Diamonds, Engagement Rings & Diamond Jewelry in popular culture

If you were thinking about opening the Sarah Palin Bathhouse and Food Co-op, you might be out of luck.  And if you wanted to open the first Bristol Palin Academy of Dance, you could have to find a new dream to dream.  The Palins have decided to trademark their most respected of names.  The initial applications, submitted by the Palin family lawyer, were rejected on the grounds that they were not personally signed by either Sarah or Bristol.  Perhaps Mrs. Palin was too busy shooting wildlife and slamming healthcare reform.  And in Bristol’s defense, it is possible that the ABCs were taught while—go-getter that she is—was becoming a self-taught Birds-and-Bees expert.  And it is just this kind of Palin aptitude that has caused the mother and daughter to seek ownership of their names.  They want to be the only Sarah Palin and Bristol Palin on the motivational speaking circuit.

If they want to own their names, they can have 'em.

What they plan to motivate people to do, well, we can pretty much guess.

Another problem with both applications is that they need to show actual visual proof of how their names are being used for the purposes they describe.  According to the US Patent and Trademark Office, examples include “signs, photographs, brochures, website printouts or advertisements” that show the names in question being used in advertising for the sale of their services.   While Bristol offered no visual proof of this particular use of her moniker (there isn’t any such thing), Sarah Palin sent in perplexing examples that had nothing to do with anything.  While she has been paid to speak and evidence of this exists, she instead offered a screenshot of a headline from Fox News, a copy of her biography, and another screenshot of her Facebook page.

The Palins should probably shop for lawyers outside of Wasilla’s famous “Attorneys and Live Bait” franchises.

Todd Palin, who made an honest woman of Sarah 22 years ago by giving her a wedding ring seven months prior to the birth of their first child, has made no such moves to trademark his own appellation, although he displayed motivational skills while his wife showcased her rock climbing skills in her reality TV show.  Perhaps the family feels that yelling, “Let’s go, Juicy!” to the former VP candidate isn’t as important as Bristol’s future as a pro-abstinence lecturer (provided she can find a babysitter).

No word yet as to whether or not the expected 2012 Presidential contender intends to trademark “Juicy Palin” as well.

Todd had a shot at owning his own nickname.  While his wife was Governor, he refused to be referred to as “first gentleman” as is customary.  His I’m-a-regular-guyness made him come up with the handle “first dude”.  Really.  Shouldn’t Jeff Bridges have something to say about that?  He is—and always will be—the First Dude to the masses.

Regardless of their mistakes thus far in the trademarking process, Sarah and Bristol Palin intend to go ahead with the branding of themselves.  They have been given 6 months to re-file their applications in an intelligent way.

I’m not holding my breath.

It isn’t just a jump from a Mel Gibson cameo to a Bill Clinton cameo.  It’s more like a surge; a vault; a trip on the light respectable even.  After replacing Gibson apparently because ‘the cast didn’t like him’ (read: movie-goers wouldn’t pay to see him) with Liam Neeson, someone we’d pay to see even with his clothes on (you’ve heard the rumors), Directors scored Moby Dick.  They got an ex-Prez, someone who has regained respect despite some, ahem, ugliness, and Bill Clinton will appear briefly—as himself, of course—in Hangover 2.  Now that’s something people will pay to see.

"America, how could I NOT say yes?"

It seems that while the film was shooting scenes in Bangkok, Clinton was there delivering a speech on clean energy.  Of course, it’s easy to see why the intern-lovin’ 42^nd President might want to spend some time in Thailand, but the point is that he was there, the film crew was there, and it worked out.  A good ol’ boy like Clinton probably loved The Hangover, which was really, outrageously funny, so playing himself in the sequel was a no-brainer.  Put together a bunch of guys playing overgrown boys and one who is still best known for not having a Tide To Go instant stain remover handy and you’ve got movie magic.  Clean energy, yes.  Clean dress, no.

There will undoubtedly be some suitable raunch in Clinton’s scene.  He will come in contact with the characters played by Bradley Cooper, Zach Galifianakis, and Ed Helms.  There are some reports that the scene involves a rickshaw.  By the time those scenes were filmed, Galifianakis had a shaved head, for whatever reason.  Perhaps Liam Neeson’s character will tattoo it later in the film.  The reality is that Bill Clinton has a known sense of humor and has nothing to fear by letting himself have some fun in his first big-screen role.  It suits his style.  He might even allow a few jokes at his own expense, something that we can’t imagine Galifianakis’s character will let slide.  How can a drunken, bald-headed Alan resist looking at Bill Clinton in Bangkok and not soberly pronounce “I did not have sex with that woman”?  It is not in the celluloid-created DNA of Alan to not say it.

