Posh & Bex

IDOL BYE-BYE: David Hernandez

2008-03-13T12:42:00.000-07:00

Poor David. Ousted before his time. Granted, I never particularly liked him, and although he was a competent singer, I'd rather put together a delicious chocolate milk beverage than watch his performance because, quite simply, he's boring. Also, I'm over the stripper jokes (and he is too, probably).

No one deserved to go worse than Kristy Lee Cook who turned The Beatles into a jamboree. This little girl gave a better performance than KLC did on Tuesday:

IDOL RECAP: Amanda Amanda Amanda!

2008-03-12T12:13:00.000-07:00

Hey guys! So I'm back and ready for American Idol Bloggy McUpdates. I don't even bother until the Final 12 (cause, let's face it, i'm lazy and can only keep this up for 12 weeks instead of a billion). Here we go! (and thanks TMZ for agreeing with me on the above image)

It's Beatles night on Idol, and I'm a fan of The Beatles' music, but I'm not like one of those crazy faaaaaaaaans who compare every song ever not written by The Beatles with songs written by The Beatles. I also thought Across the Universe was semi-awful/semi-good, as opposed to Beatles faaaaaaaans who flat out detested it. But uh-oh, Chipmunk David Archuleta already used his Beatles song with Imagine. He should just sing it again, there ain't no way he can top it.

"Say hello to your brand new set” -- Ryan

Hi new set! Sure, I guess it looks nice, but is anyone really talking about the set the day after the Oscars? Who the eff cares where the good stuff happens? They can sing outside on an apple box for all I care about the set.

Oh god. This is going to be 2 hours long because the first hour is just introducing the set. Though the set probably has a more well put together interview package than Kristy Lee Cook.

sYESsha – singing... a Beatles song? I've never heard this one.

I can't get that get that weird baby sound out of my head. Not a good sign. But the fact I can't recognize this song should be a compliment for Syesy, since I can't compare her to The Beatles. Sounds like an R&B song. Oh, I love this girl. She's damn cute. I'm predicting…. Top 7? She’s the only black girl in the competition as opposed to Black Girl Divathon from Season 3 (Fantasia, LaToya, J-Hud) so she should keep getting votes for awhile.

Chikeze – She's a Woman

TWINNIE ALERT – Forest Whitaker. C'mon, you can so see it.

Used to be an LAX baggage worker/security – Oh my god I want Chikeze checking to see if I packed drugs in my teddy bears.
I was about to say "don't quit your airport day job" but I LOVE this. He’s doing something different, and I can totally see his personality everytime he's on stage. ENOUGH OF THE BLAKE LEWIS SWEATER VESTS though. Dress for the big night that it is! He won me over. And I thought he was gone last week, too! THIS is what gets you votes – DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT even when you’re NOT singing. Prance and dance! Shout WOO a billion times like Jaime Fox!

Raimele – In My Life
Haha she dedicates her performancde for her “close friends who left the show already” awwww she misses her gay bff what's his face, his name is already gone from my memory. Sanjaya you are not, sir! (madam?)
Most importantly, of course, is her dress style is getting a LOT better with that cute giant white belt. She’s got the crowd waving! That couldn't possibly be the work of the producers, could it?!
I kind of love this version too. What’s happening to me?? Why doesn’t anyone suck???
How much you wanna bet someone mentions her height??
THOUGHT: Miss Saigon movie musical much? She could SO be Kim. Don't lie to yourself. You know she could.
Very subtle performance… it was sweet. Controlled.

Oh god Paula and her backwards compliments. “you look pretty tonight.” Kiss of death. Aaaaand they don't like it. Simon tears her a new one. She makes a puppy dog face. That might get you out of taking the trash out at home, sweetie, but not here.

Jason Castro – If I Fell

Why is he even on this show? He should be in your local coffeehouse. Oh. Well I guess that’s why. I sorta meant that as a compliment.

He knows he can’t hit those notes, but he plays it endearing. I kind of wish he’d do something fast. That’s not really him though, is it?

“Student in a bedroom at midnight” – Simon. Simon always tells it like it is, even when I like the singer. I guess this stage demands something bigger than acoustic guitar.

Ryan and simon are playfighting… I’m lost.

Carly – Come Together

She’s only been in the country 3 years!!! She’s not even a citizen. I CALL SHENANIGANS! her hair looks ten times better, but I still don’t want my American Idol to have a non-American accent. Call me nationalistic and racist, but seriously, I don't. I'd rather a Kellie Pickler-sounding girl win than someone who represents another nation.
Okay. Its kind of awesome. She’s “in it”. Stop trying to convert me, bitch!
The crowd fucking loves her. I’m still not obsessed. Maybe I like them underdogs.

I think Simon has a winking problem. We kind of don’t do that in America.

DAVID MY BELOVED COOK singing my FAVORITE BEATLES SONG. Elenor Rigby. It’s fate.

TWINNIE ALERT: Emo Jimmy Fallon
He bartended? I bartended! MARRY ME.
Without exaggerating, the chorus gave me chills. Holy god. I WANT HIS SEX.
Simon thinks he could win if it remains a talent competition. I stand by my love of this man. No other critique necessary. So much love.

Brooke White – Let it Be
TWINNIE ALERT: Cate Blanchett?

Playing piano. Is it gonna be boring? I like seeing talented musicians, though. I’m not thrilled but she’s probably a better performer with her own songs. Underwhelming.

