So, you all know I'm a crazed loon about celebrity gossip, yes? Well for me, the absolute pinnacle of that shit still remains the golden troika of Brad, Ange, and Jen. Seriously folks, most of the time I can somewhat contain my love for all things trashy and gossipy and "not-really-important-in-the-big-scheme-of-things"y--but not when it comes to these three. If I could have but one superpower, it would be invisibility, and then I would take my invisible ass on over to Malibu and hide out in Jennifer Aniston's shower for the weekend and furiously scribble down notes in one of those tiny little spiral notepads that are just made for jotting down nuggets of information. Of course, then the notepad wouldn't be invisible, so when she came into the bathroom to take a shower, I'd have to quickly throw that shit into the towel hamper so as not to be detected--BUT NOT BEFORE I QUICKLY MADE NOTE OF HER NAKED BODY AND JOTTED DOWN HOW IT LOOKED. Jennifer Aniston's body fascinates me because of the fact that she was all booty and titty-licious for like the first season of Friends, and then was clearly made to lose weight, and then she did, and now her body is all rock hard and lean, but not grossly anorexically so, but she's always going on and on in interviews about how she's Greek and she's meant to have boobs and a butt and that she loves Mexican food and margaritas, and like...what is this bitch's secret? She's no youngstah anymore either. How does she do it? I need to know.
More to come...
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Guess who's gonna get her 15 minutes and win some scratch, or at least some turtle wax?
ME! ME!! ME!!!
OK, maybe not...but I am one step closer to the dream, which I discovered when I received this email on Tuesday:
Congratulations! You have been selected for a follow-up appointment at an upcoming Jeopardy! contestant search for the Chicago area, exclusively for those who successfully passed the online test. This is the next step in becoming a Jeopardy! contestant. We have reserved the following appointment for you:
When: Friday, August 3rd Time: 9:00am
Where: Chicago, IL
And blah, blah, blah legal legalitty-cakes..the upshot is that my ass is trying out for Jeopardy on August 3rd, bitches!!
I have since found out a little more about how this all works. Apparently, back in the dark ages, to get on Jeopardy you had to apply to any one of a number of regional tryouts they had each year, or travel on your own dime to LA to get into one of their more frequent tryouts. Then, if you were randomly selected to audition, you would go there and take a 50-question test. If you "passed" (and they never have revealed what their bar for passing is, but anecdotal evidence seems to suggest it's around 35 out of 50 or better), they would have you play a mock game and interview you, and then put you in their contestant pool. Now apparently, being in the "contestant pool" still means you have only a 1 in 6 to 1 in 10 shot at actually getting called to tape show.
However, in these enlightened internet times, they now do a 50 question online test about once a year, and so the way the process now works is out of those folks who "pass" this test, they'll randomly select about 20% of them to move onto the next stage, which is the stage I've been selected for. At my audition, apparently, they will still give us another 50 question test, but everyone will still get to play the mock game and interview no matter what you score on the in-person exam (I guess the theory being that if you passed the online test you must be at least somewhat decent at the game). However, much like how the online test worked, you won't know shit about how you did or if they're interested unless they call you later to tape a game, or not, and apparently it does seem to be true that you have anywhere from a 1/6 to 1/10 chance of actually getting called to be on the show after this audition.
But come on, people. I've got to be cuter than like 85% of the people trying out, right? I've never been one to be overconfident in my looks, but I've gotta believe that in the crowd of nerdy folks who tried out for Jeopardy on the internet, I'm gonna be a Kobe beef steak in a sea of 75/25 ground chuck. In that crowd only, mind. Put me up against the average populace and I'm eye-of-round at best.
Of course, when I took the initial online test Joe was standing behind me and feeding me some answers, but almost all of the questions were ones that both of us knew. There were a few that I knew alone, and a few that he knew alone, but I think I can still do decently enough on my own as long as I bone up on my wesk subjects: history, geography, the Bible, art history, opera---your asses are mine. Just see what this crazy bitch can do with a mission and nothing but free time from now until August 3rd.
OK, maybe not...but I am one step closer to the dream, which I discovered when I received this email on Tuesday:
Congratulations! You have been selected for a follow-up appointment at an upcoming Jeopardy! contestant search for the Chicago area, exclusively for those who successfully passed the online test. This is the next step in becoming a Jeopardy! contestant. We have reserved the following appointment for you:
When: Friday, August 3rd Time: 9:00am
Where: Chicago, IL
And blah, blah, blah legal legalitty-cakes..the upshot is that my ass is trying out for Jeopardy on August 3rd, bitches!!
I have since found out a little more about how this all works. Apparently, back in the dark ages, to get on Jeopardy you had to apply to any one of a number of regional tryouts they had each year, or travel on your own dime to LA to get into one of their more frequent tryouts. Then, if you were randomly selected to audition, you would go there and take a 50-question test. If you "passed" (and they never have revealed what their bar for passing is, but anecdotal evidence seems to suggest it's around 35 out of 50 or better), they would have you play a mock game and interview you, and then put you in their contestant pool. Now apparently, being in the "contestant pool" still means you have only a 1 in 6 to 1 in 10 shot at actually getting called to tape show.
