Just last week, my stalker and I were at the Beverly Center, attempting to look like we could afford things there. On our way down the escalators, I noticed two teenagers in front of us wearing Ed Hardy clothing from head to toe (they even had on Ed Hardy tennis shoes). “Look,” I whispered to my stalker, “douche bags in training.” We chuckled to ourselves and then I noticed a much younger girl in front of them who was probably the sister or something. She, too, was wearing Ed Hardy clothing—which got us to wondering: What’s the female equivalent of a douche bag? My stalker suggested “douche purse,” but that doesn’t make any sense at all. And so I open the question to my readers. What is the female equivalent of a douche bag? Anyone?

You know, there is a nice thing about having a car with a bashed-in rear end: When you’re trying to change lanes, people really get out of your way.

I just finished reading this month’s issue of Esquire, and all I can say is Will Ferrell has some fucked up teeth.

I mean, I thought I was in desperate need of some dental work. But, shit, this guy surpasses me by far. You’d think a big star like Ferrell would go through the pain and agony of getting his teeth fixed. But apparently, this is not the case.

Me, I’m missing three teeth: two on the top, one on the bottom. My sadistic orthodontist had them pulled over fifteen years ago and I never got the bridge work done. So, yeah, when I smile real wide, I look like a fucking jack-o-lantern. But at least my teeth are straight.

Will? That’s another story. His upper teeth seem perfectly fine. But that bottom set? What a nightmare! It’s like Ol’ MacDonald’s Farm in there (here a tooth, there a tooth, everywhere a tooth-tooth). Seriously. They’re not just crooked. There are actually teeth behind teeth. You’d be like, “Hey, Will, you’ve got something in your teeth… Holy shit, it’s more teeth!”

I can only imagine what it’s like to clean teeth like that. Flossing? Forget it. Too dangerous. You’d get lost in there. It’s like a goddamn forest of teeth. Like some ancient ruins in danger of collapsing. Tombstones in an old graveyard. A picket fence after a landslide. You get the picture.

Then again, maybe Will is just the first sign of an advanced race of humans. And two hundred years from now, someone will be writing a rant about how hilarious Citizen #204-45-234X is: “Only one row of teeth!” Will Ferrell. Funny guy. Even funnier teeth.

Maybe I’m too old, but I just don’t get the popularity of Ashton Kutcher. I’ve watched his films. I’ve seen his hit TV shows. And frankly, I’m not that impressed. For instance, on the last episode of Punked, Ashton was proudly sporting an engineer cap. That really got me thinking:

I myself used to wear an engineer cap. When I was nine. I also had a tiny N-Scale train set to go with it. I’d stand at the controls and pretended I was hauling passengers off to far away lands, like Los Angeles, Bakersfield and Ohio. Along the way, I’d announce points of interest, while the ladies sipped tea and nibbled on scones (okay, I made that part up). Yes, it was a beautiful day for a train ride. Until tragedy struck. Suddenly, my mighty locomotive caught the edge of a Styrofoam tunnel and the passengers screamed for their lives! I must’ve dragged that tunnel for five miles (N-Scale) before the train derailed into a forest of fake plastic trees.

So does that make me cool? Or is it just cool to look like a dork and not actually be one? Why is Ashton Kutcher so popular? Is he really that attractive? Or is it just because he’s shtuping Demi Moore? The whole Ashton Kutcher thing. I just don’t get it.