We’re halfway through the show. I bet you right now Kristy Lee Cook is leaving next week and she hasn't even performed yet.

David Hernandez – saw her standing there
TWINNIE ALERT: Aladdin with a shirt on?

Pizza parlor? Are you kidding me? WE ALL KNOW. JUST ADMIT IT.
I'm sorry, I went to go make chocolate milk while david was singing. That’s how much I care about him. Boring.

“corny verging on desperate” – simon. As delicious as my chocolate milk.

WHY ARE THERE BREAKS IN BETWEEN EVERY SINGER?!? ANNOYING!

Amanda Overmyer - You Can't Do That (what?)

TWINNE ALERT: Joy from Earl (voice wise) and Beetlejuice. Don't say her name three times!!!

Enough of the black and white skunk look already. But, she's perfect. She wins the Fantasia award for Most Distinct Voice in the competition. She STANDS OUT! And I love her. I'm predicting.... at least Top 5.

Michael Johns - Across the Universe
He's been in America for ten years… hmm. Okay, that's longer than "the irish girl" (as Simon said, forgetting Carly's name) but you’re not an American. BOO! And I love me some Australians!
You don't sing this song unless you can effing BRING IT. And I kind of hate the arrangement. This has been covered so many times. How can you make it new? Answer: you don’t. well, he don’t.

Kristy Lee Cook - Country 8 Days a week?
HAHAHA
I LOVE IT
HOEDOWN!
They said COUNTRY not REDNECK!

“I didn’t enjoy it.” – paula. THANK YOU! You get a gold star for not warbling tonight!

David Archuleta - we can work it out

They gave David Archuleta the pimp slot AGAIN. Why bother having a TV show?

HE FORGOT THE LYRICS!!! GOLDEN BOY FORGOT THE LYRICS!
He finally showed his age, huh? And that licking lips thing really is getting on my nerves.
No wonder he sang ballad after ballad. He looks weird when he shimmies to a fast song.

All in all, I pretty good night. Here's how I'm rating everyone for the night:

1. David Cook 2. Chikeze, 3. Carly 4. Amanda 5. Jason Castro 6. Ramielle 7. Syesha 8. Brooke White 9. Michael Johns 10. David Hernandez 11. David Archuleta 12. Kristy Lee Cook

That ranking is crazy. What's Chikeze doing up there and David doing down there?? More importantly, who's even reading this? Are you?

More Like Marilyn Mon-HOE

2008-02-18T15:41:00.000-08:00

Marilyn Monroe is a tragic classic Hollywood figure, and she's also a fucking icon. You, Lindsay Lohan, are no icon.

You are an It Girl. In fifty years, no one will have paintings of YOU hanging in their art galleries or on the walls of their mansion. No teenage girl is going to have a print of one of those photographs hanging in her bedroom, lip synching in their brush to "Rumors". I would even say Britney has a better shot of infamy than you ever will. So stop fucking thinking you're here to stay. You aren't. I bet your liver won't last another year, give or take.

Also, Lindsay has become a true-to-form Butterface. No wonder she draped a sheet over her head. Her body's the only thing left she's got going for her, since her looks, her talent and her health have gone MIA. Furthermore... New York magazine? Seriously? She couldn't expose herself in, say, Vanity Fair or W or Vogue, something a little bit more high-end fashion? Girl may as well have done a Playboy spread. You know that's coming one more rehab vacay away.

I don't even want this Long Island Lolita's bits tainting my beautiful blog, so I'll provide the link for you to see the rest of the pics, but you'll have to provide your own lube.

get the eff off your high horse, bitch

The Pian-oh no

2008-01-28T15:19:00.000-08:00

ANNA PAQUIN!?

What in the holy fuck happened to you? Why do you look like Fergie probably did when she was on meth? Is this what happens when you win an Oscar at age 12? It’s all downhill from there? Remind me to thank my mom every single day for never giving into my demands of sending me on auditions when I was eight. I'm not famous or rich but I don't look like a prostitute from 17th century Londontown.

Why I Love Australia, Part 60

2008-01-28T15:05:00.000-08:00

Reasons Why Australia Is Awesome, as Exemplified in This News Clip:

1. The way they add an "r" sound at the end of words like "Nooo'r". CUTESVILLE!

2. Here in America, we have too much going on, like deaths of celebrities and Paris going to jail and an election coming up. We don't have time for giant house parties, but in Australia, it gets its own segment, even though nobody died and nothing tragic happened, just a kid whose gonna be grounded for the rest of his life.

3. FAMOUS SUNGLASSES. Now they're famous. Introducing Best Halloween Costume of 2008, Corey Worthington.

An Inconvienent Truth: David Beckham is Hot

2008-01-25T11:51:00.000-08:00

i'm hot, and now so's the earth

Apparently not everyone loooooves David Beckham the way every gossip magazine out there wants you to love him and his poshtastic brood. According to Soccer America Daily (Ed note--bwah??), David Beckham is the biggest threat to the environment... EVER. They blame his fleet of 15 cars, including Hummers, and all his travelling for work and leisure-- in 2007, Beckham flew “farther in 2007 than a trip from the earth to the moon” on all his appearances around the world.

With all his money he should be using it at least to reduce his own footprint. He has more freedom of choice when it comes to methods of traveling. He could also choose greener cars."

