Now, four years later, Max has a bestselling book (based on his website), another collection of stories set to be released soon, and a movie that comes out today. Max has been touring with I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell to college campuses all over the country since August, where, according to him, the film’s reception has been fantastic. He’s even been able to talk a girl into making an x-ray video of her giving him a blowjob during the tour. And judging by how much money The Hangover made this summer—over $270 million—it seems likely that the same idiot frat boys who’ve been attending Max’s premieres could make IHTSBIH a hit as well.

But why, exactly, are people enamored with this guy? Putting aside the way that Max has been called out for lying about his stories on several occasions, and the way that, despite his protests to the contrary, Max is obviously and venomously misogynistic (right, a guy who thinks “fat girls aren’t real people” doesn’t hate women), the fact remains that Tucker Max is. not. funny. Sure, his name is funny—it sounds like something Mattel would call a slightly wimpy action figure—but the stories themselves are nothing special. Unfortunately for Tucker Max, being convinced of your own originality and talent—and frequently referring to yourself in the third person—doesn’t automatically transform you into a comic genius.  The women (and men) who have been protesting Max during his tour have their hearts in the right place, but instead of calling him out for being a sexist prick, they should be objecting to how lame he is.

Most of the reviews of IHTSBIH give me hope for the future: Time Out New York calls it “painfully unfunny,” and the A.V. club thinks it’s “frankly boring.” The climax of the movie apparently involves Tucker “dashing naked through a hotel lobby with a case of explosive diarrhea from a can of beer laced with a laxative by a vengeful woman.” Um… hilarious?

Okay, the New York Times writing about explosive diarrhea is kind of funny.

Maybe, as those reviews indicate, the movie will finally convince people that Max doesn’t actually have much to offer. I’ll understand if this thing makes a ton of money, but if its box office returns are mediocre, I might get a small twinge of satisfaction. Then again, maybe I should just ignore all news relating to Tucker Max and spend my time watching things that are actually funny—like The Office, 30 Rock, and America’s Next Top Model—instead.

Wait, Top Model isn’t supposed to be funny?

I’ve always tried to be a good American. I’ve lived each and every day by the words of the good book: the Declaration of Independence. It guides the deeds I do, the words I write, the kicks I wear.

But every Fourth of July, I get stuck. I got parties to plan! Barbecues, decorations, fine beers, crap beers, fireworks, big cars, big cars full of beer. So much to think about! What do I do? The Declaration never mentioned how we should celebrate its own damn self.

But this year, things are different. Because this year, I found something really special. That’s right: The Declaration of Independence, Part Two. Read it and weep, beleaguered patriot partiers, and may tiny American flags spring up where your tears touch the soil.

On Food

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that not all barbecue foods are created equal, because some of them are really freaking gross. Like frozen hamburger patties, you know, those little red saucers that look like fossilized poop when you cook them. Don’t you have 20 minutes to make some yourself? Or is it too gross to rub raw hamburger all over your hands? That’s how we beat King George, you know. He was the raw hamburger, and we were not afraid to rub our hands all over him. Be like us. Celebrating America means crushing your enemies into tiny patties and grilling them over hot coals.

On Fireworks

… That they should keep among them Standing Armies of Awesome Fireworks. Especially those ones that go “bang” and then “… wwhhbang!” and then kinda “ffzzhh ffzhzhh zhhht.” Those are great. And they should be big, like, really big, like illegal-in-whichever-state-you-happen-to-live-in big, which is another good reason why states shouldn’t have rights. And when you set them off, they should kill and cook next year’s Thanksgiving turkey.

On Music

We, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these colonies, have a lot of trouble picking some appropriate tunes. Unless somebody happens to write something patriotic on a boat somewhere, oh, say, 38 years from now, maybe just make it something funky. Like, “Brick House,” or something.

On Decor

In every stage of these Celebrations we suggest blue, white and red decorations, because those are the national colors of France, our friend and ally which is primarily responsible for our Independence. Did I say Primarily? I meant “completely.” Seriously, before those dudes showed up, we were a bunch of muddy yokels wearing dead animals for hats. The French basically made America everything it is today, and so we are declaring the Fourth of July to be National French Appreciation Day. Revel appropriately.

