Woody Allen, eat your heart out

John Goodman (no, not that one) has completed a tricky legal maneuver known in law circles as adopting your grown-ass girlfriend.

Goodman, who inherited a fortune through the air conditioning business, had access to said fortune restricted while he faces civil and criminal charges for allegedly drunk driving and killing Scott Wilson. His family was cut off from a trust he set up for his biological children, but now his girlfriend/daughter has immediate access to a third of it.

This also allowed for one of the greatest sentences ever written in the history of copy: “The couple has been dating since 2009, and she is now Goodman’s third legal child.” Ewwwwww.

What’s the appeal of long-distance girlfriends, again?

If you’ve been trying to start a business that’s so sad that it’s genius, then we’re sorry to tell you that “fake Internet girlfriend agency” has already been taken.

If you don’t immediately find the appeal in paying a service to reply to your tweets and post messages on your Facebook wall, let Cloud Girlfriend company co-founder David Fuhriman assure you that:

1. The person behind the fake account is an actual woman with possibly functioning woman parts.

2. There is absolutely no possibility of nude photos or porn.

3. It’s “just like having a real long-distance girlfriend,” only “without the hassles.”

So, if you think about it, it’s like paying for a prostitute without the hassle of STDs. Or like going to a strip club, minus the hassle of seeing some rude titties. Or like having friends, but without the hassle of introducing your fake girlfriend to them.

Take it from Snee: A few more things

As I established last “lightning round,” there are certain thoughts I have that don’t really make an entire Take it from Snee. They’re just ideas I save up from stories I read and, when the week’s particularly slow, I just ejaculate them into one gonzo post.

So, enjoy my brain ejaculations.

I promise to avoid your hair and those pants that are dry clean only. But you’re on your own for your eyes. You don’t like this? Keep ’em shut. Continue reading Take it from Snee: A few more things

Take it from Snee for Christmas, Hanukah, etc.

Halloween is less than a week into the ground, which means that it’s already Christmas in the malls and strip clubs of America. (Sure, they say “holidays,” but the only store with blue lights is K-Mart.) Why do they start so early? Because some people actually buy gifts that early. Crazy, I know?

The rest of us wait until the last minute because, well, giving isn’t about me. The only thing I give on a regular occasion is this column. But, as I mentioned before, I’m trying to be a better person … at least until I get my presents. So, in this vein, I’m trying to say that it is always better to give than receive, even if the other person doesn’t really want it.

What I’m talking about are gifts that make you feel good for giving them, but the receiver never wanted.  Call ‘em gag gifts or messages, who cares? You gave, and now you feel better. Continue reading Take it from Snee for Christmas, Hanukah, etc.

Take it from Snee: This is how married life is

Hey, readers. How’s it going? Been working on the novel you talked about? (Rhetorical questions.)

Oh, what’s that? “How’s married life?” you ask?

What a great question that I haven’t been asked since the receiving line five minutes after slipping the priest a fiver. Until now, I’ve been fumbling through it, answering as objectively as I can with less than three months of experience.

However, it’s been three months, so I can honestly explain what married is like now. The past 90 days have turned me into a marriage expert — a marriage Nazi, even — in that anyone else’s advice about marriage is sad, ridiculous and should probably be exterminated in a camp somewhere. (The advice, not the person.) Continue reading Take it from Snee: This is how married life is

‘Are you lonesome, tonight? Are you smaller than a housecat?’

We all know that one guy. Y’know, the one that’s lonely, looks like he’s constantly moping, addicted to that godforsaken IRC channel and just can’t get the energy to even talk to someone of the gender that he’s attracted to. If he actually does manage to leave his bed, it’s never any fun, as he’s the truest form of the word “party-killer.”

Well mope no more, gentle soul that might become a serial killer! Japan, that ca-razy land of wackiness and schoolgirls is here to answer your prayers. The robot girlfriend that’s been joked about for years is now a reality! No more do you have to whine “why not me?” but instead, you get to say “oh yeah, ME,” with the simple push of a button, less than two Benjamins and some batteries.

There’s only one small catch. Sadly, it’s only useful for those in the 12- to 20-inch tall demographic. No, men that are quite literally 12 to 20 inches tall, as the robot is only 15 inches tall. Sorry Sploosh.