Look, first you tell us spinach is poisoning us, sunshine gives you cancer and now Pretty Boy McHandsome is ruining the earth?? WILL YOU LET US HAVE SOMETHING? PLEASE??

what global warming? I'm quite chilly, quite

Not Joking

2008-01-23T16:27:00.000-08:00

I am ~~almost~~ deeply ashamed of how involved I am with celebrities' lives. But what do you really expect? I am emotionally involved in the lives of characters on TV shows and in books I read. (Yes, that was me sobbing at the last five minutes of Six Feet Under.) How can you not get wrapped up in the ups and downs of people you read about everyday? Whose faces and stories you're thrust upon everytime you sign online?

Heath Ledger died yesterday, and I'm extremely upset. The kind of upset where I don't even know how to put it into words, nonetheless silly blog-speak. He's an Aussie, from Perth, Australia, the locale of a pilot I wrote. I always thought in the back of my mind, I bet when I have enough connections to get this produced, Heath would be interested in exec-producing... it's extremely jarring to think, nope, that's not happening, ever, because he's dead. He was a brilliant actor who I had a deep respect for, at least career-wise, as I knew very little about his personal life. Which, really, is/was a good thing. It's not often I can say how little I know about a famous actor apart from his work (Daniel Day Lewis comes to mind). I almost prefer it that way, so as not to be biased when I see them perform.

But apparently Heath had troubles, many drug-related, and he was found dead yesterday afternoon at 3:30pm in his manhattan apartment... the last time he was seen alive was noon that day. He was surrounded by pills. Jesus Christ. This is upsetting to summarize.

I really do see myself as an Aussie in spirit. Heath felt like one of my own, like how horrible I felt when Steve Irwin died, but within a community of the rest of Australia. That country is so, so proud of their people when they go abroad and make names for themselves, they give the ex-pats a pat on the back for good luck. When something joyous (like oscar noms) or tragic (like this) happens, they feel it extra strong, and that's a beautiful characteristic to hold. The US is so large and wild, I don't think we carry the same comraderie with our own people.

Not to mention, if you hadn't realized already from my previous blog posts, how head-over-heels excited I was to see Heath as The Joker in The Dark Knight. His performance in the trailer gave me chills. What a role to go out on.

What else can I say? Nothing. I can't provide any personal stories since I did not know him in real life. It just shows how much effect you can have on people you don't even know, have never met, probably will never meet. And not just with celebrities or people of "note". I put myself out there by writing in this blog, having a job I go to everyday, walking down the street - who knows who might be truly getting something out of what I think I'm doing here on earth.

I just sincerely hope there is no chance of drug overdoses happening in my future, or my friends or family's future. Take care of yourselves, guys.

Back to the sarcastic posts later.

P.S. I bought that "Why So Serious" Dark Knight poster. It'll be framed as a tribute to you in my living room, Heath. It's the thought of the memorial that counts.

Quote of the Day: Donut Edition

2008-01-23T16:12:00.000-08:00

"Well, it may be dry, but it still tastes better than not eating a donut."

--me, at our morning meeting, choosing the dryest donut in the box (still too delicious to be healthy)

Even MORE Posteriffic: The Dark Knight

2007-12-14T10:53:00.000-08:00

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.

Poster-iffic: The Dark Knight

2007-12-10T16:38:00.000-08:00

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)

It's Britney, Blog: Episode 2

2007-12-10T16:14:00.000-08:00

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!

Finding Emo: Barnyard Animal Edition

2007-12-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

No one understands an emo cow, the angstiest animal on the farm.

what's the point of living, just kill me and make me a steak. at least that way someone will love me

It's Britney, Blog

2007-11-21T15:52:00.000-08:00

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!

Finding Emo: Tickle Me Emo

2007-11-20T13:35:00.000-08:00

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.

Re-Spice up Your Life

2007-11-02T16:38:00.000-07:00

girl power through mindless pop music and midriff tops!

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?

we're back, bitches

...and Becks

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).

i don't fit into my leopard pantsuit anymore, stupid baby weight

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.

nice and subtle

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).

baby's all growns up

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).

i've got talent and bangs, i don't need no freakin' nickname

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).

More Adorable Than Knut's GAP Ad

2007-10-31T15:37:00.001-07:00

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.

Scary For the Wrong Reasons

2007-10-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

levitating devil girl... a hard act to follow

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.

one of the creepiest images in all of cinema... and nothing's even happening. mad props to the cinematographer

I KNEW HE WAS THE BEST!

2007-10-31T14:33:00.000-07:00

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.

I Swear I Had Nothing To Do With This

2007-10-05T11:04:00.000-07:00

i feel so goooood right now, i love you

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.

Broadcaster Behind the Scenes

2007-10-04T17:14:00.000-07:00

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!

Quote of the Day: Caveman Edition

2007-10-03T15:24:00.001-07:00

"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!

Britney's Tragedy Saves World From Adequately Remembering Actual Real-Life Tragedy

2007-09-11T23:00:00.001-07:00

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:

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

2007-09-11T15:30:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-11T15:26:00.000-07:00

Now, I'm an openminded person. I don't like making generalizations. But I'm pretty sure the torture chambers on Mary-Kate Olson's feet are the absolute, all-time WORST SHOES EVER:

they were my magic shoes, momma said they'd take me anywhere

There Are No Words (Only Videos)

2007-09-11T15:02:00.000-07:00

Before:

+

+

+

x

=

After:

After the After:

Ed. Note - I miss you, So Much Potential Britney... so much.