Another addition to the cast of Hangover 2 is Paul Giamatti, who is genius at everything he ever does.  So far, he has just shown up on set and the role he will play in the film is entirely unknown, but is expected that it will be little more than an extended cameo, since much of the movie is already done.

With the beloved core cast and the impressive list of cameos—which no longer includes Mel Gibson—Hangover Part II now has a good chance of being more popular than the original.  They’ve got an ex-President, for heaven’s sake.

Take that, Avatar 2!

Maybe if you were looking for drugs…

It seems that Lindsay Lohan, having spent much of this year in either courtrooms, jail, or rehab, is thinking of opening her own rehab facilities.  This is according to her mother, Dina Lohan, who was delighted to be interviewed in the light of day on the Today Show. The “Momager”—a strange, mutant Hollywood mother/manager hybrid—is more accustomed to bleary-eyed after-club camera-dodging at 3am.  Apparently all the time without chemicals has given Lindsay a bit of clarity.  Owning a recovery center would save her a lot of money, which she could then spend on beautiful fashions to cover the alcohol-monitoring anklets that have become a regular accessory for her.  She has already become a master at creating outfits that conceal the SCRAM bracelet, wearing everything from high boots to wide-leg pantsuits, and even working out in public wearing long black pants that not only hide the SCRAM but make her appear healthy as well.

"Wait, what? Why not? After my fashion line was so successful..."

While in rehab this summer, Lindsay mentioned that she needed to come to terms with the damage that had been done to her and her family by delinquent daddy Michael Lohan.  Therapy must have done wonders, as the two met at Lindsay’s request at the Betty Ford Center in LA and had what was noted as a “tearful reunion”.  After a long conversation, the two ex-cons hit up a nearby street fair and some local shops.  They spent an exceptionally long time in one of LA’s high-end jewelry stores, where the starlet found herself interested in several items.  Perhaps a nice diamond necklace for herself to commemorate her reunion with her father?  Maybe she just wants something new and sparkly to look at for her remaining 8 weeks at Betty Ford.

Naturally, the Momager has still been hard at work thinking of ways to exploit her daughter’s fame.  She is has been shopping around for a network to pick up a reality show about Lindsay’s experiences in rehab, although her daughter is not at all interested in this.  She plans to use photos and video that she takes of her daughter during casual “family visits” to create a show on which she will, naturally, act as executive producer.  While Michael Lohan has voiced his disgust at the idea, it is difficult to believe that he turned into Wonder-Dad overnight.  One day of shopping does not a good father make, particularly when Lindsay was footing the bill.

In Dina Lohan’s interview with Matt Lauer, she spoke about the possibility of Lindsay owning recovery clinics.  “She wants to start her own facilities, help other children,” Dina said. “She’s so public, we can only be positive and look to the future to help other families.”  It’s truly a lovely thought, and it would get plenty of attention.  But how much credibility can a place have when it’s started by someone who’s been in and out of rehab more times than most people have been into bars?  While we can all only hope that it works this time for the 24 year-old, it’s tough when her support network is relying on her failure for their next paychecks.

The Lindsay Lohan Recovery Center/Bar and Grill.  A Hollywood original.

It seems that almost everyone wants to dress up as either Lady Gaga or one of the little disasters from Jersey Shore.  T-shirts with silk-screened abs are very popular, and Snooki wigs are hopping off of the shelves like lice out of the Smush Room.  But with Lady Gaga, there are so many choices as to which fashion disaster one can mimic.  Drag queens all over the world are finding themselves in quite a quandary.  Is it practical and financially possibly to acquire and dismember enough Kermit the Frog dolls to recreate Gaga’s infamous frog frock?  Is it safe to walk around in fishnets, a bra, and a Yankees Jersey?  Definitely not in Boston or Texas, but that’s another issue.  Is there any way to imitate the crown of diamonds from her insanely popular video for “Bad Romance”?   There are so many questions when it comes to dressing like Lady Gaga.  Even when it isn’t Halloween.

Toxoplasmosis: a small price to pay for a great Haloween costume.

