To: the writers and producers of GLEE
From: the severely disappointed Dirk Mancuso

I was really into your show when it debuted. I loved the campy storylines, the witty dialogue, and the musical numbers bursting at the seams with studio produced vocals that never quite seemed to sync up on my aged television. It really seemed like you were on a roll.

Then you totally went and fucked everything up with the back-to-back reveals that Terry wasn’t pregnant and that Puck — not Finn — had fathered Quinn’s baby. And then you had Finn and Puck basically forget their differences in 90 seconds.

Why? Why would you do that?

Not only have you dismantled the umbrella story that tied all your characters together, you’ve also eliminated all roadblocks between Will & Emma and Finn & Rachel getting together and effectively given both couples a happy ending.

Happy endings are for series finales, not random December episodes, you dumb-asses.

Unfortunately, your show is now just a bunch of 20-somethings playing high school kids and singing…which frankly doesn’t interest me.

I would say good luck, but after investing so much time in your show only to get fucked over royally I’m afraid it would sound insincere.

And now another in my continuing series of uncomfortable conversations with my bat-shit crazy mother…

Lola: I was watching that damn Dr. Oz today and some woman stood up and said she couldn’t find her cliritis*.
Dirk: Her what?
Lola: Her cliritus.
Dirk: I don’t know what that is…
Lola: Jesus Christ, how dumb are you? You can’t sit there and tell me you don’t know what “the man in the boat” is!
Dirk: Ohhhhhhhh. Clitoris…
Lola (sarcastically): Yeahhhhhhh.
Dirk: So did he help her find it?
Lola (thinking): I don’t remember now…I think he told her to rub oil on it. Can you look it up on the computer for me?
Dirk: Why? Did your cliritus go MIA?
Lola: Oh shut up. If I was going to find mine, I’d have to go to Arabia and soak in a barrel of the shit…

______

* pronounced clih-RYE-tus

Riggs calls Chance and tells him that he’s in trouble and needs a stand-up guy like Detective Chancellor to help him. (How did he get Chance’s phone number?) Chance dashes off to the jail.

Chance arrives at the jail a commercial later only to learn that in the space of that 2 minutes, Riggs has faked stomach pains and been taken to the hospital where he managed to escape and the jail has been placed under lockdown (which makes no sense if he escaped at the hospital but then again this is a Maria Arena Bell production…). Poor John Driscoll, saddled with these bullshit scripts.

At Crimson Lights, Lauren berates Ryder about not helping Daniel beat the rap with the grand jury and then issues her umpteenth warning about how she’ll kick his scrawny ass if he hurts anyone in her family. Blah blah blah. I am torn who has the worst hair, Lauren with her modified Farrah hair-don’t:

or Ryder with his Hermey from RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER swish in the front:

Shit For Brains goes over to see Vicboria and brag about punching their visually impaired half-brother. This pair of cheating cheaters makes me fucking sick.

Meanwhile, Adam is telling The Saint how real his feelings are. When his own family wouldn’t have him at their Thanksgiving table, she shared a pasta meal with him and it was the best dinner he’d ever had. Even after every thing she’d heard about him, she still saw the good in him…something no one had done since his sainted mother. Choking back the tears, Adam runs out.

Michael meets Lauren at Crimson Lights and gets a call from Adam’s lawyer telling him they are proceeding with the charges against Shit For Brains. Later, Adam comes in and Michael informs him that if he sues Shit For Brains and Newman Enterprises he is in essence suing The Moustache and if he is doing that, he should at least call his father and tell him what’s up. Michael leaves and Adam calls his prick daddy.

Doris rolls over to see The Saint with some cookies she baked for No-Duh. Doris tells her skank daughter she’s glad No-Duh is there for her. “He’s a teen-ager and I can’t expect him to sit around and babysit his mom…I mean, I know what that felt like,” Sharon replies.

What. A. Bitch. Doris needs to roll over her as a few times and show her what’s what. Later, The Saint is all smiles as she tells her mother that she’s seeing someone…

Doris: So soon? You know have a tendency to rush into things. When was the last time you were without a man?

Hard to remember, huh Saint?

God help me, this man is so fucking hawt I just couldn’t resist revisiting the topic…

The action picks up from last Friday with Shit For Brains still standing in the doorway of The Saint’s bedroom watching her and Adam cuddling in the wet-spot.

Her High Holiness finally realizes there is someone there and flips her her shit when she sees it is her beloved Shit For Brains.