Hey! Remember Me?!?

2007-09-11T14:53:00.001-07:00

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!

Re-Spice Up Your Life

2007-08-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

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

Quote of the Day, Ridiculous Lawyer Edition

2007-08-28T14:04:00.000-07:00

As reported on IMDB news...

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.

i hate you, sandman! i wrote a mean poem about you in my spiral notebook!

Quote of the Day

2007-08-21T13:33:00.000-07:00

"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!

I Am Here

2007-08-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

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.

My Typical Romance

2007-07-31T23:37:00.001-07:00

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.

My So-Called Back*

2007-07-31T14:47:00.000-07:00

*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!

Film School Eulogy

2007-07-31T11:18:00.000-07:00

check, and mate

Legendary foreign film director Ingmar Bergman died Monday at the age of 89.

The Seventh Seal

Legendary foreign film director Michaelangelo Antonioni died Monday at the age of 94.

Blow Up

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.

Last Tango in Paris

It's Not TV, It's HBO..... Actually, On Second Inspection, These Are Loafers

2007-07-30T23:55:00.001-07:00

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

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

2007-07-26T16:29:00.000-07:00

i'm sorry, have we met?

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!)

Girlfriend Is FUCKED

2007-07-24T15:47:00.000-07:00

an adequite mug shot

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.

OMG, i can't stop driving things!!!
(thanks LOLHAN blog for the giggles)

Why Hasn't She Gotten Done Already?

2007-07-22T19:08:00.001-07:00

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!

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...

Posh It To the Limit

2007-07-13T09:47:00.000-07:00

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!

Finding Emo

2007-07-11T15:41:00.000-07:00

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:

I Doubt This Comes in Plus-Sizes

2007-07-11T13:49:00.001-07:00

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!)

My Mom Has a Mug with My Face On It From When I Was Eight, Does That Count?

2007-07-11T10:31:00.000-07:00

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

\/\/ Shout Out!

2007-07-11T10:27:00.000-07:00

My blog got the cover of W magazine this week!

Okay, it's mispelled... and there's no mention of me or this blog... and it's actually about David and Victoria Beckham and not about how I spend hours and hours of my workday blabbering on about celebrity culture and japanese television... but I consider this a personal triumph. Viva la blog!

You Had Me at Flight of the Conchords

2007-07-10T11:07:00.001-07:00

I'm in a lovey mood today. Small puppies and electro music usually puts me in a good mood. Here's another example that love exists, in the form of two geeks from New Zealand who have captured my heart and tickled my funny bone (which is located not too far from the g-spot):

I'm seeing them tomorrow night at the El Rey in Los Angeles. Do you know tickets for this show are selling for about $200 on Ebay? And yet I still refuse to sell my ticket I paid $30 for? Now that's love.

Three Examples of How I Know Love Is, Actually, All Around Us

2007-07-10T10:07:00.000-07:00

Example #1: This song, Cupid's Chokehold, by Gym Class Heroes, my favorite new song of the moment. (Regardless that the lead singer of one of my favorite bands is a guest vocalist in the song.) I can't wait to feel this way about someone again. I look forward to it more than winning an Oscar or giving a sold-out Q&A at the DGA. (I'm a nerd. [And a film school graduate.]) But one day this song will be for someone in my life. Right now this blog is a filler until I meet him. (Apparently making Bex and Posh&Bex fuck buddies, although I think P&B wants something more serious. Whatever, I told P&B when we first started that I wasn't looking for anything long-term. I'm really holding out for a better blog to come along.)

Example #2: Also this song, Digital Love, by Daft Punk. It's not new, and I've actually owned their CD Discovery for years with barely a listen, but for the last two weeks I can't stop listening to it. It's just so sweet and happy and genuine, like being in love and floating around on a dancefloor. Being on drugs at a rave also helps in achieving the same sensation. Although love doesn't cause a leak in your spinal fluid. Much.

Example #3 to Infinity: THIS PUPPY.

This puppy is so filled with love that its body has metastasized into a physical declaration of JOY! I'm waiting for his owners to shave "U R MINE" into his fur and sell clones of him for Valentine's Day.

P.S. I hate Love Actually, I'm ashamed I quoted it in my subject heading.

Blog or Death

2007-07-10T09:37:00.001-07:00

This would be hilarious... if it didn't actually scare the living shit out of me if it were to really happen.

Breaking News: All Online Data Lost After Internet Crash

A Post Without Gossip

2007-07-06T20:51:00.000-07:00

This is a sample chapter from the memoir I'm writing. It took place during my first trip to Australia in 2003 when I was volunteering at a wildlife park in the middle of Oz with a group of other American college student volunteers. Enjoy! Have a happy weekend!

Have you seen a big bag of money around here? I swear I just had it here in my pouch... god, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached to my neck

Mmm... Kangaroo

When yet another game of Trump started, a game I convinced myself they kept playing because they knew I refused to learn it, I decided it was time to take a break from trying to fit in. I released my clutches and followed Scott to the snake hut.

Scott gladly spent most of his time with the animals while the rest of us enjoyed our elongated smoke o's [aussie version of a coffee break] devouring packages of Tim Tams in one sitting. I wish I were comfortable not being a part of the larger collective, able to enjoy solitude knowing there was a party going on elsewhere. But while Scott voluntarily segregated himself from the group, it was the group that was slowly segregating themselves from me. That's small but specific variable that makes all the difference.

