Chicken Shit for the Soul

Treadmill Confession

2006-11-11T14:51:00.000-05:00

While running on the treadmill, and blasting my ears full of iPod, I get paranoid that I'm singing along with my ridiculous music from the 80s--some people do that without knowing it. So, periodically, I pull out an ear phone and listen.

Also, it's a given that when I step onto the treadmill, the person next to me leaves within two minutes. This means I smell or run spastically.

Election Tradition

2006-11-07T22:12:00.000-05:00

Baseball, Mom, apple pie...and Tim Russert's white board.

Sty Guy

2006-11-05T19:37:00.000-05:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

A close guy friend bemoaned the fact that his thirty-nine-old girlfriend wants to have children and won’t continue the relationship if he won’t consider this. He confided that he wishes he’d met her five years ago, that her best years are gone and that he’s left with the dregs. I’m thirty-nine also so he really hurt my feelings. This is why I don’t want to date anymore. Am I too sensitive?

--Wounded Chick

Dear Chick,

“Best years” for what? If he meant for best years for breeding, which seems a standard measure of women’s worth, yes, the best years are dwindling away. But Close Guy Friend sounds a little like Mr. My-hair-is-too-dark-to-cover-how-old-I-really-am James Woods who had that line about dating--that you want a puppy, not a dog. Poor puppy, I hope she pees all over his house. Close Guy Friend’s attitude doesn’t deserve a response, really. Just continue to live your best and more interesting years—and visualize where Close Guy Friend belongs:

--CB

Mussed Up for Mussina

2006-11-03T12:58:00.000-05:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I've long been a Yankee fan and go all slobbery over Mike Mussina. Not only does he concentrate on every pitch, but I can tell he cares. Plus, he graduated from Stanford with a degree in Economics, so he doesn't just blow spit bubbles. I just read in The New York Post that he's considering moving to the Mets. Is it bad for me to consider switching my allegiance?

Love, The Next Mrs. Mussina

Dear Dream On,

Love is a wonderful thing so I have to go the Tammy Wynnette route and say, Stand By Your Man on this one. Usually, I'd stress the importance of sticking with losers. And let's face it, the Yankees have been in a downward spiral since 2001. But there's a bright light on the horizon, something new, different, could be the Mets finally not sucking? They may become the new cool team in New York and if Mussina signs on, you should take that ricketty 7 train out to Shea. He could be your equivalent to Charlie Sheen's Wild Thing in Major League.
In the end, you're still watching posh millionaires running around a square. What could be more fun than that?

Now, I have to go scratch the dirt before I lob a fastball loogey at Sister Hen. She'll never see it coming!
--CB

Cat-fessions

2006-11-02T21:53:00.000-05:00

My cat taste-tests all my take-out food. If he doesn't want it, I know it's bad.

Confessions of Bachelorette Behavior

2006-11-01T17:01:00.000-05:00

I went to a cafe to sit and work because I knew it would please my mother. I really went to the cafe to eat the pistachio marzipan tart. But I picked off the pistachios, which would totally piss off my mother.

It's okay because Harry Connick, Jr. picks out the raisins in Will & Grace. And Matthew McConaughey picks out non-brown colored M&Ms in The Wedding Planner. And Billy Bob Thorton only eats orange food.

Sibling Mind Games

2006-10-23T20:07:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I was updating my Netflix queue, adding all sorts of movies, when I realized it was my brother's account. Should I remove my choices? He will be horrified by "The L Word" and the new Lindsay Lohan movie.

--Sassy Sis

Dear Sassy,

Nah, leave it. This will add spice to your brother's life. Plus, he'll wonder if he's losing his mind and that's always fun. Your antics will get him back for the time he stole your clothes, locked you in a room, you had no escape and guests were arriving any second.

If you want to talk about evil siblings, one need only consult Bobby Brady, the king of cute pranks. Next time, though, consider raising the stakes. Like say, putting Tabasco, pepper, egg, vinegar in his soda.

--Butt

I Love to Hate Jonathan Franzen

2006-10-20T22:44:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I don't know why, but I was struck with wild joy when I read Daniel Mendelsohn's skewering of Jonathan Franzen's latest "book" of essays, The Discomfort Zone in the New York Times Book Review. I've disliked this author ever since his dissing of Oprah and subsequent articles detailing his pretentious life and writing process. I read some of The Corrections, thought it was okay, more like a really long book. He's not the worst or best I've ever read, but why do I hate him so much? It's an intense emotion and with little foundation.

