WASTED WITS: Kill Marry Nail

This bit was eight years in the making. For eight years, we just could not figure out a way to present it without making us look like a couple of psychosexual nut jobs so, needless to say, it has been drastically watered down; the original version could’ve gotten us jail time.

One night, we were sitting around doing nothing, when inspiration suddenly arose. The subject? The Woman You Could Never Have. We grouped together three women and chose which one we would rather Kill (strictly fantasy talk... of course we haven’t REALLY ever killed anyone... not literally), which one we would rather Marry (Had to fulfill our needs on many unrealistic levels), and which one we would rather Nail (Just as it sounds... pure animal lust). We even went back through the stages of our life and did the bit on girls from high school, middle school, and, dare I say it, elementary school. Since entire families could be adversely affected, those are not included here.

That’s the game: Kill, Marry, Nail. Enjoy a peek into the world of what men talk about when the beer is warm, the nachos have gone stale, and there’s not a woman within 100 miles... at least one that would be with the likes of us.

*Chicks Who "Act."*
	J-Lo: *Nail*. The Latin blood and that jungle rump make this an easy choice. Plus, I could use that little rat-faced husband of hers, Marc Anthony, to swat flies.
	Julia Roberts: Marry. Mainly so I could keep her occupied and make sure she never inflicts another Julia Roberts movie upon the world, yay verily. Yeah, I could’ve killed her. But then I’d have to marry Wynona Ryder.
	Wynona Ryder: Kill. Has that weird “Black Widow” thing going on, so for my own safety, it might be better to sleep with one eye open, or not at all. Besides, I’d be afraid she would steal my clothes.
*Singers We Disgust.*
	Ashley Judd: Kill. I just get an unshakable feeling she has Psycho Bitch potential that could unveil itself even before I untied the cans from the wedding car. Besides, family gatherings would have to inevitably include her evil sister Wynona, and that’s a deal breaker right there.
	Shania Twain: Nail. A 45-year-old that still has the unmistakable body of a cheerleader, and also likes a bit of Bag Balm occasionally; there’s no real anxiety over this decision.
	Sheryl Crow: Marry. Has great lips AND a full-time job. After farting around with Lance Armstrong, she swears she’ll never ride a bike again. And neither will I.
*Hot Chicks Of Our Pubescent Fantasies.*
	Valerie Bertinelli: Marry. I vow to you now, though, if I see one more Jenny Craig commercial, I may change my mind. Besides, after an exciting life spent traveling the world with a rock star, she might enjoy quiet evenings watching me sit in a chair.
	Brooke Shields: Kill. She’s taller than me; she has to die for that... and for The Blue Lagoon. Plus, those Leonid Brezhnev eyebrows always really annoyed me.
	Susan Dey: Nail. Let’s chalk this choice up to settling a childhood fantasy. Plus, I always respected her for staying out of the news, unlike Marcia Brady, who turned out to be a real freak. But, if I ever find out she was with that media-whore, Danny Bonaduce, the deal will be off.
*Singing Skanks Who Clean Up Well.*
	Gwen Stefani: *Marry*. No doubt. Sleeping with her could probably change your hair color, but doesn’t she just seem a bit cooler than most chicks, with the tattoos and all? Only problem is, she’s 41-years-old, which means she’s about 16 years beyond her prime. This, of course, is perfectly logical.
	Toni Braxton: Kill. Very high maintenance, and way too dramatic. I would gladly set her up in a pine condo for wasting a great set of pipes on crap like “Unbreak My Heart.”
	Christina Aguilera: Nail. Based on the “Dirty” video, I would quarantine her for six months and then nail her. On a positive note, she seems just skanky enough to do an amputee.
*Once Hot... Now Not.*
	Sally Field: Nail. Hey, if she was good enough for Burt Reynolds... Careful though, I hear she may some problem with bone density. What was that snapping sound?
	Cher: Kill. I think we can all agree on this one based on the information we already have. Just call this “Sonny’s Revenge.”
	Julie Andrews: Marry. Who wouldn’t want to do Mary Poppins on a regular basis? She was the first female that made me think dirty thoughts... when I wasn’t thinking about Little League... which was rarely.
*The Untouchables... Except For Christie Brinkley Who's Been Touched A Lot.*
	Jennifer Beals: Nail. Wait, maybe I would just sit there all night and have her slip her bra off from under her shirt over and over again. She’s the sole reason I choose “Flashdance” over “Roadhouse” when flipping channels.
	Christie Brinkley: Kill. Back when we worshipped her Sports Illustrated covers, who knew that she would one day make a living out of attending her own weddings? If I have to watch another one of her infomercials, I may just kill myself too.
	Rachel McAdams: Marry. After seeing her in The Wedding Crashers, I decided to marry her, but called it off when I realized that it’s a bitch getting to California on one leg. Add on the restraining order and she is really quite difficult to wed.
*Hot... With Baggage.*
	Cameron Diaz: Nail. But with some pain, for looking too much like The Joker.
	Gwyneth Paltrow: Kill. Mainly for being named “Gweneth” but also for naming her kids “Apple” and “Moses.”
