By The Sports Gal
Page 2

Editor's Note: Before the 2006 season, Bill Simmons wondered if there was any rhyme or reason to picking football games and raised the question, "could I pick football games better than someone who didn't know anything?" So he asked his wife (the Sports Gal) to pick games as well, just to see who would finish with a better record. She agreed, but only if he would give her space in each column to rant about any subject of her choice. Here are her rants from the 2006 season.

There's a new commercial where Lindsay Lohan claims that she uses Proactiv a few times a week for healthy skin. This made me laugh because she lives at the Chateau Marmont and probably gets a facial and massage every other day. Also, this girl can't even show up on a movie set on time, now I'm supposed to believe she remembers to take her Proactiv every day? I don't think anyone who's famous or wealthy should be able to go on TV and endorse skin products unless they divulge the other "keys" to their beauty routine, like acne extractions every week, microderm abrasion two times a month, two facials a week and La Mer moisturizing products at $200 a pop. These celebrities spend at least $2,000 a month keeping their skin "healthy." In Lindsay's case, she's a chain-smoking, club-hopping tramp who spends her spare time getting tanning sessions, shopping and forgetting to eat. She's going to look like a leather purse in 25 years no matter how much Proactiv she takes. She should have to mention that too. I hate that commercial.

Last Saturday afternoon I took our daughter to La Cienega Park in Beverly Hills. There was a kid's soccer game going on and I noticed a big circle of paparazzi crunching around two people. So we moved towards them and it was Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes! The first thing I noticed was that they were the same height -- he must have been wearing lifts and either she was wearing flats or he had her ankles removed. No way they're the same height. His hips were five inches higher than her hips. But I ended up feeling really bad for them. The photographers were literally two feet from their face and moving as they moved. They just wanted to watch his kid's soccer game.

Then I was thinking about Katie and what her life is like -- she just lost the baby weight and probably still feels fat all the time, but every time she leaves her house, she has to look good enough to be photographed from two feet away. This would drive me nuts and now I understand why most female celebrities end up being nuts. No wonder Kate Bosworth hasn't eaten since 2003. I also felt bad for the other kids in the game. They're just trying to play soccer and then 40,000 photographers show up. That's not fair. All the celeb kids should be forced to play in celeb youth leagues so normal kids can play soccer in peace. Celeb kids are just going to be screwed-up adults some day, it's not like they have a chance. Normal kids do.

Anyway, I felt bad for Tom and Katie for two days until Bill showed me how they were sitting in the front row of the Redskins game and obviously hoping to get shown on TV over and over again. Now I'm wondering if they alerted the paparazzi ahead of time about the soccer game. They probably did. I hate Hollywood. We need to get out of here.

US Weekly has a feature called "Who Wore it Best?" where 100 people in NYC choose between side-by-side photos of two celebs wearing the same outfits, then the results run in the magazine. I hate this feature because the judges have no credentials and could be homeless or Russian for all we know. Bill loves it because he said they used the same process in "Card Sharks." But I think US Weekly is already responsible for enough eating disorders. Now female celebs have to feel bad because they didn't wear an outfit as well as someone who had better posture or bigger breasts? Last week Ashlee Simpson (who's really pretty I think) lost by a 2-to-1 margin to Heidi from the Hills (who's an airhead and a skeleton). Like Ashlee needed to feel worse about herself. It's bad enough to be caught wearing the same clothes as a bimbo with no work ethic, they didn't need to rub it in.

US is so desperate for vote-offs, they don't care if the outfits are the same anymore. Last week Meadow Soprano had a red dress with an empire waist and went against the girl from "Crash," who had a shorter cream dress with a different waist. I think that's cheating. Instead of forcing vote-offs, why not open it up to male celebrities as well? Oh wait, that can't work because female celebs can't feel bad about themselves this way. But what really made me mad was The Rock's wife losing 86 percent to 14 percent to Charlize Theron. She's not even a celebrity!!!! Yeah like that was ever going to be close. If Bill were famous and Charlize trounced me by a landslide in US Weekly, I'd never attend another red carpet event and probably wouldn't leave the house anymore. Although I guess I'd be kind of psyched that I was in the magazine. I don't know. Either way, I think US Weekly owes Mrs. The Rock an apology.

