In Other News

Anna Nicole Smith: 'It's Very Expensive to Be Me'
Former Playboy Playmate Anna Nicole Smith acknowledged she has expensive tastes but denied she married her late 90-year-old husband only for his oil fortune. "It's very expensive to be me. It's terrible the things I have to do to be me," Smith, 33, told jurors in a Houston probate trial to determine who gets what from husband Howard Marshall II's estimated $1.6 billion estate. Throughout the four-month trial, lawyers representing the estate have portrayed Smith as a gold digger who only married the elderly oilman for his fortune. "They don't understand the age thing. They don't understand it's a love thing," Smith said Monday. "I never had the love this man gave me and I will never have it again." Though adamant she truly loved her husband, Smith freely admitted she blew through the $5,000-$10,000 cash Marshall sent her via Federal Express each week. "I am serious. I pay a lot of money to be me," Smith said, explaining she spent her money on designer gowns and shoes so she could attend weekly movie premieres. Smith and her 62-year-old stepson, Pierce Marshall, have been locked in legal battle since the elder Marshall died in August 1995, 14 months after marrying the blond pinup. She was 26 and he was 89 at the time. A federal bankruptcy judge in Los Angeles late last year finalized an order giving Smith $475 million of her late husband's estate, prompting the actress and former centerfold to pull out of the Houston trial on Jan 5. Though Smith dropped her Texas claims, the younger Marshall had already sued her for interfering with his inheritance, which is how she ended up on the stand Monday. Marshall attorney Rusty Hardin asked her: "Isn't it true you didn't see your husband in the last month of his life?" "Pierce stopped all of the money and that's why I couldn't be with my husband when he died," Smith retorted, referring to her stepson's freezing of cash payments to her. "I could have saved him again and Pierce couldn't save him." Earlier, Smith testified she loved her husband because he was the only person who ever accepted her unconditionally. "He took me out of a terrible place, took care of me. He was my savior," Smith said tearfully, clutching a silver-framed photo of Marshall taken on their wedding day. "It wasn't a sexual 'baby, oh baby, I love your body'-type love, it was a deep 'thank you' for taking me out of this hole." Asked by Hardin if she ever talked to the photograph of her husband which she has held throughout the trial, Smith said she did. "What do you say to the picture?" Hardin asked. "That's none of your business," Smith snapped. Smith testified she rebuffed Marshall's marriage proposals for more than two years because she wanted to make a name for herself "so nobody could call me a gold digger, but I guess that backfired didn't it?" "How much gold did you get over the next few years?" Hardin queried. "Quite a bit, Rusty," Smith said. Earlier testimony showed Smith got some $6 million in gifts, including $700,000 in cash, cars, a house, clothes and jewelry. Hardin also questioned Smith about her early career as a stripper, which led to meeting Marshall and eventually becoming Playboy Playmate of the Year. She described how strippers and a club manager persuaded her she had what it took to dance topless. "It took them 30 minutes and couple of drinks to convince me," Smith said, saying she was humiliated when it was over. But she looked in her lap and saw $50 and realized dancing paid better than her previous jobs at a Wal-Mart and a Red Lobster restaurant, she said. Smith, a native of Mexia, Texas, testified she believed she gave her husband a reason to live after meeting him and dancing for him for the first time at a Houston topless club in 1992. "When you danced for him, he began to come alive?" Hardin asked. "He sure didn't just sit there. He grabbed onto my breast and got us into trouble," Smith said.

Americans Favor Cars Over Kids
America's long love affair with the car, complete with gifts on Valentine's Day, would appear to be going a bit too far, a poll shows. The nationwide online survey by Ohio-based Progressive Insurance found that 45 percent of married Americans ranked their cars as the thing they considered most important to them. In answer to separate questions regarding their preferences, only 6 percent rated their children as important and just 10 percent said their spouse or significant other was important to them, the survey said. The survey, conducted Jan. 5-15 and based on answers from 516 respondents, found that 84 percent of Americans love their cars while 32 percent have actually given their four-wheeled gas-guzzler a name. Seventeen percent of male participants planned to buy their vehicle a gift on Valentine's Day, the poll said. It did not say what gifts might be handed out for the occasion but Progressive, the fourth-largest auto insurance company in the United States, suggested rose-scented air fresheners or a vintage can of motor oil.

Soft Drink with Viagra Ingredient Banned
A soft drink containing an ingredient of the impotence drug Viagra has been banned by Japanese officials. They acted after advertisements for the drink, touted as "the solution to your nighttime problems," appeared in men's magazines and on the Internet. Some 47,000 bottles of the non-prescription drink were imported from China a year ago, and all but 4,000 had already been sold. Each 20-milliliter bottle of the drink contained 64.3 milligrams (mg) of the chemical sildenafil, the active ingredient in Viagra, far more than the 25 or 50 mg in one tablet of Viagra sold in Japan. A local government official said the drink contravened Japanese drug laws. The firm that imported the drink said it was made from squeezed Chinese fruits resembling grapes, and it was unaware of the chemical. An estimated 9.8 million men in Japan suffer from erectile dysfunction.

