Are you joking me? (cue: wah waaaaah) They somehow made an even better slash CREEPIER poster for The Dark Knight? Slow clap to the marketing guys of the newest Batman. Keep indulging your psychopathic tendencies, cause it's getting this cinephile off big time.
Warning to my roommates, we are buying every poster that comes out that has the Joker on it and framing it on the walls of our living room.
as pretty as David, as robotic and numb as Victoria
Friday, December 14, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Poster-iffic: The Dark Knight
Batman is by far my favorite superhero. In fact, I think he's the only superhero I'm actually fond of (besides Emo-Spidey, of course). Batman is dark and moody and is just a plain weirdo, probably even more than all the villains he fights. He's motivated purely for revenge and is obsessive and incredibly flawed. Also, he's rich, is generally cast as handsome in the movies, and damn if bats aren't the cutest animal that is completely underappreciated on Cuteoverload.com (And I've hung around them in person, so you can't say otherwise.)
we just want to be snuggled! and suck your blood!
What I like most about him, though, is that he's just a guy. A rich guy who buys a lot of expensive shit, but at the end of the day, he's a regular messed up human without any superpowers. Which makes him like any other deranged rich guy in the world. And that's a lot more disturbing/interesting than some nice hunky farm dude from Krypton who can only be emotionally hurt. Super lame-o!
So, I'm allsabout the Batman. And this poster makes me jump up and down in excitement. If there's one thing I like more than a brooding, arrogant man who refuses to let anybody really know him, it's a sociopathic comedian.
i'm batman('s poster)
What I like most about him, though, is that he's just a guy. A rich guy who buys a lot of expensive shit, but at the end of the day, he's a regular messed up human without any superpowers. Which makes him like any other deranged rich guy in the world. And that's a lot more disturbing/interesting than some nice hunky farm dude from Krypton who can only be emotionally hurt. Super lame-o!
So, I'm allsabout the Batman. And this poster makes me jump up and down in excitement. If there's one thing I like more than a brooding, arrogant man who refuses to let anybody really know him, it's a sociopathic comedian.
It's Britney, Blog: Episode 2
Britney's a busy girl, what with her busy schedule of running over people's feet, drinking herself into a frappuccino coma, and not giving a fuck anymore. But she's still found time to make a video blog! It took her the same amount of time as it did to record her new album.*
*'bout fifteen minutes
Got any suggestions on what Brit-Brit should teach the world next? Write it in the comments!
*'bout fifteen minutes
Got any suggestions on what Brit-Brit should teach the world next? Write it in the comments!
Friday, December 7, 2007
Finding Emo: Barnyard Animal Edition
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
It's Britney, Blog
The first of many. I have to work on my Britney-speak. I think I came off more like Joy from My Name is Earl. Anyway, got any suggestions for future episodes? Leave it in the comments!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Finding Emo: Tickle Me Emo
I'm a huge fan of Mad TV, and for a few years (current cast and digital shorts not included) I'd rather go to sleep at 11:30pm on a Saturday night than be forced to watch Saturday Night Live. Mad TV may not be as iconic a television institution, and it might be taped beforehand, but it was consistently funny starring extremely gifted comedic actors. So who cares, as long as it's entertaining?
I don't really watch TV on Saturday nights anymore (I'm too busy sleeping -- what can I say, I'm an old woman at 24) but I'm glad to see that Mad TV is still makin' the funny.
Oh emo jokes! Will I ever tire of you?!
Please make sure to check out my good friend Dance's (yes, that's her amazingly real name) new tongue-in-cheek (or as I like to say, tongue-ring-in-chic) emo blog, Heart-Shaped Bot. Because there's nothing more emo than the only robot who can feel pain. Sentience is so unfair.
I don't really watch TV on Saturday nights anymore (I'm too busy sleeping -- what can I say, I'm an old woman at 24) but I'm glad to see that Mad TV is still makin' the funny.
Oh emo jokes! Will I ever tire of you?!
Please make sure to check out my good friend Dance's (yes, that's her amazingly real name) new tongue-in-cheek (or as I like to say, tongue-ring-in-chic) emo blog, Heart-Shaped Bot. Because there's nothing more emo than the only robot who can feel pain. Sentience is so unfair.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Re-Spice up Your Life
One of the skills I’m most proud of having is being able to memorize the lyrics to embarrassing songs with complicated rhyme patterns. When it comes to hidden talents, some people juggle, others know how to shuffle a deck of cards. For me, it’s being able to recite “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” “Shoop,” and “My Humps.” If it makes you immediately reach for the radio to change the station, chances are it is a song so beloved by me that it has been ingrained into my subconscious for the rest of eternity.
On the very top of his humiliating list of songs is the Spice Girls’ “Wannabe.” The moment I heard this quintessential pop song, its catchy hook and high-energy spirit trickled from my thirteen-year old ear drums on down to my heart. I would perform it in malls with my friends, thinking I was Tiffany Spice, unashamed of how lighthearted and just plain fun their music was back then. To the delight of my sense of nostalgia, the Spice Girls have announced they’re back together! In the next few months, expect a world tour, a documentary, a greatest hits album, and inevitable product tie-ins. I haven’t had this much spice since the last time I had Indian food! And I haven’t made a joke that bad since orange you glad I didn’t say banana? Anyway, re-spice up your life with a little game of catch-up with the girls, shall we?
Victoria Beckham aka “Posh Spice”
When We Left Her: She was a brunette, last name Adams, boobs were proportionally smaller.
Today She’s: now married to quite possibly the most famous, most beautiful and richest man in the world; her spicerack has grown mysteriously larger as her waist has shrunk into Scarlett O Hara territory, despite the fact that she’s given birth thrice in the last decade. She starred in her own reality show special about moving to Los Angeles, shopping, and starting a new hair trend. She hasn’t smiled or eaten in the last seven years.
Possible New Nickname: Posher Spice (since she’s even better than you now than she was before).
Mel B aka “Scary Spice”
When We Left Her: She wore lots of leopard prints and had crazy big hair, which apparently is enough to frighten young children enough to earn the nickname “Scary”.
Today She’s: making her way on the talk show circuit discussing her major baby dramz with Eddie Murphy. Yes, Murphy was no Daddy Day Care when it came to taking full responsibility for fathering little Angel Iris Murphy Brown, but in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it more painful for a child to grow up with the name of an early 90s Candice Bergman vehicle? Plus, Angel Iris Wonder Years is so much catchier.
Possible New Nickname: Alimony Spice.