Well, there you have it. Straight from the Founders’ mouths. Take heart these wise words, and look for me when the 4th rolls around – I’ll be the one with the ten-gallon beret.

I’m having a tough time admitting this, mostly because I think she stole my life, but I have a huge crush on Chelsea Handler. I was introduced to Ms. Handler a few years back when my friend shoved her first book, “My Horizontal Life” in my hands and screamed, “this was your idea!”

Yes, it’s true. I had always planned on compiling my one night stand stories into a book, but I needed a few more hump sessions to complete it and Chelsea beat me to it.

I wanted to so badly to hate what I read, but I couldn’t. The book was laugh out loud funny, and I’m pretty sure I bothered everyone else in Starbucks when I read the entire thing in one day. When I finally reached the end, I determined that Chelsea and I were soul mates.

Since then, Chelsea has written another NY Times Bestseller and got her very own show, Chelsea Lately, on E! Some people think she slept her way into that late night slot (her BF just happens to be in charge of the network), but I don’t care. If it took a little pork-sesh to bring this woman to TV, then so be it. If anything, it only proves that the woman is as good between the sheets as she is behind the round table.

Chelsea Handler is hilarious, beautiful, witty and has a killer sense of style. When I tune into her show nightly (I haven’t missed an episode in months), I am as entertained by what she says and does as I am by the gorgeous and drool-worthy stilettos on her feet. Stilettos that she uses to effectively stomp on the hopes, dreams and careers of Hollywood’s most ridiculous characters.

And even they find her funny.

Chelsea Handler proves that comedy isn’t just for the boys/ugly women. She’s the total package and if it takes sleeping with her to become her full-sized sidekick (she’s already got a mini-friend), I’ll do it. Maybe we could pen that story into a book together.

We’re back with another edition of G.W.W.E. (Guys We Wanna Eff)!

This week, the release of photos of the Obama girls’ new puppy, Bo (So. Effing. CUTE!), had all of America swooning. But there’s another Bo who’s pulling my heartstrings—of course I’m talking about the sublimely funny Bo Burnham, who’s heating up the internet with his musical comedy.

At just 18, Bo has become the epitome of modern celebrity: an internet star who is breaking out big time into film and music. He has deferred his admission from the NYU class of 2012 to travel the world with his one-man “pubescent musical comedy” act, singing songs about everything from race and sex to family matters. He regularly pokes fun at himself in his songs, like in “My Whole Family,” where he laments about his parents thinking he is fat.

You can check out his not-so-innocent ditties on his YouTube channel or on his website, which includes links to his iTunes downloads and Twitter feeds. My particular favorite video of his, which can be found here, features Bo on piano before a large studio audience, where he is introduced by pop star Katy Perry. (Katy, please go back to kissing girls, and leave Bo’s cherry chapstick for the rest of us, okay?)

I actually heard about Bo from a College Candy reader, and immediately after discovering him, I sent links to all my friends (sorry, girls, for harassing you). With his mature-yet-boyish good looks, he’s like the best high school crush I never had. Oh, and did I mention he’s reportedly working on a new film with Judd Apatow? Talent + funny = eff me, please.

Some movies make you laugh till your tummy hurts, while some movies inspire you with their message. There are some that make you terrified to sleep alone after watching, or ones that are so graphic and disgusting that they make you puke in your mouth and consequently scar you for life. And then there are  the ones that make you shed a tear (or in my case, bawl my eyes out till they are puffy and swollen).

Those are my favorites. Sound strange? Then tell me you’ve never had one of those days when you just wanted to have a good cry. It’s ok. Everyone needs a little release (followed by a giant brownie) now and then. If you’re having a day like that, check out on of these: my list of the best tear-jerkers of all time.

Titanic.

I do not believe anyone who says they never cried at all during this two and a half hour love story. I can’t seem to hold back the tears every time I see Jack shivering in the water telling Rose that she shouldn’t give up and that she will have plenty of babies and grow old. By the time Rose realizes that Jack is dead, I’m  sobbing and running from the room to grab tissues to wipe the dripping snot from my nose.