However, in these enlightened internet times, they now do a 50 question online test about once a year, and so the way the process now works is out of those folks who "pass" this test, they'll randomly select about 20% of them to move onto the next stage, which is the stage I've been selected for. At my audition, apparently, they will still give us another 50 question test, but everyone will still get to play the mock game and interview no matter what you score on the in-person exam (I guess the theory being that if you passed the online test you must be at least somewhat decent at the game). However, much like how the online test worked, you won't know shit about how you did or if they're interested unless they call you later to tape a game, or not, and apparently it does seem to be true that you have anywhere from a 1/6 to 1/10 chance of actually getting called to be on the show after this audition.
But come on, people. I've got to be cuter than like 85% of the people trying out, right? I've never been one to be overconfident in my looks, but I've gotta believe that in the crowd of nerdy folks who tried out for Jeopardy on the internet, I'm gonna be a Kobe beef steak in a sea of 75/25 ground chuck. In that crowd only, mind. Put me up against the average populace and I'm eye-of-round at best.
Of course, when I took the initial online test Joe was standing behind me and feeding me some answers, but almost all of the questions were ones that both of us knew. There were a few that I knew alone, and a few that he knew alone, but I think I can still do decently enough on my own as long as I bone up on my wesk subjects: history, geography, the Bible, art history, opera---your asses are mine. Just see what this crazy bitch can do with a mission and nothing but free time from now until August 3rd.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Top Chef-apalooza!
So, here I am all bummed because I don't have a steady diet of at least somewhat quality reality shows to get me through the summer months. For a while I deluded myself into thinking that On the Lot might do the trick, seeing as how it was produced by Spielberg and Mark Burnett, fer chrissakes. Forgive me for thinking that the best reality show producer and a top American movie director might be able to competently produce a reality show about movies. Apparently, I was wrong, and they collectively don't know shit from apple butter about what makes a competition-based reality show about movies fun to watch. I mean, this show should have not only been my summer holdover, it should have been sweet sweet TV crack based on the pedigree alone, but....not so much. I mean, I'll still watch the shit, but that's only because I literally am the easiest sell ever when it comes to competitive reality shows, and right now its only competition are shows about celebrities racing cars and people I don't know dancing. It's weird, but I can not get into any of the "dancing" reality shows. And this coming from a devotee of Shear Genius, a show about hairstylists, for crying out loud. The reason I think that's strange is that I actually did take dance lessons for many years, so of all of the competition type shows out there, you would think that's the one I would cotton to most. It's not as if I can sing, or model, or live on an island full of snakes or bugs, or design dresses, or style hair, or cook, after all. But the one thing I can kind of, sort of do? Psshh, I have no use for you. (Although I am kind of, sort of funny, and I do somewhat enjoy Last Comic Standing, so maybe there's just no rhyme or reason at all.)
Anyhoo's, so if any of y'all aren't yet peeping out Top
Chef, I must say that you're doing yourself a disservice. Not only will you learn shitloads about fancy-pants cooking and ingredients, (case in point? Apparently there exists an animal called a geoduck, which is pronounced like gooey-duck, and which isn't a duck at all, but a fucking big ass phallic clam), you can also revel in the freakshow that is professional chefs letting it all hang out to sometimes disasterous but always fascinating affect. Just think back to all of the freakshows you waited tables and bartended with, and imagine all of that shit being filmed for posterity. Entertaining, non? And if you never worked in a restaurant, think about the friends of yours who did, and what they are like, and then imagine what kind of person not only chooses to work in a restaurant for a living, but consents to go on a reality show about it. So give Top Chefa look-see. It's the only decent reality TV on so far this summer!
Anyhoo's, so if any of y'all aren't yet peeping out Top
Chef, I must say that you're doing yourself a disservice. Not only will you learn shitloads about fancy-pants cooking and ingredients, (case in point? Apparently there exists an animal called a geoduck, which is pronounced like gooey-duck, and which isn't a duck at all, but a fucking big ass phallic clam), you can also revel in the freakshow that is professional chefs letting it all hang out to sometimes disasterous but always fascinating affect. Just think back to all of the freakshows you waited tables and bartended with, and imagine all of that shit being filmed for posterity. Entertaining, non? And if you never worked in a restaurant, think about the friends of yours who did, and what they are like, and then imagine what kind of person not only chooses to work in a restaurant for a living, but consents to go on a reality show about it. So give Top Chefa look-see. It's the only decent reality TV on so far this summer!
