We drag the river for stuff you didn't know you were missing.

Mullets Aren't Funny in '06 

We drag the river for stuff you didn't know you were missing.

Hip-hop MC Priceless Diamonds describes herself as a "boss bitch" who grew up boosting clothes and turning the occasional trick. She's no angel, but she's got advice. So listen up, y'all.

Kate Moss is making a comeback with a commercial for Virgin Mobile, her first after all those fashion companies dropped her for snorting coke in a tabloid photo. What do you think of those companies that lost faith in Cocaine Kate?

All the socialites and rich people that I've read about and I know who wear those things, they all are dope addicts. She's like the picture of the socialites. I think that should have boosted her stock. It ain't what you do; it's how you do it. And from what I seen on that picture, she looked sexy doing it — real short shorts, her whole thigh showing, she's leaning over at this table getting it. She'll be back. She's just gotta clear her image with America, with the world. What's up with my ex calling at 2:30 on Thursday and Friday nights? Does he think he's being slick?

Drunk dialing's a bitch! I hate drunk dialing. I used to do it all the time. Still do. It's when you call the guys you don't have the courage to call when you're sober. I always end up regretting it the next day. Waking up the next morning, full of guilt, checking the "dialed numbers" feature on the phone. Someone will call me the next night, like, "Man, you called my phone buggin' the other night." You just got to shake it off.

I notice those drunken calls always get answered. Try callin' sober. I bet you get a voice mail. I guess they look at the time you're calling and figure it's a late-nighter. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the bars just closed. Got a question only Priceless can answer? E-mail her at boss.bitch@pitch.com.

Mullets Aren't Funny in '06

It's time to eliminate all you mad divas, pimpin' hipsters and TIF-crazy bureaucrats. You're among the sad and tired words that have to die with 2005. We've got more, you "not ghey" homophobes, and we've categorized 'em to help you ditch your dated vocab.

The MTV files (subcategory: Southern rap). These words have lent street cred to white journalists — ourselves included — for one year too long. Say goodbizzle to:

Crunk

Bling

Pimpin'

My boo

Mad

Diva

I'm Rick James, bitch!

Yeeeeeahhh! (the Lil Jon catchword)

The bureaucracy bin (subcategory: soul-squashing meetings). We're sick of hearing the white-collar realm tossing these meaningless terms around. Terminate:

Retractable roof

TIF (tax-increment financing)

But/for

Leak

Due diligence

Tenure

Blight

Stay the course

At the end of the day

Seminal (unless speaking of semen)

From the A Drive (subcategory: the self-absorbed blogging community). The blogosphere is a vast realm frequently belching annoying words. Control-alt-delete:

LOL

Craigslist

(no homo)

Ghey

Nullus

Owned

3 (Yes, we're impressed that you made an ice-cream cone.)

From the World War II enthusiast's notebook (subcategory: "the last war America fought for a good cause"; sub-subcategory: Krauts). How'd these words end up in our vocabulary in the first place? Did some movie critic adopt a German exchange student? Halten:

Schadenfreude

ber

Zeitgeist

Gestalt

From the US Weekly recycle bin (subcategory: the news that follows the news from the set of Desperate Housewives). These cutesy words and phrases are used as liberally as hairspray on the morning-TV gagfests. You're fired:

Metrosexual

Zenlike

NASCAR mom

Red state, blue state

Foodie

Hipster

Gaucho pants (2005's answer to the capri. Ugh.)

Transfat (2005's switcharoo for carbs, which didn't fool anybody.)

Mullet (The comic effect has somehow spanned five years.)

Meth (used in place of crack the way transfat was used in place of carbs.)

TomKat and Brangelina (The J-Lo-lification of names must end. K-Fed, no mo'.)

Cry-o-Meter
Potential for tears:

Biblical flood

We're not crying in our beer — that's a waste —but we weep with you, Dick. You've taught us that even strip-eating Chiefs fans shouldn't be afraid to shed a few tears. You've brought out our stadium-sized sensitive side when we were supposed to be in manly football mode. So even if next year our play caller is tearless, we'll think of you, coach. You big crybaby.

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