DWTS - Don't Want Telling Stories

For some reason, Kate Gosselin managed to survive the first cut on Dancing With The Stars. She didn't dance particularly well. Granted, she wasn't the lowest scoring "star", but when you're only scoring a couple of points above the 80 year old Buzz Aldrin, you're really not helping your cause by pointing out you didn't have the lowest score.

I guess I didn't think that she'd be around after the first cut because she is a reprehensible human being. She's loathsome. The only one more loathsome than her would be her ex-husband Jon Gosselin. He is truly a reprehensible human being. The two of them together were damn near unwatchable on their show, Jon & Kate Plus 8, where they exploited their eight children for profit. And when they were getting divorced? Holy crap, I thought that the tabloids and the media would never stop talking about either one of them. Her and her pain. Him and his fornicating dalliances. It was unbearable at one point. That's why it seems like a really good idea to me for Kate's routine on DWTS next week to be a Jon and Kate themed dance with Kate portraying her wicked self and her partner, a one Tony Dovolani, channeling the now rotund and rumored small penis sporting ex-husband Jon. Wait. What now?

Correct. According to the exclamatory folks over there at E! Online : "Kate will be transforming her recent tabloid troubles into a high-stepping dance routine." She will? Yes. She will. And according to Kate, "It's my story over the past two years. We're very, very excited." Um, no we're not.

How in the hell is that even possible? Is it Customs of Native America week on DWTS? And over the past two years? Why limit it to that? What? You can't figure out how to spin the yard of shooting six kids out of your uterus through the wonders of dance? Huh. Shocking. But why on earth would she choose the past two years? (Look, I know that the real question is why this nutjob would be choosing to do any part of her life as a dance routine. The answer to that is that she is a mentally imbalanced narcissist. Any other questions? Good. Now, back to the mocking...)

She's going to dance out her divorce from Jon? Oooh! Are the skanks that he was running around with going to be included in this routine? Because that I could get on board with a little bit. It'd definitely spice things up a bit. She could be all dancing with Tony/Jon and suddenly, some other dancer chick comes running up and boots her out of the way and sashays off the floor with Tony/Jon. Then if Kate laid there on the dance floor and cried for a while, that would make me happy. (Add a bit of running mascara and I'd be highly amused by it all.)


According to the E! Online folks, when asked how to describe said dance, Kate replied with "Dramatic" and Tony added "Lots of drama." That's when Kate felt the need to make clear "Oh my gosh, so much drama." Really, Kate? You had to throw that in? You think that we all don't know about your public trials and tribulations? You ruined a perfectly good summer for a lot of us by having to see your damn face on every gossip/entertainment magazine that we were trying to read whilst lying on the beach. Your entire existence over the past 2 years has been nothing BUT drama!! And now you're going to make us re-live the whole torrid ordeal by making us watch you dance it out?! Are you freaking kidding me?

I'm kind of guessing that she's still on the show because she's horrible and people want to watch her make a fool out of herself. (And if you saw last week's episode where she made her partner, Tony, so frustrated that at one point, he quit and walked out on her, then you know it was very entertaining!) But, of course, Kate (being Kate) says that "My dancing has a lot of work to do, and I'm the first to admit it. I'm not a quitter, I won't quit on this. I want to finish the dance." I don't know if you were the very first to admit it. But don't worry about quitting! It's perfectly all right! If that means that we don't have to look at your really weird fake hair and your forced smile anymore, feel free to quit! Quit away!

She also explains to us that "The frustrating thing for me is I can do it so well in practice that even I'm like, Wow! Did I just do that? Then I come out here and I'm like, Whaaa!" Um, I don't even know what that means, really. Whatever it is, it's unbelievable. And also whatever it is, I certainly don't want it explained to me through a series of dance moves. Because that would be what? Completely asinine, that is correct.