The Notebook.

I always say that The Notebook is the best romantic love story since Titanic. How could you not cry when the old version of Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams dance in the nursing home after she finally realizes that he is her husband and former lover? When she starts losing her memory two minutes after that it’s heartbreaking. By the time they die in each others’ arms at the end of the movie (shoot, did I ruin the ending?!), I am down a box of tissue…and a sleeve of my sweatshirt.

A Walk to Remember.

In this classic bad-boy-falls-in-love-with-good-christian-girl story, the tears begin to fall when the guy decides to show his love for his dying girlfriend by building the telescope, and start flat-out pouring when he learns how to dance and even asks for help from his estranged father. I cry for the sad ending, but also for the realization that there are only like 5 guys on earth who could actually turn from being the jerk to the devoted sweetheart.

Marley and Me.

I know that all dogs (and humans) grow old and die but as someone who has an attachment to dogs, finding out that the playful and mischievous Marley got sick and died sent me into fits of sobs. (Note: this might have something to do with the fact that I have yet to forgive my mother for accidentally running over my puppy when I was 9. Either way – sad movie.)

Forrest Gump.

How could you not feel sorry for Forrest? He’s just so naive and cute and kind. Forrest lost everyone that was important to him and each passing sent me running for more tissue. Not a good movie to see with a boy. Just sayin’…

Anyone have any other tear-jerkers to add?

Ok, so that’s a lie. I don’t usually leave the bar before a 2 a.m. screaming rendition of Like A Prayer. I did begin DVRing SNL, though, and rewinding Weekend Update over and over again. That sh*t is funny and Amy Poehler is the woman I dream to become: funny, witty, successful, blonde, and married to Will Arnett.

So, yeah, SNL has been making me laugh lately. A lot. But last night it made me cry again. Not because it was so unfunny that it hurt (like that Michael Phelps ep.), but because my favorite little lady is leaving the show for good. Amy P. decided it was time to stay home with her new baby (boooo!) and took a little time out of last night’s episode to say goodbye.

It was everything you’d expect from a Poehler goodbye, though the comic relief could not stop my tears. (I know, pathetic.) Let’s just hope this is only a little pause in Poehler’s career and not the end. And that SNL doesn’t start majorly sucking now that she’s gone.

You date, you learn. And you’d think that the people you date will just vanish of the face off the earth, because it’s only polite, right? You dealt with the waves of nausea and anxiety during the end-phase, and so they should bother you no longer.

“Should” being the key word.

I’m a fan of amicably parting ways, sure, but when you pointedly don’t is the guaranteed time that son of a bitch will come back to haunt you. So as a preventative measure you weed them out. You try to be proactive and delete them from your phone—number, email, all of it, and even those text messages and voicemails you like to listen to.

Have faith, you’ll find a new distraction, let down your guard because this one’s different, and the cycle can repeat itself all over again. Joy. In any case, you make moves and move on, and the ex, or pseudo-ex, or whatever you called him is but a distant memory.

If you haven’t guessed by now, the weeding out can bite you in the ass. Please, dear readers, learn from my mistakes.

These days, I’ve been plenty distracted, and out of nowhere I get a call. The number wasn’t familiar, but come on; we all know those randoms who get your number at the bar and don’t call it for three-to-six months after the fact. I was feeling adventurous. I answered.

In retrospect, and even at the time, this was not a good idea. Don’t do this. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, a guy’s, but I couldn’t exactly place it. And here follows the dialogue:

Mystery Caller: So you’re number’s in my phone but I don’t know who this is. Did we maybe have a fun night together or something?

—At this point, you should regret answering and hang up. Me? Well, curiosity killed the cat, not the K, right?—

K: You’re not in my phone at all so I really couldn’t tell you. What’s your name?

—Continuing is worse than answering. But he sounded kind of attractive.—

Mystery Caller: [joking around, avoiding the question] I’m just trying to figure out how I know you. What’s your name again?