Shit For Brains turns and walks out. Seconds later, The Saint has donned a robe and is chasing after him despite Adam’s urgings to let him go.

Lily and The Thunder From Down show up at the Chancellor mansion to drive NuMac’s monotone ass to the hospital.

Her Royal Dullness is thrilled.

This just in from the “Somebody Shoot me Now, Please” Department: Amber and Phyllis go to see Daniel at the jail. Amber gets upset and leaves. Daniel delivers a jaw-droppingly bad monologue about how he always seems to wind up behind bars and how Deacon and Ryder are walking around scot free and how he wants Phyllis to promise she’ll look out for Amber. The Red Menace gives her kid a pep talk and urges him to keep fighting because “there is no way in hell I am going to let this be your life.”

The Saint catches her ex-husband at the front door and asks to stay and talk to her…

Shit For Brains: What would you like me to say to you?
The Saint: You could start with why you just walked into my house and into my bedroom…
Shit For Brains: You sent me an e-mail.

The Saint: NO, I typed you an e-mail, but I never sent it, so…why did you just barge into my bedroom?
Shit For Brains: So this is my fault? The door’s open, the music’s on. You didn’t answer. Is this how you wanted to let me know you’ve moved on? To walk in on you and…ugh.

Adam comes downstairs.

The Saint: I told you I didn’t send any e-mail and that is besides the point!
Shit For Brains: The point here is you and…in bed together. Are you kidding me, Saint? Are you insane?
The Saint: Wait — what did you just say to me? After where I just spent the last month?

Shit For Brains: You’re right. I’m sorry…I did not mean it like that.
The Saint: You think I’m insane when I make a decision that you don’t approve of.
Adam: Saint, you don’t have to deal with this.

The Saint: It’s going to come out at some point anyway…
Shit For Brains: That he’s using you? Of course it is. The same way he used Gay Rafe and Moley and the way he’s sucked up to Ghastly. And now he’s latched on to you, Saint. Why do you think that is? Because this punk can’t get any leverage with me at the office. You are a new way to stick it to me!
Adam: Are you kidding me? Seriously, Shit For Brains? You don’t understand how someone else could want The Saint?

Adam: Which one of us is blind? Or are you just an idiot? Maybe it’s a little bit of both but this woman right here is not your wife. Phyllis is your wife, Shit For Brains. So you can stop beating your chest now.
Shit For Brains (gesturing at Adam): So this is what you want now?

Shit for Brains storms out, leaving The Saint torn between wanting to smack him and wanting to blow him. I know exactly how she feels.

Due to a family emergency, co-worker Maureen’s husband dropped their behemoth spawn 9-year-old son Andre (seriously?) off at work yesterday afternoon and the fat little fucker adorable tot spent the time wandering about annoying the ever-lovin’ shit delighting everyone with his seemingly endless inventory of jokes he heard from his Uncle Dumbass Josh.

After making the rounds, the little bastard decided I was the most friendly and approachable and decided to give me an exclusive preview of his forthcoming show at Caesar’s Palace. Here is an exclusive TDtC, TCtI sneak peek…

Andre: What’s the difference between Santa and Tiger Woods?
Dirk: You know, I’m kinda busy here.
Andre: Santa stops after 3 ho’s.
Dirk: …
Andre: My Uncle Josh told me that one.

Andre: What do Tiger Woods and a baby seal have in common?
Dirk: You know, Andre, your mom is probably looking for you.
Andre: No, I told her I was going to tell you some jokes and she said okay. What do Tiger Woods and a baby seal have in common?
Dirk: …
Andre: They both got clubbed by a Norweigan.

Andre: Did you hear Tiger Woods had to change his name?
Dirk: Last joke, okay?
Andre: Did you hear Tiger Woods had to change his name?
Dirk: I have a lot of work to get done and baby-sitting isn’t part of it.
Andre: My mom says you don’t have any children so you’d like it if I told you some jokes.
Dirk: Your mom probably didn’t realize I was at work.
Andre: Did you hear Tiger Woods had to change his name?
Dirk: No, Andre, I did NOT hear that.
Andre: To Cheeto Woods.
Dirk: That doesn’t even make sense.
Andre: My Uncle Josh told me that one. My mom says he’s different but in a good way.
Dirk: I’m thinking your mom lied.
Andre: Huh?
Dirk: Nothing.

Ah, the joys of being back at work.

