Oh yeah, I forgot, we’re all just citizens of the world now.

Okay, so what’s it gonna cost me to get Britney Spears to shave her head again?

yeah, that’s right. I said it.

I was a global warming activist until it became simply too cumbersome to launch protest in my sub zero parka and faux fur ushanka.

But, if all else fails, play the race card. The password is……….racist.

Really SNL? I’m guessing Chevy Chase wasn’t available?

So, is 8 in reference to the number of kids they have, or the number of babysitters that find “Jon” simply too delicious to resist?

If you want, I could jog in place and juggle a few plates here while I’m at it.

So the whole vampire thing, that’s an inside joke right?

Really VH1? I mean you guys really nailed it with the first season, you sure you want to mess with that magic?

When you’re already president, I think it’s pretty safe to park the tour bus.

Way to tell that worthless little no talent $%^%#@ what time it is.

Oh, I get it. 8 kids, 8 legs.

Now I just lose sleep thinking about the sheer genius behind that one.

…when you totally know you do, and love every cheese dripping minute of it.

Is it still cool to make fun of the most vocally challenged, misguided links of our society?

Apparently the makers of American Idol think so.

If I want cheesy contrived drama, I think I’ll stick to the telenovela.

Oddly, I’ve seen this movie 47 times and it hasn’t even been released.

Rock of Love 1, 2, and Charm School clearly should have been on this list as soon as they were announced –  but somehow the oddly entertaining human train wreck became my guilty pleasure.

As for Rock of Love 3… I guess you have to draw the personal dignity line somewhere.  Bret, are you with me?

Do we really need to see the son of an Olympic has-been get his “Bro” on for an endless stream of man dates?

It’s probably a good time to tell you that those giant people on the enormous screen in front of you — um, yeah, they’re not real.

Surreal Life gave us Strange Love. Strange Love gave us Flavor of Love. Flavor of Love gave us I Love New York. I Love New York (with a little help from Rock of Love) gave us I Love Money and Charm School. I Love Money gave us Real Chance of Love — which is sure to give us the VH1 ratings juggernaut I Love Contagions and Communicable Disease.

I try to stay away from MySpace these days, it just makes me feel all Finkle is Einhorn, Einhorn is Finkle. Can you pass the sanitizer.

Quite frankly, you had me at 30 minutes.

Looks like alls I need to do now is slap that stupid hillbilly word right out of your vocabulary.

Oh….so that’s what happens when you serve laxatives and sleeping pills at a Quilting Bee.

Next Food Network Star? I’m still trying to figure out what happened to the last two.

It’s time to take your own advice bathtub boy. RESIGN!

If your opinion can seriously be swayed by what you see or hear in a political ad, you might actually be too stupid to vote.

I’m just still trying to figure out why having bad credit means I have to quit my good job and take one that requires me to sing at a pirate restaurant.

Give it a rest. You’ll never out Geraldo Geraldo.

Thanks for nothin’ Ozzy.

It’s not so much the fact that the guy on the synth machine is considered the band, the weird part for me is that five 37 year old men have no problem calling themselves boys.

I think it’s totally awesome that these bands would go to the trouble of recording new albums — for those seven guys that actually still listen to this music.

I’m just waiting for that one episode where Tyra gets to meet her #1 fan. Which I think can actually be arranged through a series of pulleys and large mirrors.

I love to be next. Sometimes when it’s my turn, I let the guy behind me go first just so I can be next.

My favorite new music videos are Real World Hollywood and The Hills, mostly just because they have a totally awesome beat and are so super easy to dance to.

It must be a slow news year if the Media has nothing better to do than try to parallel two years with little in common besides the use of the number 8. Um, last time I checked, there was very little, if any, free love and have you tried to get your hands on good LSD lately? Don’t bother.

If you’re ever at that point in your recording career where you’ve sucessfully released the same album like 347 times, I think you can probably call it good.

I think I might enjoy opening a new DVD slightly more if freeing it from its little tamper resistant NASA certified container didn’t involve the use of a my teeth, 50 lbs of fertilizer and a dangerously sharp knife.

Timmy, it’s time to put down Grandpa’s iPod.

Or what I like to call doing every asinine stunt you can dream up just so you and your goofy little friends can be on YouTube.

Stupidity can be a cruel, cruel mistress.

So then, I guess soul-selling really does run in the family?

Simply having or adopting a baby is good for some pretty decent extra attention, but that’s really no way to work that mini cash cow that just landed in your lap. Be smart about it for heaven’s sake, get out there and sell photos of your private and personal moments and tell your stupid self important story to every magazine on the rack. Chuk-Chinga.

Can’t somebody just bring back the golden calf already?

So now that the Apocolypse is definitely upon us, keep a look out for your save the date card. I’m planning an awesome Hellfire BBQ and Weenie Roast in my killer backyard. Casual Attire. B.Y.O.B.

When I pay $12 to see some stupid movie, the only thing that really ever salvages my experience is when Gopher Boy sits behind me and crinkles his wrapper for 15 straight minutes in his endless forage for that last Skittle in the bottom of his crispy little bag.

Some ad campaigns leave me feeling all gussied up with no where to go. I mean I definitely plan on doing it, just as soon as you tell me what it is. I may be easy to motivate, but quite frankly, I’m just not that smart.

If your main source of music ends in the word ‘man’, I think it might be time for you to join the rest of us in the shiny new place we like to call the 21st century. I know your gig as volunteer docent on the living history technology tour must have killer pay and bennies, but quite frankly, I’m worried you might slip a disc jack-assing that gigantic music maker around the gym all night.

It sucked the first time, that’s why you got the boot. Like I seriously want to hear the same stupid Mariah Carey song slaughtered twice in two days?

Nothing says you’re highly educated and super intellectual like using more words than necessary to say what you mean. Let me guess, you learned Latin in 2nd grade, am I right?