Gerri Halliwell aka “Ginger Spice”
When We Left Her: The “sexy” member of a girl group where no one really wore that much clothing to begin with, she decided her sexy status was enough to propel her to a solo career, and she left the group in 1998. She released three solo albums, gave birth to also unfortunately-named-Spice-baby Bluebell Madonna, and became a goodwill ambassador for the UN, visiting several third world countries desperately lacking girl power and basic amenities.
Today She’s: toned down the hair, decided the solo thing wasn’t really working out, and rejoined the supergroup that made her famous. She has the only nickname that’s a real spice – it was meant to be.
Possible New Nickname: Parsely, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme Spice (just to make up for all those spiceless years).
Emma Bunton aka “Baby Spice”
When We Left Her: She pretty much fit the baby look – apple cheeks, blonde pigtails, didn’t speak much except for the occasional “Girl Power!” during live shows. She’s made appearances on British reality programming, like Strictly Come Dancing, their version of Dancing with the Stars. She was the finale female contestant to be eliminated, and while that’s not exactly marrying a famous soccer player or getting knocked up by a hasbeen comedian, that’s keepin’ busy!
Today She’s: pretty much the same, except she recently gave birth to her own baby. Which reminds me of those Russian dolls where you keep finding smaller and smaller versions of the same thing hidden inside one another. Creepy.
Possible New Nickname: Toddler Spice (since she’s grown up just a little).
Mel C aka “Sporty Spice”
When We Left Her: She was the least popular Mel of the group, and filled in the Spice Girls’ unofficial “alternative lifestyle” slot.
Today She’s: got bangs, tattoos, and more than one tracksuit in her closet. Oh, apparently she also released four successful albums and is an extremely successful solo artist in the United Kingdom. But really, if an album drops in England, does it really make a sound?
Possible New Nickname: Cleans Up Nice Spice (mostly because it rhymes).
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
More Adorable Than Knut's GAP Ad
I seriously love these two so much I want, to quote Punch Drunk Love, "smash their face in with a sledgehammer."
LOVE US! LAUGH AT US! WE ARE YOUR COMEDY GODS!
I have a huge crush on GOB... I mean Will Arnett... aw, who am I kiddin', GOB steals my heart. And my yaught. He will always be mi hermano ("hermano" means "lover", right?)
I hope to be Amy Poehler one day. I mean, not be her, because that involves throwing her down a well and demanding she put lotion in the basket and then wearing her skin and actually "being" her. I think Lorne Michaels would notice. And Will Arnett.
I saw Amy perform at the UCB-LA theatre, and she's just as funny in person. Oddly enough, she is shown actual-size on my TV set, because she's the itty-bittiest woman I've ever seen. Plus, she was wearing a wedding BLING that sparkled up the entire stage, and I was sitting in the last row in the back. Mah gaw, Will, that ring must be made of a whole lot of Arrested Development money! (Sadly, I don't think he could purchase a cheeseburger combo with any of the profits from Let's Go To Prison.)
So if there are any magicians out there reading this while on a segway... I'll be here. Wearing Amy Poehler's skin as a mask.
I have a huge crush on GOB... I mean Will Arnett... aw, who am I kiddin', GOB steals my heart. And my yaught. He will always be mi hermano ("hermano" means "lover", right?)
I hope to be Amy Poehler one day. I mean, not be her, because that involves throwing her down a well and demanding she put lotion in the basket and then wearing her skin and actually "being" her. I think Lorne Michaels would notice. And Will Arnett.
I saw Amy perform at the UCB-LA theatre, and she's just as funny in person. Oddly enough, she is shown actual-size on my TV set, because she's the itty-bittiest woman I've ever seen. Plus, she was wearing a wedding BLING that sparkled up the entire stage, and I was sitting in the last row in the back. Mah gaw, Will, that ring must be made of a whole lot of Arrested Development money! (Sadly, I don't think he could purchase a cheeseburger combo with any of the profits from Let's Go To Prison.)
So if there are any magicians out there reading this while on a segway... I'll be here. Wearing Amy Poehler's skin as a mask.
Labels:
amy poehler,
arrested development,
funny,
gap,
will arnett
Scary For the Wrong Reasons
It’s finally October, which is my favorite month because it includes my favorite holiday of the year – Columbus Day. (What can I say? I’m a proud American who takes pride in geographical miscalculations and three day weekends.) October also includes my second favorite holiday, Halloween. I may not get Halloween off from work, but I get to wear lingerie and bunny ears to the office without it being casual Friday. Also, I can decorate my cubicle with pumpkin-assorted paraphernalia while trying to pass off my stale Valentine’s Day chocolates as recently purchased. (Those aren’t pink hearts… they’re disfigured, faceless Jack-O-Lanterns. Covered in blood.) Halloween crept up on me this year, mostly because the Rob Zombie remake of the classic 1978 Halloween was released in August. Whose genius marketing campaign was that? Is the same man responsible for Kelly Clarkson releasing an album called My December in June? Or for originally programming Friday Night Lights on a Tuesday?
October is the Scariest Time of the Year – it’s when I finally realize I’ve got only two more months to shed all that weight from my New Years resolution. It’s also the month where the most scary (as in “numerous” and “very scary”) movies air on cable, all ripe for the picking. And there’s nothing I enjoy more than being frightened by things that ultimately don’t hurt me. Give me a horror movie, an upside down rollercoaster, a late menstrual cycle – anything to get my heart racing a mile a minute!
I developed my love of fright from my mother, who loves nothing more than a good horror film (or a good bad horror film). Over the course of my childhood, my mom and I shared many bowls of popcorn watching the cinematic works of Stephen King: The Shining, Carrie, Misery, Cujo, Pet Sematary, IT. She wouldn’t let me go outside alone long enough to check the mailbox and I wasn’t allowed to use the toaster-oven until I was fifteen, but for some reason her overprotective nature did not feel it was necessary to shield me from zombie cats or rabid dogs. While I played upstairs with my toys, it wasn’t unusual for her to yell up to me, “Poltergeist! Channel 12!” and I would toss my Pound Puppies and My Little Ponies aside to watch little Carol Anne be literally sucked inside her television while I was figuratively sucked inside mine.
