In Defense of CJ Fam

If I'm not mistaken, Rebecca Black's viral star has officially become a supernova, right? I mean, she hasn't been a trending topic on Twitter for days now and even worse, I'm writing about her, so she must have as much street cred as a six pack of Coke Blak wrapped in an Ed Hardy shirt. For those of you who have no clue who Rebecca Black is: congratulations. You probably have intercourse on a regular basis. What's that like? But for the sake of us all being on the same page, here's a quick rundown:

So there's this production company in LA called Ark Music Factory. Ark is essentially a Barbizon modeling school for tween girls who want to be pop stars but don't have a lick of talent, bless their prepubescent hearts. To compensate, their parents give Ark $2,000 and Ark whips up a song for them in about five minutes while on the terlet, pops them in front of a green screen, Auto-Tunes the shit out of it until they sound like Stephen Hawking delivering a lecture on the nature of space and time at Cornell and puts the entire thing on YouTube so Baby Girl can go to science class the next day and be like, "SEE?? I told you I had a single, Stephanie." Pretty ingenious, right? Right. OK, so Rebecca Black made one of these videos to a song called "Friday" and the Internet shat itself because it was so bad. Like if we're subscribing to Andy Warhol's whole "Don't pay attention to what they write about you, just measure it in inches" theory, we'd have to measure Rebecca Black in miles. "Friday" was uploaded to YouTube a little over two weeks ago and as right now it has over 62 million hits. She's kicked Justin Bieber's ass on all sorts of charts and consistently trended higher on Twitter than the disaster in Japan. Shit. Be. Ridiculous.

But now everyone's kind of over it and we're all moving on and getting our lives back and one day soon we'll realize it's Friday and think, "Oh, half-price apps ends at 7:30; we should probably hustle," instead of, "FRY-EEE-DAYEE! FRY-EEE-DAYEE! GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRY-EEE-DAYEE!" And it will be good.

So now that we're all on the same page, here's the thing: I don't understand why Rebecca Black was Ark Music's viral meme. Don't get me wrong, Ark Music Factory: LOL. I'm not trying to make this a morality contest; 12-year-old girls paying to make fools out of themselves on the Internet is and always will be funny. But out of all of the stars in the Ark galaxy, Rebecca Black?? I mean, yeah, she kind of sounds like a Canadian robot which is weird because she's an American human and sure, her song gives a whole new meaning to the term "simple", but 62 million?! I think the entire world needs to go back to eyeball school and meet CJ Fam:

Now that is what I call a meme. That deserves 62 million hits. That deserves 137,000 "likes" and over a million "dislikes". That could make The Land of the Rising Sun.......................nope. Executive decision—still too soon. Let's move on. Andrew of the Great Juno Debate sat me down a few weeks ago and told me to watch "Friday" because it's his unofficial job to keep me up on the kids and their haps, and afterwards we explored Ark's other videos and discovered my beloved CJ Fam. I was like, "Oh, well obviously other people will look at Ark's other videos, find CJ fam, The Blogs will pick up on it and BOOM, she'll be the new Rebecca Black. Case closed." But (to my knowledge) it never happened. "Ordinary Pop Star" has over 770,00 hits, but that's just a fraction of Rebecca Black's success and Ark's 15 minutes are quickly running out. And I just don't get it. What happened, world? Why aren't we seeing eye to eye on this one? Why didn't you bust a proverbial nut over CJ Fam like I did? I liked the Keyboard Cat. I Numa-Numa-ed with the best of them. But Rebecca Black > CJ Fam? I thought I knew you... 

10 Reasons Why CJ Fam is more meme-worthy than Rebecca Black:

#10: Rebecca Black seems to be in on the joke; CJ Fam does not
Every interview I've seen of Rebecca Black (which admittedly is one) has given me the impression that she's...well...nice. She just seems like a nice girl who accidentally got über YouTube famous and is aware that any second now the clock could strike midnight and she'll be just another pumpkin at the El Rancho Charter School eighth grade sock hop. She knows she's famous for singing a horrible song and is like, "Yeah, that's fair. I'm not the worst, but I'm not the best. This has been fun though," whereas the majority of people in her shoes would take the, "Y'ALL JUST JEALOUS!!! Y'ALL JUST JEALOUS!!!" route. No matter how shitty her singing is, you kind of have to respect that. And can you really respect a meme?