I was all happy Wednesday night because I thought "Lost" was starting. But no, ABC was showing one of those stupid clip shows instead. We watched everything the first time, now we have to sit through highlights? Our TiVo recorded it like it was a new "Lost," when it wasn't new and we have our settings turned to "first-run shows only." TiVo should have another setting: "No clips shows please." But that's not what bothers me. It bothers me that people who didn't stick with the show from Day 1 get rewarded by being able to catch up in one hour. I stuck with the show for two years, you didn't watch one show, now you watched a clip show and we're both caught up? That isn't fair. It's like TV cliff notes.

Bill said it wasn't a big deal because it's a way for shows to lure new viewers. I don't agree. He complains all the time about everyone who jumped on the Red Sox bandwagon after they won the World Series -- every time he sees someone in a brand new hat he makes a face, and he won't let me wear my orange Sox hat, he'll stick it down his pants and throw it in the garbage so I won't want to wear it. But how's that different than people jumping on the "Lost" bandwagon? I feel like it's the same. We need to ban clip shows, they're not real shows, they reward lazy bandwagon people and penalize real fans. I'm going to keep wearing my orange Red Sox hat until Bill admits I'm right.

Bill and his friend Hench own a fake baseball team together. I call it the League of Dorks. It's hard to say how much time they spend on it, but I'd guess five hours a week, maybe more. Hench is one of Bill's nicest friends, but he's even nuttier about this stuff than Bill. One time, I peeked over Bill's shoulder as he was reading a bullet-pointed e-mail from Hench about their fake team. It was like a legal document, I couldn't believe it. Hench used to leave messages and not identify himself, you'd just hear, "message No. 1" and then Hench complaining about something that happened with their fake team. He wouldn't even say, "Hey, guys, this is Hench" first. So I made Bill get a second phone line just for Hench's calls -- they call it the "Bat Phone." I can't believe I married someone who needed a second phone line to talk about a fake baseball team.

You'd think the extra line was enough, but no. A couple of weeks ago, Bill and I were driving home from somewhere and trying to figure out something. Bill said, "I bet Hench knows," and before I knew it, he was calling Hench and they were talking about the League of Dorks. And I was trapped in the car listening to them. It was like being at the nail salon when everything's quiet and relaxing, then something happens and the nail ladies all start screaming in another language. I have no idea what they're talking about, but they're agitated and talking in annoying voices and it's not relaxing at all. That's what Bill and Hench sounded like. Actually, this was worse because I can understand the language and still can't understand them. Finally, I got mad and told Bill to hang up or I was going to jump out of the car.

This week, I noticed playoff baseball started, so I asked Bill, "What happened with the League of Dorks?" Bill said they won first prize. He didn't even seem happy about it. He was just relieved that they didn't lose. Then he said he's having a celebratory lunch with Hench next week. I said they should order a bottle of fake champagne and fake pour it on each other. I hate the League of Dorks.

I can't watch "The Bachelor" anymore because they keep selecting guys who shouldn't need a reality show to find a wife. I liked the first two seasons when they were just nice-looking guys who had normal jobs and seemed normal. Now the bachelors come on to become famous; they don't care about finding a soul mate. They want to break up with whoever they picked in the Final Rose episode and hook up with Kristin Cavalleri at a Sunset Strip club the next week. It's so easy to see through them. Like, this year's Bachelor is a rich Italian prince who can't speak Italian and went to Rollins College. It's like Joe Millionaire, only without the twist at the end. Why would I root for a fake prince to fall in love?

Instead of picking princes and quarterbacks, I think ABC should go in the other direction. My friend Melissa thinks we have hot homeless guys out here in L.A.; she calls them "the hot homeless." We can't figure out why there are so many good-looking ones. Maybe they're failed actors, I don't know. But since it's practically hopeless for single women over 30 in L.A., Melissa thinks they'd have a better chance by taking in a hot homeless guy, cleaning him up, getting him a job and trying to turn his life around. I agree. I'd like to see ABC pick a hot homeless guy as the next Bachelor. They could clean him up and introduce him to 25 girls at once. His whole life could change, right? Although he'd probably fall for three of them at the same time, settle on the slut with the biggest rack, give her a promise ring, then dump her the next week to hook up with Cavalleri. Forget it, this could never work.

