America is getting it’s very own version of the famous Australian comedy, sitcom, Kath & Kim (Thanks for the tip on the video, Marlon).

Can I be excited about this? If I get excited about this am I only going to be let down? I really have a thing for Selma Blair. Remember when she had huge titties?

That was probably her best role ever, even better than when she was some sort of quiet, reflective superhero in Hellboy with powers that were basically just a strange rip off of Jubilee’s from X-Men.

I also really love Molly Shannon. Superstar was a really good movie. No joke, I honestly think it was. It may have helped that I was drunk when I saw it. I also think John Michael Higgins perhaps one of the funniest people on TV these days.

So am I setting myself up for a disappointment if I am hoping this might fill the post Arrested Development comedic void on network television? Probably. But I am willing to take the risk.

Speaking of Margaret Cho, the loudmouthed lady comedian is about to reinvent her career with a reality show. But unlike “D-List” success story Kathy Griffin, Margaret Cho was never even a little funny.

I’ve already gone on at length about why I think Kathy Griffin is essentially awful. She treats her gay male fans like pets, glorifying them in a manner that comes off as gentle fun-poking, when in reality is merely a marketing tool (that has, needless to say, worked like a charm).

And yet, I somehow find Margaret Cho more offensive, and not just because - again - her “dirty, edgy” humor makes Carlos Mencia look like George Carlin (hush yo’ mouth!). It’s bad enough when a comedian’s home run is dependent upon race relations, but Margaret Cho quickly traded the “My mom is crazy!” bit for something significantly ickier: the self-positioned “outsider” stance.

Although she’s now slender and married to a dude, Margaret Cho was - at one point - chubby and “bisexual” [and Korean - IMAGINE THAT!]. She swiftly adopted the “oddball” status that has since been mainstreamed by Pete Wentz and his army of Emo kids in eyeliner and skinny jeans. By doing so, she went totally LGBT-friendly, calling herself “queer,” fondling a vagina or two, and taking up burlesque (the unofficial hazing ritual for any overweight lady who even thinks about going lez). Thus, Cho acquired a gay fan-base. Are homos really that easily manipulated into disguised consumerism? (Answer: Yes. Yes they are.)

And that, readers, is likely how she got to write an idiotic (and dare I say “destructive”) piece in this month’s Advocate titled “Dick O’Clock.”

Most fag hags agree that the best times they’ve ever had were at gay bars, sharing precious moments with their fags, drinking lovely pink cocktails and dancing and laughing the night away.

Until it becomes “dick o’clock.” You know what time that is, don’t you? It is when all the gay men in the club simultaneously start looking for dick.

Margaret Cho, you see, is a dear, dear friend to gay guys. She can say “fag” and it’s okay. She’s in the club, you see? She, herself, is a self-appointed “fag hag” because - that’s right - she knows the terminology [bitches]! Read More!

So this one time Kyle and I were sitting around at Erin’s house having beers and watching Desperate Housewives or something equally vapid and came up with the best joke ever. It’s a show called America’s Next Top Margaret Cho. It involves a bevy of AZNs trying to become America’s next top Margaret Cho by competing in a modelling competition. It has since become this video made by me. Enjoy the weirdest short video ever put on the internet.

America’s Next Top Margaret Cho from Colin on Vimeo.

So my bestie Erin and I had the greatest experience of a lifetime yesterday. The kind that you know you’ll never be able to beat, even if you win the lottery and gain the abilties to fly and teleport. I’ll just let her introduce it. Take it away, Erin:

After 5 p.m. my job gets really boring. I tend to sit at my desk and refresh my Facebook mini feed for the two hours that follow, while cleaning my nails with an industrial paperclip. What’s that! There’s something in my inbox!

“I work with whitney port on the hills and she spoke very highly of you. Wanted to get in touch if you are still livinng in NY. Please call. [number redacted]. thanks Adam DiVello”

What?! This can’t be real! I love Whitney Port! Yet, it is a love that can only exist when people do not actually know Whitney Port, and her sweet, sing-songy, slightly nasal tone when she says, “It’s really hard work here but prolly you could get an intership or something.” God Bless Whitney Port.