Scott was on this trip for genuine conservation work as opposed to getting laid in a foreign country. He was excited by all animals at the park, but he especially loved the reptiles. He thought they were cute the way normal people think a newborn kitten is cute or a baby dressed as a pumpkin is cute. I'm more of a Big Eyed Puppy Wearing a Bow kind of girl, but I was mesmerized by the snakes. They have amazing muscles – you can hold one by the tail and it will be able to support the rest of its body upright. I can't even do a cartwheel without fumbling under my own weight. Then again, I can ride in a plane without any hassles, so you win some, you lose some.

Joe, the owner of the park, was inside, holding a tuberware container. He motioned us over and we curiously looked inside. Five tiny mice shivered inside, each no more than a day old. They were the same color of pink Runts candy, and just a tad larger. The baby mice hadn't yet grown fur, and they would never get the chance to. It was the snake's smoke-o, and since they can't eat Tim Tams, they snack on baby mice.

Scott picked one up by its tiny tail, careful not to pinch too hard between his fingers for fear of squishing it. What could it matter, though? What's the point in gently handling this baby mouse one minute before its painful death? We're accomplices in its murder, guilty as much as the snake.

Scott placed the baby mouse in the cage at the oppose side of the snake. Slowly sensing another body in his space, the snake slithered until it found its prey. It had no difficulty snapping the small rodent into its mouth, tiny trickles of blood coming from its mouth.

After its meal, the snake continued to slowly move throughout its cage, indifferent. Kind of like the human version of an hour after eating Chinese food. "What, that was it? I'm hungry again." Poor mouse didn't even live long enough to become a decent meal. Some creatures just get the short end of the stick.

* * *

We feed animals, then ourselves, back and forth, day in, day out. That night we went to a nice restaurant in town for dinner. It felt good to wear makeup and spend a night out of my hiking boots.

At the restaurant, which was not The Outback (to my dismay), we were seated in a private room with white linen tablecloths and candelabras. This room is entirely too mature for eight juvenile college students on vacation. At least they kept us distanced from other clientele, away from our sex talk and Nikki's obnoxious Midwestern accent. Without hesitation I pick my meal: kangaroo. Now, kangaroo isn't sold at every McDonald's in Australia - only the nicest restaurants serve it, like duck or veal back in the States.

When dinner is served, I'm given a plate filled with hunks of raw kangaroo meat and a steaming stone grill. You put each piece on the grill and cook it to your liking. I'm suspicious why I'm spending so much money on a meal I have to prepare myself, but when you're in Australia, do as the Australians do: cook a cute animal medium-rare.

Kangaroo turns out to be delicious. As a bonus: doesn't have eyes or tentacles or squishy, chewy parts that have to be consumed whole. It's a strange thing to be eating, but it still resembles meat.

Now, I've never wanted to pet a shrimp or a duck. On the same note, I've never had a craving for goldfish or swan. I think cartoon cows are cute, but I'm highly unimpressed the few times I've been confronted with the real thing. So the kangaroo remains the only animal I wish I could own as a pet and that I also think is scrumptious. That's one big conflict of interest. I'm sure farmhands often become very attached to the hogs they raise and eventually slaughter, but as I'm sure you've deduced at this point, I am not a farmhand. My only experience with animals at this point in my life was my Akita growing up and McDonald's hamburgers. For-petting animals and for-eating animals were mutually exclusive until I met the adorably delectable kangaroo.

hippity-hop, into my tummy

* * *

The next day while we're doing our morning feeding (I spend an extra ten minutes at the ram's pen, entranced by their square-shaped pupils) Joe drives his pick-up into the park. He found a dead kangaroo in the road, normal Australian roadkill as typical as possums in America. Australian law prohibits you from moving a dead animal, but in Joe's way of thinking, this could be an entire meal for another animal. At least this way the kangaroo would serve a purpose.

Nobody's eating me. Do I still serve a purpose?

Joe decided we'd feed it to the dingoes, the vicious meat-eaters that look like huskies. I felt bad for the dingoes, trapped in their cage. They're furry and friendly, and I want to let them roam free and throw them a Frisbee and rub their bellies. But I have to remember that looks can be deceiving. Dingoes come across as normal dogs but they have the minds of wolves.

It's bad for the dingoes to ingest every part of the kangaroo, so the guts have to be cut out. Mike, the med student in our group, figured he'd eventually be doing this anyway, so he volunteered to operate on the dead animal. Guts-ectomy.

Upon inspection, Dr. Mike discovered a fetus inside the female kangaroo's pouch. It reminded me of the mouse, not yet one day old, but much larger, curled up in the fetus position, as a fetus is wont to do.

Mike leans down, cuts into the kangaroo's flesh. I avoid looking at its face, its eyes popped out of their sockets. I can understand hitting a possum on a freeway, but how could you not see a medium-sized kangaroo on an empty dirt path around here? I smell a conspiracy...

The fetus and its mother didn't feel real to me. They looked fake, like props, Muppets on a Sesame Street episode about the reproductive system of marsupials. Throughout the gutting and skinning, I'm more awestruck than disgusted. This is one of those experiences that I am absolutely certain will never repeat itself again in my entire life. I enjoy the horribly putrid smelling moment.

It smells awful, worse than sulfur. He slops the purple and forest green guts on the ground. The dog comes over and licks it, eats a little, walks away, and throws up.