--Hate and the City

Dear Hans-und-Franzen,

On sight hatred is okay and it's a free country. Not to plant a bad seed, but maybe this intense emotion is caused by some past life. Mayhap you and Jonathan duked it out over the love of a medieval lady. Whatever the case may be, it's good practice to develop concrete reasons for this hatred--as Franzen didn't really do when poo-pooing O's book club.

Poor Chicken Butt was asked tonight why she hated Michael Chick-less of The Shield. She couldn't explain why but instead poked and scratched for the young bartender rooster, whose love of action movies rivaled hers. Chicken Butt had no good reason for hating Michael Chick-less. She just hated him--he's bald, when everyone is freaking bald these days, and he's so ruff-n-tuff because of his shaved head, and ooh, he carries around a shield. Isn't that enough? Apparently not. Chicken Butt can't stand Jennifer Jason Leigh either and squawks every time she sees the crazy twitch on a screen. Has to avert her eyes for Brian Dennehey films. Thinks the Pussycat Dolls are empty and RIDICULOUS as entertainment. Never totally got into the Beatles! Stop me before I dig myself deeper.

Franzen may deserve ridicule, but arm yourself if you want to defend your right to despise. Once you acquire more insight into your hate and its object, secretly join me in a chicken dance of loathing. If we loved everyone, we'd be...well...God.

--CB

The Object of My Affection

2006-10-15T18:54:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

My best friend Steve is the most wonderful, handsome man I've ever known. We go out all the time, call each other constantly and spend holidays together. Even though he's gay, he's always been my Valentine, brought me chicken soup when I've been sick and tells me my last boyfriend was a pompous jerk and that I'm better off. I realized that maybe Steve is keeping me from dating other men, ultimately ruining any chances of my having a family of my own. What do you think?

--Urban Hag

Dear Julia-Grace Adler-Madonna-Cher-Judy-Bette,

Best friends are special no matter what their gender, sexual preference. If you were in love with Steve, that would be a problem. Truth is, you would date if you wanted to date. If you're enjoying yourself, why rock the boat? There is an episode of Will & Grace (Season 1) that deals with this same problem.

For further elucidation, let's turn to Julia in My Best Friend's Wedding. Rupert Everett proved especially useful when she wanted to break up Dermott Mulroney (or Dylan McDermott? No, but he was engaged to Julia) and Cameron Diaz. Gay Rupert played her fiance but mostly mentored Julia, which she needed because she was a bad, bad girl. Bottom line: They were best friends forever and who better to hang with at a wedding?

So then, Madonna saw the chemistry between Julia and Rupert and thought, that bitch, I'm gonna get me some Rupert. And in The Next Best Thing, Rupert played Madonna's gay best friend -- only Madonna got him drunk, nailed him and got pregnant. It was the conquest of the century and one notch above Julia's feat. Madonna and Rupert weren't celibate during their friendship. In fact, she meets Benjamin Bratt (who was dating Julia during the movie) and they live happily ever after in the cosmic suck-fest that is the film.

The point is, never, ever question your love for others. And never ever out-do Madonna.

--CB

A Storm of Confessions

2006-10-14T22:00:00.000-04:00

The tragedy of the Andrea Gail's fatal journey touches me and I can't imagine the pain of the crew's loved ones. However, this hen confesses to wild laughter due to cliched Hollywood writing during The Perfect Storm, which I watched this afternoon (and caught up on ironing).
It was when Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio yelled to George Clooney into the radio, "You're headed straight for the monster!" that set me off.

Did love Diane Lane and fab special effects, though.

More Bachelorette Behavior

2006-10-14T21:51:00.000-04:00

I looked at my feathers this morning, saw an errant strand and went for the scissors. I cut a little on one side, then the other. My wastebasket is filled with feathers and now, I'm like Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl when she's pregnant and has that short poofy coif--only not as even.

My feather-stylist is going to kill me. Or laugh hysterically. I hope he doesn't read this.

Confessions of Bachelorette Behavior

2006-10-12T19:52:00.000-04:00

Tonight I had a dinner of mashed potatoes onto which I put tartar sauce. I felt disgusting until I remembered Mel Gibson's eating dog food in The Road Warrior. We do what we must in order to survive.

Teacher's Pet

2006-10-01T20:40:00.000-04:00

Dear Tao Butt,

I had this teacher who came in to teach English when I was a senior. He was really hot and I could tell he liked me. Nothing happened when I was his student. Ten years have gone by and I ran into him in the store. We went out for coffee and I see him often. He's not much older than me and no longer my teacher, so why hasn't he made a move?

