Me and Ann
My best friend Ann is definitely a top notch comedian and, like most comedians of her caliber, is no stranger to controversy. I watch all of her performances on television, like any bestie would do and afterward I give her constructive feedback. Once after an appearance on Hannity and Colmes I called her to discuss her performance. “The whole bit was going great until you called single moms 'a recipe for criminals, strippers, rapists and murderers'. Was that the set-up or the punchline? I'm not saying it wasn't funny, but Jesus, Coulter, did you have to go THERE???” She just laughed it off, “You obviously don't understand comedy.” She's probably right. Even if she isn't, she still is. Most recently, she called the President a retard. Unfortunately, the joke went right over people's heads and she pissed off most of the country. But, like Ann said, “The mentally challenged community wouldn't understand the sarcasm or humor in my remark because, well, they're mentally challenged. Duh!!!” In an attempt to help the people who didn't get the joke the first time, she used the “R” word again in one of her tweets. Once a joke goes stale, I think it's best to just let it go. But like Ann says, she's the comedian, not me. Ann will piss on your couch and then shit in your bed just to reiterate her point. She did this in college once at a frat party and is obviously not afraid to do it again.
Ann and I have been besties forever. (I actually talked her out of going to get the perm that Sara Palin had talked her into). One thing I learned about Ann early on in our relationship is that she loves to cause a stir. She's a regular old Sid and Nancy, all rolled into one! Also, she loves to be naked. So I'm never shocked when she invites me over to sunbathe and drink pomtinis and answers the door wearing nothing more than her Banana Boat tanning oil. The first time this happened I told Ann that she looked like a greasy chopstick. Comedians are known to be quick witted, and Ann is no exception. She immediately fired back at me, “And you look like a fucking terrorist. Take off that head wrap, camel jockey!” And with that, she tore off my Dior head scarf and ripped it in half. She replaced it with a large wooden salad bowl and renamed me Hop Sing. When we got out to the pool, Ann laid down on a chaise lounge across from me, practically spread eagle so that she could tan her inner thighs. I had seen Ann naked many times before, but never this up close and personal. I was shocked at her anatomy. And by anatomy, I mean her vagina. Ann's vagina was a total mess. I always thought vaginoplasty was for people with Body Dysmorphic Disorder or super shallow people, but I know better now. Ann's “nunu” looked like a dried up clump of playdough that had been pounded, mashed, and reshaped by a baboon. I knew this was a sensitive matter, so I needed to approach it with the utmost diplomacy. I couldn't just scream at her and demand that she tell me how she had missed this abomination. I had to be delicate and tactful. “I'm bored, Ann. Wanna go get a vaginoplasty?” I must have struck one of Ann's many nerves because she jumped on top of me and straddled me, knocking the salad bowl right off my head. It freaked me out being so close to that thing and I started crying. “It's scaring me, Ann. Get it away from me!” She just laughed and smacked me in the face. “Oh, you likey make bad words to Ann? No, no Hop Sing, you no talkie bad no more!”
As gross as Ann's vagina is, it is actually the least of her problems. Whenever she's not pissing off her fellow conservatives, she's stirring up shit with democrats and liberals (perfect example of the previous couch and bed analogy). Ann is always bewildered by the backlash her jokes receive. She doesn't understand how people can misinterpret her racial slurs and name calling as anything but well intended sarcasm. Not many people know this, but Ann used to practice stand up comedy for me. The only criticism I had was that she needed to incorporate some punchlines into her jokes. Other than that, she was a natural. She used to spend hours tediously studying footage of her favorite comedians – Steve-O, Carrot Top and Sara Palin. Unfortunately, she never felt confident enough to take it to the next level, so she decided to incorporate comedy into her political commentaries instead. She may very well be, next to Snooki, the most misunderstood comedian alive today. So it really pisses her off when, instead of getting the laugh she was going for, she receives an overwhelming backlash of public criticism and negative media coverage. Luckily for her fans, Ann refuses to give up on her comedy. She says her relentless passion for comedy is both a gift and a curse. The media constantly attacks Ann's passion for her craft. They cry racism, sexism, antisemitism or just overall bigotry. Fortunately, Ann is immune to other people's opinions. “Whaddya expect?” she says. “The media is controlled by the Jews and faggots. Ha! I should totally write that one down!” she snorts as she spit shines one of her rifles and rocks out to Dave Matthews. And that's what most people don't see about Ann – her playful side.