My mother even took me out of my second grade class early so we could go see a matinee show of Child’s Play 2. (Today: child abuse; Then: family outing!) I was still at the age where the Tooth Fairy didn’t seem so implausible to me, but I wasn’t afraid of Pennywise the Clown - or Kathy Bates! (This was before her nude hot tub scene in About Schmidt.) My childhood innocence of the world kept the monsters and murderers and ghosts in my television, and kept me safe and sound in my den where nothing truly terrifying could ever get me. By eighth grade I was making weekly trips to the video store for The Exorcist, Silence of the Lambs, Psycho, Friday the 13th and Seven, where the bored teenagers working there didn’t care that I was five years shy of the legal age to rent R-rated films. Watching endless amounts of horror movies growing up turned me into the true cinephile I am today, as opposed to a psychopath. It was a coin toss, really.
I recently saw The Exorcist at a movie screening that took place in a cemetery, which was almost as fitting as the time I saw Chicago while on vacation in Chicago. I realized a graveyard is the only setting to watch what I insist is the most satisfying horror film of all time. The movie not only succeeds in being genuinely disturbing and suspenseful, but it’s well-acted, well-written, and overall well-crafted. It was probably the most fun I’ll ever have surrounded by thousands of dead bodies (I hope – it’s never too late for the psycho gene to finally show itself). Horror movies nowadays rarely possess any of these qualities, and generally fall into one or all of these categories:
So Bad It’s Entertaining But Ultimately Still Bad: These are the movies that are badly written, horribly acted, and cheaply produced (in terms of quality, not budget), but still lack any of the energy or fun you’ll find in an Evil Dead movie or anything from Troma Films. Re: Snakes on a Plane, House of Wax, Resident Evil.
Torture Porn: These are for people who enjoy spending money and eighty minutes of their life watching pretty girls get tied up and gagged. Or disembowled. Or beheaded/delimbed/deflowered. In a giant maze of glass and barbed wire. I’d call these types of people who find torture entertaining sadists, but really they’re masochists, since they voluntarily subject themselves to movies that aren’t very good. Actually, I’ll call them “your average American moviegoer.” Me, I'm stickin' with good ole regular porn. Re: Saw 1-4, Captivity, Hostel.
BOO!: Things jump out unexpectedly at the screen and scare you. Although these movies may look good, the story and characters are flat and shock replaces suspense in just about every heavily-background-scored scene. Re: The Ring, The Ring 2, The Grudge, The Grudge 2, The Hills Have Eyes, The Hills Have Eyes 2.
Call me a cynic, a snob or a traditionalist, but I don’t have time to develop the acquired taste necessary for enjoying the unappetizing Saw franchise or the endless amount of The Grudgy Ring Has Eyes sequels. October only comes once a year, and if I plan to enjoy my thrills and chills the right way, the power of Christ compels me to stay out of the multiplex and stick with The Exorcist. My mom would be proud.
I KNEW HE WAS THE BEST!
I started watching American Idol at the beginning of Season 3 purely for ironic purposes. I wanted to make fun of people like all other true-blooded Americans. That's why reality TV is so successful and continues to be successful. We should just relabel it Shadenfreude TV.
anyway, so Idol is my guilty pleasure, but I guess I'm not so guilty since I'm openly admitting my love for the show, even though it's incredibly cheesy at times and how PRODUCT PLACEMENT it becomes and how they continue to let through horrible, horrible singers as opposed to decent-to-very-good tenors who have a unique style all their own. (Yes, I auditioned. And no, I'm not bitter.*)
My favorite this past season since the moment I laid eyes on him was Blake Lewis. He looked different, he sounded different, he had nice tattoos, dressed well, and dyed his hair emo-black halfway through the show. What's not to like?
do not be fooled by my sweatervest, i am very awesome
Well, I'm happy to say that he just leaked his first single and it's a fun dance track, not some sappy This Is My Moment Now So Thanks In Your Heaven kind of crap that Idol alumni usually release. Take a listen for yourself, and if you have any reality-TV competition prejudices, just pretend you're hearing it on the radio in your car for the first time. Don't tell me you wouldn't car-dance if you heard this on your commute to work.
*I'm extremely bitter.
anyway, so Idol is my guilty pleasure, but I guess I'm not so guilty since I'm openly admitting my love for the show, even though it's incredibly cheesy at times and how PRODUCT PLACEMENT it becomes and how they continue to let through horrible, horrible singers as opposed to decent-to-very-good tenors who have a unique style all their own. (Yes, I auditioned. And no, I'm not bitter.*)
My favorite this past season since the moment I laid eyes on him was Blake Lewis. He looked different, he sounded different, he had nice tattoos, dressed well, and dyed his hair emo-black halfway through the show. What's not to like?
Well, I'm happy to say that he just leaked his first single and it's a fun dance track, not some sappy This Is My Moment Now So Thanks In Your Heaven kind of crap that Idol alumni usually release. Take a listen for yourself, and if you have any reality-TV competition prejudices, just pretend you're hearing it on the radio in your car for the first time. Don't tell me you wouldn't car-dance if you heard this on your commute to work.
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*I'm extremely bitter.
Friday, October 5, 2007
I Swear I Had Nothing To Do With This
This is just about the funniest thing I've ever read:
SYDNEY, Australia (AP) -- Customs officers discovered nearly 10.5 ounces of ecstasy tablets hidden inside a Mr. Potato Head toy sent to Australia from Ireland, the agency said Thursday.
Upon opening the parcel, the officers were greeted with the smiling face of the popular children's toy, which features a potato-like head and removable facial features. But when they removed a panel from the back of the toy, the officers found 10.34 ounces of ecstasy in a plastic bag.
The Australian Customs Service referred the matter to federal police, but no arrests were immediately made, the agency said. The maximum penalty for importing drugs to Australia is life imprisonment.
Wow, whatever Irish kid it was who sent this to his mates in Australia must have been on drugs while shipping this package. They'll never think to look inside a children's toy that was probably designed by someone who took lots of drugs! Those people at customs are smarter than you think! (Then again, I had an assortment of "unmentionables" shipped to me from overseas without any hassle. Why are you looking at me like that? I'm obviously just talking about Tim-Tams.)
Look at all those pills! It's like how I spent last weekend, but inside the head of a cartoon potato man. What a waste. Think of all the massages and relationships based on a false sense of adoration that will never happen because no one will be ingesting those babies. Pity.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Broadcaster Behind the Scenes
Do you wonder what it's like at my job? Well, wonder no more. Or actually, you'll probably be scratching your head a whole lot more after viewing this video our sound guy made. Questions will enter your mind, like They get paid to do this? and What the hell is going on? The answers to those questions are "Yes, weird, huh?" and "I have no idea either." Enjoy!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Quote of the Day: Caveman Edition
"Well, sometimes we all hope for the absolute worst and we're stuck with 'just okay'. But we manage."