Dear Dilated Pupil,

To understand this predicament, you should ask Jeff Daniels for advice. He played an ardent professor in two movies: The Squid and the Whale and Terms of Endearment.
Sexy yet fraudulent Italian teacher Dominic West tantalized the trampy Maggie Gyllenhaal in Mona Lisa Smile

Teachers are hot. Mentors and bosses are alluring. This Chicken Butt even crushed on a rooster or two. But it could have been that Farmer Dell spiked my water with sugar. Trust nature to take its course (especially if you've had too much sugar water). If he's over the authority thing, Teacher'll make a move. If you're over the authority thing, you will. Either that or you'll have a respectable Remains of the Day relationship, which was a fabulously unrequited torture-fest (and one of the few times I wished Anthony Hopkins would shed his feathers). Either way, enjoy the ride and the bond you have with this person.

If you'll excuse me, I have to kick some chicks.
--CB

Bad Touching

2006-09-29T00:43:00.000-04:00

Dear Dr. Butt,

I had the great misfortune of spending two nights in a room with a man who, angry that I would not put out, uh, pleasured himself five times over the course of our stay! Is this normal? Would Emily Post think this polite? How many times can a forty-three-year-old masturbate? Please enlighten me.

Concerned, though not Mommie

Dear Not-So-Fondle,

Is it normal that he relieved his tension or that you didn't run screaming out of the room the first time he did it? I would say the latter is abnormal. If he's your husband, you should give him a break. If he's a stranger, someone you barely know, separate rooms would have made for a happier visit. His hobby is normal but the execution and venue seem creepy. That's what bathrooms, basements and the roof of your grandparents' house are for.

Of course, some films deal with that special intimate moment...and its consequences.

Who can forget There's Something About Mary, where an innocent Ben Stiller takes a piss and is mistaken as a masturbator. Then later on, when he alleviates his sexual stress, the result winds up in Cameron Diaz's hair.
Self-pleasuring leads to true love when James Spader plays tug of war on Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary. Ouch, that hurt. Ouch, do that again.

In Sliver's bathtub scene, Sharon Stone reveals a not-so-private moment with her privates. As Billy Baldwin watches her from his insane aerie, I couldn't help but wonder, "Where's does one draw the line between fascination and intrusiveness? I would have watched, too."
Oh, and Sharon has never looked better, except for kicking Halle Berry's ass in Catwoman (a movie that could have used a masturbation scene).

What can Chicken Butt say except that if you're there, you're participating. If you don't want to participate, get on the road and drive out of town.

XOXCB

Rabbit in Goat's Clothing

2006-09-20T14:16:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Fried Rice,

Major screw up here. Spent the day with my Chinese astrologer friend. Lounged by the pool and dove deep, deep into the zodiac. Big date coming up. Carefully calculated that I am the year of the goat. Figures. Not so carefully calculated compatipility of mate with whom I have big date this weekend. Was convinced he was a cat or tiger or whatever. Well, I just learned he is a rabbit. A rabbit. Oh no. Let's compare notes:

Cat tiger-whatever:
Tiger people are sensitive, given to deep thinking, capable of great sympathy. They can be extremely short-tempered, however. Other people have great respect for them, but sometimes tiger people come into conflict with older people or those in authority. sometimes Tiger people cannot make up their minds, which can result in a poor, hasty decision or a sound decision arrived at too late. They are suspicious of others, but they are courageous and powerful. Tigers are most compatible with Horses, Dragons, and Dogs

Rabbit:
People born in the Year of the Rabbit are articulate, talented, and ambitious. They are virtuous, reserved, and have excellent taste. Rabbit people are admired, trusted, and are often financially lucky. They are fond of gossip but are tactful and generally kind. Rabbit people seldom lose their temper. They are clever at business and being conscientious, never back out of a contract. They would make good gamblers for they have the uncanny gift of choosing the right thing. However, they seldom gamble, as they are conservative and wise. They are most compatible with those born in the years of the Sheep, Pig, and Dog.

Now what am I supposed to do. I am sooooo confused.

Signed,
was a goat am now a sheep?

Dear Baaaahhh-d Chinese,

Do you think the Rabbit is spending this much time analyzing your personality? If you're just having fun, fun! Call it trickery and the universe's desire to keep you guessing that you picked the wrong animal (if there is such a thing). A little mystery in a date is more entertaining.