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Heather's Book Club
I read a whole lot people, so if you like the books, here are some of the more recent ones I've read that deserve more eyeballs:
We Need to Talk About Kevin and The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver: Holy ballsacks, Batman. Talk about your one-two punch with these treasures. The first one will kick you in your fucking solar plexus then leave you prone on the floor crying for your best friend, as you will have learned to have ambiguous feelings about your mama. Hands down, the most disturbing book I have ever read. Don't let the slow pace fool you. Stick with it if you like books that leave you on your knees with snot running out of your nose. And scared to sleep.
The second one was the most brilliant meditation on romantic love that I've ever read. I can't even be cutesy or ironic about it, y'all, And I fucking hate when people use the words "meditation on" to describe a book or a film, but I feel they're warranted here. In short, Lionel Shriver (a chick, by the way) is my new favorite author, bar none...although I looked up her earlier work, and it seemed kind of boring, so start with these two. And again, stick with them, as neither novel really gets going until further in. If you're not at least moved, we're not friends.
For any mystery fans in the house, peep out Laura Lippman. She has a detective series, but I'm more about her stand-alone novels,
What the Dead Know, Every Secret Thing, and the one I'm currently in the middle of, To the Power of Three. They're fast moving, have believable characters you care about, and the mystery holds up.
If you're a dude who only wants to read shit that fellow dudes wrote, Stephen White also has some good thriller-ish novels that won't change your life but won't bore you either. I particularly recommend Kill Me.
Finally, there's some book with physics in the title written by a chick named Marisha Pessl (might have misspelled the first name, but I'm sure the last name is correct, so google it). Great fucking book, particulary for any A Secret History fans in the motherfucking house. Can I get a what? what? for Donna Tartt up in here? (because her Little Friend was unfairly maligned and also awesome, in my opinion). If the word "physics" threw you, be aware that it's about a quirky high school chick who's daddy's got a secret, and not about math or anything like that.
I know I said finally up there, but for people who don't like novels, there's a memoir called Candy Girl that's all about a "nice" girl's foray into the stripping/sex industry that I finished in one night. Now that should please absolutely everyone.
We Need to Talk About Kevin and The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver: Holy ballsacks, Batman. Talk about your one-two punch with these treasures. The first one will kick you in your fucking solar plexus then leave you prone on the floor crying for your best friend, as you will have learned to have ambiguous feelings about your mama. Hands down, the most disturbing book I have ever read. Don't let the slow pace fool you. Stick with it if you like books that leave you on your knees with snot running out of your nose. And scared to sleep.
The second one was the most brilliant meditation on romantic love that I've ever read. I can't even be cutesy or ironic about it, y'all, And I fucking hate when people use the words "meditation on" to describe a book or a film, but I feel they're warranted here. In short, Lionel Shriver (a chick, by the way) is my new favorite author, bar none...although I looked up her earlier work, and it seemed kind of boring, so start with these two. And again, stick with them, as neither novel really gets going until further in. If you're not at least moved, we're not friends.
For any mystery fans in the house, peep out Laura Lippman. She has a detective series, but I'm more about her stand-alone novels,
What the Dead Know, Every Secret Thing, and the one I'm currently in the middle of, To the Power of Three. They're fast moving, have believable characters you care about, and the mystery holds up.
If you're a dude who only wants to read shit that fellow dudes wrote, Stephen White also has some good thriller-ish novels that won't change your life but won't bore you either. I particularly recommend Kill Me.
Finally, there's some book with physics in the title written by a chick named Marisha Pessl (might have misspelled the first name, but I'm sure the last name is correct, so google it). Great fucking book, particulary for any A Secret History fans in the motherfucking house. Can I get a what? what? for Donna Tartt up in here? (because her Little Friend was unfairly maligned and also awesome, in my opinion). If the word "physics" threw you, be aware that it's about a quirky high school chick who's daddy's got a secret, and not about math or anything like that.
I know I said finally up there, but for people who don't like novels, there's a memoir called Candy Girl that's all about a "nice" girl's foray into the stripping/sex industry that I finished in one night. Now that should please absolutely everyone.
See bitches? I told you I was an irresponsible, flighty Gemini
For the three of you who care, I decided to update this bitch, because it had fo' sho fallen by the "things I take up that I think I'm going to care about in a week, but am really going to just be entertained by for a few days and then forget about" wayside. So, forthwith, a few musings on the happs in entertainment that most caught my eye in the last few months, otherwise known mainly as "the outcome of shitty reality shows":
America's Next Top Model: see, I'm all proud of myself with this one because last season, when Jaslene was a mere "also-ran", I was all like, "Why aren't they choosing the Janice Dickinson doppleganger? She's the most model-y". So I picked the girl most likely to be roundly ignored by the fashion world at large right out of the gate, yo! I will say that I did dearly love Natasha, but she seemed to get stumpier and stumpier, and more straw-haired to boot, as the competition rolled on. And I really thought Renee was a more hot-looking Jodie Foster, and she'll always have me at, "Last year, I had a baby and I thought my life was OVER," but a model? Feh.
