Archive for Posts Tagged ‘She Said’
He Said, She Said
September 24, 2008 | Pop Culture
Welcome to the 10th edition of He Said, She Said, a column in which CandyKirby.com’s resident life coaches field readers’ most pressing e-mails with their trademark sensitivity.
DEAR DIDDY AND PARIS:
I’m the governor of Alaska, the first female Republican vice presidential candidate and future GILF — and the only thing people care about is my glasses! How can I get them to focus on my more important attributes?
MooseHunter@yahoo.com
TO MOOSEHUNTER:
DIDDY: Did you say Alaska? I need you to hook me up wit’ some oil for my private jet, yo! Well, okay, my wing of a jet. Um… my steering wheel?
PARIS: GILF — that’s like what I’ve got, right? Just take a Valtrex. It’ll stop the itching.
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DEAR DIDDY AND PARIS:
I’m about to be evicted from my apartment for leaving dog shit everywhere, but I can’t leave! I NEED to live in that apartment to channel the spirits of John Belushi and Steve Martin in my comedy act. Otherwise, my career will perish. PERISH, I say!
Can you help a dude out?
Dane_Cook_Rocks_The_House@gmail.com
TO DANE_COOK_ROCKS_THE_HOUSE:
DIDDY: That was YOUR dog shit? I’m gonna pop a cap in yo’ ass!
PARIS: I love John Belushi. He’s going to make a totally awesome president.
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DEAR DIDDY AND PARIS:
I just came out of the closet and all of my Christian fans are turning on me. How do I win them back?
Clay-Is-A-Blessed-Angel@aol.com
TO CLAY-IS-A-BLESSED-ANGEL
DIDDY: I can’t relate, yo. You see, I’m always in good standing with my #1 fan: myself.
PARIS: Wait — you were in the closet? Did you see my dogs in there?
He Said, She Said
February 29, 2008 | Pop Culture
Welcome to He Said, She Said, a column in which Circus Hour’s resident life coaches field readers’ most pressing e-mails with their trademark sensitivity. We’re excited to welcome this month’s guest columnists, London Spears and Charlotte Richards (formerly Charlotte Sheen-Richards), who address inquiries using their hard-earned wisdom.
DEAR LONDON AND CHARLOTTE:
I haven’t seen the light of day in months. Help!
shiloh_joliepitt@gmail.com
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TO SHILOH_JOLIEPITT:
LONDON: You think that’s bad? When your mom forces you to wear a pink wig and dance on your hind legs to “Cry Me a River” over and over again just to get a lick of her Frappuccino, then talk to me.
CHARLOTTE: Yeah, quit your whining. MY mom threatened to turn me into a pork chop when I told her I didn’t want to be on her reality show.
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DEAR LONDON AND CHARLOTTE:
How do I help the world see I’m the second coming of Jesus?
KanyeIsBiggerThanElvis@aol.com
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DEAR KANYEISBIGGERTHANELVIS:
LONDON: Based on what I’ve learned from all those papers that talk about my mom, I would suggest talking to Tom Cruise for pointers.
CHARLOTTE: I don’t know anything about that, but my old daddy always said blow-up dolls helped with coming.
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DEAR LONDON AND CHARLOTTE:
My frenemy just had a baby and EVERYONE is paying attention to her. It’s not fair! I miss the days when she was a fat nobody and the world revolved around ME. What can I do to remind the world how hot I am?
princessparis@vanityproductions.com
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DEAR PRINCESSPARIS:
LONDON: Trust me, nothing will get you noticed more than a freshly shaved head and untamed breasts that look ready to head for the border — in opposite directions.
CHARLOTTE: A nice roll in the mud always makes me feel sexy. You sound like a dirty girl who would enjoy the same.
He Said, She Said
December 11, 2007 | Pop Culture
Welcome to the seventh edition of He Said, She Said, a column in which Holy Candy’s resident life coaches field readers’ most pressing e-mails with their trademark sensitivity.
We’re excited to welcome this month’s guest columnists, who address inquiries from the four-feet-and-under set.