Ah, this Chinese animal talk reminds me of the classic Steven Seagal movie, The Glimmer Man, where Master Steven takes Keenan Ivory Wayans to a Chinese Herb store. Because Keenan has allergies, Steven recommends some powdered deer penis. Of course, hilarity ensues when Keenan discovers what he'd ingested. Now, that's fun.

So, as you go on your date, just remember we all just taste like chicken.

--CB

Imago is Everything

2006-09-20T13:31:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken "no" it all,

The last time I visited with my shrink she gave me a book to read--Getting The Love You Want: A Guide For Couples. She told me I would "love" it. Well, there's a problem--I am single; there is no coupling happening in my life at all. What was she thinking? Was she rubbing salt in my failure? Additionally, my shrink told me that if I wanted to land a man with great "guns," I needed to workout my own weak flabby arms twice as much. So, I lied to her and told her that I had been working on them. She told me my "imago" (Latin for image, duh) of men and the man I want is all bent outta shape.

OK, shrinkee, so how do I fix that--my "imago?" By reading this couples book?

Signed,
Imagine a new Imago for me please!
PS--do I need to tell you that my shrink is my friend Tori?

Dear Annie Get Your Guns,

First of all, anyone who uses the term "great guns" needs to be shot. Secondly, girlfriend-shrink is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs for recommending a book wholly unsuited to your reality. Not to mention, using "imago" instead of perfectly fine words like "view" and "vision."

This reminds me of Marcia Gay Harden who had a brilliant but small role in The First Wives Club. She was the shrink who stole Stephen Collins away from Diane Keaton (bitch!) and continued to treat both of them. Her credo: Breathe from love. Work from love. Did shrinky go to school for that?

Next Shrinky will give you acronyms for how to fix your life: The three C's--Create a new mind-world, Collaborate with your inner child, Conquer the cruel dating scene and find Mr. Fantastic. Or if, you use Match.com, follow Dr. Phil's helpful: Mind, Find, Bind strategy (Mind what you eat, Find the Ex-Lax, Bind your irritable bowels) in dating. I say, lose the shrink--or find a better one--stop reading books about relationships because they say the same thing, and get a non-boy related hobby. If you're a failure at dating, why continue looking for more? And why does anyone have to date since it's so tedious and mostly disappointing? Choose something you are better at, like building houses out of hay from the hen-house. Oh wait, that's my hobby.

--CB

Paper Doesn't Grow on Trees

2006-09-18T20:25:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

Today I went into my local Duane Reade pharmacy to buy some gum and my receipt was a mile long. Why is Duane Reade wasting so much paper and what can I do to express my annoyance?

--A Tree-Lover Grows in Brooklyn

Dear Sappy,

Sarcasm is a fun way to make your point. When you reach the apathetic cashier (and Duane Reade trains its employees to give you a dead-eyed stare of hatred), just say to him/her: "I'd like a really long receipt, please." That will give you personal satisfaction. Then, I would do what is corny and obvious--send a letter to the president of Duane Reade. Contact Al Gore after this. After you're done, take a trip to D'Agostino's and buy one item. Notice how their receipts are unnecessarily wide? Do the same with them.

Chicken Butt used to be a cashier so she understands the apathy of Duane Reade employees. Well, for me, it was confusion over addition and subtraction--counting change. If you want to amuse yourself over cashier antics, be sure to watch:

Clerks--lackadaisical cashiers. I don't remember much from this movie except Jay and Bob, who resemble me and my childhood friend Lynne (We shoplifted penny candy).

The Good Girl--Jennifer Aniston as a cashier. Believe it or not.
The first season of Queer As Folk--Michael is a manager at a store so deals with customers all the time (and hides his homosexuality from his less-than-accepting colleagues). Okay, he's not a cashier, but this allows me to mention Gale Harold, who is on the show.

--CB

Slow Down on Speed Dialing

2006-09-15T21:31:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

You have to help me. I did something terrible. So, I had a bad day and took a bubblebath by candlelight. After that, I put on my new polka-dotted silk lingerie and decided to call the guy I've been seeing. I hit speed dial and when he answered, I just started talking. Hey babe, whatcha doin'? Oh, er, uh, nothing, just bringing in my mail, he answered. His voice sounded familiar but not quite like My Johnny. Must be bad hearing so I described my sexy new lingerie, that I was rolling around on my bed and couldn't wait to see him. Long story short, I soon learned I was talking to my BOSS!

I am so mortified...S.O.S...

Signed,
My Boss Knows I Have Polka-Dotted Panties

Dear You Are So Fired,

Sorry, CB is laughing too hard. Best of luck trying to get your boss not to think of you in your underwear.