I've seen "Devil Wears Prada" four times already: twice in the movies, then on both ends of a cross-country flight last week. Bill couldn't understand why I would watch it four times so I tried to explain it to him. They don't make enough movies where there's a young girl who has no style and can't fit in, and then, as the movie goes along, she realizes you need to look the part to get ahead. So she finds somebody non-threatening who's willing to help her understand how to dress and act, and the whole time, everyone's wearing great clothes, looking great and going to high-society events. And by the end, she's cooler and more stylish than anyone in the movie. Pretty Woman worked the same way: Julia Roberts was a hooker with no style, then she found a billionaire boyfriend and a new wardrobe and everything turned out fine. I'm glad she fell in love and it was a nice story, but I really liked her clothes more than anything, especially the brown dress she wore in the polo scene.

Bill joked that, if that's what I liked about these movies, then they should just keep remaking "Prada" in different environments. Like if, instead of a fashion magazine, they tried a high-class gossip magazine, or a black fashion magazine, or a teen fashion magazine, or they could get out of the magazine industry and use an ad agency or a daytime TV show. It could be the same premise every time -- a young girl gets a job in a hectic workplace and has no style, people are mean to her and, eventually, she fits in and succeeds at her job even though she has an evil boss. Then she gets a promotion, falls in love and gets her revenge on everyone who thought she was worthless and didn't have any style. I thought this was a neat idea until Bill said he was kidding. But why is that a bad idea? Bill has something like 50 favorite sports movies and they're all the same movie -- somebody's an underdog, nobody believes in them, then they win the big game in the end. That's every sports movie. So how is that different than making my fashion movie premise 50 different ways? I think Bill is a hypocrite.

Me and two friends dressed up like "Deal or No Deal" models for a Halloween party last weekend. We bought silver suitcases and wore black dresses and wigs, although we didn't go super-slutty or anything. Girls always used to use Halloween as an excuse to dress like total sluts. Now you don't need an excuse because it's OK to dress like a slut in any situation. If you plan on dressing like a cat or a nurse this weekend, or if you plan on wearing a push-up bra with a shirt unbuttoned to your navel, just head to a club after the party and nobody will realize you're wearing a costume.

As for Bill, he was supposed to go as Howie Mandel, but his huge head couldn't fit into the bald cap we bought. So he wore a cowboy hat and cowboy shirt and went as a country-western singer. Total cop-out costume! He didn't even care that it didn't look like he cared. The year we started dating, Bill took me to Halloween H20 dressed up like Michael Myers and completely embarrassed me and freaked out everyone else in the theater, but I kind of liked that about him. Now he won't even spend five minutes thinking up a Halloween costume even though he knows I love Halloween. I don't get him sometimes.

So we went to the party and half the people put thought into their costumes, while the other half put their costumes together in 90 seconds like Bill did. There were some good ones but nothing really stood out. That got me thinking about my favorite Halloween costume: A few years ago, my friend Allie was a one-night stand. She wore a black cocktail dress that was wrinkled and had some stains on it. She had a ripped stocking, broken heel, smudged lipstick and messed-up hair like she just rolled out of someone else's bed. The whole night she paraded around with things falling out of her purse like she was in the middle of a walk of shame. It sounded like the funniest thing ever. This week I told Bill about Allie's costume and made the mistake of asking what his favorite Halloween costume was. He said it was the time his friend Geoff dressed as a poop. I guarantee that my second husband will appreciate Halloween.

Clippers games have been really fun since Sam Cassell showed up. This is our third year with season tickets and I was excited to see everyone again last night, especially Elton, Cuttino, Sam and the people who sit in our section. I also like the Kiss Cam -- I wish that was its own cable channel. But I'm most excited for the food. The food during baseball and basketball games tastes better than it does in any other setting. Here are my favorite foods at Clippers games. Please don't think I'm a fat pig, because I'm not.

4. Wetzel's Pretzels -- But only the "Sinfully Cinnamon" ones soaked in butter and cinnamon sugar. Really tasty and I support any food that's fun to say as well.

3. Hot dogs -- Usually at games, hot dogs are steamed, but these are grilled and have a little more consistency. Mmmmmm. After running the NYC marathon I stopped at every block for a hot dog on the way to the car.

2. McDonald's chocolate chip cookies -- People think I'm crazy when I tell them how delicious these gobs of chocolate gooeyness are. They're like NO OTHER chocolate chip cookies. Unfortunately, when you go to the real McDonald's they aren't as good -- although I did bring them to a friend's house for a party once and passed them off as my own. They were the first thing to go.