Doctor Stumbles Onto Orgasm Machine
All he was trying to do was ease her chronic back pain, but when Dr. Stuart Meloy placed an electrode into one patient's back, she groaned. Not in pain, but in delight. Meloy had stumbled onto an unexpected side-effect of the pain device he was using – an ability to cause orgasm. He has just patented this unexpected use of the device, a spinal cord stimulator made by device company Medtronic. Now he is trying to talk Minneapolis-based Medtronic into marketing the device for this use. The surgeon has to place an electrode very precisely in the patient's spine. The idea is to find the specific nerve bundle that is carrying his or her pain signals to the brain. The device works not to block pain but to change the way the patient perceives it. "Instead of feeling pain, they feel what most people describe as a buzzing sensation in the affected area," Meloy said. "It's not so much a distraction as a change in perception. You are altering what they feel."

Valentine's Day Song Guide

"what to play for that special someone"

for the Catholic…
2 Live Crew
"Me So Horny"

for the country music artist…
Terrence And Phillip
"Uncle Fucka"

for the homosexual man…
Outthere Brothers
"I Want To Fuck You In The Ass"

for the homosexual woman…
Village People
"Macho Man"

for your mother…
Sir Mix-A-Lot
"Baby Got Back"

for the perfect couple…

for the playa…
Detroit Grand Pubahs

for the playa hater…
"I Touch Myself"

for the politician…
Bloodhound Gang

for the premature ejaculator…
Celine Dion
"My Heart Will Go On"

for the prostitute…
Touch And Go
"Would You"

for the unoriginal fuckhead…
"Thong Song"

for Aaron Carter…
"Rape Me"

Noise Addict

"You know what you call a perpetual optimist? A trombone player with a pager." – John Spencer in Glimmer, Glimmer And Shine

"One brother is mall-doll Aaron, another's Backstreet Boy Nick; here comes sister Leslie, and she will Disney Channel the fuck out of you." – Joshua Clover in Spin magazine on Leslie Carter's song "Like Wow"

The XFL – Week 1

A Las Vegas cheerleader gushed, "Quarterback Ryan Clement knows how to score."

Pom pom girl Paola was shown dressed primly and sitting in front of a laptop computer. "By day, I'm a law student," she declared. "And by night" [pause as Paola removes her glasses and lets down her hair] "I'm an XFL cheerleader!"

Commentator Matt Vasgersian said, "The players are panting a lot down there. It sounds like a prank call."

Commentator Brian Bosworth said, "That hole closed tighter than Monica Lewinsky around one of Bill Clinton's cigars."

Three words: "He Hate Me."

We Want to See:

Black people on Saturday Night Live

Destiny's Child actually sing live

MTV stop airing those annoying Making The and Uncensored specials

Teenage potheads not laugh when somebody uses the phrase "smoke out"

Puff Daddy go to jail

Super Size 3rd Rock From The Sun

The same Freddie Prinze Jr. movie over and over again, but with different female co-stars each time. Oh, wait a minute…

Sarah Jessica Parker's tits

Somebody explain what the fuck is up with John Norris' hair

Feminem – a homosexual thug rapper who flaunts his gayness

Cheap Shot

"I don't think I'd last too long. I'd be found out at USC because I use complete sentences, at Cal because I shower, at ASU because I'd be sober, at Wisconsin because I have front teeth, and at Alabama because I have front teeth and my mom is not my aunt." – Jeff Kmiotek in the Daily Bruin on sitting in other student sections at college basketball games

A Shrub Joke

This morning George W. Bush and Dick Cheney were having brunch at the White House. The attractive food service caterer asks Cheney what he would like and he replies, "I'll have a bowl of oatmeal and some fruit." "And what can I get for you sir?" she asks the President. Bush replies, "How about a quickie?" "Why, sir!" the caterer says, "How rude! You're starting to act like Clinton…and you were just sworn in!" As the caterer storms away, Cheney leans over to Bush and whispers, "Mr. President, it's pronounced 'quiche.'"

The Decline of Western Civilization

This is the second installment of our series devoted to icons of American culture. You know what we're talking about – AOL instant messenger, green ketchup, Miss Cleo and her free tarot card readings – things like that.