Mike carves the kangaroo's limbs off like we're at a bizarre Australian-themed Thanksgiving, and then skins it. I recognize the hunk of meat I had for dinner last night. It was from the leg.

I immediately regret not ordering the chicken.

Joe and Mike throw the kangaroo limbs inside the cage. The dingoes casually walk over and start feeding. I assumed their wild nature would now show itself, survival of the fittest, but their dining is completely civilized. One of them dabs a napkin on either side of his maw.

If I had seen the kangaroo alive before it was gutted, skinned and chopped into pieces, I bet I would have been more revolted. But as it is, I remain a carnivore today.

I don't recall whatever happened to the kangaroo fetus. Small, pre-skinned, pre-gutted – it would have made a pretty decent appetizer.

BONUS: Watch all the gutting with your own eyes! Filmed by moi, with all the power and knowledge that comes with a film degree.

They Grow Up So Fast, Don't They?

2007-07-06T20:32:00.000-07:00

One minute they're a fresh-faced polar bear cub that's always ready for a cuddle from one of the millions of people whose hearts have been warmed by their precious little smile...

And the next minute, they're giving blow-jobs to any zookeeper that'll show 'em the time of day.

Don't do this to yourself, Knut. We miss you. Come home. We'll get you the help you need. You don't have to subject yourself to this.

Diet Cherry Cokehead

2007-07-06T15:48:00.000-07:00

I post to you everyday from a pretty decent-to-awesome job. I get a paycheck (that I can afford groceries and rent with [okay, as well as the semi-frequent Beverly Hills haircut-and-dye spa day]) every two weeks for making fun of celebrities, praising the good stuff in entertainment I like, and occassionally acting as the on-location producer for movie premieres and fashion shows we do press for. I have comfortable work hours and my coworkers are friendly and hospitable with any intoxicants they may have on hand. I even have my own cubicle! My very own private me-space, the equivilent of a fort made out of couch cusions for the working professional! My dream since the day I realized I had to work for a living (which, coincidentally, is the day I died inside).

Perhaps the sweetest perk of this job is the $.25 Diet Cherry Coke in the coke machine in our breakroom. Options beyond regular, boring, ho-hum calorie-free soda, and only for two dimes and a nickel??? (Precious quarters are always saved for laundry day, of course.)

But today, as my energy levels dropped, and the dress I'm wearing to my friend's wedding in August kept poking me in my tub, away from caramel mochaccinos, I needed a caffeine boost. And I needed it cheap. And as close as possible.

BUT THEY WERE ALL OUT OF MY BELOVED DIET CHERRY COKE.

for those who think cherry

This I cannot put up with. I am quitting.* I AM WORKING IN SQUALOR!

*Bex is not really quitting. Diet Dr. Pepper is a poor substitute for Diet Cherry Coke, but eating out of a trashcan and kidnapping my hairstylist requires more effort than sitting at my desk in my cubicle all day. Priorities, people.

Finding Emo

2007-07-05T23:33:00.000-07:00

This just makes me giggle.

You give me a good emo pun, and I laugh. Guess I'm not so angsty after all!

Smells on a Plane

2007-07-03T17:41:00.000-07:00

And you thought it was just the food, the waiting, the security checking, the uncomfortable, cramped seats, the horrible movies, the crying babies, the coughing sick people, the threat of crashing and/or terrorism and the inevitable delays that were the bad part of flying:

(P.S. Whoever wrote this deserves their own blog. And probably has one.)

Seat 29E

See more like this on kontraband.com

All Apologies

2007-07-02T18:52:00.000-07:00

Bex apologizes for her absence the past few days. I still owe you F.O.B. Moments #1 and #2, in addition to a full report on the Gwen Irvine concert and this amazing night. Thanks for your patience. P&B supports your patronage by mouseclicking here everyday. In the meantime, if you haven't seen the Paris/Larry King interview last week, because you were on the moon (not our moon, but another planet in another galexy's moon that doesn't have YouTube), here's a recap:

Happy Spending Way Too Much For Something That Will Inevitably Break Phone Day

2007-06-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not gonna lie, I kind of miss my Walkman. No, not even my Discman - that stupid fucker would always skip, and I would have to handle CDs with the utmost of care on my travels, lest they be scratched (they always got scratched, even if I enveloped them in the King's finest silks). No, I miss my tapes and the fuzziness that I'd hear through my plastic, unbendable headphones before the music started, when the tape was just playing. Maybe it wasn't my parents, but the Walkman that truly taught me discipline; if I wanted to listen to a specific song, I just had to wait for it, because it was impossible to tell where exactly on the tape it was. The Walkman gave me patience. And phat Salt N Pepa beats.

We'll Live Like Kings! Damn Hell Ass Kings!*

2007-06-29T10:53:00.000-07:00

I am obsessed with The Simpsons, and their movie is finally coming out, and I'm so excited, I'm so exited, I'm so scared. I've been watching this show since I was five years old. I remember watching The Tracy Ullman Show while playing with my My Little Pony army on the carpeting in my mom's bedroom... and then when The Simpsons shorts came on, I'd scream, "It's the cartooooon!" and I'd watch, enamored. Not much has changed today. I still watch it (and love it [and quote it incessatntly]). I won't even buy into that claim that it's not as good as it used to be, blah blah blah. It's still fantastic and provides belly laughs where most other shows provide a few chuckles at best. I don't want to live in a world where The Simpsons isn't on the air.