A Connecticut newspaper thought itself responsible for making the public aware of certain dangers associated with dressing like the Grammy-winning singer.  The Hartford Courant felt it necessary to warn readers of the possible ramifications of wearing a dress made of raw meat, as the singer famously did at this year’s Video Music Awards.  Apparently, donning uncooked beef puts a person at a risk of getting campylobacteriosis, which can lead to dystentery, muscle aches, fever, and various other symptoms.  Another possibility, according to the article, is that your prime rib hat or meat purse can lead to toxoplasmosis, a bacterial infection that can cause brain damage or even death.  Yes, meat can not only be murder, but suicide as well.

When it comes to the Meat Dress idea, I just can’t figure out whether to use a pattern or a recipe.

Other popular costumes this year come from films, with lots of Edwards and Bellas running around hand-in-hand; characters from Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland, including Alice, the Queen of Hearts, and the Mad Hatter in particular; various of the creatures from Avatar; and Harry Potters and Jack Sparrows by the score.

Even more disturbing than the Meat Dress is Antoine Dodson’s attempt to cash in on his 15 minutes by creating an Antoine Dodson: Bed Intruder costume.  In his homemade advertisement, he warns people that when trick-or-treaters arrive, to “hide yo kids, hide yo wife”.  Charming, and obviously a huge moneymaker.

For anyone with less than $1000 and a willing butcher with extra flank steak, simple Barack Obama masks are wildly popular, although wearing them in Tea Party states might be more dangerous than a Meat Dress on a hot night in a yard full of angry pit bulls.

Maybe it’s wise to stay in this year with a nice ice luge and good friends.

Call it bad performing, call it bad casting, call it the judges drinking “hater-ade”, call it the effects of steroids, but don’t call it anything but justified.  The Situation has been eliminated from Dancing with the Stars after performing, well, something that was supposed to be dance but didn’t quite pass muster.  And by “pass muster”, I mean that he didn’t dance.  His feet moved a little bit and he threw his 80-pound partner around very well, but that doesn’t make it pretty.  It was as uncomfortable to watch as is it was to be Karina Smirnoff.  She must feel cheated that she hasn’t had time to make tabloid news for another affair with a co-star.  While we are all somewhat saddened that we won’t get to see The Situation embarrass himself on this show any more, we can all rest assured that he will do just fine in upcoming seasons of Jersey Shore.

One less embarrassment for show, lower rating to ensue.

The judges were harsh on the couple, complimenting only Karina for her ability to maintain composure while her partner forgot steps, looked at his feet, and showed all the grace that Al Gore might were he to attempt the Argentinian Tango.  I am crying for you, Argentina, for having your name attached to this event.  The elimination will give ample time for our Italian-American bed-hopper to do some extra crunches before filming another season of the show that first took away his family name—something that makes Sorrentinos everywhere rest a little easier.  But what about the rest of us?  Will we ever be able to use the word “situation” in a sentence without thinking of this vacuous assclown?

Some of the negative attention was temporarily taken away when Bristol and Mark took the floor.  Yes, the young Palin was appropriately clumsy and inexplicably dressed, but when she pulled his shirt over Mark’s head halfway through their performance, it was just silly.  We get it.  Dancers have good bodies and Bristol Palin, well, not so much.  We’d rather see Mark Ballas topless than his partner.   Beyond that, they didn’t dance well.  Not that anyone really expects many of these “stars” to be great dancers, but there should be some kind of qualification process.  Something a little more discerning than “Has this person been in the National Enquirer enough?” and “Is this person considered a has-been?”  It doesn’t necessarily make for good television when we are constantly averting our eyes to avoid feeling the shame that the performers must feel.

At least The Situation and Bristol Palin have careers to return to.  One gets to return to tequila-guzzling, tanning, and grenade avoidance, while the other can return to her lucrative pro-abstinence speaking circuit.  One will make millions for embarrassing himself to the delight of MTV viewers everywhere, and the other will end up married to an Alaskan loser with a deer strapped to the hood of his F1-50.

And we’ll keep tuning in to Dancing with the Stars because Jennifer Grey has shown us that she can still cut a rug even without her real nose.  Of course, the same can be said for Audrina Patridge, except for the dancing part.

Either way, it will continue to be a hit for as long as there are former celebrities willing to embarrass themselves.  Bless their hearts.