American Idol: Sigh. Back in my early AI viewing days, I could pretty much count on being pleased by the result. Kelly, ROOO-Ben, Fanty? I felt them all. Lately, I seem to root for the scruffy underdog who's going to "change the face of American Idol", only to have my dreams dashed when the pretty pageant princess or spastic freakshow sashays off with the title instead. That said, I really, really liked Jordin's "I Who Have Nothing" for being so dramatic and queer and tremulously pretty, and I dig her America Ferrara crossed with Sarah Ramirez (spelling? You know, Callie on Grey's Anatomy) good looks, so I ain't mad at her at all. I just wanted my little beatboxing, argyle-sweater wearing, poor man's Morrissey sounding wonder to take it, if only so I could finally convince Jenner Gibbs to watch Idol, since from what I know of her tastes, he seemed like her dream man.
The Amazing Race: So...y'all know I went to New York for the Amazing Race Con thrown by TWOP, right? Why? Well, I was trying to win back the title of "World's Biggest Nerd" that I'd previously lost to Sandor Lehoscky back in the third grade when he started crying like a bitch cuz I beat him at Math Relay on the chalkboard. I'd go into details, but anyone who cares has already seen the pictures.
More to come...and I'll try to be quicker about it than three months later.
America's Next Top Model: see, I'm all proud of myself with this one because last season, when Jaslene was a mere "also-ran", I was all like, "Why aren't they choosing the Janice Dickinson doppleganger? She's the most model-y". So I picked the girl most likely to be roundly ignored by the fashion world at large right out of the gate, yo! I will say that I did dearly love Natasha, but she seemed to get stumpier and stumpier, and more straw-haired to boot, as the competition rolled on. And I really thought Renee was a more hot-looking Jodie Foster, and she'll always have me at, "Last year, I had a baby and I thought my life was OVER," but a model? Feh.
American Idol: Sigh. Back in my early AI viewing days, I could pretty much count on being pleased by the result. Kelly, ROOO-Ben, Fanty? I felt them all. Lately, I seem to root for the scruffy underdog who's going to "change the face of American Idol", only to have my dreams dashed when the pretty pageant princess or spastic freakshow sashays off with the title instead. That said, I really, really liked Jordin's "I Who Have Nothing" for being so dramatic and queer and tremulously pretty, and I dig her America Ferrara crossed with Sarah Ramirez (spelling? You know, Callie on Grey's Anatomy) good looks, so I ain't mad at her at all. I just wanted my little beatboxing, argyle-sweater wearing, poor man's Morrissey sounding wonder to take it, if only so I could finally convince Jenner Gibbs to watch Idol, since from what I know of her tastes, he seemed like her dream man.
The Amazing Race: So...y'all know I went to New York for the Amazing Race Con thrown by TWOP, right? Why? Well, I was trying to win back the title of "World's Biggest Nerd" that I'd previously lost to Sandor Lehoscky back in the third grade when he started crying like a bitch cuz I beat him at Math Relay on the chalkboard. I'd go into details, but anyone who cares has already seen the pictures.
More to come...and I'll try to be quicker about it than three months later.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Review of "Sherrybaby"
So,as I mentioned I would do, I did rush right out and rent "Sherrybaby" after I was so enamored with the many charms of Maggie Gyllenhaal after "Stranger Than Ficton". And then I let it sit without watching it for a week. That's how I am now the proud owner of the DVD's "Hustle and Flow" and "Cinderella Man", by the way. Blockbuster just assumed that at some point I must have mailed them back after they sat in my house for OVER THREE MONTHS without me watching them. I've since watched "Hustle and Flow", but a year and a half later, still haven't cracked open that "Cinderella Man". Somehow I just never find myself in the mood for a long-ass period piece about a boxer I've never ever heard of directed by Ron Howard. I wonder why that is?
On to the review...so I don't recommed "Sherrybaby" to any woman who enjoys fucking men. Because this movie will make you swear off the pole for good. If the scene where Maggie blows this disgusting fuck to get a better job placement doesn't do it, then the scene of her father smushing around her breasts like he's a toddler and they're play-dough when he's obstensibly trying to comfort her will. Yee-uck. Other than that, it's a delightful romp about a fucked-up molestation survivor trying to kick the junk and start anew after a stint in prison, despite the fact that no one's really nice to her and her young daughter doesn't love her anymore. Well, there is some completely unattractive barrel-chested American Indian who treats her kind of nicely, and also fucks her of course, but even though he's gross too, that one didn't even really register on the ick meter. This movie makes "Half Nelson" look like the feel-good movie of 2006. I don't even think I have a girl-crush on Maggie Gyllenhaal anymore, which is probably for the best because she really does kind of look like a beaver.