Also, while you get the impression that Rebecca Black "signed" with Ark to have the best 13th birthday ever, CJ Fam's Ark profile makes it embarrassingly apparent that she's using this as an actual avenue to become a recording artist. And that, like some of the best Shakespearean theater, is both tragic and hilarious. CJ Fam is the personification of Cymbeline. She is Fletcher's The Faithful Shepherdess but less Jacobean and more...rooted...to the ground. By sturdy legs.

#9: Fam's "Ordinary Pop Star" is exponentially more nonsensical than Black's "Friday"
Look, "Friday" is about as creative as a cat licking it's own ass, I'll give you that, but lyrically it makes sense. The days of the week go: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Valid. When getting into an automobile, you typically have a choice of sitting in the front seat or the back seat. I've been there. Everybody has their own concept of what's "fun" and knows what it is. ("Night Court" marathon and a TIG 'OLE spliff.) "Friday" is laughably stupid and I don't remember a time in my life when it wasn't stuck in my head, but hey, that's pop-music. "Ordinary Pop Star", however, empirically doesn't make sense and people who unapologetically dump dumb shit onto the culture landscape deserve our mockery, not nice girls from Anaheim who can't decide if they want to ride shotgun.

Lyrics: "I want to be an ordinary pop star. I want to be like those normal girls. I want to live a regular life again, like going to school and having good friends. You know, you know what I mean?"

Yes. Yes, I do. You want to be an ordinary girl. What you just described is the life of an ordinary girl. An ordinary pop star is a contradiction, because pop stars, by the very nature of pop stardom, are not ordinary people. They are extraordinary. The entire point of the song makes zero sense. It's like saying you want to be a Zionist anti-Semite. Or a carnivorous vegan. It just doesn't make sense, and nobody stopped to tell you that because your parents paid them $2,000 to shut their mouths and go with God. And even if you accept that there is such a thing as an ordinary pop star, they certainly don't go to school or have good friends. They're taught by tutors on a Disney lot and their best friend is a toss-up between a 45-year-old William Morris agent or that guy from craft services who just gets you. That is an ordinary pop star. P-P-P-Pop star.

#8: You went to school with a CJ Fam
We all did. Lord knows I went to school with more than a few. They're big fish in small ponds. They take voice lessons from some broad in a basement between bible study sessions and lord it over the rest of the Fall musical cast that they're classically trained. They don't go to college because they're going to "move to New York and dive right into auditions," but end up working at Hair Cuttery and teaching Tap I to a whole new generation of CJ Fams. All they talk about in school is how they just recorded a demo and Tommy Mattolla heard it and thinks they're going to be the next Britney Spears and it's like, really? You're wearing Keds and we're both struggling to light the same Bunsen burner. Something tells me Tommy Mattolla doesn't know you from a waxed asshole. They're never good people. They're phonies, pure and simple, and phonies deserve 62 million people reminding them of that.

#7: Because both sketchy Ark producers are in her video, erotically nodding


Does that not make you want to put on another layer? A modest Zbornakian cowel neck sweater perhaps? And the best part is that the guy on the right, Ark CEO Patrice Wilson, serves double duty in this video as CJ Fam's producer and chauffeur:

So let me get this straight, Ark: you could find 35 kids to cross their eyes, pretend they're meeting Miley Cyrus and herniate a disc, but you couldn't find AN other man to play the chauffeur? Not her dad? A janitor? Anything? For $2,000, I'd expend a higher level of attention to details, sirs.

#6: Because Fam's video has a glorious fake TMZ montage



My favorite is the ever-so-slightly Lohan/Ronsen-esque one:

I fully expected the next one to be, CJ FAM DYKES OUT WITH TILA TEQUILA AT SKY BAR!!!! And you know what? I think I was understandably disappointed when it wasn't.

#5: Because this is her headshot:



#4: And this photo exists. Period.

I know this is hypocritical because I've certainly shared more of my life online than the average Jane, but I shudder at the thought of my children ever using the Internet. Why? Because one minute they're researching Kubla Khan for a history project and the next they're ambiguously nude on a floral bedspread that says "I HEART U" in rose petals and it's being downloaded by every inmate in Seven Locks. (Fun fact: Did you know that Seven Locks is a correctional facility in Rockville, Maryland? Did you know that it's also the name of my friend Pete's band? It totally is! So you should check 'em out. Once time Pete's girlfriend, Katie, and I were flying back to DC from Miami and she waited in line with me for a really long time at 7 o'clock in the morning to yell at American Airlines for losing my ticket, and when I finally got up to the counter, it was politely pointed out that I was on a United flight. HA HA HA! Ohhhh...we laughed and laughed and then one of us cried. This message brought to you by: friendship.)