DEAR DAVID AND SHILOH:
I’m just to spit it up, er… out: My mom is SO embarrassing.
It’s bad enough she’s always telling dirty jokes she thinks I don’t understand. But she also says stupid things on this TV show all my friends’ moms watch. I think it’s called The Flu…? First she said the Earth was flat, although my globe is — DUH! — round, and then she said Jesus is older than everything. Even my one-year-old sandbox buddies know better than that.
How can I get her to just keep her mouth shut? She’s totally hurting my street cred at daycare.
Son_of_Sherri@aol.com
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TO SON_OF_SHERRI:
DAVID: Tell her to try talking in a British accent. My mom thinks it makes you sound smarter.
SHILOH: Puh-lease. When your mommy tells the world you’re a “blob” and an “outcast,” then talk to me. Till then, just be happy your mommy doesn’t keep saying to you, “Stop crying, you whiner! You don’t KNOW what suffering means!”
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DEAR DAVID AND SHILOH:
Our dad keeps telling us to call him different things. One day, it’s “Diddy.” The next, it’s “P. Daddy.” Other times it’s “Act like you’re Timbaland’s kids ’cause P. Daddy needs to get him a piece of that.”
We’re so confused! How do we keep his names straight?
Diddys-Twins@yahoo.com
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TO DIDDYS-TWINS:
DAVID: Your dad sounds like an attention whore. He and my biological daddy would get along well!
SHILOH: That’s terrible. Hang in there! My parents will adopt you soon.
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DEAR DAVID AND SHILOH:
My daddy’s really rich, but I’m afraid he has a dead cat on top of his head! It scares me so much, I have nightmares of it attacking me in my bed at home.
How do I tell my daddy his hair looks like roadkill?
BarronTrump@verizon.net
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TO BARRONTRUMP:
DAVID: I’m not the best person to ask about parental honesty. Heck, my mommy still won’t tell me why she me why she used to wear cone hats on her boobies.
SHILOH: You sleep at home? That’s weird. I thought everyone slept at a different hotel every night.
He Said, She Said
November 5, 2007 | Pop Culture
Welcome to the sixth edition of He Said, She Said, a column in which Holy Candy’s resident life coaches field readers’ most pressing e-mails with their trademark sensitivity.
DEAR DIDDY AND PARIS:
I’m a talented singer, but I just can’t lay off the booze and drugs! My parents have tried to get me to go to rehab, but I said “no, no, no.” I thought I could get it under control — yet just last week I was too high to remember the words to my own song.
Help me! I’m….. dkfuklufuxalielslsp…………….wkusdkl……………..
BeehivedTrainWreck@yahoo.co.uk
TO BEEHIVEDTRAINWRECK:
DIDDY: Sounds like you need a fresh start. Have you considered changing your name?
PARIS: I’ve never done drugs and rarely party, so I have NO idea how to help you. Sorry.
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DEAR DIDDY AND PARIS:
My mommy likes to party more than she likes to hang out with my brother and me. My daddy’s not much better. It makes me sad. What can we do to help them settle down?
TatertotFederline@aol.com
TO TATERTOTFEDERLINE:
DIDDY: Oh, fu*k. This isn’t ANOTHER one of my kids, is it?
PARIS: Your mommy sounds like a fat backstabber. But not as fat as Nicole Richie.
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DEAR DIDDY AND PARIS:
I’m embarrassed because I told a magazine that I never party, and then I got arrested for being drunk at a Walgreens! How do I restore my credibility with the media and my fans?
ShiaMeister@gmail.com
TO SHIAMEISTER:
DIDDY: I’d be more embarrassed about being at a Walgreens. Throw a sucker punch at a man in a club parking lot, and you’ll have some street cred in no time.
PARIS: I’ve never lied to the media, so it’s hard for me to relate to your problem. But I suggest going on a show with a senile host and telling him you’re going to help needy ugly women. Or visiting bloated hungry kids in Africa. You don’t have to actually DO it, but you’ll look like prison has really changed you. Or, um, so I’ve heard.