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Seven Years of the World's Cutest Kitten

Well, I think I lost a little bit of my soul today. Granted, I'm practically soulless as it is, but that's when you really notice that a little bit more of it has gone missing all of a sudden. Actually, this wasn't all of a sudden. No, there was a reason for this particular loss of soul. And it involved seventeen seconds and a little cat.

That's right. A little cat. A really cute, really little cat. (A little cat is also known as a kitten, by the way.) See, these folks posted this video on YouTube. It's titled, very simply "Surprised Kitten". And that's just what the video shows. It shows someone tickling the tiniest little kitten that you've ever seen. And when the person stop the tickling, the kitten throws all of it's paws back and it looks really, really surprised. It's quite adorable, I will admit. Behold! The cutest little cat that you'll see all day!

Aww. Wasn't that adorable? Of course it was! How many times did you watch it? Don't lie! I know it wasn't just once. I watched it three times before becoming despondent (more on that in a moment). The little tickling noise that the person (it sounds like it's a guy, but I'm not totally sure, but if it's a chick, I don't want to offend her by thinking that it's a guy because of those man hands in the video, so that's why I'm going with "person") is making is a bit annoying, but the cuteness of the kitten really cancels that out.

Here's the thing: I only clicked on this video because of two reasons. One, it was short. I have the attention span of a gnat and so something that was seventeen seconds long sounded right up my alley. But the real reason I clicked on it was the number of views that it had. At the writing of this post, that video, which was uploaded on October 13, 2009 (soooo....70 days ago) has been viewed a total of 13,005,536 times. Yes, that's million. Thirteen million times. Granted, that's not as many as Jill and Kevin's Wedding Entrance Dance which is currently clocking in at somewhere around 35 million (Good Lord..), but this cat didn't dance. All this cat did was look surprised. I think that had a lot to do with it. That dancing stuff, well, people like it.

But back to the loss of my soul. For some reason (and I do this on occasion) my mind snapped into math mode and I began calculating the time that has been spent watching that video of the little cat. I am well aware that time is relative and that there is no way that this figure that I came up with is indicative of the actual figure that it is. I get that. I'm not one of those people who takes statistics or figures and maniuplates what they are in order to meet their own needs or back up their own theories. Trust me when I say that is that last thing that I want to do. I think the majority of people are morons and that frightens me. Lord knows I really don't want that to be backed up by anything, got it? All right then.

13,005,536 views at 17 seconds per view comes out to 221,094,112 seconds. 221...million? Seconds? That comes out to be 3,684,902 minutes. (I rounded up from 3,684,901.86.) Now, I was a little hopeful at this point because 3.6 million minutes didn't sound as bad as 221 million seconds. Yes, I know that it's the same, but it just sounds better. Too bad it just all went downhill from there, though.

3,684,902 minutes is roughly 61,415 hours. Huh. That sounds like an awful lot of hours, doesn't it? Yep. That's because it is an awful lot of hours. It's also a lot of days, coming in at a total of 2559. Again, I rounded up from 2558.958, so don't send me emails telling me that I'm wrong. I'm not, but if you were thinking that I was, you're an ass.) And here's where it is truly frightening. 2559 days is 7.01 years. Watching. A. Cat.

Is this really what we should be doing with our time? I don't know, but it's not like we're going to stop any time soon. The thing is, that's just time that was spent watching that damn cat. Jill and Kevin's Wedding Entrance Dance was 5 minutes and 9 seconds long. Let's just round that down to five minutes for the sake of humanity, shall we? At 35 million views, that equates to 175,000,000 (that's million) minutes. 2,916,667 hours. 121,528 days. 332 years. Years. Three...how many? Three hundred and thirty two years worth of time spent watching Jill and Kevin and their friends boogie down the aisle toward wedded bliss to the song of a guy who beats up women. (That's not their fault, by the way, and they've raised a boatload of money for a charity that aims to prevent violence against women, so back off!)