(And since Uncle Josh obviously didn’t have any, are there any readers out there with a Tiger joke for Andre’s Carnagie Hall debut?)

After 54 years CBS has pulled the plug on the long running serial AS THE WORLD TURNS, announcing that the last episode will air on September 17, 2010.

While the show is still watchable these days, it is a far cry from its heyday in the mid-80’s and early 90’s when under the helm of the brilliant Douglas Marland, the small town of Oakdale was the setting for a morality play pitting the have-not’s (the poor, idealistic Snyders) against the have’s (the wealthy power hungry Walsh’s and Stenbeck’s). Young love, corporate intrigue, and gothic mysteries were forever in the forefront as were umbrella storylines that involved the show’s entire cast and story ripples that were felt for years, not minutes as seems to be the norm these days.

Here’s hoping ATWT makes the most of the time it has left, takes a page from Marland’s book, and goes out on a high note.

Hello and welcome once again to another installment of “Dirk Mancuso, Big Gay Personal Shopper,” a holiday feature designed to help you find the perfect gift for those hard to please assholes on your gift giving list. This week we’ll be focusing on the oversexed and filling their stockings with treasures guaranteed to elicit moans of pleasure and joy. Let’s get started…

First up, for the latex/rubber fetishist with a taste for water sports we have The Complete Enema Rubber Piss Pants. According to the item description, “the enema bag can hold 4 liters, so your mistress or master can keep you for a long time and let you experience the sensations of the warm piss as it squishes around your collection bag that is attached to your leg.” Maybe it’s me, but I just don’t get it. 

For the role player on your holiday list, the Glow-In-The-Dark-Speculum is perfect for a rousing session of “Casper, the Friendly Specteral Gynecologist.” 

We all know exercise is a necessary evil and rumor has it nothing tightens your ass muscles like one of those big exercise balls. And in addition to killer glutes, they help you improve balance and overall coordination. But if you’ve ever been on one, you know how difficult they can be to master. Well fret no more! Now you can work those glutes and your hole at the same time courtesy of the EZ Rider Ball with Butt Plug:

For the total slut who needs his or her hole stretched to the max, there’s The Cannon dildo. I’m not really sure who would use this (or would be able to walk afterwards), but they say there’s a market for everything…

What would the holidays be without a sweet something in that stocking come Christmas morning? For the rug muncher with a sweet tooth may I suggest a milk chocolate Large Pussy On A Stick?

And finally, our friends over at Divine Interventions bring us a litany of religious sex toys including God’s Immaculate Rod, Buddha’s Delight, Jackhammer Jesus, and my personal “favorite” the Baby Jesus Butt Plug. 

Let the shopping begin!

Cumming Soon: More one of a kind gifts to delight!

Oh yeah —  my boss called.

After 2 days without my big gay face all up in his grill calling him out on his shit, he apparently decided to call my absence “a mental health break” and told me to report back to work today and we would discuss the restructuring in a calm, civilized manner. I told him I hope that meant herbal tea and those delightful cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

His silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes.

So it’s back to the salt mines for me.

And a drop in Pepto-Bismol stock now that Tristan’s tummy has calmed down.

Sigh.

Well, I did score a nifty spur of the moment trip to the Windy City over the weekend for some of Tristan’s patented “retail therapy” excursions. (And yes, I did get a few “pretties”…)

J.T. gets a call from his quirky boss Tucker McCall. How do we know he’s quirky? Because all we can see are his wacky shoes. Crazy! McCall wants a progress report regarding his new Genoa City offices.

When Billy decides to give a RESTLESS STYLE cover to an heiress who helps the homeless, Chloe tells him that using the magazine’s cover to get NuMac back is stupid.

NuMac goes to tell Lily and The Thunder From Down Under that the embryo transplant is scheduled for tomorrow.

The Cryptkeeper confides in Kevin regarding the Chancellor Industries IPO. Neil urges the little shit to keep his yap shut.

Later, Neil expresses his reservations about involving Kevin in this what with Gloria being his mother and all. Turns out Mr. Winters is right: at that very moment, Gloria is calling Kevin asking him to meet her and Jeffrey at the GCAC to “celebrate” his new job.

Michael meets with Lily, The Thunder From Down Under, and NuMac to finalize the surrogacy agreement. NuMac is clearly bothered by the part where she will have no parental role or claim on the crotch-rat she squeezes out despite Lily and the ape’s insistence she will always have a part in the little shit’s life.