My goal in life is to become a Simpsons character. Unfortunately I think flying to the moon would be a more possible feat. Make Your Own Simpsons Avatar here! Look what I came up with:

what I would look like if I overblowdryed my hair

Then again, why have a computer Simpsonize me when I can just do it myself?

my skin is less yellow in person

I'm one of those people that would rather make it myself than purchase it. Growing up, I couldn't find a giant Rent poster, so I made one myself:

I don't own emotion, I paint

It's fun to have the talent to be able to create things with the power of my magical hands (and some acrylic paint). I doodled a Porshe in my notebook, I'm still waiting for it to come to life.

*obscure Simpsons reference... told you I'm obsessed. (Anyone name that episode?)

The Post In Which Paris is Not Mentioned (Besides in the Subject Headline)

2007-06-28T22:28:00.000-07:00

So I've been ~~procrastinating~~ writing a memoir. A lot of funny stuff happens to me (and a lot of fucked up shit, too, don't forget all that dramatic fucked up shit!) and it needs to be recorded so it can be read and enjoyed (and studied in ~~Ivy League~~ liberal arts colleges) in the future. I've also turned most of my writing into comedy bits for when I ~~will myself~~ get drunk enough to give stand-up a shot. But until then, enjoy these sample mini chapters of my life. This one is during my stay in Australia when my best friend came to visit. Wacky hijinks ensued. Fuckit, I ruined the ending.

(P.S. anyone else noticing how much I'm ~~loving~~ abusing crossing out stuff and using parenthesis? You can't do that while speaking! God bless the written word.)

Melb'n!

In December 2005, Pam* came to visit and we spent a weekend together in Melbourne, Australia's second largest city located in the state of Victoria. Because she spent over twelve hundred dollars on plane fare and took more than a week off of work, Pam automatically received ten hole punches in her Best Friend Card, redeemable for twenty airport pick-ups or an ovary.

We were booked at a hostel cutely named the Elizabeth Hostel. The fact that this was the cheapest hostel I found online did not deter me from picturing a floral Bed-and-Breakfast with framed paintings of British ships hung on the wall. There'd be an old lady with white hair and a kind face handing us our room key, along with a plate of fresh baked crumpets and scones.

Upon our arrival in "Melb'n", as it's correctly pronounced, we could not detect the warm aroma of baked goods emanating from the lobby. In fact, the lobby of the Elizabeth Hostel was actually an Asian convenience store and a bottle 'o' (liquor store) and the only thing I smelled was liquid soap cleaner and marijuana. Not the best sign when your accommodation has to triple its services to get by. This is precisely the reason I do not eat at American fast food chain Jack in the Box. Anywhere that serves not only burgers, but also fajitas and eggrolls obviously cannot concentrate on one type of cuisine and obviously cannot sort out its priorities. I don't trust places that can't even commit to one identity.

The Asian man behind reception could barely speak English and it took fifteen minutes of arguing about the price of our room to realize we were agreeing with each other in different languages. Additionally, the building was three stories high but did not have an elevator, and our double room was not only lacking in framed British vessels, but windows and a closet. The beds creaked if you breathed on them. This room was your ugly cousin you can't even say has a good personality.

Within five minutes of sitting on our respective twin beds and discussing what we should do with the rest of the day, there came a knockity-knock on our door.

An Australian woman, mid-forties and missing two teeth I would assume are very important to adequately chew, talk or whistle, stood in the crack of our door, grimacing. She was complaining, threatening us about the noise volume.

"Me and everyone else on the floor can hear everything you say! EVERYTHING! I live here and I'm a night worker and there's others here, too, and this old man down the hall is sick and needs to sleep and I got the last people in here kicked out because they wouldn't turn off their music and be quiet! I got them right out of here! If you travellers want to party then that just won't work on this floor! You better move to one of the lower floors, that's where the loud people go!"

First of all, Pam and I were over-achievers in school. We never felt it necessary to hide or alter a report card. We are quiet, studying-on-a-Friday night kind of people. Both of us were in serious relationships at the time; any thoughts of loud sex with European backpackers were immediately ushered into nonexistence. Out of all the travelers on Earth, you could do a lot worse than share a floor with me and Pam. This crazy woman and her asymmetrical mouth were already complaining about us having a conversation in our own room. At four p.m. in the afternoon. On a Saturday. We were on vacation and entitled to talk at whatever volume we desired, but as it stood, the zipper on my suitcase was louder than the two of us.

I desperately wanted to stand up and defiantly proclaim, "Excuse me, missy. We paid for the room, and it's not our bloody [I would use an Australian colloquialism to attack her with her own national vocabulary] problem to adapt to your insane sleeping schedule. And if you're going to live in a hostel, you should learn how to deal. [Then I would pump my fist in the air.] U.S.A.! ALL THE WAY!"

