These crazy people don’t even attribute the actions of the team’s collective fan base to the outcome.  No one else’s superstitions matter.  It all comes down to them.

They also don’t realize when a camera is in their face while they cry about whatever predicament they got themselves or their team into.  Or so it would seem considering any video on You Tube of a person crying uncontrollably about Justin Bieber, setting fire alarms, or in this case wearing a nail polish with sparkles before the big Packers/Giants game:

Packer Fans Cry When Sparkles Get Involved

It is okay to cry…but not about any of that.

Beer and people go so well together so often.  Also, nice job blowing that stop sign 22 seconds into the video because you were too busy recording your sister.

Geez, Megan – telling people to do the sparkles, blowing stop signs, and inevitably blowing a .17 on a breathalyzer one day!  You’re the worst, Megan!  The worst!!

Johnny Depp and that pretty lady I was never really aware of are living separate lives according to People Magazine.  Their evidence…they “have not appeared side-by-side on a red carpet for more than a year.”

Great Oden’s beard, the horror!

In Hollywood that’s what stands for a rocky marriage.  You know something that isn’t terrible?  Red carpet events and TV Specials.  I can’t imagine anyone not watching to watch each and every red carpet special so it can’t be possible that someone wouldn’t want to go to one.

If someone didn’t want to go to a red carpet event that would certainly be grounds to divorce them.  Seriously, what a mockery they make of companionship.  Where is the commitment to the sanctity of it all??

And that is how my heart is breaking this week.

At least I assumed it was the rain.  I have a strict Milli Vanilli policy in my house.  I always blame it on the rain.  I blame all good things on the boogie…not sunshine, not good times, not moonlight – the boogie!

So that sad, pedestrian old song about having one last cry before moving on was stuck in my head all because of the rain.  Or so I thought.

Then I saw THIS:  Anne Hathaway Engaged!!

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This is an outrage and that last line is the only way I can show my frustration!!  Really, Anne?  You couldn’t wait it out a little longer?  Give it some more time before meeting me?  Just had to go and get engaged!  Now who am I supposed to focus my energy on?  The girl I’m seeing? (I’m fine with that)

LISTEN!  The thing that’s really got me down (other than the internal bleeding that this engagement has caused) is that the whole time Anne Hathaway is on the screen in the next Batman movie as Catwoman I won’t be able to do anything but think, “Welp, I’ll never marry her now that she’s engaged…and because I’ll probably never meet her.”
You’re ruining Nolan’s last Batman movie, Anne!  I hope you’re happy!! (I’m sorry for yelling. Please come back.)

I’m more angry than sad…at least for now.

Tonight I’m getting a tub of ice cream and watching some Love Actually.  Cause Anne Hathaway is getting married to some poor man’s Ryan Gosling.

And that is how my heart is breaking this week.

I don’t exactly call watching a guy eat himself to death “feel-good TV.”  Nothing about watching that feels good.  Just watching that show makes me feel like I’ve had too much to eat.  You know, that stuffed-stomach feeling you get because you had to have one more bite of mac-n-cheese.

And I’d do it again…cause I looove mac-n-cheese. (hey, turk!) (hey, tina)

Now, Wings, that’s some feel-good TV.

Though serving in your community is a great thing to do, and when you’re rich and famous for not having discernible talent you probably should spend most of your time giving back I can’t help but wonder what must have gone through the minds of the homeless people.

“Gee, this girl is awfully pretty.  Who is she?  Say, why is she leaving now after getting her picture tak-MAN she’s got a big butt!”

Before you read into that the wrong way, whenever I reference a big butt it’s always a good thing.

Speaking of Kim Kardashian’s big butt, earlier today I read some headlines that Kim’s ex-husband (though it’s hard to consider him an ex when they were only married for 72 days) Kris Humphries said Kim had a “fat ass.”

The press is all over this story and they’re painting the comment out to make him a jerk.  I say to the press, “YOU’RE the jerk, jerkface!!”
Because of posterior-ists in the press they are assuming it’s a bad thing to have a big butt.  But ask long time big butt activist Sugarbear Eliot and he’ll tell you, “When ya get that notion/put your backfield in motion, HEY.”  Not the most articulate of dudes, but a champion for butts nonetheless.  Whenever you say, “What an ass,” be reminded of Sugarbear Eliot.