--me, to my coworker who was dissapointed that Caveman was medicore at best, as opposed to the ridiculously, laughable horrible he was expecting
hey! i'm better than According to Jim but not as good as Two and a Half Men! Score!
--me, to my coworker who was dissapointed that Caveman was medicore at best, as opposed to the ridiculously, laughable horrible he was expecting
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Britney's Tragedy Saves World From Adequately Remembering Actual Real-Life Tragedy
Today is the anniversary of 9/11, and since I'm a (proud, albeit Los Angelfied) New Yorker, I feel the need to acknowledge it here. However, I am also an entertainer and the last thing I want to do is make everybody cry. That's Britney's job. I like making people laugh. So in the spirit of patriotism and satire, I give you this:
Read the rest of the article here at The Onion.
Today I heard conversations about and read more about Britney Spears' performance at the VMA's on Sunday than of 9/11. Looks like it's safe to care about stupid bullshit again!
SPRINGFIELD, MO—Were this an ordinary Tuesday night, Wendy Vance would return home from her receptionist job at a Springfield chiropractor's office and spend the evening engaged in any number of empty, meaningless diversions: watching old, taped episodes of Friends, browsing the new issue of Cosmopolitan, or driving to Center Square Mall to browse for shoes.
Tonight, however, the 29-year-old is unable to bring herself to turn on the TV or even half-heartedly flip through the new Pottery Barn catalog. Instead, she has decided to visit her grandmother in nearby Mountain Grove.
"If none of this had happened, right now I'd probably be watching that stupid Journey VH1 Behind The Music episode for the 40,000th time. Or talking to my friend Kerri about the Gap skirt I want," said Vance, holding her grandmother's frail, time-worn hand. "Now, all I can think about is how precious life is, and how important it is to spend quality time with the people who matter to you, because everything could change in an instant."
Added Vance: "I just want my regular life back."
Vance is not alone. Shaken by the tragic events of Sept. 11, people across the nation have abandoned such inconsequential concerns as the Gary Condit scandal and Britney Spears' skimpy outfit at the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards. No longer are they talking about shark attacks or what's-his-name, that Little Leaguer who was too old to play. Instead, they're focusing on the truly important things in life: friends, family, and being good to one another.
Read the rest of the article here at The Onion.
Today I heard conversations about and read more about Britney Spears' performance at the VMA's on Sunday than of 9/11. Looks like it's safe to care about stupid bullshit again!
There Will Be Film Geek Orgasms
IMDB says the release date is December 26. Consequently, that will be the happiest day of my year/life. It's all downhill from there until Paul Thomas Anderson releases another movie.
Here's the trailer, for those of you who want to just kinda have no idea what this movie is about, as opposed to not watching it whatsoever and being completely surprised at every milisecond of genius yet to come:
Worst. Shoes. Ever. Period. Emoticon of Frustration >:-o
Hey! Remember Me?!?
I stopped dating that tall music dude with the weird faces... and now he's in GAP ads! Stupid boy! I haven't managed to get drunk enough to get a DUI (two midori sours and I'm gone!). I've also tried to pick up a coke habit but coke is itchy!!! Aa-choo! I'm also not super-de-duper talented, but not untalented enough to be a trainwreck, and I can't be a bad mother cause I never had kids! At least I don't think so... wait lemme text Nick. [texting: nick did we make babies on newlyweds lol i forgetz). So I guess it's back to not wearing bras to get some attention around here! Howdy, ya'll!
I'm back, too! Three cheers (and double D's) for the return of P&B!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Re-Spice Up Your Life
Now...
Posh: "After my next surgery, they'll be out to here!"
And then...
we never met a colour we didn't like
The Spice Girls are back!.... in my newest INsite column! Get caught up on the spices by clicking here, so you'll be fully prepared when you go to see their concert this December.**
**Yes, I know, you probably won't be seeing their concert this December. I just didn't want to feel so cold and alone (and ashamed).
Did you miss my previous columns? Well, click away!
July 07 Fall TV Preview
June 2007
May 2007
And then...
The Spice Girls are back!.... in my newest INsite column! Get caught up on the spices by clicking here, so you'll be fully prepared when you go to see their concert this December.**
**Yes, I know, you probably won't be seeing their concert this December. I just didn't want to feel so cold and alone (and ashamed).
Did you miss my previous columns? Well, click away!
July 07 Fall TV Preview
June 2007
May 2007
Quote of the Day, Ridiculous Lawyer Edition
As reported on IMDB news...
That's the kind of genius that comes out of the mouth of a lawyer given to you by the court.
Keep in mind, Mr. Jimenez's affections for Spider-Man still remained even after seeing Spider-Man 3! I guess I'm not the only one who prefers Spidey as an angsty emo kid.
i hate you, sandman! i wrote a mean poem about you in my spiral notebook!
A 33-year-old mechanic has been arrested in connection with the robbery of Kirsten Dunst's New York hotel suite. Dunst's penthouse at the Soho Grand was broken into on August 9. The gang stole designer bags, $2,500 in cash, credit and ID cards, two digital cameras, a cell phone and an iPod music player. James Jimenez, 33, was arrested on Sunday and charged with burglary and grand larceny. Police believe Jimenez was the accomplice of Jarrod Beinerman, who was arrested last week. Jimenez's lawyer, John Bostany tells the New York Post, "I know James has the deepest respect for Spider-Man and would never want anything to happen to Spider-Man's girlfriend."
That's the kind of genius that comes out of the mouth of a lawyer given to you by the court.
Keep in mind, Mr. Jimenez's affections for Spider-Man still remained even after seeing Spider-Man 3! I guess I'm not the only one who prefers Spidey as an angsty emo kid.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Quote of the Day
"Riding in this car with you guys is like watching Billy Elliot on repeat."
-me, to my three male co-workers whose maturity levels combined would not be tall enough to ride any rollercoaster at any legitimate travelling carnival. I meant to say Billy Madison, but since working here with them, my intelligence has dramatically dropped so low that I mistook an idiotic Adam Sandler vehicle with the movie about a teenage boy who dreams of joining the ballet.
Upon hearing this, all three jumped out of the car and began to twirl.
Sometimes I love working here. Now, I'm off to go play with shiny things. Oh my god, am I becoming a bumbling yokel since graduating.