—First of all, homes, YOU called ME. This guy must’ve known SOMETHING. But I know this voice, and my chattiness and boredom win the inner debate. I do not hang up. Should this happen to you, Hang. Up.—

K: I’m K. Who are you?

Mystery Caller: K, this is [insert The Comedian, aka the crier’s, actual name here]. Does that ring a bell?

—Of course it does. I thought I’d never hook up again after that disaster. Why are you calling me like a year after the fact…?—

K: Oh…. Yeah.

Comedian: So did we have a fun night together or what?

—Do not be nice. But if you’re like me, and dumb enough to continue, you probably will be.—

K: I mean, that might’ve happened.

— And then you cried and it got too awkward to even talk. Where the eff are you going with this?—

Comedian: K, why don’t you tell all the people about that night—

CLICK. I snapped my phone shut and threw it as though it were burning my hand. “Tell the people”? That douchebag had his cell phone up to a microphone while he was PERFORMING A STAND-UP GIG.

I was used in a COMEDY BIT. A YEAR LATER! AND HE WAS THE ONE WHO CRIED!

And seriously? What kind of comedian makes calls as part of his routine? Oh, a BAD one. Who CRIES IN BED.

Rage is really not a strong enough word for this situation. Twenty minutes later I got a text saying he realized who I was and apologized, saying he’d explain but I’d probably think he was a bigger a**hole than I already did.

I’m not entirely sure that’s possible.

And a week later? To add insult to injury, I walked past him and his new girlfriend as I was leaving work. In a city of 8 million, this guy is one of the passers by. The guys from the past pop back up, when you least expect it and least need it. So how do you handle the ex encounter? Keep silent and keep moving, or by getting the last laugh?

[Photo courtesy of petermerry.com]

What? You don't agree?

You may not have noticed him in Anchorman, or remember him being in The 40 Year Old Virgin, but, come on, you didn't wanna eff him in Knocked Up? Rogan is even starring in "Zack & Miri Make a Porno," which obviously means he is 100% effable.]

I have never told anyone this before, but after I saw Knocked Up with my (now ex) boyfriend, I was totally turned on. Weird, right? I mean, the thought of having a baby totally freaked me out, and seeing that baby come out of Katherine Heigl’s va-jay totally grossed me out, but I couldn’t keep my hands to myself the entire way home.

And then I realized why: I totally wanted to eff Seth Rogan.

He’s not the type of guy you’d drool over at the bar, (in fact he’s more the type of guy that smokes pot in the corner), nor is he the type your mom would necessarily love to have over for dinner. He was the dorky guy in high school who watched as all the taller, hotter dudes (without the Jew-Fro) got all the girls.

But that is why we love him. Well, that and the fact that he is just really effing hilarious.

Rogan is a comedy genius. You saw Superbad, didn’t you? And Da Ali G show? Yeah, he wrote those. Imagine how much more fun sex can be when you got a man this funny by your side (or on top/underneath/behind you). And he’s all cuddly and cute…and looks really hot in those glasses. I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Seriously, give this dude another look; you too will see why he’s a guy we wanna eff.

It’s rainy. It’s windy. You haven’t seen sunlight in days, you didn’t do so hot on today’s pop quiz, and you really don’t feel like reading about the Enlightenment for history class. What better way to beat the dreariness and procrastinate than by having a comedy movie marathon to boost your spirits and make you laugh?

When fall settles in and it’s not as much fun to walk through campus on a chilly, dismal day, grab a bunch of kids from your hall, pop some warm, buttery popcorn, and veg out in flannel pj’s and sweats. You’ll feel better, you’ll have fun, and best of all, these movies sure as hell beat anything that sprung from the Enlightenment!

1. Happy Campers

I stumbled upon this little gem in college, and ended up being charged an arm and a leg in late fees when I couldn’t bring myself to return my new instant-favorite to the video store. Starring Brad Renfro, Dominique Swain, and Jaime King (credited as James King), this black comedy follows six mismatched camp counselors through the trials and tribulations of summer camp.