#3: Because she's from Ft. Lauderdale
And nothing—and I mean nothing—is as funny to me as the concept of being from Ft. Lauderdale. (Maybe Tampa.) 

#2: Because when she performs she wears a headset and movement clothes:

But when she's off-stage, she just another girl on a Razor scooter in knockoff Garanimals:
 

#1: Because the world needs a chubby Jewish pop star
I understand that the overall tone of this blog post is slightly cruel, but I mean that honestly. I was a chubby Jewish 12-year-old girl once myself who had no idea how to polish that turd and OOF—shit was rough. Thankfully one day I was like, "Threading. Flat iron. Bathing. WORD," but it would have been nice to have an equally awkward-looking tween idol to look up to in the interim. Rebecca Black might be a shitty singer who got famous from an even shittier song, but Ryan Seacrest has hooked her up with a non-cat-fashion-show music contract and I can't help but think that could have been Fam. My sweet, sweet Fam. But maybe it's not too late...?

TEAM FAM FAM-TASTIC 4 LYFE!!!!!1

God I hate my life

To: Dad
From: Meg
Subject: So take that

Guess what I'm wearing as I type this? Yep. Pleather bomber jacket. Can't tear ME down.

To: Meg
From: Dad
Subject: Re: So take that

I didn’t raise a little girl in the DC suburbs to wear … pleather!?!?! I don’t even know what pleather is, but it sounds like something worn in “stag movies” in the 40’s in place of sensible undergarments. I think I’m going to have to wash my computer screen as a result of even typing the word. I will no longer type the word.

Of course, I also didn’t raise my little girl to assume that I would buy her an actual leather jacket. There are limits. However, I might buy Evie a leather jacket. She would kind of have a Michelle Pfeiffer vibe from Grease 2. Only Evie can dance.

Finally, I’m assuming that you must be out, since sitting in your apartment wearing (you know what) seems just a little … weird. Unless of course you’re reading something by Tom Robbins, which, come to think of it, would also be weird. No, anything connected with (you know what) is just weird and I’m not going to talk about this anymore.

Love,
DAD

To: Dad
From: Meg
Subject: Re: Re: So take that

Well, truthfully I am just sitting around in "It". I mean, I'll eventually go somewhere, but, you know, it gets drafty in here. And I'm reading a biography of Unity Mitford, not anything by Tom Robbins, thank you.

To: Dad
From: Meg
Subect: Re: Re: Re: So take that

Actually, I immediately regret admitting that I'm sitting around my apartment at 11:15 in the morning wearing imitation leather and reading the biography of a BIG 'OLE Nazi. I guess that doesn't paint a very flattering picture of me.

To: Meg
From: Dad
Subect: Re: Re: Re: Re: So take that

Painting a flattering picture of yourself? We're long past worrying about that. Your mother and I just tell people that you're "literary". We tell them there's a whole "scene".

Love,
DAD

Well, fuck. Oh and nothing in the entire world would shock me less than if my parents actually bought that cat a leather jacket. And not like an ironic cat-sized one either—like a nice, Meg-sized Michael Kors bomber jacket with a rib-knit hem and exposed zippers to wipe her paws with when she's done in the commode and plush lining to curl up on when she's listening to my dad read aloud from historical biographies in their precious little Panamanian Relaxation Room.

...Slash, people don't bring up Grease 2 enough in day-to-day life. I could do with a little more of that.

I'm choking on that doja sweet and sipping on that sizzurp

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Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Meghan McBlogger...

An email I recieved a few weeks ago: 

Hey Meg: 

Fellow blogger and big fan here. 

A little background. My blog is http://payattentionto.blogspot.com and has been growing a lot lately - people go crazy for the Jersey Shore and Real Housewives entries to name a couple (no big) (ok, ok, big). P.S., I link out to you as a Favorite - mwah. 

Anhyoozles, I got to thinking that the time you did a Q&A post was hilarious. Thought it would be fun to send you some Q's for you to consider answering for a future post on your blog. Would also be honored if I could include it a duplicate on mine - but totally fine if you'd prefer not to. Self-promotion is not the underlying intent. Swears. You don't even have to mention a name at all if that's better for you.

