If only Tyler were here

I recently stumbled upon what I hoped was an interesting new site. While purusing a link about P!nk's newest nipple piercing (I'm interested, alright!) I was led to a tantalizing new blog titled, "What would Tyler Durden do?"

Well, first he'd kick the shit out of the guy who set up this stupid fucking Website.

The whole site is comments on celebrity faux pas and mishaps. Anyone who has read or watched Fight Club knows that the first rule of Fight Club is don't talk about Fight Club. But secondly, everything about that book/movie is a rebellion against all things status .. which is everything celebrities tend to represent. For example, today's entry is about Paris Hilton. Who gives a crap!? Not Tyler Durden, I promise you that.

Speaking of Fight Club, on Monday my friend Kris and I are going to book reading by the author of Fight Club, Chuck Palahaniuk (pronounced colonic).

I've been reading his new book, Haunted, over the past few days. This guy is a total nutjob, but a damn fine entertainer.

Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It's the kind of horse-pill vitamin my dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omega-3 fatty acids. It's seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life. It's not a snake. It's my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call "prolapsed." It's my guts sucked into the drain.

After I read that little tidbit, I e-mailed my friend Kris to tell her that this guy is a) a nutjob and b) somebody that sick has to be good in bed.

She replied with, "Hello, yeah!"

I have the best friends.