That’s right, I said it: Paula Abdul has a nutsack THIS BIG.
(True, I could’ve been a bit more anatomically accurate and said,
“Paula Abdul has a vagina THIS BIG”… but the implication isn’t quite
the same, is it?)
Why is Paula Abdul’s ballbag so remarkably huge? Well, who else
would quit one of the cushiest jobs in the world (being a judge
on one of the most popular shows in the world, American Idol) unless their scrabblebag was truly of gigantic
proportions? It’s not like the job market is all that great right now
for reality-show judges who clap like a seal, cry at the drop of a hat,
and drift off into nonsensical narcotic-fueled monologues. And
in case you didn’t know, Paula made a poop-ton of moolah doing
Idol (some say up to $2 million last year)—and she slept
through half the season! Plus, Paula has gone from a F-list nobody to
one of the world’s most recognizable celebrities—and after
achieving all that, she’s just gonna get up (or be propped up) and walk
away? I’m talking ginormous testicles here, people!!
Oh, but there’s more! According to the Hollywood Reporter,
sources say that Abdul left the negotiating table when producers
refused to meet her salary demands of… gulp… 20 million
dollars?!? True, that was for a multiyear deal, but what was she
thinking? Is she planning on buying the Pfizer corporation, so she’ll
have a lifetime of custom-made drugs to dump down her throat? It’s no
wonder she always looks like she’s about to fall over—you’d
wobble like a Weeble, too, if your gonads were that freaking
elephantine!
That’s why I’m all for Paula leaving Idol and moving on to a
different job that’s better suited to her talents—such
as… mmmm… maybe painting herself black and becoming a performing
seal (clap, clap). I also hear there are plenty of positions open in
the “medical-school cadaver” field. OOH! Or if she wanted to continue
judging, she could get her own Judge Judy–type show,
except call it Judge Abdul and base it in Saudi Arabia where she
could rule on cases about women who ride in cars with men who aren’t
their relatives and then sentence them to getting their hands cut off.
Or she could rent out her colossal cylindrical genitalia to
boulder-climbing instructors. Or something else, maybe.
Dude, she can do whatever she wants! THE WORLD IS HER OYSTER(S)!
That’s why I’d like to say, “Here’s to you, Paula Abdul!” I’m giving
you a 1980s movie-style standing-ovation slow clap for putting your
monolithic testes on exhibition and giving the finger to (a) the
disturbingly creepy sexual advances of Simon Cowell, (b) the sad
repetitiveness of Randy “What’s Up, Dawg?” Jackson, (c) the grating ego
of Kara What’s-Her-Name, (d) the seemingly bottomless pit of
annoyingly nontalented contestants, (e) the wry wit of Ryan
Seacrest (I kind of like him, actually), and (f) the cumulative
cluster-eff that is American Idol. I would have also applauded
the size of your Herculean hairy cantaloupes carelessly swinging from
your nethers—but they’re so incredibly huge, my hands were
crushed. 
a F-list … “an”