Oh man. I know it's completley self-indulgent to want to answer these questions, but frankly, my brain still hurts from so selflessly fighting to find the cause a possible cause of Landing Boner, so I think I deserve this little cerebral break. Right? Right. Take it away, Fellow Blogger. 

Q: What's it like now that your sister is married? Any awkward moments?

A: To be 100% honest with you, my sister's marriage hasn't affected my life in the slightest. IS IT SUPPOSED TO?! I mean, she wasn't at Christmas dinner this year because she was away on her honeymoon, so I guess that was weird. But then again it wasn't, because Andrew of the Great Juno Debate came as her proxy. I made him strap on a brown wig and roughhouse with me on the carpet for a while, so it was kind of like she was there. Andrew really was a good sport about the whole thing. Some say he got too into it, some say not enough. Only time will tell. 

And as far as awkward moments go, I think the most awkward thing that ever happened between me and Geoff actually happened last Fall when he and Becca were still engaged. Helena, Laura, and I were about to leave for our big camping excursion, but I needed to swing by the bar Geoff manages part-time to get the key to his truck first. Geoff is like this all-American, cornhusking, sturdy, frat boy. He calls waiters "Boss" and ladies "babe" or "beh-beh". God only knows what motivated me to do this, but as I took the keys from him and prepared to say goodbye, I decided that that would be the perfect time to jump on his terms of endearment bandwagon and call him "babe". Again, I don't really know what I was thinking. Sometimes I'm afraid I come off as uppity and stand-offish to him, so I think I was trying to be like, "SEE?! SEE?! I CAN BE FUN AND LAID BACK TOO, BABE!" So I tried to say, "Thanks for the keys, babe! Have a good night!" but it came out, "Thanks for the keys, baby! Have a good night!" That may not sound like a big deal, but I was M-M-M-MORTIFIED. I ran back to my car and immediatley called Becca all, "I DON'T KNOW IF GEOFF HAS CALLED TO TELL YOU YET BUT I TRIED TO CALL HIM 'BABE' AND IT ACCIDENTALLY CAME OUT 'BABY' WITH A HARD 'Y' AND I WASN'T TRYING TO HIT ON HIM AND I DON'T THINK OF HIM LIKE THAT AND I'M REALLY SORRY!!!1" She was like "Yyyyyeah...I don't think he noticed. Or cared. At all. Calm down over there." So then not only was it embarrassing because it was just embarrassing, it was embarrassing because I made this huge deal out of it. Ugh. I don't know. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Also, when our families get together, I somehow always end up drunk in a corner harrassing Geoff's dad to talk to me about the Marines because I'm fascinated by the armed services. Not enough to join, mind you. Just enough to harass a retired military officer over cocktails to take me out to Quantico to see if I could survive the Quigley. He always says no, but once he did offer to make a giant mud pit for me in his backyard and watch me flounder around in it for a while. And I am UP for that, sir! Semper fi! In my mind, Geoff's dad and I are best friends. According to Becca, every time she sees him he asks how her "worthless sister" is doing, and the meaner he is to you, the more he likes you. SO HAY BIFFLES!

Q: What are you doing right now? Don't lie. Go.

A: At the moment it's 1:41 in the morning, I'm wearing madras booty shorts and a wife beater, and I'm laying across my bed and answering your questions in one tab and watching the PBS special The Marines in another. And that is honestly what I'm doing right now. Pretty par for the course, really.

Q: If I can speak for all of your fans, and I think I will, we LOVE your dad. He sounds like the perfect, Tommy Bahama wearing, supportive, corny joke-telling dude. What was he like when he was younger? He's gotta have some hippy stories no?

A: Thank Christ my dad doesn't read this blog. Not because I talk about my porn preferences, not because I talk about my sex life, or alcohol/drug use, or how hardcore I cheated in high school, but because I think he would hurl himself directly out of his office window if he knew that my fans picture him in a Tommy Bahama shirt. My dad is the most well-dressed gentleman I know. I mean, he's the kind of person who dresses up to fly. After he got his posh new Italian suit for my sister's wedding, he circulated an email around the family just to preemptivley make us all aware of how good he looked in it. I met him at the metro a few days ago in a bomber jacket that I had just bought at Target, and after I hugged him hello, he literally recoiled and said "Is that pleather??" It's obnoxious.