I'm pretty sure that we should be doing something else, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what in the heck that should be. Oh, sure, curing cancer, healing the blind, those things come to mind, but there's only one problem with that. I don't know how to do those things! And I'm never going to know how to do those things. It's a little depressing, I realize that, but it's the truth. If you have cancer, don't turn to me for help because that would be a BIG mistake. I mean, if you want someone to hold your hand and tell you knock-knock jokes while you're having chemo, I'm your gal! Other than that, I'd look elsewhere.

But I'm more OK spending hundreds of years watching two people who are obviously in love and who are obviously having a great time on their wedding day than I am with spending seven years watching that little cat. Thus, the removal of part of my soul. ::: sigh ::: But dang it, that cat's cute. Let's watch it again!

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A Little Diversity, A Lot of Coordination

Somehow, in the last post, whilst doing all the mentioning of Susan Boyle and how she came in second place in "Britain's Got Talent", I neglected to mention who she came in second place to. She finished runner-up to a group called Diversity. They do some dancing. And when I say "some dancing" it's about the same as if I had said the ocean is a little damp. These guys are pretty amazing. Granted, I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time, so I'm easily impressed at just the slightest hint of coordination. And these guys have plenty of it.

The video of their performance during the Finals of "Britain's Got Talent" is below. I know it says that it's like 5 minutes long, but really, the "little dance number" that they do is less than 2 minutes, just so you know. (Maybe you're pressed for time. I don't know! Just trying to be helpful. And also trying to give you at least some reason to take the time to watch it. If I'm going to be watching a YouTube video, I've come to the conclusion that I can easily commit to one minute. Two? Perhaps. Anything longer than two minutes and I'm going to need some convincing. There's a lot of crap out there and I don't need to waste my time watching it.)

Behold! Diversity!

What'd I tell ya? Not bad, eh? Holy smokes!

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Bringing Back Below the Belt

Semi-noticeably absent from the blog recently has been the inclusion of the penis. I don't know if it's just a lack of good penis stories or just my own negligence by failing to recognize penile feats of late. Whatever it is, the blog has been penis-less. And, in a sentence I never thought I'd say, I kinda miss the penis. In the blog. Just so I'm clear. But I shall want the penis no longer (now that's a phrase I have uttered before!) as painful penile stories are on the rise! (Pun oh-so intended, you have no idea.) I bring to you, the penis. I hope you can handle it. (How many penis puns will there be? Side bets welcomed!)

Our first geni-tale-ia hails from Fort Greene section of Brooklyn where a one Damiene Iriarte took a bite out of crime. Literally. Mr. Iriarte, according MSNBC.com, who claim that they got their info from the New York Daily News, was "...found naked and bleeding behind a building ." Huh. Odd.

Now, the naked part, that's pretty easily explained. He was naked because he didn't have any clothes on. Why he didn't have any clothes on is a stumper (pun later), but not quite as much of a head scratcher (another pun later!) as the reason why he was bleeding. Well, the reason why he was bleeding was obvious. What was less obvious was why the naked man bit off the tip of his own penis. Waitwaitwait! WTH?!

Correct. He's an agile, crazy man, I'll give him that. The whole thing makes me just cringe and I don't even have one. And now, neither does he. Clearly, he was hospitalized after the police found him. (No word on exactly how they became aware of his condition, but rumor has it they got a little tip.) As for any of the logistics for this sort of thing go, a police officer told the Daily News "How he did it? Limber, I guess. Not the work of a sane mind." NO! Not very sane at all!

If you have some sort of physical gift, such as the agility of this man, why on earth would you not put it to use for good rather than evil? For pleasure rather than pain? Because in this situation, being in that bind is a terrible thing to taste. The (somewhat less of a ) man is "recovering at Brooklyn Hospital Center, representatives of which have not returned calls seeking comment." Can you blame them? Would you take calls from the media, the press, the bloggers?? Hell, no, you wouldn't. Not for this!