It isn’t unusual for athletes and celebrities to branch out and use their popularity to sell merchandise.  It begins with endorses other people’s products, but then they begin hiring people to develop their own products.  Britney Spears and Mariah Carey, among countless others, have their own perfumes.  Paris Hilton also has energy drinks bearing her name.  50 Cent has his own Vitamin Water.  JWoww from Jersey Shore is developing a new line of hair extensions to match her classy club-wear.  In the breakfast cereal biz, it started with Wheaties putting famous athletes on the front of the box.  At the height of their popularity, Bill & Ted had their own semi-nutritious way to start your day.  And then Chad Ochocinco, receiver for the Cincinnati Bengals had his people create Ochocincos, which is basically Honey Nut Cheerios under a new name.  It was a good idea in theory, but he probably would have been better off being known as the guy who bought his Dancing with the Stars partner an extravagant diamond necklace and matching ring.  Not because his breakfast cereal is any worse than the many others, but because of an unfortunate typo on the box bearing his burly frame holding up the Os on either end of his name.

Offering more than just a healthy breakfast.

He deserves some credit for using his fame to promote a good cause, which is, in this case, Feed the Children.  In an effort to raise money for the charity, the toll-free number to donate was supposed to be printed on the box.  That number is (888) HELP-FTC.  Unfortunately, due to a typographical error, (800) HELP-FTC was put there instead.  Evidently, the letters associated with 435-7382 must also spell something pretty disgusting.  When a 9 year-old girl dialed the number, instead of hearing a prompt for donations to Feed the Children, she heard a sexy voice offering to “do anything you want”.  We can assume that pressing “1” would not direct her to the nearest donation center.  We can also guess that the 9 year-old was not interested in hearing “whatever it takes to pleasure you”.  Just a guess.  Prior to the discovery, Ochocinco took to Twitter to tell his followers that they should “order my cereal OCHOCINCOS.  Start your day with a lil suga!!”  This was clearly not the “suga” he planned on hawking to the masses.

Fortunately, a few helpful citizens, after reading of the mistake, called the number to see what it was about.  It did not, evidently, disappoint.  A few other upstanding members of the community took to the internet to see what those numbers can possibly spell besides “HELP-FTC”.  The answers were disturbing.  The only lingering question is how a phone-sex line could be a toll-free number.  I thought those were all 900 numbers which would charge outrageous fees to find out what this young lady and her “ultra-hot girlfriends” were capable of doing.  It takes a great deal of self-restraint to not find out the answer to that.  The easy way out was to check Ochocinco’s Twitter page, which was full of apologies.  He is, after all, known to be a good guy, and he was trying to do a good thing.  And he’s an athlete, not a copywriter.  Someone else dropped the ball (no pun intended) on this one.  It was small type on the back of the box.

But can someone, anyone, please tell me how he could let it slide that the giant name of the cereal reads “Ochocinco’s”? That is so wrong.

Merriam-Webster, the dictionary to which we all refer when we need to know the definition of real English words, has just released to the world the top-searched words on its website.  How proud all of us American-born folks feel to know that the official “Word of the Summer” isn’t a real word at all.  It is a Palin-ism.  Yes, our favorite bear-shootin’, gun-totin’, language-mangling former Vice Presidential candidate invented a word, using it not just on television but on Twitter as well.  Americans immediately took to the internet as they shook their heads and said “What?”  It has to be a real word, right?  People don’t just make things up or make giant, glaring errors in speech when they were thisclose to the Oval Office, right?

"I used a sharpie to write it here, so it IS real."

Wrong.  Sarah Palin said and typed “refudiate” just as though it means something.  But at this point, as our Ambassador of Embarrassment, she shrugged off criticism, noting that William Shakespeare created new language all the time.  Which is funnier: Sarah Palin flagrantly abusing her mother tongue or Sarah Palin comparing herself to Shakespeare?  The jury’s still out on that.

Merriam-Webster stands firm on not having this freshly-coined term in our official lexicon, at least not yet.  The same debate was raised when folks wanted to have “bootylicious” become part of our collective vocabulary.  A big shout-out goes to M-W.com on that decision as well.

Perhaps Sarah Palin is just giving up on trying to make sense.  Her family has become yet another reason for the rest of the world to think Americans are stupid.  But “refudiate-gate” has served a purpose for the Alaskan clan: it has taken some of the focus off of the “Bristol Palin unwed teenaged mother” thing, and away from every sidelong glance to see if Bristol is or isn’t wearing her engagement ring from on-again, off-again fiancé/nude model Levi Johnston.

