The Phelps Phenomenon

The Phelps Phenomenon
By Chloe Dinnerrolly (August 18, 2008)

He's the Little Engine That Could, only he's not so little. At 6'4", he topples over most of the employees at the local Home Depot and with an arm span that can wrap around Kim Kardashian's ass twice, has the machinery to swim as fast and frantic as a Cuban refugee dog-paddling his way to the Florida coast. Collecting Olympic gold medals like Brody Jenner collects STDs, he has freestyled, breaststroked, butterflied, and stolen the title of America's Greatest Hero from Howie Mandell in just one week.

He's a record breaker, moneymaker, gold-taker, and shoulder-shaker; he's Michael Phelps.

Only 23 years-old and he's already flashing more gold medallions than a Colombian drug lord, or any other athlete in the history of the Olympics for that matter. The Speed Racer is the first to ever score 8 for 8 at a single Olympic Games, and throughout the height of his popularity, has never once slept with Paris Hilton. What a feat.

A media frenzy has exploded. From every toe-dip-temperature-test to the internet porn he surfs through between swimming meets, TV cameras have broadcasted his every move, every dive, and every bowel movement, disallowing him any privacy or sanitary wipes -just as Michael Lohan would demand it if ever granted his own reality show. (I Don't Know How to Shut Up. When Will I Ever Learn That Nobody Cares? Please Look At Me! with Michael Lohan)

Program directors are making it a top priority to zoom-in on the stars and stripes on the bulge of his swimsuit, making sure all the world knows where he comes from. The United States may be the land of the fatties, with Ritalin doped-up school children and a president who looks like a chimpanzee, but the country's also home to a vicious swimming maniac of a champion who can effortlessly swipe your pot of gold, accomplishing it all on foreign soil and chlorine pools. In your face, Commies!

Americans haven't been this patriotic since Nipplegate 2004 during Super Bowl XXXVII.

It's a nationwide outbreak of The Phelps Phever; symptoms include head bursting screaming at your television, attempting to backstroke in your half-filled bathtub, throwing on a pair of swimming goggles and aSpeedo to take a trip to the grocery store, and pissing a mix of Vitamin Water and Sunny Delight. It's very easy to catch, as the excitement is spreading quickly. Parents are advised to vaccinate their infants.

As Michael Mania sweeps the nation, major million dollar endorsement deals for the young swimming soldier are beginning to follow. Nike has called and so has Geico and 1800MATTRESS. With his hairless armpits and non-existant happy trail, assumingly there are no tangles in his underground jungle, as Phelps is now the new spokesperson for Gillette razors.

Although his chin can challenge Jay Leno in a faceoff and his ears pan out like wings on a pterodactyl, that can ultimately work against him in the water, or with the ladies, his features are no hindering to his speed, agility, and universal fame.

He can mash-potatah and do the twist; Michael Phelps is capable of just about anything he sets his mind on. It's going to take a hefty amount of supersonic fairy dust to fill his shoes-- but Michael Phelps doesn't even own a pair of shoes!

Scoot Over Sally O'Malley: Madonna's 50!

Scoot Over Sally O'Malley: Madonna's 50!
By Chloe Dinnerrolly (August 16, 2008)

She can kick, stretch, kick, and contort herself into a human pretzel while wearing thigh-high boots. Madonna's 50-years-old, ladies and gentlemen.

With half a century and a couple of G-Shots under her belt, it seems the blonde ambitionist has already done it all; from being the most successful female recording artist of all time, to starring in critically ashamed movies, to smuggling Malawian babies, to kissing Britney Spears, to conceiving unibrow-children, to even releasing photo documentation of herself having sex with a dog. The woman surely fills up quite the lengthy resume.

Although some of her accomplishments in the bizz have ultimately bitten her in the ass (pun intended), like a true Superstar, Madonna continues to rise above it all. No stranger at trying anything once (Vanilla Ice, anyone?), throughout the bad choices she may have committed in her 25+ career, Lady M is still going strong. (No, really. She's like super strong. Have you seen the biceps bursting out of her sleeveless Versace dresses? She can totally take down lesbo-buddy, Rosie O’Donnell. No sweat.)