All of the typical stereotypes are present in the counselors who have to fend for themselves and control their coming-of-age campers after the director of the camp is struck by lightening. If you’re thinking this movie is just as cheesy as such camp movies as Camp Nowhere or Heavyweights, think again. Do those Disney flicks feature scenes in which the “slutty” counselor tells her charges that semen tastes like salty pancake batter? I didn’t think so.

Bonus: Summer movies might be the only chance of seeing sunshine as the days get longer and darker.

2. Grandma’s Boy

This Happy Madison production does NOT feature Adam Sandler, but if you’ve seen Big Daddy, Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore, and the rest of Sandler’s flicks, you’ll recognize the featured cast (Kevin Nealon, Peter Dante, and Allen Covert), as well as Rob Schneider and David Spade, who make hysterical cameos. Co-written and co-produced by my future husband, Nick Swardson, this movie wraps excessive marijuana use, Dance Dance Revolution, karaoke, a ninja monkey, and the nerdy guy from Dodgeball (dressed in pleather) into one gut-busting hit. Did I mention Doris Roberts from Everybody Loves Raymond also plays a major part?Bonus: This movie is totally guy-friendly, so you can make a coed movie night out of it!

3. Mean Girls

Come on — this movie is the staple for a snuggly night in. No matter how many times Lindsay Lohan says “Grool”– you know, when she meant to say “cool,” but then she started to say “great”– Mean Girls gives you something new to notice and laugh at every time around. Maybe that’s because the script is written by funny woman Tina Fey, of Saturday Night Live, 30 Rock and Baby Mama fame. There’s plenty of eye candy, plenty of velour jumpsuits, and plenty of Rachel McAdams portraying the ultimate Queen Bee. What’s not to love?Bonus: Save money on rentals — it’s pretty much guaranteed that someone on your floor already owns it.

4. EuroTrip

Just because Spring Break is months away doesn’t mean it’s too early to start planning. What better way to get some fab SB plans than by watching the ultimate collegiate European adventure? Three guys and Michelle Trachtenberg jetset to London, Paris, Amsterdam, Bratislava, Vatican City, and more, partaking in plenty of deviance along the way. So what if you’re stuck inside a dorm room, bored out of your mind? Escape to the world of French robots, football hooligans, Absinthe, and crass Nazi jokes. Forget Miami Beach — this movie will make you want to dust off your passport and head to Europe this spring!Bonus: Look for the cameo by Matt Damon — just be careful not to get his catchy jam stuck in your head!

5. Sorority Boys

When three guys are unfairly kicked out of their the KOK fraternity house, they do what any dude would do in this situation: dress in drag and pose as pledges for the DOG sorority. Obvi. Of course, as the film progresses, Barry Watson and his crossdressing cohorts learn life lessons, make valuable friends, fall in love, and outcon the enemy, with lots of sexual innuendos and biological puns along the way.Bonus: You don’t have to think. At all. Just sit back and enjoy Harland Williams’ antics.

I hope you all got your paycheck because the list this week is enticing. Ignore the recession and that “budget” you set (where all funds go to Coors and clothes); go ahead and splurge this week for a new CD or DVD, espesh my pick of the week:

The Happening (!!!)

I have loved M. Night Shyamalan films since The Sixth Sense, so obvi his latest DVD is a must-have.

Not a fan of M. Night’s crazy flicks? Don’t worry; here are a few other DVD releases to pick up this week:

You Don’t Mess With the Zohan (Adam Sandler as an Israeli fighting hair stylist? How could that not be awesome?

30 Rock: Season 2 (The perfect fix until the new season starts!)

Now for some serious tune-age. While I wish I could put every new release from every genre, there isn’t enough time or space. Here are some of the highlights:

No Molestar- Marco Antonio Solis

Tell Tale Signs: The Bootleg Series Vol 8 – Bob Dylan

Break Up the Concrete- The Pretenders

Dig Out Your Soul- Oasis

Closer- The Best of Sarah McLachlan

Live at Shea Stadium- The Clash

Greatest Hits- Tim McGraw

Forever More- Tesla

Well there you have it; if I missed a few, sorry. Which releases will you be takin’ home?