We might give Sarah Palin the benefit of the doubt and say that she threw herself in front of the bus, so to speak, to give Bristol a bit of breathing room.  But that would require a few things that Mrs. P. just doesn’t have, like media savvy and intelligence.  And it would be a pointless effort anyway, as young Bristol is participating on Dancing with the Stars with the condition that she be able to wear modest dresses.  So far, teaser photos for the show have revealed that her interpretation of modesty is similar to her interpretation of abstinence.

Merriam-Webster has stated that the process of a slang term or word-hybrid (think ‘bodacious’ and ‘guesstimate’) becoming official is a long process and would require, among other provisions, common usage.  The “common usage” exception is a back door into accepted language, and one that can cause hilarity if you type in an entertaining word to hear it read to you online.  M-W.com is good like that.  But don’t expect to hear a well-enunciated “refudiate” any time soon on the respected site.  If it ever does make it into the dictionary, I’m giving up citizenship.

Who’s with me?

Just because a guy has a certain amount of football acumen, just because he had a successful career, and just because he is even an NFL Hall of Famer does not mean that he is qualified to talk about the sport on television.  Athletes are known for, well, athletics.  Expecting them to speak eloquently is like expecting an orangutan to learn sign language; it can happen, but it’s not likely.  For every John Madden there are about 50 morons hoping to get a similar job.  Somehow, former NFL player Dan “Danimal” Hampton got in front of a camera and wasted no time putting his enormous shoe into his even larger mouth on Pro Football Weekly, where he will be working for maybe the next ten minutes.

What was that you were saying about the Cowboys again?

Sometimes, it is okay to joke about a tragedy, if enough time has passed.  It depends on amount of time and the magnitude of the event.  Holocaust humor is, for example, still generally unacceptable.  Likewise, 9-11 jokes.  But most of the world can safely make a Hindenburg or Titanic remark without being lynched.  But some wounds a too fresh.

Dan Hampton is, on paper, a good candidate to talk about football.  He was a great player.  He was Defensive Lineman of the Year, Defensive Player of the Year, six-time All-Pro selection, four-time Pro Bowl selection (and two-time alternate), and scored himself the coveted gaudy, diamond-encrusted Superbowl ring with the Chicago Bears in 1985.  The same year, he opted out of participation in the still-embarrassing “Superbowl Shuffle”. Oh, Jim McMahon, you were never more embarrassing.  And that’s saying something.  That would be the last time Hampton would show any semblance of taste.

So back to Hampton and his foot-in-mouth disease.  Boy Genius decided it was a good idea to say, regarding the Minnesota Vikings playing against the Saints in New Orleans, “The Vikings need to go down there and hit that town like Katrina”.

Really, Dan?  Really?

Unfortunately, no takesy-backsies once it’s aired on television.  If Mike & Mike weren’t busy talking about it, the blogosphere certainly was, and ain’t nobody pleased.  Tom Waddle, Hub Arkush, and Pat Boyle all managed to move past it relatively unfazed, but we all know they would have preferred to sink down under the desk and wait for the hurricane (pun intended) of emails and calls to hit.  Maybe they that the 1979 first-round draft pick might watch his mouth after that.

Not so fast, fellas.  Just as we expect simple, pure wisdom to come from children (“Out of the mouths of babes”), so can we expect athletes to say things that just shouldn’t be said (I’m looking at YOU, John Rocker).  While discussing the NFC East with his co-hosts, Dan Hampton said this: “The [Dallas] Cowboys think they’re Clint Eastwood; they’re more of the Brokeback variety if you know what I’m talking about”.

Yes, we get it, Dan.  You are not only completely indifferent to suffering, but you’re a homophobe to boot.

And the boot is exactly what he should get, and pronto.  Please, before he makes all turn to watching European football instead

It’s a name we could have gone a lifetime without knowing.  Levi Johnston could easily be just some Alaskan redneck with a mullet drinking PBR tallboys with the guys and discussing his latest conquests.  No such luck.  Because of those powerful, icy swimmers of his, he became better known—and more respected—than the woman who forced him to put an engagement ring on her pregnant daughter’s finger.  While his 15 minutes were supposed to be over after his spread in Playgirl, he has managed to stretch it out more than two fat kids wrestling over a Snickers.  Not only does he still intend to run for mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, but he intends to do so in his very own reality TV show.