1. Popcornopolis -- Toasted caramel popcorn served in a giant paper cone -- and it's even better than it sounds. Bill and I always ask each other before games if you plan to journey to the land of Popcornopolis that night. Then Bill ruins it for me by saying "Popcornopolis" sounds like a deeply disturbing porno movie. He's disgusting.

Two big celebrity breakups this month and it's not even Nov. 15!!! I could see Reese and Ryan coming to the Oscars -- Ryan wasn't that happy for Reese when she won, but when "Crash" won best picture he reacted like his team just won the World Series. Bill has said for years they would break up because she's much more successful than him and no guy could handle that. I agree and it's never a good sign when you meet on the set of "Cruel Intentions." But couples that play together stay together. If both of you are always traveling around to film movies, how is that a relationship unless you're going out of your way to spend time? I think this is why Justin and Cameron stay together -- Us Weekly always has pictures of them surfing in Hawaii and stuff, it really seems like they like each other. They are my favorite celeb couple.

Anyway, I feel bad for Reese and Ryan because Britney and K-Fed trumped them this week. This was the most inevitable celebrity breakup ever. Any wedding reception that includes the groom wearing a pimp-emblazoned sweat suit and bridesmaids wearing sweat suits with the word "ho's" doesn't have a chance, obviously. I also think celebrities lose their minds when they become too famous because they get picked apart all the time, so they end up reacting in strange ways. You know, like marrying a white-trash loser with no talent who has a baby with someone else. This isn't even worth talking about because it was so predictable.

But I did want to say one thing. Sometimes Bill makes bets ahead of time for who will win the NFL or NBA. (I can't remember him ever winning, but he claims he's won a few. Whatever.) I think they should have these bets for celebrity breakups. Every year would be a season and there would be odds for each couple. If they had this when I was in Vegas this summer, I definitely would've bet on Ryan/Reese and K-Fed/Britney. Now I'd bet on Patrick Dempsey and his wife. When he married her, he was just the guy from "Can't Buy Me Love." Now he's the hottest guy on the hottest TV show and his wife is probably a basket case every time he leaves the house. He'll end up breaking up with her and immediately hooking up with someone awful like Kirsten Dunst. I am already mad at him and it hasn't even happened yet.

I always make the mistake of showing Bill an outfit and asking for his opinion. I don't know why I do it. Unless he loves the outfit, whatever his response ends up making me mad. Take last night for example. Bill compares his favorite shirts to baseball pitchers -- his best shirt is his ace, he has a couple of others that are "definitely starters," and if it's a knockaround shirt he calls it a "long reliever." I think this is funny so now he has me doing it. I'm going to an event next week so I asked Bill what he thought of a potential "starter" dress. Since I gave it the starter tag, he knew that either he had to be really excited about it and say, "That's great, I love it," or be honest and say, "I think that's too fancy for where we're going" or suggest another dress he likes to let me off easy. I just needed some sort of answer.

What does Bill say? "It's fine."

Fine? I can't think of an instance where the word "fine" has left me feeling good in any situation. But when I'm holding a dress that I might wear? That makes me SO angry! I never know what that word means! The dress looks "fine"? So I get to look "fine" next week? I guess I should have prefaced that story with the fact that Bill was simultaneously watching a basketball game, reading e-mails and looking at stats for his fake basketball team. Maybe "fine" meant "I'm too busy, so I'm saying 'fine' to appease you." Or it could also mean, "I hate it, but I don't want to fight right now." Or even "definitely decent, but I'm not totally sold on it." That's what makes it such an annoying word. Guys just suck sometimes. I guess the next time Bill asks me what I think of his next column, only one word will come to mind.

There are two kinds of bad Xmas gifts: Copout Gifts and Just Plain Bad Gifts. Every guy reading this needs to avoid them both. Some examples:

Copout Gifts: (1) a gift certificate to a spa (screams, "I put no thought whatsoever into this"); (2) a vacation to any locale that just so happens to have gambling (we're not stupid); (3) a homemade gift certificate promising stuff like taking out the trash, walking the dog, dates or back rubs (cute idea, but they never get turned in and from my experience, they expire); (4) a box of candy (makes us mad because we can't resist and we're already worried about holiday weight); and, of course, (5) cash.