On to the review...so I don't recommed "Sherrybaby" to any woman who enjoys fucking men. Because this movie will make you swear off the pole for good. If the scene where Maggie blows this disgusting fuck to get a better job placement doesn't do it, then the scene of her father smushing around her breasts like he's a toddler and they're play-dough when he's obstensibly trying to comfort her will. Yee-uck. Other than that, it's a delightful romp about a fucked-up molestation survivor trying to kick the junk and start anew after a stint in prison, despite the fact that no one's really nice to her and her young daughter doesn't love her anymore. Well, there is some completely unattractive barrel-chested American Indian who treats her kind of nicely, and also fucks her of course, but even though he's gross too, that one didn't even really register on the ick meter. This movie makes "Half Nelson" look like the feel-good movie of 2006. I don't even think I have a girl-crush on Maggie Gyllenhaal anymore, which is probably for the best because she really does kind of look like a beaver.
Review of "Half Nelson"
This was actually my second post on this here blog, but I mysteriously and accidentally deleted it. Well, the masses have been clamoring for me to bring it back (and by "the masses" I mean the two people who have read this thus far) so here it is, albeit slighty changed because I don't remember exactly what the old post said.
I had really high hopes for this movie, seeing as how it stars Ryan Gosling and is about a crack-addicted teacher of mainly African-American students. I mean, is somebody spying on me? It's like looking in a mirror, this movie! See what I did there, kids? I pretended that the movie was totally like my real life! Well, I hope you enjoyed that little joke because that was honestly the best part of the movie. Other than pretending throughout that I was a crack addict, and learning a fairly funny new knock-knock joke, I didn't actually enjoy it all that much.
I mean, yes, the writing was solid and the acting was pretty amazing. But just because I don't like movies where unbelievable stuff happens doesn't mean I'm all that fond of movies where there ain't shit that happens, either. And in this movie, ain't too much shit that happens, really. Teacher bonds with students while smoking crack recreationally, one student in particular. Teacher's drug habit gets out of control. Teacher pushes away those that love him and enters a shame spiral. Come on. In my house, we call that "January". See? I did it again. Most enjoyable part of the movie, I'm telling you.
I had really high hopes for this movie, seeing as how it stars Ryan Gosling and is about a crack-addicted teacher of mainly African-American students. I mean, is somebody spying on me? It's like looking in a mirror, this movie! See what I did there, kids? I pretended that the movie was totally like my real life! Well, I hope you enjoyed that little joke because that was honestly the best part of the movie. Other than pretending throughout that I was a crack addict, and learning a fairly funny new knock-knock joke, I didn't actually enjoy it all that much.
I mean, yes, the writing was solid and the acting was pretty amazing. But just because I don't like movies where unbelievable stuff happens doesn't mean I'm all that fond of movies where there ain't shit that happens, either. And in this movie, ain't too much shit that happens, really. Teacher bonds with students while smoking crack recreationally, one student in particular. Teacher's drug habit gets out of control. Teacher pushes away those that love him and enters a shame spiral. Come on. In my house, we call that "January". See? I did it again. Most enjoyable part of the movie, I'm telling you.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Ranking the America's Next Top Model "winners"
I'm all about America's Next Top Model. It's terrible, but in a terrible way. Oops, I meant to say in a fun way...OR DID I?
Cycle One's winner was Adrienne Curry, who has now been so bastardized by the mighty Tyra that she is the only winner Tyra will never, ever, admit to. Too bad, because she was kind of hot, in a very Joliet, Illinois kind of way. She's for sure the hottest chick you'd buy your weed from if you lived in Joliet. But what the fuck was she so paranoid about, that she decided she HAD to marry Peter Brady ASAP? Lest her...twenty-two-year-old eggs go rotting away? I don't get it. That kind of insane drive to be married to anyone who will have you doesn't usually kick in until at least your late twenties, even in the Midwest.
Cycle Two brought us Yoanna House. This was the cycle when I first started watching the show, and I picked Yoanna as the rightful winner from the jump, due mainly to her insane cheekbones. And boy, was I vindicated when she not only went on to win the show, but was featured in a cover spread on...Psychology Today? And went on to star in a HOT fashion show held at...The Westfield Shopping Mall in Saint Louis? Sure shows that I missed my calling as a model scout.
Cycle Three was all about the Pigford. Miss Eva, if you're nasty. Again, she was my fave from the beginning. She's also arguably the most successful product to come out of the show, if you think about how she starred in a direct-to-video movie with Teck from the Real World Hawaill. Oh how I wish that was sarcasm, but seriously, what have any of the other winners accomplilshed that was more prestigious?
Cycle Four brought us down a notch with the crowning of the hirsute Naima. No, I don't know her last name, and no, I'm not going to look it up. Look, I have a lot of unwanted fur on my face too, but then again, no one's paying me to look pretty. Of course, no one's paying Naima to look pretty either, so I guess she gets the last laugh. Rock on, you furry-faced monkey.
