Dear Bananas,

I’m breaking up with you. I just can’t take the abuse anymore. You remember our morning tryst a few weeks ago? All day I was miserable, focused on my pain, like someone with enormous hands was reaching inside my torso and forciby twisting my guts. But I didn’t blame you, Bananas. I blamed Pizza, with whom I’d had a short fling the evening prior. Everyone said you were so good for me, Bananas, that you made me a better person by enriching my life. How could I blame you?

Well, this morning, I’m sure you remember that we did our thing again, and since we were exclusive, I have no one else to blame for the pain I currently feel. The pain that makes me clutch my stomach and pray for death. How could you do this to me? I loved you!

Fuck you, Bananas. We are breaking up forever. Your yellow skin and rich potassium content hold no allure for me. I will also ignore your contributions to one of the finest sandwiches ever created. Don’t call me anymore. Especially not on the fucking Bananaphone.

No love,

Mellzah Dildarian

Two days until Valentine’s Day and the majority of the straight male population is thinking about vagina: Will they get some? How over-the-top-ridiculous do they have to behave to not be banished to the couch? Will she notice if I wrap up some Halloween candy in newspaper? No seriously, will they get some?

Ladies: I propose that you give vagina some thought, too, particularly if you don’t have enough other flaws to obsess over.

Is it pink enough? A dye job might be in order if you want to have the appeal of pre-necrotic Marilyn!

Are you neat and trimmed? Have you considered a design? Perhaps a sweet little heart or for the more swaggery among you, a bitchin’ set of mutton chops?

Is it as fresh and youthful feeling as your face? Is it time to schedule a Vajacial? This anti-aging treatment will keep your business from looking like Dumbo’s trunk.

While you’re in the area, anal bleaching is all the rage and will really demonstrate to your man (and the press and your peers if you are Britney Spears) that you’re willing to go the extra mileinch to be aesthetically pleasing.

Last but not least, it’s too late to surprise your man with a designer vagina or a restitched hymen this year (during the healing process, it’s apt to look like your cooter went six rounds with Tyson) but it’s never too early to book for next year! Hopefully by this time next year, I can get speakers installed so that when I whip off my panties, the low rumbling tones of Barry White will emanate pleasingly from my ladybusiness. I will call it my vajayPod.

With it all tricked out like an amusement park, an admittance price of flowers doesn’t seem particularly high, does it?

Welcome, friends, to my journey of bitter disappointment in discovering that the celebrities I crushed on were just people, too.

Bad people.

Jim Carrey

When I was twelve years old, I developed a great big owl-glasses drooling brace-faced crush on Jim Carrey. He was funny AND handsome! I was especially impressed with the way he would make it appear he was talking out of his butt. He would understand my pain. I wasn’t quiet about it, either. Ooooh no. I wrote him letter after letter after letter. Not stalking, just sharing. After all, he was surely interested in my prepubescent trials and tribulations, why wouldn’t he be interested in the day-to-day activities of his future wife? Like when her little brother knocked her off her bike and she ripped up her forearm on a jagged rock and her doctor stitched her up RIGHT THERE at the kitchen table and said she was SO brave and then it oozed weepy matter for a month because one time she accidentally hit it against the door as she was getting off the school bus and ripped it open again and spent the afternoon in pre-algebra class alternately pressing those rough brown paper towels against it and picking at the remaining scabby edges? What future husband wouldn’t want to know that? I was incredibly thrilled when I received a genuinely autographed photograph from him in the mail in return. Encouraged by my successes, and armed with the knowledge that my family would be visiting my grandparents in California for Easter break that year, I made the first move and cordially invited him to meet me for lunch. I was sure he would be suitably impressed by the massive scrapbook I had assembled with photographs and articles about him, things that I had collected and friends had given to me, because it demonstrated my complete knowledge about all things Jim Carrey. He never responded (who would?! It’s a basic law of self-preservation to avoid encounters that might end with you getting stabbed by someone who is sobbing while screeching “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!” or “IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU, NO ONE CAN!” or “SPANK YOU VERY MUCH!”), but while I was visiting my grandparents, my aunt called the house and pretended to be his secretary while my grandfather called me to the phone with “Oh my goodness, Melissa, it’s Jimmy Carrey!!” because you aren’t a member of my family if you don’t believe in cruel pranks.

Little was I to know that one day he actually WOULD start talking out of his ass. You see, his girlfriend, Jenny McCarthy, is a scientist.

See? Totally a scientist.