Anyway, Humphries’ supposed comment just wasn’t a controversial statement to me.  When I read the headline, “Kris Humphries says Kim has a ‘fat ass,’” I thought, “Well I assume that’s why he married her, right?”

Hey, his dad is a black dude who likes white women.

That looks delicious.  At least it looks more edible than a McRib.

Should I be worried about the profession I chose to go in?  Do you notice the bottom row?  Because I’m interested in comedy I must be interested in addiction and cocaine and meth.

Comedy is the world’s most dangerous drug, I suppose.  I’m hooked.

It concerns me a bit for Netflix.  Is this what things have become?  Times have been tough and I’m afraid they’ve turned to a life of cheap thrills and quick fixes.

Are you okay, Netflix?  Do you need an escape?  I’m just worried, that’s all.  I’ve heard you were involved with WalMart.  Listen, I know they talk a big game, but they will leave you high and dry.  Just be careful, okay?

And for the love, stay away from that Quibids.com.  They are shady.

Zoe Saldana broke up with her fiance and long-time love of 11 years this week.

I mean, I’m sorry for them.  This has to be tough.  But I really needed a win.  I’m counting this as a win because in my head (and my heart!) I imagined a single Zoe Saldana randomly bumping into me on the street and saying, “Oh, well hello, stranger.”  But in a really cute, flirty way.  Not at all in that creepy way in which you read it.

So, for once, I can say my heart is NOT breaking this week.  It should be noted that my heart is never really breaking.  These are just jokes.  I just think these ladies are lovely.  Zoe Saldana being a free woman (I’ll never meet) is a light at the end of the tunnel.

And that is how my heart is unbreaking this week.

How about, as a gift to the troops serving in the Middle East and to the people they are protecting, we deliver giant crates filled with Operation Dumbo Drop DVDs.

There’s no way Ray Liotta and Danny Glover can’t help mend things over there.  No.  Way.

Seriously, don’t we have enough talent shows?  Among The Voice, American Idol, America’s Got Talent we should have found the next Michael Jackson 4 times over.  Instead we haven’t even found the next Bobby Brown…but I’m sure we’ve found the next drug-addled pop star.

The show is fine when compared to every other singing competition shows.  It maybe has too much pomp and circumstance, but what do you expect when Simon Cowell is involved?  At least my childhood crush and my current crush can be seen onscreen at the same time.

Oh, Nicole Sherzinger and LA Reid…you complete me.

There is one thing I noticed that is different about this show than American Idol – the sadness of the auditions.  Granted, when some young, tone deaf buffoon auditions it’s really no different.  And they try so hard…to look like a pop star.  Then they get so mad when they’re told they aren’t.  That happens on both shows.  But because there is no age limit on X-Factor that sadness is compounded when some older buffoon auditions.

I’m talking about the newly divorced mother who was told her whole life and by that no good ex-husband that she couldn’t sing.  But she believed in herself.  She just knew she could do it.  She’d show them!  Now’s her chance to show them all just how wrong they were.  X-Factor is here!  Step aside twinkies, let a real woman through.  I am gonna own this stage…with mediocrity.

It made me appreciate the age limit on American Idol.  It forces people who can’t sing, but are deluded enough to think they are the next American Idol, to face the music they can’t match the key of at a young age.
They don’t face it immediately.  They walk out of that audition all affronted.  ”How dare they not pick me!”  But when they watch it when it airs…and they will…they will see for themselves that they stink.  But that’s good, because they see it at 22.  They get over it then and there.

But these people on X-Factor.  They went that extra 20 years of delusion.   For 2 entire decades, through the birth and raising of their children, they kept telling themselves, “I could make it if it weren’t for these kids.”  For years they thought they were singing beautifully to their children.  ”My kids listen to me when I sing.  At least they did before they started talking and could ask me to stop.”

And then finally their chance came.  And it’s just sadder to see.  When you see some kid who can’t sing have their dreams crash and burn you think, “Eh, they’ll be alright.  They have their whole life ahead of them to figure out what their real gift is.”  But when you see a 43 year old so embarrassingly try to sing Heart’s “Barracuda” a small part of you dies with their hopes and dreams.

And that part that dies is the one that made you like that song.  For the love, can people stop butchering that song?