Just Plain Bad Gifts: (1) Any household items like blenders, toasters or anything that has potential to be on a bridal registry (this will really anger a girl if you're not engaged yet); (2) nothing from a mall chain jewelry store unless you're broke (and if you have to, change the box); (3) a sports car for your wife that you know you'll end up driving once you knock her up and she's stuck driving an SUV or minivan; (4) Victoria's Secret nighties that would only look good on one of the mannequins in the store; (5) gym memberships, Jenny Craig or Trim Spa (unless you want to be killed in your sleep).

While we're here, four gifts that will work: (1) a Nano IPod with 100 of her favorite songs already on there; (2) quality cashmere anything (scarf, sweater, hat, gloves); (3) a thoughtful book with a nice note inside; and (4) the "Grey's Anatomy" box set (it's the new "Sex and the City"). Also, please don't e-mail Bill to say that I "mailed it in" this week because this stuff is super important. If you still plan on e-mailing him to say that, go to hell.

You already know about the traffic in L.A., but now that it's Xmas season, even parking has become impossible. Fortunately I happen to be married to a guy with the self-proclaimed "parking gene." (Apparently this runs in the family because his dad thinks he has it, too.) Every so often, Bill stumbles upon the perfect spot -- like last week, when I made him stop at Pinkberry (the greatest frozen yogurt shop ever) and he found a space right in front, then spent the next 30 seconds congratulating himself. He was so pleased. It's too bad they can't have the League of Dorks for finding parking spaces, I'm sure he'd be in three leagues and calling his buddy Hench every time he found a good space so they could calculate the standings. But this parking luck is what he calls the "parking gene."

Here's the problem with the parking gene: When he doesn't find the perfect spot immediately, he refuses to give up. This is another gene -- the I'm-so-stubborn-that-I'll keep-driving-around-looking-for-the-perfect-space-even-though-my-wife-has-to-pee gene. This usually kicks in after he gets cocky and says something like, "I'm going to find a spot on Level 2 and nothing is stopping me," and then it doesn't happen.

What does happen? We spend 15 minutes driving around Level 2 inside a hot parking garage that's filled with carbon monoxide. What a great time. Finally he'll give up and drive to Level 4, where there are about 100 spaces available. This is unacceptable, of course, since it takes another 20 seconds to go to Level 4 and an extra 3 seconds in the elevator. We spend 15 minutes trying to save 23 seconds. This happens every time we go to the Grove. If I'm ever found dead in a parking garage, skip the autopsy and just assume that I died of a carbon monoxide overdose or my bladder exploded while Bill was circling around looking for the perfect space. I can't wait to do more holiday shopping with Bill and his parking gene.

I feel like I'm the only person over 30 who still watches Christmas specials. When they start showing them in December, I TiVo every one and try to watch them all -- I never feel like it's Christmas until I see the shows, even if I'm slowly getting tired of them. My favorite is "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." The basic plot: Rudolph is shunned by his peers because of his red nose (even by Santa, who's a racist) and eventually finds his way to the Island of Misfit Toys: A Charlie in the box, a train with square wheels, a boat that sinks, a water gun that only shoots grape jelly, an elephant with polka dots, etc. It warms my heart at the end when Rudolph's nose saves the day and all the misfit toys go to good homes. It's such a nice story and has a great message, even if Santa never enters a sensitivity training program at the end.

Here's my question: in the year 2056, will they still be showing the same shows? What about the year 2112? Should we start making some new ones or some variations of the old ones?

I think they should remake the one with Rudolph and the misfit toys and put him on an island with misfit celebrities: K-Fed could be there, Lindsay Lohan, Katie Holmes, Nicole Richie, Paris Hilton, Kate Moss, Michael Richards & and Rudolph could turn their lives around, and in the end, they could all find new homes. They could even hire the real celebs to do their own voices. And they could even make the show newsworthy -- like, this year's show could have Kate Bosworth refusing to eat the Gingerbread Man, a love triangle with Rudolph, Paris and Brandon Davis, Michael Richards screaming epithets about Rudolph's nose, and Nicole Richie driving her sled the wrong way and getting arrested. Everything would turn out fine in the end. The best thing would be that they would never run out of misfit celebrities -- there are at least 10 new ones every year. I hope this can happen some day. I'm getting tired of the train with square wheels.