Helloooooooo, Mr. Mayor!

He’s no longer planning to marry Bristol Palin, as we all know.  Their second engagement was cut off when news broke that he may have impregnated another young Wasilla girl.  Bristol was also apparently miffed when he co-starred in a music video lampooning the famous family he was once to be a part of.  Whatever.  He and the people who clearly think for him realized that he is one of Alaska’s untapped resources: pliable stupidity.  He’ll do anything that his agents tell him to.  And there’s no shame in being ridiculed for everything he does.  He still gets chicks, and has shown that he can procreate with the best of ‘em.

His talents are to next be showcased in a show called Loving Levi: The Road to The Mayor’s Office.  While the double-entendre no doubt went over his head, it is just clever enough to get people to watch, provided that the as-yet unscripted show is picked up by a network.  The 20 year-old’s manager, Tank Jones (not kidding), has confirmed the reports that Levi is serious about running for office because he sees that there are serious political issues that need to be addressed in his hometown.  He goes on to reassure us that, “This is not a spoof.  This is not a joke.”

The truth is, Levi hardly finds himself with a tough act to follow.  How much worse can he possibly be than his babymomma’s momma?

Levi has made sure to be seen over the last few weeks.  He appeared at the Teen Choice Awards Sunday on the arm of Brittani Senser, the singer who hired him to appear in her music video.  He was at the same awards show last year, but escorted Kathy Griffin.  It was perfect exposure for a young man who hopes to lead a small town into the big time.  Tank Jones has said that Levi was very serious about his mayoral bid, with or without television cameras following his every move.  Whatever.

Either way, it seems that, at this time, Levi Johnston has a more promising political future than Sarah Palin.  Somewhere in Alaska right now, a woman is loading her shotgun and preparing to shoot some defenseless animals.

In a time when we hear so many things about love gone wrong, celebrity divorces, ugly custody battles, and flagrant infidelity, it is heartwarming to know that there are still some true romantics out there.  Such is the story of one Franklin Barndt, who showed all of us that nothing, not even inevitable jail time, was to keep him from marrying Takesha Piazza.  Last December, Franklin was in his home in Easton, Pennsylvania, when the police busted in and caught him with 20 grams of crack cocaine.  He was arrested and charged with intent to distribute.  On Friday, as a motions hearing for his case was about to be heard, Barndt’s attorney asked for a most unusual sidebar, requesting that his client be allowed to marry his girlfriend before the proceedings.

Young Love Presides at Crack-Bust Wedding Ceremony.

At first, Judge Leonard Zito balked.  It seemed, somehow, not an appropriate usage of the taxpayers’ time and money.  The Assistant District Attorney indicated that she, too, did not approve.  But, according to Gary Asteak, Barndt’s defense attorney, “Love can’t wait.  Love is immediate and demanding.”  Maybe Judge Zito thought it would save time to not fight it.  Maybe he was overcome with the wave of romance and sentiment that swept through the courtroom as the prospective groom stood before him in his prison-issue tuxedo alternative.  Asteak explained that the couple had been trying for weeks to arrange their nuptials and had even obtained a marriage license, but Barndt’s imprisonment made things a bit challenging.

Judge Zito relented and, after hearing the motions, presided over the ceremony in which the couple exchanged—with a criminal defense attorney as the best man and opposing counsel as maid of honor. Due to ever-present handcuffs around the groom’s wrists, wedding rings were not exchanged.  The ADA even tried to argue that the crack dealer should not be able to kiss his blushing bride, but kiss they did.  With a room chock full of witnesses, the defendant got his girl.  No reports on whether or not tears abounded.

This was just a motions hearing, so Zito was to return to custody immediately after.  Judge Zito made it clear that he would still be hearing the criminal case and that the warmth of the wedding would have no bearing on his decision.  The new Mrs. Piazza-Barndt was overcome with emotion and is looking forward to going on a honeymoon with her new husband.  Since drug trafficking is a class A felony in Pennsylvania and carries with it a maximum sentence of 20 years, she could be waiting a while to see the sandy shores of Hawaii with her man.  Nonetheless, the frizzy-haired groom and his new wife were all smiles, showing all of us that not only Charlie Sheen’s marriages can withstand drug busts.

Ah, young love.  Perhaps the two will be able to keep the ceremonial handcuffs as a wedding gift from the county upon the groom’s release.  Whenever that is.