Born Madonna Louise Ciccone, Little M was raised in a suburban Michigan town in a Roman Catholic family of six. Fifty years later, as the crowned Queen of Pop, she holds a larger fan base than the original Lady Madonna herself. Immaculate Conception? Ha! Try the Immaculate Collection. A portrait of Madonna's vagina miraculously appearing on your morning toast is worth far more on eBay than what that grilled cheese sandwich with the imprint of the Virgin Mary's face ended up selling for.

She has contributed so much to the world, and it's not only with her body-moving music or her SEX book penmanship or her role in one of the best movies of all time, Desperately Seeking Susan.

As the poster child for Botox done right and an English accent done wrong, Madonna's been the go-to gal for the latest fads for years. In the beginning of her career she had little girls hanging out in malls everywhere up to their elbows in plastic bracelets, and in the late 80s made cleavage church attire. Following into the 90s, the modern day housewife was sporting a Jean-Paul Gaultier cone bra under her cashmere sweater, and because of her newfound faith, towards the end of the decade many whitebread Americans were getting Henna tattoos.

Nowadays she has everyone in Hollywood scrabbling through their grandma's sewing kit, looking for red string to tie around their wrist. Having the power to influence people into converting into a new religion; now THAT's a trendsetter!

Much to the Moral Majority's dissatisfaction, Madonna isn't going anywhere. Still dishing out top-selling albums, collaborating on tracks with the young and the studly (Mr.JT), selling out stadiums around the world, and jotting down new names in her little overstuffed black book. (Filed under "R" for "Rodriguez, Alex") Madge proves age isn't anything but a number.

After all these years, everyone is still interested. So shut up and listen, because Madonna always has something to say. Her Majesty isn't retiring her crown anytime soon. Bow down to her. Bow down.

("Who is Sally O'Malley?")

Girl You Know It's True Ooh Ooh Ooh That Ain't You

Girl You Know It's True Ooh Ooh Ooh That Aint You
By Chloe Dinnerrolly (August 14, 2008)

We can't continue to fill their heads with false hopes. You gotta teach girls when they're young; no matter how talented you may be, whether it's in acting, singing, or underwater basket weaving, if you don't have the pretty face to make yourself a star, you must settle for a spot in a dark planetarium.

At age 7, Yang Peiyi has learned just that. The little China girl was scheduled to sing a patriotic tune at the Summer Olympic Opening Ceremony in Beijing in front of the mega loads of a worldwide broadcast. But after a better look at her less-than-glamorous head shot, the tiny Hannah-Montana-wishful was pulled from the performance like a bad night at the Apollo at the very last minute.

Her munchkin features and the obvious weight problem in her baby-fat physique, were found unsatisfactory in representing the Chinese nation, and was quickly replaced by 11-year-old model/actress/gecko, Lin Miaoke, who although lacked the vocal chords, had some things Peiyi didn’t: composure, experience, and a full set of teeth.

Learning from the best performers in the US, such as Ashlee Simpson and Britney Spears, the wise elders in charge of the ceremony decided that lip-synching was the answer to their ugly dilemma, and ultimately pasted Peiyi's voice onto Miaoke's face, unbeknownst to the spectators around the globe, or the deaf.

Putting her acting skills to the test, as Peiyi belted it out behind the scenes, Miaoke simply stood in front of the international audience, gleaming and eating up instant fame and publicity, all by playing make-believe. (Pretty much how Bill O’Reilly acts in front of the mirror every morning while listening to Barbra Streisand.)

A crime has been committed. Billions of people have been deceived. If this were the United States Senate, both girls would've been impeached from office by now. But again communism plays a whole different ballgame and the girls are off the hook.

Hopefully, Miaoke does not continue performing concerts and follow in the footsteps of American Grammy-winning, leotard-sporting lip-synching super-duo, Milli Vanilli. The Chinese cannot exactly pull off a dreadlocks-waving persona; their hair is too thin.

As far as Peiyi's singing career, there isn't too much concern. She's still young, and already promises a great face for radio.