I used to really like Angelina Jolie. Ever since she starred in "Gia," I admired her flawless natural beauty, as well as the many character flaws that made her more likable and less threatening overall. Maybe she was a recovering drug addict, a cutter, a brother kisser, and a blood vial-wearing skank who looked like she showered once a week, but she didn't care what others thought and was totally comfortable going out in public without tons of makeup on. So that made her likable, at least to me. Even when she married Billy Bob Thornton, who's absolutely disgusting, I didn't hold it against her.

Then everything changed: She adopted Maddox, became a goodwill ambassador, started making normal movies and slowly made everyone forget that she was crazy. Next, she seduced and stole the husband of one of the most likable female celebs, adopted another baby with her stolen man, then had his biological child months before his divorce was even done. Now she travels all over the world in private jets wasting fuel and pretending to do nice things when we all know she's really a husband-stealing witch. But what really turned me into a full fledged Angelina hater was this month's Vogue article about her, with Angelina smugly pushing for peace talks between her and Jennifer Aniston, even having the gall to say, "That would be her decision, and I would welcome it." If I were Jennifer Aniston, I would welcome it, too. Then I would meet Angelina for lunch and repeatedly smash a chair over her head.

I have a bone to pick with the NFL: It's totally unfair to play Sunday and Monday games when they fall on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. How is it right to give every man in the country a free pass on two of the most hectic days of the year? Aren't they aware that Christmas Eve is the day that most men decide it's time to do their Christmas shopping? Or that their significant others are most likely running around and picking up their holiday slack while they watch eight football games at once?

I spent my Christmas Eve cooking the side dishes for Christmas dinner, making last-minute trips to the grocery store, taking care of our baby, walking the dogs, getting the turkey ready, etc. Meanwhile, Bill was parked in front of the TV watching the Patriots and making annoying phone calls (in the annoying voice he saves just for those calls) to his buddy Tony, the same guy who yelled at Bill the previous night at a Christmas party because Bill was too negative about the playoff hopes for their fake football team. I swear to God, Bill watched football for seven straight hours on Christmas Eve. If there had been a Sunday night game, I probably would have attacked him like Lionel Richie's wife.

Then, the next day, their League of Dorks championship game came down to T.O. against some guy on the Dolphins who apparently stinks because Bill kept swearing every time he dropped a pass. This guy ruined Bill's whole Christmas. It's so sad that the Patriots and the League of Dorks commanded most of his attention on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. And I'm sure there were millions of other guys just like him. So thanks, NFL, for ruining the 2006 holiday season. Maybe next year you can schedule the Super Bowl on my birthday or Valentine's Day.

I'm never surprised by the things I read about Britney anymore. She just can't get one thing right. She dresses like a tramp, chooses the wrong guys, forgets to wear underwear, befriends bad people and neglects her children. She lost everyone's respect and her public image is pretty much shot. I always knew she made a big mistake when she cheated on JT and now she's paying for it. The only way to restore her image and get her life back on track is to find a good man and settle down. And that's what she's trying to do; she's just going about it the wrong way. She reminds me of the promiscuous girl in college who can't get a boyfriend because nobody wants to date the drunk who always has ripped stockings and smells like Tequila.

If I were advising Britney, I would tell her to ...

1. Fire her stylist, stop smoking, stop drinking, stop chewing gum, burn her entire wardrobe, then burn it again. Especially that black lace number where we can see her panties and bra. Is she for real? Brit, you're a pop star, not a porn star.

2. Stop flaunting those scary breasts. What's with the sudden Double-Ds? We know she's not breast-feeding -- that would entail being in the same room with her baby. If those are implants, either go smaller or beat them down with a tire iron every morning.

3. Get rid of that man-stealing tramp, Paris Hilton. Paris will never allow Britney to have a good guy that she could have for herself. I'm convinced she made Britney fat with the "Mean Girls" trick by getting her hooked on fattening "diet" cookies. She's evil.

4. Avoid all men who have dated Lindsay, the Olsen twins, the Hilton sisters, Nicole, Claire Danes and anyone slated to do a movie with Angelina Jolie.

5. Change her dating criteria to include NO dancers, NO unemployed trust-fund kids and NO men that allow their pants to dip below their anus.

6. Stay home with the kids and stay out of Vegas. Apparently the saying "whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" doesn't apply to Brit, because she can't spend three minutes there without us seeing a picture of her passed out or exposing her crotch.

7. Try to get back together with JT. It's a million to one shot, but you never know.

8. Scrap tips 1-7 and just concentrate on showering and wearing underwear every day. It's a noble goal.