This was very exciting to me when I received her gchat about it. Erin prefaced the message by mentioning the Facebook message was her “favorite Facebook spam message of all time.” Since a phone number was attached I offered to call it and see what the deal was, expecting to get a machine advertising penis enlarging snake oil that can provide pure sensual delight for my lassie and make me a new age pleasure machine. Surprisingly someone actually picked up. The following conversation is per my memory: Read More!

WHY ARE YOU STILL ON THE SHOW?!?!?!?!

Seriously, every week the judges complain about how Lisa doesn’t season her food properly. In my eyes that’s a cardinal sin and shows that she just has no tastebuds… because all of her “confessionals” are her talking about how her “flavors are there.” There’s also tons of clips of her tasting stuff and pondering whether it needs more salt or sweet or whatever. I just want to grab and twist her neck fat every time she makes a negative comment and acts overconfident in the ability she doesn’t have compared to the other chefs. Read More!

Is it just me or is top chef littered with more and more fierce lesbians every year?

Case in point, here’s the lezzie line up for Season 4:

That would be Lisa, Zoi, Jennifer…. and Richard’s haircut.

Also I have a huge crush. Read More!

I hurt my neck on Sunday. So I am out of commission, meaning I replaced my usual Tuesday exercise with pizza, a beer, and video games.

Last night I got a chance to play Super Smash Bros Brawl. No, it was not as amazing as I thought it would be. But granted, I had really high expectations. It’s basically just about as good as the first but with a lot more options. Like one of the options you can turn on called “curry breath” that turns the game into a cluster fuck where you rapidly and uncontrollably breath fire. It has to be seen to be understood. Take my word for it. It’s stressful.

Mostly what I can’t get over is the weird inconsistencies with the marketing of the game.

Wow. Check out this awesome, fierce cast of male Nintendo characters usually rendered as family friendly cartoons, but here, rendered as colorful rugby guys who will bite your ear off. Read More!

Can I hate a gay for being feminine? Yes. No. That would be wrong.

Can I hate a gay for being altogether creepy? Heck yeah. Welcome to teh infraweb.

Okay, I don’t hate Jack Mackenroth, the designer whose vague and teary-eyed departure from Project Runway was kinda sad, but mostly confusing. He’s had HIV for 17 years and claims to be in perfect health, but his exit from the show was a result of what looked like a painful infection clearly emphasized the reasons to never ever visit a plastic surgeon (srsly, waxed brows and curled lashes are one thing, but his enhanced cheekbones and hollowed-out eyes are nightmarish and …predictably sought-after in Chelsea’s gay ghetto).

Anyway, this isn’t an extremely late post about a months-old ProjRun episode (leave that to the experts) or a meditation on Jack’s mild appeal via his utter weirdness. Rather, I came across this treasure (which has since been flagged) on Craigslist, an ad that doesn’t quite purport to do anything but directly offend Mackenroth in a somehow more retarded pidgeon-y LOLtalk. Read More!

Before there was Stewie, there was Runt Page.

To all future screenwriters planning to pen a script involving babies who talk like adults, this is your Apocolypse Now.

To everyone else who thinks chatty infants are awesome, you’re welcome.

I am in Seattle. This means I took a six hour flight yesterday to get here. Obviously it was on Jet Blue. Which also meant six hours of glorious, mind numbing TV. And the make to mind numbing even easier, I took a percoset left over from some surgeries I had in October. Let the nodding in and out begin!

I easily settled on a strong line up of Sci Fi Channel movies, since (duh!) zombies aliens and spooks are the best. I’m not even going to bother trying to trash the three movies I watched because it’s too easy (FYI, they were Hallowed Ground, Clive Barker’s The Plague starring James Van Der Beek, and Legion of Dead starring naked mummies in northern California). Also, I was skipping between these and a Shot At Love With Tila Tequila (a horror show in itself) so I didn’t see any of them all the way through.

More important than the programming were the commercials I got to catch up on. Read More!