Besides being passionate to a fault, Ann is also a brilliant strategist. In 2012, she became the oldest Angry Birds prodigy. Her highest overall score stands at nearly 41 million. Just on the Low-Down Bomber episode alone, she scored 64,000! Last year she openly shared her strategy with less competent Angry Birders at the BirdCon gaming convention in New Jersey. “The whole game is an obvious indictment of the United States. The pigs represent the dictators, communists and Muslims of the world. Why do you think 'We the people', or should I say 'We the birds', are so angry? The pigs are not just trying to abscond with our freedoms but also trying to thwart the spread of Democracy and Christianity. So I don't think it should come as a surprise to anyone why I'm so damned good at the game. If you just picture the pigs in turbans, trust me, your high score will take care of itself.”
As with most self appointed geniuses, Ann is constantly surrounded by a sea of controversy and criticism - not just in her career, but her life in general. Once, she got pissed off at her friend, Bill Maher, after he borrowed one of her Dave Matthew CD's and forgot to return it. She broke into his house while he was out of town and trashed the place. A few days later, Ann found the CD in one of her gun safes. She tried to leave Bill a message to apologize for the misunderstanding, but could barely stop laughing long enough to talk. It was months before he accepted her apology and that really hurt her. She had already purchased their tickets and face paint for the annual “Juggalo Woodstock” music festival. She left Bill dozens of messages, serenading him with Insane Clown Posse songs, but he refused to return her calls.
Even her love life is controversial. One time she insisted that I sew her hymen back together so that she could convince a boyfriend that she was still a virgin. Based on what I had already seen of Ann's “anatomy”, I insisted on wearing a blindfold. We had Sara Palin on speakerphone to talk us through the procedure, as she had performed it on her daughter shortly before the 2008 primaries. The fact that I'm not a doctor and can barely sew a button on a shirt is cause for enough controversy, I suppose, but Ann would throw a Muslim puppy under a bus without batting an eye.
The day Ann told me that she was dating a Democrat I was speechless. As a devout christian, Ann hates lots of people, but she especially hates Democrats. She says that if God had given them and the liberals their own planet, he never would have had to send Jesus here in the first place. She never referred to him by name, only as the “Demoncrat”. “How is that relationship ever gonna work?” I asked her one day while we were bubble bathing. She ripped off her snorkel and glared at me, “As soon as he realizes what a fucking idiot he and all of his retard friends are, it'll be just fine.” Then she grabbed a fist full of bubbles and smashed them on my forehead. “The “Demoncrat” is having a dinner party tonight and I'm not invited. Do you think he's cheating on me?” Before I could answer, she grabbed a towel and draped it over her head. “Guess who's gonna declare jihad on the dinner party tonight?” She winked at me and started laughing so hard she sucked some bubbles up her nose and started choking. I'm not going to pretend to understand Ann's sense of humor, but I never understood Gallagher either.
Ann had every right to be hurt and I understood that. What I didn't understand is why she made me wear a Ronald Reagan mask when I drove her to the dinner party, or why she was only wearing the towel over her head. When we arrived, we found the “Demoncrat” having dinner with Daniel Radcliffe and Michael J. Fox. Ann grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and threw it at Daniel. “I wish Voldemort had killed you in the first movie, you little bastard!” Then she turned her attention to Michael, “Oh my God! Stop shaking, you little pussy! I'm just joking!” She grabbed a knife off of the table and held it to the “Demoncrat's” throat. “Don't forget about our date this Saturday, faggot!” she whispered into his face, then kissed him on the cheek and stormed out. On the ride home, Ann started sobbing. She realized that she had forgotten to throw in an illegal immigrant joke and was humiliated. “Next time, Ann. You'll remember next time,” I assured her.
Ann was not herself for several weeks after that. She moped around her house a lot and feverishly worked on a paint-by-number of Rush Limbaugh. I had never seen her like this before. Usually when Ann painted, she wore nothing. Now, she was wearing a sombrero and a fake mustache. “Ann, you need to get out of this funk. Get out there and throw some gasoline on a fire or something, girl!” She just kept painting and whistling the Angry Birds theme song. “Forget about him, Ann. In the long run, he only would've hurt your reputation.” She stopped working on one of Rush's jowls, tilted the sombrero back and stared blankly into my eyes. “Senorita Ann ees OK. She gonna be jeest fine, Mama.” I left that night wondering if Ann really would be OK. That's the thing with comedians and artists - they're extremely sensitive. And since Ann is both, I guess she is extra sensitive.
Eventually, Ann got over the “Demoncrat” and threw herself back into her comedy. She started working on a funny little musical about the Craigslist killer. As dance choreographer of Victim Shmictim, I can assure you that it's gonna be a box office hit! It was great to have the old Ann back. She even managed to get noticed by the Anti-Defamation League and American Jewish Committee all in one interview, and basked in the small, but decisive victory. “Most comedians are controversial, so I guess I made it after all. Right?” I gave her a reassuring smile. “You sure did, Ann. You totally made it. Move over Carrot Top, here comes Annie Bananie!” She laughed uncontrollably as she turned off the bedside lamp and kissed me goodnight.
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