Ooh, that dog has a puffy tail! Here puff! Here puff!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
I Am Here
Good ole New York. I grew up on Long Island which is just an hour train ride away, but because I had (and still have) the most overprotected mother this side of a woman who is still pregnant and doesn't let her fetus go out with its friends unless it calls every hour on the hour and definitely won't let ride the subway at night, I never got to explore much of Manhattan. This past week, though, I've been making up for it by frequenting The Village, the East Village, Alphabet City, Union Square, Chelsea, Central Park, Times Square, Hell's Kitchen, walking around all day and eating in absolutely no chain restaurants or bars. It's delightful. This is definitely the vacation I needed.
More updates to come. Thanks for being patient and humoring me that I actually have people who read this site. Aww. Don't worry, I'll be back to my vapid, superficial celebrity ramblings soon enough.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
My Typical Romance
If you've been paying attention, then you've figured out that I have a type. This guy. This guy (who, consequently but not coincidentally, resembles my ex-boyfriend). And this guy. What do all of these boyish men have in common? They are rockstars (William Beckett of The Academy Is, Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy, and Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance, respectively).
Wow. A chick who digs musicians. Mindblowing.
Yeah, okay, I'm not special. And I've dated plenty of other guys (if you redefine the word "plenty") that don't fit the rockstar/brooding musician type at all. I can find men appealing who don't sing about failed relationships and wear black clothes and makeup. But that's only because there aren't that many of them and a girl's gotta eat (so to speak).
This past weekend I was flooded with MY TYPE at every corner at the Projekt Revolution tour in San "I'm Actually a Desert, Barnes & Noble and Chili's Nonwithstanding" Bernadino, California. My good friend Brian and his band won an MTV contest and were performing as the very, very, very opening act of the entire tour, headlined by Linkin Park and, 50% my reason for attending, My Chemical Romance. Swoon.
I met Brian my very first day of classes at my very first class, freshman year at college. It was Intro to Film (as if I needed an introduction to something I had been self-educating myself about since birth) and the TA had everyone break the ice by sharing a recent movie that they enjoyed. Brian, a heterosexual male, said Moulin Rouge which had come out just a few months previous, and you could immediately sense an entire classroom of film school snobs (yep, even on Day 1) judging his choice, conforming to the then-popular Baz Luhrman backlash. Uncharacteristic of me, but perhaps out of a survival of the fittest adrenaline rush of needing to make friends, I approached this attractive stranger after class and simply said, "I agree with you, I really loved Moulin Rouge." We realized we had lots more in common, including a love of Alanis Morissette and No Doubt (concerts we attended together in the years to come), dancing like idiots at sorority and frat invites, a similar ridiculous sense of humor and obsession with pop culture. And thus a friendship was born!
Brian has remained a busy and distant friend but a supportive one throughout the years. He's always done his best to make my improv troupe performances, and I always go to his band's gigs when I can make it, even if I go alone. His band, Art of Chaos, is not typically the type of music I like -- it's a bit louder and heavier than something I would normally listen to. Then again, I never proclaim a love for a band just because it is of a particular genre of music (Linkin Park and Good Charlotte, I'm referring to you).
That said, because I've given it more airplay on my iPod than I would have given it had I not known someone in said band, I've grown to really love Art of Chaos' music. It's catchy, it's emotional, it's not just screaming into a mic - in fact it's not screaming at all, and Brian has a lovely tenor voice atypical in his band's chosen genre of music. I can happily say I'm not just humoring him; I really do enjoy his band's music (which you can check out here). Which is a pleasure, because I thankfully don't have to lie to his face, which is what I probably would do even if I couldn't stand it. That's what friends are for, right?
So, since I am a lady of my word and had last Saturday free, I spent close to $100 on a LOGE 1 ticket, and drove to San Bernadino alone to see Brian and his bandmates perform at one of the biggest gigs of their career (so far). Okay, maaaaybe I also wanted to see My Chemical Romance and I chose to get orchestra seats as opposed to general lawn for $30... but as all my slutty friends say, if you're gonna go, go all the way. And use protection. Sunscreen, of course. Pervs.
I got to The 'Bernadino (new FOX drama?) at 11:45am and a line thousands of people long had already formed. I bypassed everyone and waited at the top of the hill, near the entrance. At about 12:30, they started letting people in at the precise moment I heard Brian's voice come through a loudspeaker. They started playing their first song the very second the gates opened. Talk about an opening act.
I wasn't going to miss him, not after driving an hour and a half and spending tons of money and getting there at the very, very beginning of a 12 hour music festival. I cut absolutely everyone in line, got my ticket ripped, and RAN to the Revolution stage where they were finishing their first song to about, oh, the ten people ahead of me in line who got there first.
I saw their whole show (always engaging, like old pro rockstars), but unfortunately most of their entourage of friends, family and fans missed it because of the line. Another shining example that sometimes, just sometimes, being selfish and cheating your way to the top is the way to go. I never said this blog was a role model.
I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting to say hello and congrats to Brian while he signed autographs (seriously - there is nothing weirder than seeing your friend you've known for a long time sign autographs and take pictures with strangers). Then it was a combination of tanning, texting, calling my mom, reading tabloids, spending as much money as possible on the worst food imaginable ($96 for a ticket and the best you can offer me is a limp cheeseburger combo? SHENANIGANS!), listening to my iPod, admiring the thousands of tattooes on display, trying to figure out what a seven-year old is doing at this type of concert when I can't remember having a taste in music when I was seven, trying to sneak backstage with Brian (to no avail), until this happened:
I can't say enough good things about this band. My ex tried to get me into them, but the only thing he showed me was the "I'm Not Okay" video, and while amusing and tongue-in-cheek, Gerard Way looked like, as I quote, "a monster".
He changed his hair a few times, sobered up, put away (some) of his eyeliner, and needles to say, I changed my mind, too:
i wear my sunglasses at night
Brian met him backstage and the only thing I could do to keep from weeping was lick Brian's hand that shook Gerard's. Okay, I didn't really do that, but it's frustrating to be so close yet so far to someone you would pretty much stage a vag attack on the second you meet them just from listening to the music they create. In fact I think it would be fair to say I get sexually aroused just by watching MCR perform live, turned on to 11 seeing Gerard goosetep all over stage (no really, he does that a lot). Do I need therapy? Or a bandana and a pack of Mentos to get backstage? Both, probably.
In any respect, Art of Chaos is just a few more live performances and a Rolling Stone cover away from inspiring multiple orgasms. And that's pretty much the best endorsement I can give.
Wow. A chick who digs musicians. Mindblowing.
Yeah, okay, I'm not special. And I've dated plenty of other guys (if you redefine the word "plenty") that don't fit the rockstar/brooding musician type at all. I can find men appealing who don't sing about failed relationships and wear black clothes and makeup. But that's only because there aren't that many of them and a girl's gotta eat (so to speak).