To make you feel better, I can point out some entertaining phone conversations on film:

If you're a romantic, the best is that phone-kissing scene in Notorious between Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. The only way they could get this marathon face-sucking past the censors was to add a phone conversation.

If you've been fired and want to retain all your clients, I suggest the "Show me the money" call in Jerry Maguire (also good if you want to hear Tom Cruise yell, "I'm your mother-f*cker!").

Would point out the Donna Reed and Jimmy Stewart phone conversation in It's a Wonderful Life, but my gag reflex just kicked in.

Remember those joyful pestering phone calls Glenn Close makes to Michael Douglas in Fatal Attraction? "I woke up, you weren't here, I hate that..."

One phone call can be dangerous if you watch poor Colin Farrell deal with a psycho- caller (played by Kiefer Sutherland) in Phone Booth. A forgettable movie but decent performances. Beware of fixating on Colin's scary eyebrows. I missed half the movie watching them.

--CB

Those HMO Bastards

2006-09-12T20:45:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I have this medicine I have to take and yet when I called to get a prescription, the evil receptionist said I had to make an appointment to see the doctor. But I need to have the medicine today, but she said I have to see the doctor first. How do I avoid this Catch-22?

Signed,
Could Die of Heart Attack

Dear Testy Ticker,

Shirley MacLaine won an Oscar from one scene. Remember the "She needs her pills!" speech in Terms of Endearment? Shirley bounds into the nurses' station, smacks the counter, screams, channels the Harpies to get Debra Winger her morphine. Not that you're going to die, but you need your pills. I suggest you throw a huge fit on the phone. And during your doctor visit, make sure you complain about not getting your pills. You need your pills. You need your PILLLLLLLLSSSSSSS! Then you can thank the Academy.

Sidebar: In the waiting room, read some of Shirley's books. They're freaky and fun.
And if you guess what movie the title comes from, you get extra seed cake. Okay, it's As Good as It Gets--said by Pay It Forward star Helen Hunt.

--CB

Today's Confession

2006-09-10T19:31:00.000-04:00

I used an entire print cartridge printing out sudoku puzzles...but this isn't as bad as beating up my printer with a bat, the way those three guys did in Office Space.

Cleaving Daniel Cleaver

2006-09-04T09:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken-buttress,

I have sworn off the narcissitic "super" men of my [recent] past and am going out to dinner with a nice guy this evening. He has all that I am looking for, except for incredible arms. Also, I keep finding my mind wandering back to the guy I am all hung up on. I have tried burning sage, exorcism, dancing naked in the rain and other things to get him off my mind. If I were going out with the "super" man of my past--three weeks ago, I would rip off his clothes on the spot. Now, this new guy, I don't have that urge. HELP! I must break my pattern. Even Dr. Phil, if I watched him, would tell me that. Oh high priestess, do tell.

Signed,

Breaking pattern [and I'm not talking china, doll)

Dear Masochistic Mona,

Remember that scene in the first Bridget Jones when she finds the naked American in Daniel Cleaver's bathroom? She had one day of moping, pulling off her fake eyelashes and guzzling vodka before she got back on the exercise bike [aside: some of us spiral downward for much longer, like a year, but I'm not naming names]. The problem is that the Daniel Cleavers always come back to test your resolve--it's because they are empty and search for an oasis. Would he break a nail for you?

Look at the facts: The last time you saw Superman, were you happy? Did you have fun or were you angsting? Next, you have to run the Hospital Test. If Superman found out you got into a car accident, would he fly to your side? He'd make lame excuses, in which case, you say, "see ya!" You may have those tortured thoughts, but they are just thoughts. Your action of dating others is healthy.

If I can bring up Barbra again, when her marriage to Jeff Bridges failed in The Mirror Has Two Faces, she got back on the horse and started dating Pierce Brosnan, even though she was still in love with Jeff. Okay, bad example since she goes back to Jeff. What kind of stupid name is Jeff anyway? Or Pierce for that matter? Cluck, cluck, cluck! Excuse the babble, I'm about to hatch.

In the meantime, read a book, see a movie, hang with friends.

She Works Hard for the Monkey, I Mean, Money

2006-09-02T13:04:00.000-04:00

Hey there, Chicken Butt,

I saw that movie The Devil Wears Prada and I gotta say, I was thinking they were talking about my boss. She's quite a handful, the one I report to. She frequently says things that make me feel incompetent. And I'm not. I'm fully competent, I swear! So what on earth can I do when my boss makes me feel lower than a pregnant ant's belly?

