Allan’s Useless Fact of the Week

The phrase "couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag" came from an incident in the 1940s when famous boxer Lefty Rogers suffocated because of a paper bag his mistress had put over his head during a fling.

Awww. Who doesn’t love a good story about sex, murder and a sport that requires grown men to wear clown shoes on their hands and beat each other senseless?



Whatever. Not the point.

This fact led me to do a little research to find other dramatic…um…break-ups from the not-so-distant past.

1. Proof That Money Can't Buy Class
This probably can’t be considered a break-up since they weren’t really dating – just bumping uglies. And in this case, it was really, really ugly. Anywho, last week Brandon Davis, being the class act that he is, was recorded calling Lindsey Lohan a “firecrotch” who’s lady-parts smelled like “diarrhea.” (click here to watch this) He also said something along the lines of, “She’s only worth like $7 million dollars which means she’s like really poor.” Eew. Have you SEEN this man? He looks like he’s been rolling around in Crisco. This is a guy who slept with both Mischa Barton and Paris Hilton. I’d get tested and then hosed down with Clorox before calling anyone dirty, Brandon.

2. Crazy Teens in Milwaukee
A 17 year old girl was ticketed by police after calling her boyfriend, his parents and the boy's brother 44 times in a 90-minute period. That has to be a record. She shouldn’t be punished. She should be given her own page in the Guiness Book. Another woman called police to say her boyfriend had stabbed her, stolen her money and her car. She called back a few minutes later to tell them there was no need to send an ambulance. Since NOTHING gets past the Brown Deer, Minnesota police, they decided something was afoot. Turned out the woman was just trying to stop her boyfriend from leaving her. Sweetie, next time try lying in front of his tires. Way more effective, don’t cha know.

And my favorite….

3. Sticking Together in Pennsylvania
It was just like any other night in Pittsburgh. Kenneth invited his ex-girlfriend Gail to his place. My guess? Kenny was looking for love in all the wrong places. What did he get? His boy-bits glued to his stomach. Yeah, that’s right. Boy-bits. Super Glue. Two things that just don’t go together. How you sleep through some psycho gluing your hoo-ha to your abs and your butt cheeks together (did I fail to mention that part?), I just don’t know. I’m a pretty sound sleeper, but I think I’d wake up if someone was spelling out profanities on my back in nail polish. (oh yeah, she did) According to Gail’s attorney, it was a “consensual act,” Kenneth wasn’t “permanently damaged,” and that kind of stuff should be “left in the bedroom.” Yes. Yes it should. IN THE BEDROOM OF AN INSANE ASYLUM OR A HOUSE OF ILL-REPUTE, PERHAPS. Let this be a lesson to all you men. If you date a crack-pot, hide the Super Glue.

Ain't love grand?