This past weekend I was flooded with MY TYPE at every corner at the Projekt Revolution tour in San "I'm Actually a Desert, Barnes & Noble and Chili's Nonwithstanding" Bernadino, California. My good friend Brian and his band won an MTV contest and were performing as the very, very, very opening act of the entire tour, headlined by Linkin Park and, 50% my reason for attending, My Chemical Romance. Swoon.
I met Brian my very first day of classes at my very first class, freshman year at college. It was Intro to Film (as if I needed an introduction to something I had been self-educating myself about since birth) and the TA had everyone break the ice by sharing a recent movie that they enjoyed. Brian, a heterosexual male, said Moulin Rouge which had come out just a few months previous, and you could immediately sense an entire classroom of film school snobs (yep, even on Day 1) judging his choice, conforming to the then-popular Baz Luhrman backlash. Uncharacteristic of me, but perhaps out of a survival of the fittest adrenaline rush of needing to make friends, I approached this attractive stranger after class and simply said, "I agree with you, I really loved Moulin Rouge." We realized we had lots more in common, including a love of Alanis Morissette and No Doubt (concerts we attended together in the years to come), dancing like idiots at sorority and frat invites, a similar ridiculous sense of humor and obsession with pop culture. And thus a friendship was born!
Brian has remained a busy and distant friend but a supportive one throughout the years. He's always done his best to make my improv troupe performances, and I always go to his band's gigs when I can make it, even if I go alone. His band, Art of Chaos, is not typically the type of music I like -- it's a bit louder and heavier than something I would normally listen to. Then again, I never proclaim a love for a band just because it is of a particular genre of music (Linkin Park and Good Charlotte, I'm referring to you).
That said, because I've given it more airplay on my iPod than I would have given it had I not known someone in said band, I've grown to really love Art of Chaos' music. It's catchy, it's emotional, it's not just screaming into a mic - in fact it's not screaming at all, and Brian has a lovely tenor voice atypical in his band's chosen genre of music. I can happily say I'm not just humoring him; I really do enjoy his band's music (which you can check out here). Which is a pleasure, because I thankfully don't have to lie to his face, which is what I probably would do even if I couldn't stand it. That's what friends are for, right?
So, since I am a lady of my word and had last Saturday free, I spent close to $100 on a LOGE 1 ticket, and drove to San Bernadino alone to see Brian and his bandmates perform at one of the biggest gigs of their career (so far). Okay, maaaaybe I also wanted to see My Chemical Romance and I chose to get orchestra seats as opposed to general lawn for $30... but as all my slutty friends say, if you're gonna go, go all the way. And use protection. Sunscreen, of course. Pervs.
I got to The 'Bernadino (new FOX drama?) at 11:45am and a line thousands of people long had already formed. I bypassed everyone and waited at the top of the hill, near the entrance. At about 12:30, they started letting people in at the precise moment I heard Brian's voice come through a loudspeaker. They started playing their first song the very second the gates opened. Talk about an opening act.
I wasn't going to miss him, not after driving an hour and a half and spending tons of money and getting there at the very, very beginning of a 12 hour music festival. I cut absolutely everyone in line, got my ticket ripped, and RAN to the Revolution stage where they were finishing their first song to about, oh, the ten people ahead of me in line who got there first.
I saw their whole show (always engaging, like old pro rockstars), but unfortunately most of their entourage of friends, family and fans missed it because of the line. Another shining example that sometimes, just sometimes, being selfish and cheating your way to the top is the way to go. I never said this blog was a role model.
I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting to say hello and congrats to Brian while he signed autographs (seriously - there is nothing weirder than seeing your friend you've known for a long time sign autographs and take pictures with strangers). Then it was a combination of tanning, texting, calling my mom, reading tabloids, spending as much money as possible on the worst food imaginable ($96 for a ticket and the best you can offer me is a limp cheeseburger combo? SHENANIGANS!), listening to my iPod, admiring the thousands of tattooes on display, trying to figure out what a seven-year old is doing at this type of concert when I can't remember having a taste in music when I was seven, trying to sneak backstage with Brian (to no avail), until this happened:
I can't say enough good things about this band. My ex tried to get me into them, but the only thing he showed me was the "I'm Not Okay" video, and while amusing and tongue-in-cheek, Gerard Way looked like, as I quote, "a monster".
He changed his hair a few times, sobered up, put away (some) of his eyeliner, and needles to say, I changed my mind, too:
Brian met him backstage and the only thing I could do to keep from weeping was lick Brian's hand that shook Gerard's. Okay, I didn't really do that, but it's frustrating to be so close yet so far to someone you would pretty much stage a vag attack on the second you meet them just from listening to the music they create. In fact I think it would be fair to say I get sexually aroused just by watching MCR perform live, turned on to 11 seeing Gerard goosetep all over stage (no really, he does that a lot). Do I need therapy? Or a bandana and a pack of Mentos to get backstage? Both, probably.
In any respect, Art of Chaos is just a few more live performances and a Rolling Stone cover away from inspiring multiple orgasms. And that's pretty much the best endorsement I can give.
My So-Called Back*
*just thank me that I didn't make a "sexyback" joke
I'd just like to point out that I saw this in the very flesh (pun well-thought out in advance and intended) and it made me jump from zero to lesbian in 2.5 seconds:
Jordan Cartolano, eat your heart out
Somewhere, Brian Krakow is having a massive boner.
I've always liked Claire Danes - her one-two punch during my pre-teen and teenage years with My So-Called Life and Romeo + Juliet pretty much made her my female role model. I'm happy to see she's still around, doing things (even if those things happen to be Australian musicians or other people's babydaddy's). I'm also happy to see that she's drop dead gorgeous in the sexiest dress I've ever seen. Dayum.
Unfortunately, not all of the MS-CL alum are faring much better...
Jordan Cartolano = Dreamy-Eyed Remedial Student I Can Change
i'm so burdened by society. and homework.
30 Seconds to Mars frontman = Trying Too Hard
not as good as the Frozen Embryoes
Oh no, it gets even worse - this is him without goth makeup (or body fat):
look, i became convex for a role, i'm a serious actor!
I'd just like to point out that I saw this in the very flesh (pun well-thought out in advance and intended) and it made me jump from zero to lesbian in 2.5 seconds:
Somewhere, Brian Krakow is having a massive boner.