OH WAIT, NO SHE ISN’T. She’s a pseudo-celebrity who was once famous for showing off her rack in Playboy and on MTV, she popped out a kid, and is now the self-appointed leader of the anti-vaccination movement with the spurious reasoning that vaccinations cause autism, when it’s more likely a coincidence; children start exhibiting signs of autism around the same age that they receive the MMR vaccine. She is basing all of her ‘science’ knowledge off a sample group of one–her child, and for some reason, that’s given her credibility among talk-show circles though NO respectable science is done with a sample group that small. Not only does she claim to have cured her son’s autism through diet, but she is reccommending that other, talk-show-watching, impressionable parents who want the best for their children NOT vaccinate these children, leaving a group of our population (up to 10% of our schools!) vulnerable against third world diseases that we had essentially wiped out in the developed world. This movement now has a body count attached to it. Children, who are supposed to be protected by their parents to the best of their ability because they cannot fend for themselves, are becoming ill and dying because Tits McGee fancies herself a scientist.

Jim Carrey has also attached himself to this movement. It’s amazing how he became interested in it and SO very educated about it right around the time he started boning down with Jenny McCarthy, isn’t it? He rails against the profitability of vaccines, claiming that doctors, uninfluenced by their hippopotamushippocratic oath, have a motto: “Grab ’em and stab ’em.” Yes, that sounds vaguely doctor-ish. It’s too bad that vaccines aren’t really the profit-generators in the industry–pharmaceuticals to grow hair, lose weight, and give you boners are. It’s why we don’t get spam trying to sell us /\/|M® vaccines for 60% off–they aren’t the moneymakers! Anything you only need once, twice, three times in a lifetime isn’t going to generate the profit of something that’s used EVERY DAY. I would expect someone educated about the industry to know this, but oh wait, you just went to VAGINA UNIVERSITY, Jim Carrey. And now your (girlfriend’s) opinions about vaccines are given more airtime and credence than they deserve, simply because of your celebrity, creating a debate where there should be none. Do you not recognize how utterly sick and disgusting it is that your high school dropout opinion should be given the same or greater weight than that of noncelebrity scientists and doctors who actually know what they’re talking about?

SHUT UP, YOU ARE RUINING IT FOR ME.

Johnny Depp

This guy oozes cheekbones and charm and class, save for his ‘Wino forever’ tattoo, meeting and greeting and signing autographs for fans who wait outside his sets for hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. By all accounts, he is supposed to be a decent guy, both to work with and in general, not a prima donna or an asshole like Val Kilmer or Russell Crowe. An excellent, swoon-worthy candidate for crushitude.

This is why I was particularly disappointed to see this; that he defended Roman Polanski’s rape of a child.

EXCUSE ME? Why now? If he killed a child and fled justice for thirty years instead of raped a child and fled justice for thirty years, would you be asking why now? Here is a hint, Johnny Depp: Roman Polanski raped a child. He was CONVICTED of raping a child. There is NO question that he actually did rape her, both vaginally and anally, after drugging her. If he had manned up and accepted his punishment at the time, we wouldn’t need to ask ‘why now?’. He certainly manned up enough to stick his cock in a few of her holes. But he ran away, Johnny Depp, to live in ‘exile’, a life filled with extravagant homes in multiple countries, continuing high-profile work, almost flaunting the fact that he escaped justice. What makes him better, less deserving of justice, than other child rapists? Is it money? You indicate that it must be about money somehow…because in your world, problems like this can always be solved with money. It must be nice to have enough money to be able to buy freedom from justice. It’s too bad that money couldn’t shut the girl up to avoid the conviction in the first place, eh?

FURTHERMORE, I wasn’t aware that once someone has beautiful children and a wife that it erases the bad shit they’ve done and eliminates them as a potential predator. I suppose no child has ever been touched inappropriately by a parent or guardian, that sort of thing never goes on in the home, right? And even if he ISN’T touching his kids or out in the street doing ‘horrible, horrible things’, he DID a horrible, horrible thing, and this is about punishment for THAT act. HE PLED GUILTY. IT IS NOT IN QUESTION!

SHUT UP, YOU ARE RUINING IT FOR ME.

Billy Corgan

When I was a teenager, he totally spoke to my pain, even though NOBODY understood me, could possibly get the depths of my pain as an upper lower middle class suburban white kid, he did. We were totally going to get married when I grew up. I did the math. It didn’t creep me out as a teenager.

It creeps me out now that I AM an adult and he’s dating girls my age. Also, Tila Tequila? JESSICA SIMPSON!? Really dude? Are you trying to make up for high school, when girls like them wouldn’t even look at you? Or are you trying to make some sort of ridiculous comeback on the shoulders of girls who are even bigger famewhores than you could even hope to be?

…What, I can’t be petty? There was also all that shit he said about the music being ‘sacred’ and that he could never license it for commercial use because it’s ‘saved people’s lives’ and he has more respect for its power than that…and then licensed ‘Today’ for a Visa commercial. And then wrote an exclusive track for a Hyundai commercial. And then released the same album, like, six times to rip off the people who supported him when his music was actually good. I’m mad about the hypocrisy in those things, too. But it’s dating the mid-twenties girls that skeeves me.