My dad has gone through quite an interesting metamorphosis throughout his life. Rumor has it he was a bit of a hellraiser in his youth. He got arrested a few times and kicked out of not one, but two colleges; the second for telling the Dean to go fuck himself. He ended up at NYU's film school and spent the better part of the late sixties in Washington Square Park, so yes, I'd say he's got some pretty good hippie stories. I'm not even going to try to tell them though because I could never do them justice. In high school, my friends used to come over for dinner all the time just to hear them and ask my dad all sorts of questions about his shenanigan-filled youth. (This is my life—my parents and hairpeice are more popular than I am.) 

Just to give you an idea, there was the time my dad went to a Black Panther party in the Bronx, looked around the room and said, "Man! So not all of you guys can dance!" before he even realized what was coming out of his mouth. There was the time he found himself in a bar fight (unrelated to the Black Panther incident) (shockingly) and picked up a beer bottle by the neck to smash over the bar and use as a weapon. Not realizing that the beer was full, he raised the bottle over his head and ended up pouring it directly down his sleeve, thereby ending the fight due to LOLZ. There was the time he was a high school bus driver. There was the time he managed a leisure suit store. There was the time he worked for SNL. There was the time he almost ran over Gene Wilder. And just recently my dad's oldest friend, John, informed me that when they were in college—my dad at NYU and John at Pratt—they got a job writing erotica together for extra cash but got fired because their pieces were always too plot-driven. I mean, my stories are like, "HAR HAR, I WENT TO REN FEST TODAY AND SOMEONE CALLED ALEX GAY. I SHOULD WRITE A BOOK." Please. I think I'm funny and well-dressed until I look at my dad and realize I'm just Dave Coullier in a pleated skort.

Sidenote: Speaking of how my dad is a hero of mine and all that mushy jazz, one day in college I thought it would be really clever to change the "About Me" section of my LiveJournal profile to the video for the Simian Mobile Disco song "Hustler". (Lyrics: "I'm a hustler baby, that's what my daddy made me.") A few days after I put it up, it sunk in that while the lyrics might be applicable, the video is just a bunch of hipster girls playing a game of telephone that slowly morphs into a softcore lesbian orgy.

So basically, I had just changed my profile to:

About Me:

I AM A GAY DISCO EXPLOSION!!!!!!!!!!!! 

That was a humbling moment.

Q: I tried watching Soap and I wasn't really into it. What do you have to say about that?

A: I respect that. I don't like "Glee" and get a bunch of a shit for it, so you do you and I'll do me.

Q: OK, now that you're done going off on me, you should know that I like Benson - does that count?

A: If you like Benson, give Florida from "Maude" a try. As far as stereotypically sassy black housekeepers go, she's the tits.

Q: What shows have you been watching on Hulu lately?

A: I actually don't watch a ton of Hulu. I watched it a lot when I was a receptionist because I was just sitting in front of a computer all day with eight hours to kill and no Netflix, but (thank God) things are different now. That being said, my Saturday ritual is waking up and watching that week's "Parks & Rec", "30 Rock", and last week's "Simpsons". With my incredibly attractive boyfriend. While we spoon. And he does the Times crossword puzzle. And tells me how great I am. And then we have The Sex.

Q: We want to know more about your hair... haven't heard much about it lately. Are you still dying it? What color these days? Do you still have the weave thingy? What's your hair regimen?

A: First of all, I never had a weave, thank you. I had a Jessica Simpson/Ken Paves HairDo piece. Second of all, she had a name: Weekend Hair. And I'd appreciate it if you would use it. 

My beloved Weekend Hair died in 2008 and has since gone to the big frat party in the sky. These days I'm all natural. My hair is dark brown, long-ish, with sideswept bangs...it's not terribly interesting. And as far as my hair regimen goes, that's even more uninteresting. I was telling Tulane Chris about it last weekend and stopped mid-sentence because I realized it was the most boring conversation I'd ever been in, which is saying something because it was about me and I was the only person talking. It's so much sexier when Christian Bale does it in American Psycho...

[Ugh, embedding disabled by request. You're breakin' my balls here, Lions Gate.]