Lower Than Low

Dear Tess McGill,

The likelihood is certain that your boss was a public nose-picker in kindergarten. What's more, she was probably caught by her peers and her teacher. Based on a focus group of 1, CB concludes that those who've been teased in grade-school are more likely to denigrate others in the workplace.

I can sympathize with your quandary since I see roosters constantly criticizing our dirt-scratching. You know who else understands? Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. She eventually got her revenge by boinking Harrison Ford and stealing Sigourney Weaver's (who looked fantastic in her lingerie and suits) job. Here's my advice: If you love your job and hate your boss--act passive-aggressively, i.e. give the wall separating you two the finger, wear suits more often so that she'll think you're interviewing elsewhere and, most fun of all, draw mustaches and rabbit ears on pictures of her and stash them in your bottom drawer. When you feel a-quiver from her beatings, pull out the pics and laugh uproariously. It will keep you sane and jolly. Remember, too, you will be in her shoes. Bad bosses teach us survival skills more thoroughly than do the pushover bosses who want to be our friend. Then again, as Danny Glover says repeatedly in Lethal Weapon 1, 2, 3and 4, "I'm too old for this shit." Which is why I suggest drawing mustaches.

CB

Where There's a Will, There's a Hathaway

2006-08-28T12:04:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I'd like to start stalking actress Anne Hathaway. With respect to my love, I quote the great Lionel Richie: "I wonder where you are / And I wonder what you do / Are you somewhere feeling lonely? / Is someone loving you? / Tell me how to win your heart / Cause I haven't got a clue / But let me start by saying...I love you."

How can I make Anne know I love her and want to be with me and hold me and tell me I'm her man and miss me on set in Hong Kong and put my picture in her trailer first thing and make hot sweaty passionate love to me? Huh?

Desperately yours,
Banquo

Dear Restraining Order,

Stalking is beneath you and stalkers never win. If your love is true, you should do as I do: develop imaginary relationships with these stars and let them color your daily life. Exploit their entertainment value even more. For instance, I've recently engrossed myself in a passionate love affair with Gale Harold of Queer As Folk and Vanished.
He's been the perfect mate: He laughs at my knock-knock jokes, brings me fresh birdseed, tells me my feathers are beautiful. Because of his love for me, my waddle is confident. In the hen house, I find myself staring off into space, which makes my peers cluck. What's gotten into CB? And you know what? It's all my doing--along with some serious voices in my head.

Celebrity crushes can make you happy, but don't ever meet them in person. Chicken Butt once met a violent celebrity crush from the 1990s. While she relished the sight of him, languished on his every word, she realized he was just a cute dork and not the fierce steed on which to ride away. So tonight, Banquo, as Gale makes me my favorite dinner of fennel casserole and tap water, you and Anne can start your spectacular journey in a rose-filled yacht down the Thames.

--CB

The Manicurean Candidate

2006-08-27T15:25:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

As a chicken, you don't have to worry about nails, but I can't ever seem to give myself a good manicure. What's the point of showing off my fingers anyway? I just want to live my life without the hassle of constant feminine maintenance. Am I crazy?

Sincerely,
No nailing these nails

Dear Freddie Krueger,

Where would Barbra Streisand be without her flawless nails? I'm sure you noticed in The Mirror Has Two Faces how she speared a Snowball with those dagger-claws [aside: for binge food, does any woman ever choose a Snowball?]. Barbra's character may have been a "fat", mojo-less baseball-watching professor, but she kept a light glaze on her nails. Doing your nails is your choice, but if you're so stressed as to write to a chicken, go see a professional manicurist. As for the rest of traditional feminine maintenance, as long as no one sees your unkempt self, who cares? Let be the rogue hair growing out of your neck. Though Babs would pluck it.

--CB

Today's Confession

2006-08-26T12:08:00.000-04:00

I was watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie and found it too boring. Instead, I turned on "The Ron Clark Story" starring Matthew Perry. What makes this sadder is that I've already seen "The Ron Clark Story". Twice.

Vanishers and Resurfacers

2006-08-25T21:19:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

Like clockwork the loves from my past come creeping out of darkness into my life. Just when I have sworn each of them off, they text, send lame emails or, in rare instances muster up the courage to call me. Why? Why? These women rejected me before. Why are they bothering me now? Worse yet, they blow me off and then a week or two or even a month or two later they come back. It makes me think every time I end a relationship, no matter how inconsequential, I should tie a concrete block around her neck so as to make certain when she falls to the bottom of the pond, she can never ever make it back to the surface and into my life again. What gives?