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Edwards Admits to Scoring Extra Set of Tits

Edwards Admits to Scoring Extra Set of Tits
By Chloe Dinnerrolly (August 10, 2008)

Life’s tough when you’re a good looking politician. With so many expectations demanded from the public eye; from your standpoint on the panda-gonorrhea epidemic to the side you part your hair; it’s difficult to keep it all together. Governors, mayors, and even the snot-nosed 5th grade class president, are all responsible in holding the image of a model American citizen, which means no satanic goat-roasting rituals, no chewing gum with your mouth open, and surely no scoring pussy on the side.

Yet periodically the wedding ring becomes a piece of scrap metal sitting on a car dashboard, and slip-ups occur, because when you’re a handsome man in the political game, like Kevin Bacon raising havoc in a no-dancing rural town, everybody cuts footloose! Women with overly-teased hair and runs in their stockings, are constantly hopping onto your campaign bus, like drunk groupies piling into the back of Tommy Lee’s tour bus, eager to personally hand-in their voting ballots.

The sexual temptation is everywhere, heavily layered in Spandex undergarments, ruffled blouses, and overpowering shoulder pads. It’s an occupational hazard that is hard to resist.

Take the recent victim to step into the cabinet-filling seduction, Mr. John Edwards. Unfortunately the cutie-patootie did not read the How to Be A Politik-Playa Handbook thoroughly. The 55-year-old North Carolina senator and former Democratic presidential runner, for weeks had been rumored to be in the acts of a love affair with a younger, thinner, crazier, blonder woman who also allegedly spit out a little baby Edwards without the wife’s knowing- or involvement.

Finally on Friday, in order to clear his name and soiled boxer briefs, Edwards put an end to the media speculation and confessed to ABC News, “Yes, I shoplifted the pooty.”

Mostly known as John Kerry’s running mate in the 2004 presidential election, Edwards was the sweet ice cream to Kerry’s rugged waffle cone. A handsome Southern man who came with the chubbo wife, the kids, and Americana package, Edwards had all the women in high-rise Mom Jeans across the country swooning, wanting to break that package wide open.

As luck would have it, ultimately his pretty face couldn’t land him a seat in The White House. As if being labeled America’s Next Top Loser wasn’t enough strain on his gray hairs, coincidently in the days following, the missus of 27 years, Elizabeth Edwards, was diagnosed with breast cancer.

When your girl’s got the cancer boobs, what’s a guy to do?

Chemotherapy is not exactly arousing nor is not being able to hold slumber parties with college buddies in the Lincoln Bedroom. Hmph. Surrounded by such frustrating circumstances, how does one turn that frown upside down?

Like the Leon Phelps before him, the ladies’ man within was unleashed. No need for a glass of Courvoisier here, all Edwards had to do was flash those pearly whites and swing back that luscious mane, and it was bound to make ‘em polyester suits drop into ‘em birthday suits.

The technique worked, and was exactly how he met Ms. Rielle Hunter in 2006. And oh boy, did those two have their fun. But sadly, the escapades were put to a sudden halt with the sounds of a shrieking baby.

Knocking up a heterosexual white woman while your wife’s at home taking Tamoxifen pills, Edwards stayed true to his Democratic roots. Unlike Republican sex scandals, which usually involve a transvestite, a crack pipe, and a public bathroom.

But wait, like a good Danielle Steel novel, the plot thickens. Although Edwards admitted, “I DID have sexual relations with that woman.” he denies claims that he is the father of Hunter’s daughter, who was born February of the year, and is demanding a paternity test to prove he doesn’t carry super sperm.

Taking notes from the guests seen on Maury Polvich, in his defense Edwards states, “How can she pin this baby on me? She ain’t nothin’ but a golddiggin’ hoe! Gobblin’ my Benjamins! That ain’t my baby! We stopped messin’ before she got pregnant. Maybe I ain’t VP, but I can do math! That bitch was screwin’ the whole campaign party, shit… I love my wife. Vote for me!”

All this slander and jibber-jabber, and time is being wasted. We can easily clear this matter up in a 15-minute segment on an one hour talk show. The number is 1-800-45-MAURY. That’s 1-800-456-2879.

“When it comes to 5 month-old Frances Quinn Hunter, John Edwards... you ARE the panties dropper!"

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