I've always liked Claire Danes - her one-two punch during my pre-teen and teenage years with My So-Called Life and Romeo + Juliet pretty much made her my female role model. I'm happy to see she's still around, doing things (even if those things happen to be Australian musicians or other people's babydaddy's). I'm also happy to see that she's drop dead gorgeous in the sexiest dress I've ever seen. Dayum.
Unfortunately, not all of the MS-CL alum are faring much better...
Jordan Cartolano = Dreamy-Eyed Remedial Student I Can Change
30 Seconds to Mars frontman = Trying Too Hard
Oh no, it gets even worse - this is him without goth makeup (or body fat):
Film School Eulogy
Legendary foreign film director Ingmar Bergman died Monday at the age of 89.
Legendary foreign film director Michaelangelo Antonioni died Monday at the age of 94.
That's two influential filmmakers dead on the same day. Does anybody know Bernardo Bertolucci's whereabouts?? I hope he's taking his vitamins.
Just in case... here's a clip from a movie I personally hate when I watched it in my Film Censorship class, Last Tango in Paris. I haven't watched it again since my initial viewing, but I disliked it so much I don't think I'll be giving it a second chance. Blah blah it's a "classic movie", that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it despite explicitely not enjoying it. Except for this scene. Which is the scene I will share with you now. Marlon Brando, even grey-haired, overweight and unattractive, there's no one like you.
Monday, July 30, 2007
It's Not TV, It's HBO..... Actually, On Second Inspection, These Are Loafers
Don't you love a blog post that begins with a random Simpsons quote thrown into the subject heading for no reason whatsoever? I do! Ah, it's gonna be a good day.
Well, it's that time of the month again. No, I'm not talking about my menstrual cycle. That would be weird to blog about.
No, no. It's Click On This Link And Read My Monthly Column in INsite Boston!!! Yaaaay!
Fall TV Preview
If you don't, Lindsay Lohan will be sent to rehab in Iraq. And you wouldn't want this innocent little starlet to get a piece of shrapnel embedded into her skin while she's trying to detox, would you? Would you??
peace in the middle east or whatevs, lolz!!1!
**yes i did this photoshop (for work... but I probably would have made it eventually anyway of my own accord)
**Did you miss my previous columns? Well, click away!
June 2007
May 2007
Well, it's that time of the month again. No, I'm not talking about my menstrual cycle. That would be weird to blog about.
No, no. It's Click On This Link And Read My Monthly Column in INsite Boston!!! Yaaaay!
Fall TV Preview
If you don't, Lindsay Lohan will be sent to rehab in Iraq. And you wouldn't want this innocent little starlet to get a piece of shrapnel embedded into her skin while she's trying to detox, would you? Would you??
**yes i did this photoshop (for work... but I probably would have made it eventually anyway of my own accord)
**Did you miss my previous columns? Well, click away!
June 2007
May 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Thnks Fr Th Mmrs
Remember Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? Did you enjoy it? If you didn't, you may be able to completely erase the experience from your mind:
A study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research reports that researchers at Harvard and Montreal's McGill University are getting good results from propranolol, a drug used in the treatment of amnesia, that appears to block, if not completely remove, bad memories on a selective basis.
The drug was tested using 19 victims of various kinds of trauma, including accidents and rape. Some subjects were given propranolol, others a placebo. Researchers say that in those receiving the drug, the biochemical pathways that serve memory were disrupted sufficiently enough to dull, if not erase, the most painful recollections.
Where do I sign up? Maybe I already have signed up and I can't remember. Ignorance would be bliss this week. (Vague shout out to being depressed!)
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Girlfriend Is FUCKED
Reports TMZ:
Lindsay Lohan might be adding a whole lotta striped jumpsuits to her wardrobe.
Already facing charges for driving under the influence and misdemeanor hit and run in Beverly Hills, Lindsay racked up even more charges last night in Santa Monica, and is now facing big-time jail time.
The maximum sentence she faced for the original DUI and hit and run charges was 6 months for each. Last night, Lindsay was charged with another DUI -- if convicted of both DUIs, she could face up to one year in jail. And the horror doesn't stop there! She was also charged with possession of cocaine, which is a felony and carries a maximum of three years in jail.
La Lohan is accused of driving on a suspended license as well, which carries a maximum of one year in jail. Her frenemy Paris Hilton was sentenced to 45 days for the same offense.
As far as the allegation of bringing cocaine into a correctional facility -- our sources tell us that this charge will most likely be dropped, because it is only enforced if someone transports drugs to an inmate in custody. La Lohan didn't willingly go to jail last night!
Judges don't take kindly to arrestees whose crimes occur so close together -- so it's quite possible that the proverbial book will be thrown at her. In a worst case scenario, Lilo could face SIX YEARS in jail!
Lindsay and I attended the same high school at the same time (I was a senior, she was the freshman "who was in that Parent Trap movie"). I feel as though we share a kinship, although I graduated Calhoun High School with honors, and she left junior year to eventually become a movie star, recording artist, and firecrotch. Because of our shared Long Island upbringing (me, Linds, and Amy Fischer - Long Island's finest), I take special note of the comings and goings of Miss Lohan in all her Adventures Through the Car Windsheild. I make jokes and poke fun, but seriously, the girl's probably hiding WMD's in her nasal cavity alone. Someone needs to chain this girl to a radiator Black Snake Moan style before she kills herself. Although I bet her funeral at Pure nightclub would be the party of the year. She should preoder a Louis Vioutton coffin before Britney picks up the last one.
(thanks LOLHAN blog for the giggles)
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Why Hasn't She Gotten Done Already?
Is Bud Lite too classy for you? Are you in the mood for something a little less hoity-toity than Coors? Do you live in a van down by the river and shoot tin cans for pleasure? Than Git-R-Done beer is the alcoholic drink for YOU!
If rednecks love quality, than why is Larry the Cable Guy still doing stand-up on television? PARADOX! I'm sure this beer will do well, though - particularly if its sold at the 99 cent store...
Git-R-Done beer, named for the comedian's famous catchphrase, was launched Saturday by SchillingBridge Winery & MicroBrewery, from the small town where the 44-year-old actor-comedian grew up.
The owners of the small family winery say the light beer is made from high-quality ingredients with more "flavor and body" than popular corporate beers.
Mike Schilling, who runs the winery with his wife, Sharon, is confident Git-R-Done beer will appeal to the comedian's fan base.
"Rednecks love quality, too," he said.
If rednecks love quality, than why is Larry the Cable Guy still doing stand-up on television? PARADOX! I'm sure this beer will do well, though - particularly if its sold at the 99 cent store...