Cycle Five saw the crowning of....fuck, was it Nicole, or Danielle? They've busted out so many cycles of this shit in such rapid succession that I honestly couldn't say. So, I'll just combine my comments for both. I think both of them were worthy winners, although neither were my original picks. Nicole IS kind of high fashion, if you squint real hard, and Dani(elle) IS pretty charming with her gap-toothed smile and her English mangling. Too bad I've never seen any of them in anything, ever, post show, save a photo of Dani on Go Fug Yourself at the NAACP Image Awards. Now THAT'S a resume high point.
Cycle Seven was won by Caridee English. I believe her recent "My Life As a Cover Girl" spot said it all, where she was shown being primped by the Heatherette designers so she could....sit in the audience at their fashion show. I mean, DAMN....how unsuccessful do you have to be when corporate sponsers of the show that crowned you their winner are like, "Well, I guess we'll let her COME to the show if you give us some free ad time." But I did just see her on TMZ being all slobbered over by Michelle Rodriguez, so there's that, I guess. Her big rival Melrose got manhandled by the Piv on Golden Globes night though, so I'm still gonna cry sad sorry bridesmaid on that one.
Soo....America's Next Top Model is batting about a .000 percentage on actually discovering current and relevant models. Good thing I keep watching!
Cycle One's winner was Adrienne Curry, who has now been so bastardized by the mighty Tyra that she is the only winner Tyra will never, ever, admit to. Too bad, because she was kind of hot, in a very Joliet, Illinois kind of way. She's for sure the hottest chick you'd buy your weed from if you lived in Joliet. But what the fuck was she so paranoid about, that she decided she HAD to marry Peter Brady ASAP? Lest her...twenty-two-year-old eggs go rotting away? I don't get it. That kind of insane drive to be married to anyone who will have you doesn't usually kick in until at least your late twenties, even in the Midwest.
Cycle Two brought us Yoanna House. This was the cycle when I first started watching the show, and I picked Yoanna as the rightful winner from the jump, due mainly to her insane cheekbones. And boy, was I vindicated when she not only went on to win the show, but was featured in a cover spread on...Psychology Today? And went on to star in a HOT fashion show held at...The Westfield Shopping Mall in Saint Louis? Sure shows that I missed my calling as a model scout.
Cycle Three was all about the Pigford. Miss Eva, if you're nasty. Again, she was my fave from the beginning. She's also arguably the most successful product to come out of the show, if you think about how she starred in a direct-to-video movie with Teck from the Real World Hawaill. Oh how I wish that was sarcasm, but seriously, what have any of the other winners accomplilshed that was more prestigious?
Cycle Four brought us down a notch with the crowning of the hirsute Naima. No, I don't know her last name, and no, I'm not going to look it up. Look, I have a lot of unwanted fur on my face too, but then again, no one's paying me to look pretty. Of course, no one's paying Naima to look pretty either, so I guess she gets the last laugh. Rock on, you furry-faced monkey.
Cycle Five saw the crowning of....fuck, was it Nicole, or Danielle? They've busted out so many cycles of this shit in such rapid succession that I honestly couldn't say. So, I'll just combine my comments for both. I think both of them were worthy winners, although neither were my original picks. Nicole IS kind of high fashion, if you squint real hard, and Dani(elle) IS pretty charming with her gap-toothed smile and her English mangling. Too bad I've never seen any of them in anything, ever, post show, save a photo of Dani on Go Fug Yourself at the NAACP Image Awards. Now THAT'S a resume high point.
Cycle Seven was won by Caridee English. I believe her recent "My Life As a Cover Girl" spot said it all, where she was shown being primped by the Heatherette designers so she could....sit in the audience at their fashion show. I mean, DAMN....how unsuccessful do you have to be when corporate sponsers of the show that crowned you their winner are like, "Well, I guess we'll let her COME to the show if you give us some free ad time." But I did just see her on TMZ being all slobbered over by Michelle Rodriguez, so there's that, I guess. Her big rival Melrose got manhandled by the Piv on Golden Globes night though, so I'm still gonna cry sad sorry bridesmaid on that one.
Soo....America's Next Top Model is batting about a .000 percentage on actually discovering current and relevant models. Good thing I keep watching!
Musings on American Idol, with 10 of these hillbillies left
First, I would like to state that only a few of the remaining contestants actually fit the term "hillbillies" (Chrises Richardson and Sligh, I'm looking at you), as this season has seen a suprising dearth in the number of southern gents and ladies that usually steamroll right over the hipper, blue state contestants, but I just think the word hillbillies is hilarious and I hereby envoke my right to use it whenever possible, accurate or no.