Boy Crazy!
"Real boys. For real girls." Boy Crazy! is a trading card series designed just for girls. The set includes 363 randomly-assorted cards featuring photos and profiles of real boys from around the country. Get to know the boys as you collect, trade and play a simple matchmaking game with your friends! Vote for your favorite Boy Crazy! boys at the Boy Crazy! website.

Bloussant is an all-natural herbal tablet which, when taken daily will increase your bust size by up to two cup sizes. No exercises. No expensive transplants. No chemicals. All-natural!

The Pathetic Adventures of Rory Hornblower

What is love? Baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me no more. What is the meaning of love? Nothing, in tennis. How do you know if you are in love? You should hear her scream, "Oh, Kurt! Oh, Kurt!" Where do you find love? Attached to the ends of your forearms. Does anybody love me? [no reply]

Another Valentine's Day, another step closer to sobriety. Namely, the sober realization that I am doomed to spend my life as a bachelor. It's not that I'm not trying. I bust my nuts off every day in search of love, but my libido always dies on me. The Pope has a bigger sex drive than I do.

How pathetic is this? I am a 22 year old virgin with no libido making a living writing puerile sex-filled columns for some loser dot-com. I can legally buy pornography and I willingly (willingly!) choose not to. The pious mock me when it should be the other way around. I get angry thinking about all the time good little church-attending boys and girls waste "spending quality time together" when they could be having shitloads of premarital sex – sex from which that I'll never see the light of day.

People come up to me all the time and ask, "Do you suck cocks?" No, you fucking perverts. I would like to kill the rumors about my sexuality right here, right now. For the umpteenth time, I am not gay, nor am I, as Manuel Torres calls me, "asexual." I am also, contrary to popular belief, not a pedophile. As for the reports of bestiality, I will not confirm or deny anything. Rory "The Warrior" Hornblower likes women…who give anal…and can make buttermilk pancakes. 'Nuf said.

Maybe it's the pick-up lines. I'd like to think that I'm a swinger, that I'm Ricky suave, but my failed attempts at getting phone numbers would have you think otherwise. Where I come from (Boston), it's perfectly okay, even natural, to walk up to a girl and say, "Wanna give me a blow job, bitch?" You just can't do that in Los Angeles. Apparently, they respect women out here, whatever that means. It's a shame, really, for I've had to ditch some of my best pick-up lines from the east coast book: "Is that a vagina in your pants, or are you a man?" | "Say, how old is your mother?" | "Does Joanie love Chachi?"

Every day that inflatable doll in the storage room becomes more and more appealing.

I went on a date the other night with this girl named Britney and boy, was it a disaster. Okay, we were at dinner. I was eating my McRib sandwich and she was throwing up hers. We were talking and she remarked how she was not that innocent and I actually thought I had a chance of getting an erection when, all of a sudden, she told me to hit her. So I hit her…ear. Upon the blow, she jerked her head back, called me "fucking retarded," and told me to hit her one more time. So I hit her again, this time in the stomach, and she fell flat on the floor. Luckily, her breasts were there to cushion the impact of collision. It must have really hurt her though, because she got up and started chewing me out, saying that I drove her crazy and that her loneliness wasn't killing her no more. This from a girl who just minutes earlier had told me that she was born to make me happy. I was seriously panicking now. I didn't know what to do. So I hit her again – right in the kisser. Oops. She went down for the count and the paramedics had to come and take her away. My Britney. Why do the good ones always go comatose? Oh well. I hope my date tomorrow night with this Christina chick works out better. I heard she likes people to come on her, or something like that. • RH

We Are BSB

Sitting in front of a computer all day, I don't usually get the opportunity to meet a lot of people. So a while back, I got a job as a housing tour guide at UCLA, and my experiences leading people around the school's residential area have made me realize that I hate people. Especially southern Californians. I don't know where to begin talking about these awful human beings that you see on television. For one thing, they're idiots. They're also egregiously capitalistic, materialistic, narcissistic – take any word with a negative connotation, add "istic" to the end of it, and poof you have just described a southern Californian. Don't believe me? Watch Survivor and pay attention to Jerri the "aspiring actress" (a.k.a. "waitress") from Los Angeles. What can I say? She's a cunt. I hate her. In fact, I hate all of the new survivors. All they do is sit around all day. They're all the exact same person. They do nothing but think about themselves. They go on the show for popularity and then cry to their mommies when they realize that they're useless maggots. Thanks to CBS for making the public realize the truth: they don't care about each other, so why should we care about them? I hate Alicia. I hate Colby. I hate Debb. I hate Keith. I hate Elisabeth. I hate Kel. I hate Kimmi. I hate Michael. I hate Maralyn. I hate Mitchell. I hate Tina. I hate Rodger. All of them: so pathetic. The day they get kicked off the show will be the greatest day of all. • JY