Signed,

No Lifeguard on Duty, please drown

Dear Not David Hasselhoff,

I'm afraid you've come under the spell of Vanisher and Resurfacer Syndrome. Those V&Rers are momentarily ego-boosting but deep down, they are so like the bailing fiancee in The Wedding Singer. The Internet makes V&R easy, so turn off your computer and count to 100 before answering any message. Consider this a test from the universe. Will you go back for more?

Then think of David Hasselhoff. Would the Hoff answer a lame text message? Yes, because he's human. And humans have those three-day benders. They attempt naked backbends on a trans-Atlantic flight. They answer resurfacers. Forgive yourself, then pray you'll get bored enough to press Delete.

Having disturbing images of the Hoff on a plane so must lie down.

--CB

Ask Chicken Butt

2006-08-24T19:02:00.000-04:00

Dear High Priestess of Butt,

Lately, I have dated men who have each written "fiction". Is there really such thing as fiction? Or, are the thoughts of the protagonist really thoughts of their own? In which case I should be alarmed and should run the other direction since they're talking about: valium, cocaine and other drugs; wearing his mother's underwear all through his adolescence, watching porn with his father and brother, wanting to do it with teenage cousin; not being able to get an erection at age thirty due to having been hurt in the past; getting into barfights with midgets; going bald at thirty and being generally pissed. These are just a few . . .

And, if the fiction is true, shouldn't I run as fast as I can?

Signed,
Nobody could make this shit up

Dear Someone Dating Nobody,

Yes, it's probably psychologically dangerous to date a writer. But the truth is, they aren't all that interesting. They just whine more. Because writers sit in front of a computer all day, they may try to add spice elsewhere--feign eccentricity to mask an average life. If you were dating Jackie Collins, you might worry that she lives like her skank characters and break up with her. And she could be a sweetheart who's a really good eavesdropper. Everyone needs love...and pity (especially those going bald). Besides, isn't watching porn with relatives normal?

CB

The New Face of Chicken Shit

2006-08-23T19:12:00.000-04:00

For those who've been reading Chicken Shit for the Soul, you might notice we're changing. Instead of covering celebrity antics, we will focus on advice and confessions--with a celebrity slant. If you want to read what we think about the stars, get the latest haiku, go to www.dishuponastar.blogspot.com. If you'd like to send in a confession (anonymous) or problem for Chicken Butt to answer, please write to askchickenbutt@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading. CB

Ask Chicken Butt

2006-08-15T20:33:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

In his day, my daddy was a superstar with a phenomenal career as a physician. All of his women patients were in love with him. He was even voted most eligible bachelor in our hometown, even though he was married at the time. Quite a feat, no? Is this why every man I fall for and chase is some kind of high achieving prick, instead of some kind of wonderful? Let's take a look at my scorecard:

*Lost my virginity to biggest coke dealer in town
*In college dated man-boy, who was published in The New Yorker by age 21
*Dated cyclist, who held time trial record for years until Lance finally broke it
*Dated many, many high-powered buttholes, including race car driver, journalist *and "playboy" executive, among others.

Is there hope to end the narcissist nature of my prowl and settle down with an average joe, who will worship the earth on which I work?

Signed,
Get your head out of the water and into me . . .

Dear Snorkeler,

I notice you mention only what these dudes do and not who they are (that was so intense for Chicken Butt). Maybe you *do* need an Eric Stoltz for your Mary Stuart Masterson self, but would you be attracted enough to create Some Kind of Wonderful? Chicken Butt has found that as she's gone through the barrage of roosters, her taste has changed. We're not saying these roosters smell any better, but generally they became nicer. The Blaines of Pretty in Pink (I'm sorry, he was a tool) became boring. When you're aware of your bad taste, you can change (Dr. Phil says this). It could take a week, months or decades. The moral of the story is: Never date a cyclist again--or ugly people.

CB

Confessions of Crazy Hen

2006-08-02T09:05:00.000-04:00

The Secrets of Life-long Celebrity-aholic

Today's Confession:

I saw the promos for the new Today Show with Meredith Viera. It looked so harmonious and exciting, I almost cried.

Confessions of Crazy Hen

2006-07-31T14:03:00.000-04:00

The Secrets of Life-long Celebrity-aholic

Today's Confession:

Crazy Hen might have spotted a commercial celebrity at the gym today. And she might have chosen to work out next to his elliptical machine--and stared. His speed was set at 85 (impressive) and he was watching the Maury Povich show.

