50 cent dating joan rivers

Figure skating is something needy women with thin lips and big thighs do to pass their time. JANUARY 7Dear Diary: Today was our travel day back to New York.

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…isn’t worth having a goddamn Twitter meltdown over.

Tony Alpsen writes and at least attempts to draw a comic strip called Ying & Yan over at tapastic.com/series/yingandyan and

Their heads look like pumpkins sitting on washing machines. Today was the anniversary of two of the biggest events in American history: Nancy Kerrigan getting clubbed in the knee in 1994, and Congress giving the 2000 election to George W. My world was changed on that fateful day, and since then I’ve never been able to watch figure skating the same way.

I don’t say this in a judgmental, pejorative way; I say it in a capitalistic way, because frankly, I have a jewelry line, and if they have no necks that means they can’t buy necklaces and that means that my beloved Cooper might have to go to some cheap community college, or worse, join the Peace Corps and work for free—for free! Up until then I always thought of figure skating as something gay men who were tone-deaf and couldn’t sing in piano bars did to pass their time, but it turns out I was wrong.

This place is kind of like Downton Abbey with sombreros. .”I’m trying to forgive Bambi; it’s been such a long friendship. I have to complain about my long-distance bill to Private Jimmy, who lost his face, ass and limbs in Tora Bora.

Last night I got an eight-hour pedicure from Maria while resting my feet on her “brother,” Jose, who was crouched over like a footstool. I knew her way back when she was still Bernice, before the electrolysis, the implants, the Restylane and the glass eye that almost works. She turned the day her husband, Ernie, a prominent Long Island orthodontist, left her for a fifty-three-year-old Little League coach/Boy Scout leader with a severe overbite. “I’m sorry you’re a torso on a dolly, Private First Class Jimmy, but does that mean for the rest of my life I have to pay an extra for data roaming?As such, some of the events may not be 100 percent . While Miss Rivers doesn’t really like skinny models and actresses, she doesn’t actually believe that they’re all bulimics and they all carry buckets instead of purses.Similarly, she doesn’t really think that all Germans are anti-Semitic Nazi sympathizers, that all Mexican Americans tunneled in across the border, that all celebrities are drug addicts, shoplifters or closet cases, or that Noah built his ark with non-union labor.I appreciate all of my south-of-the-border neighbors’ semi-hard work and hope they’ve stolen enough loose change and shiny trinkets from my bureau so that when they get caught trying to tunnel into America next month, they’ll have money to pay a mediocre deportation lawyer. It’s not that she wasn’t pretty; a lot of girls aren’t pretty and they still do okay, right, Avril Lavigne? How would it have hurt the woman who slipped her food when the Nazis weren’t looking to have included a lipstick, an eye shadow and, God knows, a concealer? Would it have killed Anne to take a couple of minutes out of her “busy” day and throw on a little blush?JANUARY 2Dear Diary: I haven’t kept a diary in years. What a bitch Bambi has turned out to be, to compare me to Anne Frank! And there’s something else I just can’t make sense out of.I think if the ship’s captain had let the slaves switch sides every couple of days not only would they have rowed faster but they would have had the strength to make faces at Anthony Hopkins. Anyhow, I did what any American would do: sent a check to Wounded Warriors, hung up on the motherfucker, and switched to Verizon.This morning when I woke up and looked out my window, there was Conchita, out in the field threshing wheat so that her “brother,” Juan, would be able to make me toast for my morning breakfast. JANUARY 4Dear Diary: Something about Anne Frank’s story kept bothering me and I finally figured out what.Anyhow, this is a new book for a new year and I’m feeling great. JANUARY 3Dear Diary: Trouble started today with AT&T. It obviously stands for Always Terrible Transmission.To celebrate, I got matching vagina piercings with my two best girlfriends, Margie Stern and Brucey Jenner. On the spur of the moment, Melissa, Cooper and I decided to fly down here, and we were right: It’s a perfect way to ring in the New Year—great resort, private beach and plenty of servants who’ll do anything for a thirty-cent tip. I tried to call the States and couldn’t, so I called AT&T about my international phone service, which sucks more than Monica Lewinsky under a White House desk, and I got a recording that told me “a disabled war veteran will answer your call.” Great.The prognosis doesn’t look bueno,” is a little over the top.I know it upsets her, but boy does it work like a charm.