	Meg Ryan: Marry. Find me one guy that wouldn’t marry Meg Ryan. Of course, I’m talking about pre-plastic surgery Meg. When she starts crying at the end of “You’ve Got Mail” with “Over the Rainbow” floating in the background... well, I’ve never been gayer than I was at that very moment.
*One Exotic... Two Neurotic.*
	Alicia Keys: Marry. Easy choice when you consider those sexy eyes and her musical chops. She tends to go for those cool-looking ethnic-type guys though. Haven’t seen anyone hanging around the Wasted Wits compound who even remotely fits that description, though when Eric is really, really tired, he looks sort of Norwegian.
	Alanis Morissette: Kill. With a spiked club, while wearing a biohazard suit. Too harsh? Not so, when you consider the legion of man-hating women she spawned with “Jagged Little Pill.” Beeyatch.
	Celine Dion: Nail. Then kill... until she’s not only merely dead, I mean until she’s really most sincerely dead. It’s that goddamn French-Canadian accent and that “I’m better than you” attitude. Which she is, of course.
*A Freak, A Great Physique, And Up The Creek.*
	Pink: Nail. Sure it’s a weird match up, but I figure if she’s freaky enough to do an amputee, I’m freaky enough to do... whatever the hell she is.
	Shakira: Marry. Immediately after the ceremony, I would siphon money from her bulging bank account to pay for a medical team to stand-by for my inevitable heart attack.
	Whitney Houston: Kill. Before she does it to herself. Whitney was THE bomb until she got Bobby Browned. Now, she’s merely bombed.
*The Unclean, The Broad-In-The-Beam, And An Amputee's Dream.*
	Drew Barrymore: Nail. But I would want to throw her in the shower and hose her down first... you know those Barrymores.
	Kirstie Alley: Kill. I’d spare her life if you could find me one movie in which she was any good. Didn’t think so. Make it with prejudice for looking more and more like Cruella de Vil with each passing year.
	Amy Irving: Marry. One of my all-time celebrity crushes. No funny stuff on this one. I’d marry her, dammit. That’s it. Those almond eyes...
*Old Hollywood... Where's My Goddamn Martini?*
	Elizabeth Taylor: Marry. Only because my eventual freedom would be guaranteed... she’s said the vows SEVEN TIMES. She is to marriage as I am to falling down.
	Lauren Bacall: Kill. Her cigarette voice and whisky breath would put a serious dampener on my wangitude, so sending her with a one-way ticket to rejoin “Bogie” is the obvious choice.
	Marilyn Monroe: Nail. Another childhood dream realized. Once I wade through philandering politicians, old baseball players and has-been playrights, it’s Goodnight Vienna.
*The Friends Trifecta.*
	Jennifer Aniston: Nail. Yes, she’s flighty. Yes, she smokes like Bette Davis. Yes, she seems like one of those obnoxious women who needs attention 24 hours a day. My decision is final. Nail.
	Courteney Cox: Kill. Someone in this group has to go, and it’s gonna be Monica Geller.
	Lisa Kudrow: Marry. Her sense of humor and busy movie career means a healthy bank account and lots of laughs, while I spend my time looking down at my former friends who somehow weren’t lucky enough to marry one of the “Friends” stars. Besides, she speaks fluent French.
*Marvin Gaye's Leftovers.*
	Patti LaBelle: Nail. Careful though... if you touch her while she’s going for the full-bodied high “C” note, you could be thrown across the room. Also, getting gored would be a possibility if she wore one of those Labelle space outfits.
	Gladys Knight: Marry. Are you kidding me? With a voice like Gladys Knight’s, we don’t have to have anything in common. Plus, she cooks southern food better than Paula Deen. I married the first time for love. The second time will be for fried chicken.
	Aretha Franklin: Kill. This one hurts, but the Queen of Soul just hasn’t been the same since she discovered buffet tables. Besides, she won’t take a plane and I can’t walk, so right away we have some serious transportation challenges.
*Is That A Cucumber Or...*
	Giada De Laurentis: Nail. Her camera-friendly orbs, that anaconda mouth, and her delightful ability to whip up a tasty, but rather healthy plate of pasta make Giada a firm choice for the “nail” portion of our little game. She seems to spend a lot of time slaving away in the kitchen while her hubby hangs out with his buddies watching football, so in an odd way, she’s already getting nailed.
	Rachael Ray: Kill. This wasn’t as easy a choice as you might think, because Rachael not only makes a mean sandwich, but usually does it with unerring grace and humor. Honestly, it’s the unrelenting perkiness for which she must expire. Let’s stuff her into Mario Batali and roast them both at 350 degrees for 4 hours, or until Rachael is no longer giggling.
	Laura Calder: Marry. I can just imagine spending the rest of my days watching her wearing those tight little house dresses while French Cooking at Home. In time, her snobbiness will become endearing, and that irritating Canadian accent will sound as the song of a nightingale. That is, until I catch her stuffing foie gras down Tyler Florence’s piehole (hot TV chefs do not ride away with a biker, on the back of a Harley). Hmmm, maybe I should switch her out with Rachael Ray...
We thought we should be fair and include one for the women, so our last group is for the gals. Two Nuts, One Vienna Sausage.
	Matt McConaughey: Not a clue. What team does he play for?
	Jon Bon Jovi: Are you kidding me? He looks like a pussy.
	Johnny Depp: I've taken dumps that looked better than this. He looks gay to me.