not bathing, which may also have something to do with it.

I don't know if me or my fellow co-workers will ever fully understand what exactly is working together to make this man smell like anchovies soaked in sour milk and left in a car for a few days, but it is a reality that we must face.

Even if I was in a position to tell this man that his personal hygeine leaves something to be desired, I don't know if I would. Because there is something actually endearing about smelly fedora guy. He's so nice that I'm usually struck with a pang of guilt for being such a bitch. Who am I to judge people. So what that this man isn't exactly 'so fresh and so clean clean.' It could be worse he could be one of the men who bathe in axe body spray.

I wave goodbye when he leaves and as soon as the door closes behind him, I gasp for air since I have been holding my breathe since the time of his arrival. If there is anything to be gained from my encounters with smelly fedora guy it's that I am becoming more tolerant of people who don't always fit in socially acceptable norms. That, and I can now successfully hold my breathe for 3 minutes. 


Guiness Book of World Records here I come.

To Catch a Predator: Coffee Shop Edition

Do you ever see someone and know that they own a van with blacked out windows and an endless supply of twizzlers in the back? Well, I see about three a day. Sometimes more. Although, there is one person in particular. He is skeeviness personified and I often refer to him as the "man we will one day find out has bodies in his freezer." Everyone realizes there is something not quite right but he is a regular and for that reason we must be pleasant and hold conversation.

"How are you today, (I will refer to him as Creepy Coffee Man)?"

Now, Creepy Coffee Man has a voice that sounds like a mixture of Slingblade and Mr. Garrison from South Park. He never really makes eye contact and on the rare occasion he does, you're so freaked out, you feel like you've taken the red pill from the Matrix, and all you want to do is go back to your previous, simpler life.

CCM usually responds with one word only answers, such as "Alright," "Good," "Fine." All which seem to translate into ... I want to eat your face.

He orders the same thing every time, which is watered down coffee, in a mug he brought from his house, usually stained with wine, and then sits on the couch, and watches us. He occaisionally moves around from seat to seat, like he is in some strange one person game of musical chairs. He drinks his half-water coffee and makes sounds announcing he's about to go to the bathroom. Sounds, you ask...let me try to explain. SCHHEWWW. Yes, thats the sound. It haunts my dreams.

I know it may seem like I'm being awfully hard on CCM, but he is the most regular of creepy regulars. He comes everyday, with very gelled hair and moves from one piece of furniture to the next and ogles young girls. He is in a way as much a part of my store as any other object found in a coffee shop. Oh, there's the cups, there's the espresso machine, there's the muffins, there's CCM.

I pray daily that I'm wrong about him and that he does not Hannibal Lector people on the weekends, but just in case, I will continue to be nice to him, nice and completely detatched.

Because I don't want to take a ride in the van that he may or may not have because I really don't like the idea of being put in a freezer but am unsure if I have the willpower to say no to an endless supply of twizzlers.