Confessions of Crazy Hen

2006-07-26T19:50:00.000-04:00

The Secrets of Life-long Celebrity-aholic

Today's Confession:

I've used lines from Julia Roberts movies and Sex and the City episodes (not racy ones) with real boyfriends. And will continue to do so...

Ask Chicken Butt

2006-07-24T15:13:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I've been dating a guy, who is successful, fun and anorexic. I know what you're thinking, usually it's the girls who are sticking their fingers down their throats and tossing back gallons of laxatives, but not this time. We always have fun together, but I can't get serious with a guy who weighs less than me. Honestly, he is an x-ray. I don't want to hurt his feelings by telling him I'm just not attracted to him, but I can't keep stringing him along. Please help me figure out what to say to him.

Signed,

Healthy, but No Heifer

Dear Big-Bones,

You're in good company since we've all dated a Rik Ocasek or two. Plenty of men are starving themselves to lollipop size and have what's called on Will & Grace "Man-orexia." An example of man-skinny is Christian Bale's heroic weight loss for The Machinist.

Now, there's a bag 'o bones I can work with. Okay, not really (Gloria Steinem is his stepmother). I have no wisdom here except that if your man is that skinny, he might have deeper t-issues you don't need. In the meantime, life is like a box of chocolates (another example of admirable weight loss, Tom Hanks in Castaway), so go get yourself some--chocolate, I mean.

As far as what to say, just be honest and tell him that you're on too much psycho-tropic medication to deal with a normal-weighing man such as himself.

CB

Ask Chicken Butt

2006-07-21T18:23:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

I think I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from watching the Lady in the Water trailer. While Bryce Dallas Howard's spooky eyes taunt me, I'm more disturbed by the whisper-talking and the expectation of a shocking twist. And why do directors insist on appearing in their own movies (Woody Allen is excused)? Do directors really just want to be actors? I'm also afraid of M. Night's penchant for repetition writing a la Edward Burns. Okay, so I have trouble filling up those 100 pages on Final Draft, too. But whatever, I can't sleep at night and I'm hyper-vigilant when I walk from my home to the deli on the corner. When will this go away?

Lady Trapped in Her Apartment

Dear Shamalyan Shut-in,

Fear not, your pain will last only two weeks, which is how long the movie will stay in theaters. Let's hope that M. Night learns that his twists don't twist anymore. Maybe his next movie should be: Non-Freaky Lady Who Lives on Land. No Really. I may have caught some of your PTSD because I can't get "Cleveland, run!" out of my head. And every time someone asks me a question, I repeat the question and address the person by his full name in my response.

Go take a dip. The water is warm because someone just peed. There's your twist.
CB

Ask Chicken Butt

2006-07-17T14:06:00.000-04:00

Dear Chicken Butt,

Sometimes I think hiring a sixteen-year-old Swedish Houseboy would solve all my problems. He could run all my errands, do home improvement projects, dust--and, you know, satisfy the rest of my needs. I could dress him up and take him out when I need a date. I would have so much more free time, between not having to run errands, clean the pool or search for a man to complete me; I could finish my needlepoint or write haiku (like you). Is there anything wrong with a twenty-three- year age difference? Wouldn't I be doing a good thing, you know, helping a foreigner get a job and a visa, etc. And my house would be clean. Some friends in my circle think it is wrong and a plan destined to fail. I'm not ready to give up yet, as I see only benefits.

Signed,

Slå två flugor i en smäll (kill two birds with one stone)

Dear Felon,

By satisfying your needs, you mean...teaching you the secret formula for those juicy meatballs at Ikea, right? I see no problem with making your teenager work around the house and drive you to your functions. Kids nowadays can barely lift a paper clip without a dose of Ritalin. As for hormones, I would keep them to yourself, unlike Polanski and Mary-Kay LeTourneau (the former made the unfortunate The Ninth Gate and the latter found a twelve-year-old boy hot--though is an example of gorgeous forty-something-dom).

When your Swede is legal, do consider multiple roles. J. Lo did this with her first husband, Oeworwiue Wweoiruwoeui, a waiter--as did Matt Damon with that L. person. Can I list the number of songstresses who have married their managers? And as for age difference, the best example is Maxwell Caufield marrying the woman who plays the witch on the soap opera I sometimes watch right before Dr. Phil.
There is a seventy-year age difference between them and they seem to be a blissful couple.

Another recent age difference, isn't Christie Brinkley's soon-to-be ex dating his nineteen-year-old assistant? I think I need an assistant.

Best of luck
CB