But now we head over the Jamaica where, according to The Sun, where "a bizarre sex craze" called "daggering" is resulting in an increase of incidents of what they call "fractured todgers." Doesn't sound so bad until I tell you that a "todger" is a penis. Oh. God.

This "daggering" thing....it's....well...it's a couple of things. It's either really fast, really rough sex, or it's simulated really fast, really rough sex. On a dance floor. Set to music. Fully clothed. Huh.

Now, when I say 'simulated', I don't mean a little bump, a little grind, a little innuendo. No, by 'simulated', I mean if the folks participating in it did not have clothes on, you'd be watching violent porn. No kidding. Why that would be appealing to people is somewhat beyond me. Sex I get. Fake sex? Not so much.

So, people are fracturing their, um, unit due to simulated sex? Not even real sex? Let me just tell you, if I'm going to be engaging in a behavior that could possibly result in any sort of injury to my nether regions, that behavior had damn well better be the real thing! I mean, if you're having the best sex of your life and at an untimely moment you fall from the chandelier, at least while you're on the mend, you can not be happy that you're hurt, but still think that it was totally worth it. I'm not thinking that fake sex is totally worth injuring yourself down there! Granted, I, personally, am schlong-less, but I still don't think that fully clothed, non-sex would be something that would make the risk of groinal injury not as important.

Now, it's not always clear as to whether the penile fractures were a result of the dance floor daggering or whether they were a result of the actual actual daggering. But the way that a doctor at Kingston Public Hospital in Jamaica explains it, "During very rigorous intercourse the man can hit the woman’s pubic bone and sustain a fracture. There is a loud popping sound, excruciating pain and swelling" we're inclined to believe that it did not occur on the dance floor. Holy crap.

"A loud popping sound?" Oh. My. God. I just doubled over and cringed and I don't even have one. There should be NO popping during any sort of fornication; simulated or otherwise! And by the way, if guys are doing this to the point where they're fracturing their unit, that can't be any sort of picnic for the girl involved! It's a wonder they aren't seeing an increase in hip and pelvic fractures amongst women.

None of it seems worth it to me. It's like the blog The Mongoose Chronicles says: "If it breaks your penis, it might not be a good idea." Well said. It's an even worse idea when you take into consideration "the injuries...can result in permanent damage." SO not worth it. (Also not sure what exactly a "Mongoose Chronicle" is, but it's definitely interesting.)

(I'm sure there are those guys out there who are reading this and thinking, "Well, I'm married, so I have no chance of this ever happening to me!" Yeah, yeah, you're a riot. Unoriginal, but a riot none the less.)

On the average, the broken weenies (which is a pretty good name for a band) are showing up at the hospital at the rate of two per month. And that's just the people that can get over the embarrassment and actually go to the hospital. But for those who do not want to get their schlong all straightened out again, heed this: There will be "...excruciating pain and significant swelling, causing the penis to appear deformed." And "...in some cases, blood might be seen coming from the organ." OK, that's enough! Nothin' to see here! Move along! Let's go! I'm done! Holy crap.

If you're feeling the need to see a video of the dance floor version of daggering, you're not going to see it here. Just Google the term and you'll have a whole slew of videos to choose from. Or you can just click this link to The Mongoose Chronicles and watch a few of them over there. I'll let the Mongooses (Mongii?) handle all of the daggering over there. They seem like they can handle it. But if you're hoping for video of a penis in the act of being broken or post-breakage, no dice. Thankfully, there aren't any of those here or there.

So, what have we learned? Hard to say. (Oh, what?! Like I can't continue with the puns along the penis-genre lines all the way to the end of this post?!) I think that I've learned that the penis is such a delicate instrument, that regardless as to whether you always carry one with you (like American Express), any sort of description of any sort of injury to it can breed an unbridled horror within anyone. And I think I also learned that I didn't miss the penis as much as I thought I did. (A sentence that I'm pretty sure I've said before. At least once.)

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