But out of respect to you, here it is:

I have naturally curly hair, so the entire purpose of my hair regime is to beat it into straight submission. I wash my hair with Philosophy's Purity shampoo because my mom bought it for me, and I condition with off-brand Pantene Pro-V conditioner because I bought it for me. Before I blow dry, I use Garnier Full Control Mousse and a few spritzes of Frizz brand Styling Spray. Then I blow dry, pin that shit back while I do my make up, straighten with a T3 flat iron, and finish with a little shaping creme to tame the flyaways. It's pretty sexy, I guess. I know I'm not not wet...

Q: Are you a fashionista or more of a "dress for comfort" sensible shoes type gal? (Yes I really just said gal)

A: I'm hesitant to say I'm a "fashionista" because I feel like girls who self-identify as "fashionistas" are the same girls who order cosmos at sports bars and say things like, "When people call me a bitch, I say thank you." But I'm defiantly not a sensible shoes kind of gal. (Although I do have a pair of fur-lined urban mocosins that I wear in public more than I should because they're obscenely comfortable.) I'd like to think I'm stylish. I like clothes, I like dressing up, I like putting together outfits. I don't know. I feel like there's not a way to talk about this without sounding like a giant asshole. Let's talk about my hair again.

Q: If Larry Hagman called you right now, what would you say to him?

A: That's such an impossible question to answer. My friend Caroline has this story about how she was at her mom's candle store in Georgetown Park Mall one day when she was eight or so, and Bill Clinton, who was the President at the time, came to the mall to Christmas shop and meet people. Although unimpressed, she went and stood in line to meet him. When it was her turn to shake his hand, she froze, and the only thing she could think to say to him was, "..................GOD BLESS YOU, SIR" with these wide eyes. I feel like that's what would happen if Larry Hagman called me. I'd just burst into tears and talk about Jesus for a while.

Q: What's your #1, 2, and 3 favorite food? And don't say gummy fangs. Real food.

A: Oh God. Ummmmm...hmm. Well, I have this really weird neurosis where I don't like to eat food that's wrapped in other food, so my entire life I pooh-poohed the idea of a Chipotle burrito. But then once day I had a burrito bowl and it was like I had tasted God's tears. Serioiusly, it changed my life. I'm also a huge fan of Belgian food: waffles, steak, mussels, fries, cold beer...it doen't really get much better than that. (Shout-out to Bistro du Coin and Belga Café. Moules and frites, baby. Moules and frites.) And pad thai is another go-to food staple of mine. When I lived in Brooklyn, my apartment was over a thai food restaraunt called Thai Tony's and that, plus DiGiorno pizzas from the gas station across the street, is pretty much all I ate. But at least I made a friend out of old Thai Tony. He was fine with me meandering in two glasses of Pinot deep in my pajamas on various weekday nights and being like, "SIR ANTHONY—PAD SEE EW ME!" Ex Co-Blogger Chris and I still email each other frequently to reminisce about Thai Tony and whether or not he's also looking up at the moon and if somehow, in that moment, we're all connected...?

Q: Did you get an advance for your book? AKA did you pay the %&$* cable bill yet???

A: Yes I did. And then I split that advance with Tulane Chris. And then I split what was leftover with Comcast. And then I blew a guy for $30 and fell into a K-hole.

Q: Are you really still looking for a job? Or freelancing? Or focusing solely on writing?

A: I'm not answering that question based on my suspicion it was ghostwritten by my mother. I'm still single and have been going to the gym lately, if those are your next two questions.

Q: Do you have a drop date for your book yet (yes I said it like that on purpose - makes it sound more rap album-y dontcha think)? Have you shot the cover art yet?

A: Our book drops September 18th and I haven't seen the final cover yet. I need to figure out if it's better for you guys to pre-order it, or wait until the first week it comes out. So. Note to self.

Q: Have you talked to Eddie lately? What's she up to?

A: Yep! We just had dinner when I was up in Philly the other weekend. Eddie got her MSW last May from Penn and now she works in Philly as a federal sex educator. I know that sounds like the plot line to a movie that heavily involves a ruler in a non-measuring or making straight lines context, but basically the great state of Pennsylvania pays Eddie to go around to different schools and teach Philadelphia's youth about important things like why you should always wear a condom and how fingerbanging should be a track meet, not a marathon. She also does a lot of volunteer work counseling LGTBQXYZ%^4 at-risk youth. The stories she tells about it really stress me out and confirm that it's a good thing I just sit in my apartment writing fart jokes all day and don't interact with children. Or people in general, really.

Have a good one.

Thanks for being interested!

Now, enough about me; what do you think of me?