Second, I would like to publicly air my not-popular opinion that Sanjaya Malakar is not the worst contestant this contest has ever seen. People, are we forgetting the "J's" of season one, both EJ and RJ? Sure, EJ Day was rightfully given Das Boot in a quickness, but RJ Helton was the first season's number 5 finisher. He was a gay robot with no rhythm, who actually FELL OFF THE STAGE DURING REHEARSAL. Sure, the stage was smaller in those less heady times, but still...I'm no pro, but I'm pretty sure I could refrain from TUMBLING TO THE GROUND were I ever asked to sing in public. And let's not forget that Nikki McKibbin, cute to be sure, but certainly no vocal wunderkind, finished third that season. I ain't even going to touch on Justin Guarini's second place finish, because I still to this day think he's talented and cute. Yeah, I said it.
Season two brought us the Mormon treat of Carmen Rasmussen, or "Goat Girl" to her many non-fans. Remember her? That was back when Simon was convinced that us Americans wouldn't vote for any fatties or Blackies, so he picked her as his wild card. I guess the thinking was that America would go wild for a blonde "good girl" who could naughty herself up with copious amounts of lipgloss, but no amount of sheen in the world was going to make that throaty vibrato any less henious. I believe she finished in about 7th place.
Season three featured the Hawaiian charms of both Camille Valasco and Jasmine Trias. Jasmine was kind of up and down, and occasionally gave a halfway decent performance, but if that was the third best in a season that included the J-Hud and LaToya London, I'll eat my hat. And Camille? Oh, Camille. Picture a 19-year-old stoner with a real rough and cracked-out voice donning terry cloth wristbands and getting up on a stage to croon in front of millions. Now make her real nervous and sweaty, not to mention actually stoned at the time, but not in a fun way, in a paranoid way. That was Camille Valasco.
I'm not going to go on, but just to reiterate my point, I'll ask you to recall that I haven't even touched on Kevin "Chicken Little" Covais, John Paul "I'm all nervous and ginger" Stephens, The Pen Salesman, who was so fucking boring that his name eludes me, Corey f'in Clark, and Scott Savol, and I hope I've made the point that Sanjaya Malakar sticking around for a few more weeks isn't exactly out of the norm for this show.
Second, I would like to publicly air my not-popular opinion that Sanjaya Malakar is not the worst contestant this contest has ever seen. People, are we forgetting the "J's" of season one, both EJ and RJ? Sure, EJ Day was rightfully given Das Boot in a quickness, but RJ Helton was the first season's number 5 finisher. He was a gay robot with no rhythm, who actually FELL OFF THE STAGE DURING REHEARSAL. Sure, the stage was smaller in those less heady times, but still...I'm no pro, but I'm pretty sure I could refrain from TUMBLING TO THE GROUND were I ever asked to sing in public. And let's not forget that Nikki McKibbin, cute to be sure, but certainly no vocal wunderkind, finished third that season. I ain't even going to touch on Justin Guarini's second place finish, because I still to this day think he's talented and cute. Yeah, I said it.
Season two brought us the Mormon treat of Carmen Rasmussen, or "Goat Girl" to her many non-fans. Remember her? That was back when Simon was convinced that us Americans wouldn't vote for any fatties or Blackies, so he picked her as his wild card. I guess the thinking was that America would go wild for a blonde "good girl" who could naughty herself up with copious amounts of lipgloss, but no amount of sheen in the world was going to make that throaty vibrato any less henious. I believe she finished in about 7th place.
Season three featured the Hawaiian charms of both Camille Valasco and Jasmine Trias. Jasmine was kind of up and down, and occasionally gave a halfway decent performance, but if that was the third best in a season that included the J-Hud and LaToya London, I'll eat my hat. And Camille? Oh, Camille. Picture a 19-year-old stoner with a real rough and cracked-out voice donning terry cloth wristbands and getting up on a stage to croon in front of millions. Now make her real nervous and sweaty, not to mention actually stoned at the time, but not in a fun way, in a paranoid way. That was Camille Valasco.