Friday, July 13, 2007
Posh It To the Limit
So Posh & Becks are now in Los Angeles... but this town ain't big enough for the both of us!!!
And that's why I'm moving to the UK. Foreign exchange program.
No, no, (unfortunately) I'm not moving out of LA. In fact, their presence in the media is probably only helping my bloggy blog here in mouseclicks. So thanks for all of you who have stumbled upon this blog in a search for David and Victoria's incredibly erotic W photoshoot. I wouldn't want you to walk away emptyhanded, so here you go:
I kinda like these guys. As far as celebrities go, they provide more eye-candy entertainment than naseating irritation. David actually has a talent and is well respected (at least in every other country in the world since America doesn't give a shit about soccer). Victoria at least used to be in a world-famous supergroup (and I guess still is?). They've got three kids and tattoos of their kids' names and other cryptic symbols and languages all over their body. They're both usually extremely well-dressed.... well, David anyway.
Although I have to say, wearing crazy outfits (particularly this hat) is probably the worst offense she's ever done to the world. As far as I know, she's never been in rehab, never bitch-slapped anybody in Hyde nightclub, never drove the wrong way on the freeway, never flashed her crotch (although her nipples are always searching for an escape). She just seems like a wild, filthy rich celebrity with a hot husband everyone likes (who knows who he is), and other than that, she's completely devoid of personality. And that's a celebrity I can like.
Also, as much criticism as this dress got, if I was a size negative 0, this is the first thing I would wear:
Welcome to LA, Posh and Becks! Your kids will be texting Lindsay Lohan any minute now. It's best you chain them to their beds while your here. Cheers!
And that's why I'm moving to the UK. Foreign exchange program.
No, no, (unfortunately) I'm not moving out of LA. In fact, their presence in the media is probably only helping my bloggy blog here in mouseclicks. So thanks for all of you who have stumbled upon this blog in a search for David and Victoria's incredibly erotic W photoshoot. I wouldn't want you to walk away emptyhanded, so here you go:
I kinda like these guys. As far as celebrities go, they provide more eye-candy entertainment than naseating irritation. David actually has a talent and is well respected (at least in every other country in the world since America doesn't give a shit about soccer). Victoria at least used to be in a world-famous supergroup (and I guess still is?). They've got three kids and tattoos of their kids' names and other cryptic symbols and languages all over their body. They're both usually extremely well-dressed.... well, David anyway.
Although I have to say, wearing crazy outfits (particularly this hat) is probably the worst offense she's ever done to the world. As far as I know, she's never been in rehab, never bitch-slapped anybody in Hyde nightclub, never drove the wrong way on the freeway, never flashed her crotch (although her nipples are always searching for an escape). She just seems like a wild, filthy rich celebrity with a hot husband everyone likes (who knows who he is), and other than that, she's completely devoid of personality. And that's a celebrity I can like.
Also, as much criticism as this dress got, if I was a size negative 0, this is the first thing I would wear:
Welcome to LA, Posh and Becks! Your kids will be texting Lindsay Lohan any minute now. It's best you chain them to their beds while your here. Cheers!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Finding Emo
Another hilarious installment of News Shows That Need Filler So They Attack Teenage Styles They Don't Understand:
But honestly, what in the eff has My Chemical Romance ever done to you, stupid CBS reporters? They're attacked almost as much as FAKE EMO ONLINE QUIZZES that ARE IN ON THE FUCKING JOKE. Gerard Way and the rest of the MCR should not be scapegoated for anyone cutting themself a la Marilyn Manson during the Columbine era - ya know, there's a lot of people out there cutting themselves, and they wear Abercrombie & Fitch. Some even wear Karl Lagerfeld (and no underwear underneath). Don't blame a brilliant (and highly entertaining live) band who has no interest in encouraging kids to hurt themselves. Sometimes ignorance stops being funny and just starts getting on my nerves.
Grr! Bex angry!
On another note, after watching that video, I'm less terrified of EMO coming to get me than I am of this guy:
But honestly, what in the eff has My Chemical Romance ever done to you, stupid CBS reporters? They're attacked almost as much as FAKE EMO ONLINE QUIZZES that ARE IN ON THE FUCKING JOKE. Gerard Way and the rest of the MCR should not be scapegoated for anyone cutting themself a la Marilyn Manson during the Columbine era - ya know, there's a lot of people out there cutting themselves, and they wear Abercrombie & Fitch. Some even wear Karl Lagerfeld (and no underwear underneath). Don't blame a brilliant (and highly entertaining live) band who has no interest in encouraging kids to hurt themselves. Sometimes ignorance stops being funny and just starts getting on my nerves.
Grr! Bex angry!
On another note, after watching that video, I'm less terrified of EMO coming to get me than I am of this guy:
I Doubt This Comes in Plus-Sizes
If you thought heroin chic was stylish, check out my favorite ad of the moment, if not for it's genuine honesty (Marketing Exec: "Models snort coke and look great while doing it! What're you looking at me for? Blame society!")
cheaper than doing real blow
Two models who look bored as all hell snorting a dress! In what I assume is the VIP section of an elite Hollywood club! Even a nipple is hanging out! This ad has everything! Just don't wear this dress while driving. We all know the reprucussions of a DUI! (Fun days with the Rehab gang at the beach! Weeeee!)
Two models who look bored as all hell snorting a dress! In what I assume is the VIP section of an elite Hollywood club! Even a nipple is hanging out! This ad has everything! Just don't wear this dress while driving. We all know the reprucussions of a DUI! (Fun days with the Rehab gang at the beach! Weeeee!)
My Mom Has a Mug with My Face On It From When I Was Eight, Does That Count?
As if there weren't enough people talking about Paris Hilton (myself included in this sad mob), and as if Paris doesn't talk about herself enough, she has now gone the extra step of wearing herself:
stars are blind, and now so are you!
Thank god she went the extra mile. For one precious, beautiful, heavenly second I almost forgot Paris Hilton existed. All I needed was the gentle push of a ridiculous photo op.
Who am I even kidding? I'm voluntarily discussing her on my blog. Thank you for holding up the bar of lunacy, Paris. What on earth would I constantly complain about if not for you and your legion of wenches?
double, double, Hyde and trouble
Thank god she went the extra mile. For one precious, beautiful, heavenly second I almost forgot Paris Hilton existed. All I needed was the gentle push of a ridiculous photo op.
Who am I even kidding? I'm voluntarily discussing her on my blog. Thank you for holding up the bar of lunacy, Paris. What on earth would I constantly complain about if not for you and your legion of wenches?
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