I'm not going to go on, but just to reiterate my point, I'll ask you to recall that I haven't even touched on Kevin "Chicken Little" Covais, John Paul "I'm all nervous and ginger" Stephens, The Pen Salesman, who was so fucking boring that his name eludes me, Corey f'in Clark, and Scott Savol, and I hope I've made the point that Sanjaya Malakar sticking around for a few more weeks isn't exactly out of the norm for this show.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Movie Review "Stranger Than Fiction"
First, let me start this inaugural post by stating that I am aware that movie titles should be italicized, or failing that, underlined, instead of the quotes I did above. I don't quite know yet how to work all the doodads and the hoo-has, so get your britches out of a bunch, grammar nazis. In the immortal words of Oprah, "I did better when I knew better", so if one of you fancy techno-types want to teach me how to make my titles grammatically correct, I will be a better blogger. Until then, take my ignorance as kindness. I don't know what that means. ON TO THE FIRST MOVIE REVIEW OF MY VERY IMPORTANT BLOG:
"Stranger Than Fiction" (sic...see above) was a fer piece more decent than I was expecting, considering all of the middling-to-negative reviews, the shitty box office, and the fact that Will Ferrell has willingly become a monkey-for-hire in some of the more shitastic comedies to be released in the last few years. It has one of those cutsey, unbelievable premises that normally make my skin crawl, but since this unbelievable premise was right in my slipshoot--the writing of books--it didn't bother me. In other words, I bought the movie's conceit, that Will Ferrell's character was himself a character in a book penned by Emma Thompson, and he didn't want her to kill him off because his life was finally perking up, what with the sex with Maggie Gyllenhaal's funky baker character and all. I liked all the literary "in-jokes", mainly delivered by Dustin Hoffman, which presumed that the audience could read. Very kind of them to presume that, thought I. And that Maggie Gyllenhaal...I used to think she was the ug's, but I'm starting to get her appeal. Her appeal is...I'm not supermodel, or even conventional movie star hot, but if I was the girlfriend of one of your friends, between my baby blues and my muscular yet feminine biceps, you'd be wanting to bone me. I like that...the movies acknowledging that even somewhat attractive folks get laid too, as opposed to the normal message of: "Sex is for the hotties only--you chubbos or thin-haired assholes better get used to masturbating." Because let's face it, the best a real life Will Ferrell is going to do is a real life Maggie Gyllenhaal, like, she'd be at the TOP of his game, so I'm glad the movie didn't insult the audience by casting, say, Jessica Biel or Eva Mendes as the love interest, when in real lilfe she'd be like, "Don't fucking touch me, you hairy man!" Anyway, all this is a very roundabout way of saying that I now think I officially love Maggie Gyllenhaal, like I'm going to rush right out and rent "Sherrybaby" kind of love. And no, I'm not kidding. Suffice it to say, she was very believable and charming in her role.
Not as believable, or charming, was one MIss Emma Thompson, although I fault the writing more than her, but I do fault her a little bit. Her character was far-fetched, and one-note. The "writer" as "neurotic chain smoker". NOW THAT'S something I've never seen before! And as badly written as the character was, I have to say that I think Emma made it worse with her over-acting. Like, the whole movie's supposed to be unbelievable, so let's not exacerbate the issue by totally doing up every struggling writer cliche that ever existed.
Bottom line...charming movie. Maggie's great. Quirky enough that you'll forgive its weaknesses. I rate it a "You did your thing, dog" and I will use another post real soon to explain my rating system so you can come to my site again and again and learn and learn.
"Stranger Than Fiction" (sic...see above) was a fer piece more decent than I was expecting, considering all of the middling-to-negative reviews, the shitty box office, and the fact that Will Ferrell has willingly become a monkey-for-hire in some of the more shitastic comedies to be released in the last few years. It has one of those cutsey, unbelievable premises that normally make my skin crawl, but since this unbelievable premise was right in my slipshoot--the writing of books--it didn't bother me. In other words, I bought the movie's conceit, that Will Ferrell's character was himself a character in a book penned by Emma Thompson, and he didn't want her to kill him off because his life was finally perking up, what with the sex with Maggie Gyllenhaal's funky baker character and all. I liked all the literary "in-jokes", mainly delivered by Dustin Hoffman, which presumed that the audience could read. Very kind of them to presume that, thought I. And that Maggie Gyllenhaal...I used to think she was the ug's, but I'm starting to get her appeal. Her appeal is...I'm not supermodel, or even conventional movie star hot, but if I was the girlfriend of one of your friends, between my baby blues and my muscular yet feminine biceps, you'd be wanting to bone me. I like that...the movies acknowledging that even somewhat attractive folks get laid too, as opposed to the normal message of: "Sex is for the hotties only--you chubbos or thin-haired assholes better get used to masturbating." Because let's face it, the best a real life Will Ferrell is going to do is a real life Maggie Gyllenhaal, like, she'd be at the TOP of his game, so I'm glad the movie didn't insult the audience by casting, say, Jessica Biel or Eva Mendes as the love interest, when in real lilfe she'd be like, "Don't fucking touch me, you hairy man!" Anyway, all this is a very roundabout way of saying that I now think I officially love Maggie Gyllenhaal, like I'm going to rush right out and rent "Sherrybaby" kind of love. And no, I'm not kidding. Suffice it to say, she was very believable and charming in her role.
Not as believable, or charming, was one MIss Emma Thompson, although I fault the writing more than her, but I do fault her a little bit. Her character was far-fetched, and one-note. The "writer" as "neurotic chain smoker". NOW THAT'S something I've never seen before! And as badly written as the character was, I have to say that I think Emma made it worse with her over-acting. Like, the whole movie's supposed to be unbelievable, so let's not exacerbate the issue by totally doing up every struggling writer cliche that ever existed.
Bottom line...charming movie. Maggie's great. Quirky enough that you'll forgive its weaknesses. I rate it a "You did your thing, dog" and I will use another post real soon to explain my rating system so you can come to my site again and again and learn and learn.
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