Instead, all I did was give her a very strange look during her ranting monologue, and nod respectfully as I closed the door behind her. I am a polite person – on the outside. This is because I am afraid of any sort of confrontation and it's easier to agree with angry people than fight back with an attitude. But believe me, inside I am forever screaming, "Fuck you, Toothy McGee!"

pam learns her lesson

* * *

As we walked through the city, free to speak above a loud whisper, we quickly discovered that Melbourne is underwhelming when coming from the tropical oasis that is Sydney. The buildings are grey, the weather is colder, and the river that splits through downtown is a muddy brown. There may be tons of interesting neighborhoods and exciting, unique Melbourne-only attractions, but if you don't wow me in the first ten minutes, whether you are a movie or the second largest city in Australia, I am immediately moving on to daydreaming about sex or winning American Idol. My brain ping-pongs between those two fantasies. Sometimes I'm having sex on the American Idol stage, and Simon tells me I'm "absolutely brilliant", Paula cries, and Randy escorts me into the dawg-house. For the last few months my dreams have featured Australian Idol (I fake a perfect Aussie accent and fool the country into voting for a yank), but you get the idea. Melbourne simply couldn't compete.

I had done close to no research on Melbourne, figuring that's what will make it a true adventure. It's more interesting to visit a place with zero expectations, because then even the smallest thing will become interesting.

"Look! Shrubbery! They don't have shrubbery like this back in Los Angeles!" And then I took roughly five hundred photos of a bush. A Melbourne bush. Without consulting a Fodor's or Lonely Planet, this shrubbery could be famous shrubbery for all we knew. Our imaginations were the only travel guide we needed.

Of course, over the years Pam and I have become true Los Angelinos, and there's only so much distance our feet can drag us through until we need to have a destination and call a cab to take us there. So, we picked up a few brochures and maps and flipped through them, seeing whatever stuck first.

We immediately spotted what was sure to be our reason for becoming friends and eventually, but inevitably, as it was fate, visiting Melbourne, combined into one tourist trap:

DRACULA'S ADULT CABARET DINNER THEATRE.

Pam and I are friends because we share many common interests. Writing, boys who wear glasses, Tim Burton directed Batman movies. I was Goth in high school and Pam reads online erotic literature, so we both are all about vampires.

"We have to go to this. We have to go to this!"

When I called, their machine picked up. "G'day and thanks for contacting [Vampire accent] Dracula's Adult Cabaret Dinner Theatre. [End vampire accent.] We are perfect for your next office function, hen's party, or romantic evening out with your partner. Unfortunately our offices are closed right now..." Blast! How can I concentrate on anything else this weekend when there's a chance this trip could go by without seeing Dracula's Cabaret?

We took the tram to St. Kilda, a backpacker's neighborhood, to do some shopping, although I was too shopped out to seriously consider buying anything. My tiny studio had capsized with clothes and souvenirs I had acquired after three months and I was officially out of room. It's small enough as it is without the blow-up mattress, a six-foot-three man, a woman with birthing hips, and both of our various haircare products filling up any available space. But with arcades and department stores on every block, there's little else to do in Melbourne besides shop. Except eat, and there were no less than ten thousand restaurants on Fitzroy Street, all lined up against one another like encyclopedias. There are only three million people spread throughout Melbourne, and each one of them must own a restaurant, because there was no other possible excuse for this many places to eat. How did each one stay in business? Do people eat twenty-four hours a day here? Is there something I'm just not getting about Vegemite?

I couldn't concentrate on shopping anyway when we still didn't have tickets secured. I called again and finally got them on the phone. I felt like the 100th caller.

"KVAMP IS THE ONLY STATION I LISTEN TO NOW GIMME MY CONCERT TICKETS!"

Instead I said, composing myself, "Do you have any spots left for tonight's show?" I was prepared to ditch Pam if there was only one space left.

"Of course!" replied a friendly, Dracula-free Australian accent. AUS$63 each. (In my head, I did the math - about US$50. I've become a human conversion calculator. Everything is automatically on sale for me because I am American and my money gets wired to me from another land. This makes me feel privileged among the unfortunate Aussies who have to pay for everything at market value.) The friendly voice further explained that our tickets included a three-course meal, pre-show entertainment, a two-hour live comedy show, and a RIDE ON A GHOST TRAIN.

I'm sorry - THE Ghost Train.

They just upgraded my 100th caller concert tickets to include a VIP groupie gangbang with the band after the show.

I ran back to Pam perusing a table of Aboriginal thunder sticks. WE GOT THEM. We planned the rest of our day around getting ready for our big night out. No time to lie out on the beach, we have to primp for Dracula!

Our Melbourne purpose was chosen for us. And that was to attend Dracula's Cabaret Dinner Theatre. I was not this excited for my own Sweet 16.

* * *

great for hen's nights, dates, corporate parties, and two american girls who enjoy things the most when enjoyed ironically

Pam and I got there early and took pictures of our well-coiffed hair and out-on-the-town outfits. We waited for our turn on the infamous Ghost Train while sipping drinks with names like Raven's Blood and Goblin Goo, fake plastic spiders floating in each glass. Now I am not even a fan of the spider's existence in the world, let alone in my drink, near my mouth, but fortunately enough the drink also had alcohol in it, so I was able to compromise. The lounge reminded me of Disney's the Haunted Mansion but without children, unless you counted me and Pam, already buzzed off of our campy cocktails, clapping our hands in anticipation.

When we finally boarded the ghost train (the most frightening, extreme ride of your life! our imagination travel guide prepared us for), the tiny two-person train car shuffled us from one room into the next. The pathway was unlit, but the lights from one room overlapped into the lights of the next room. It wouldn't scare an autistic child.

Our host greeted us with an Australian-Vampirian accent, the one I briefly heard on their outgoing voicemail. Her outfit looked as though she planned to attend a midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show and improvised a costume at a vintage thrift store.

"Welcome to Dracula's Cabaret, where you'll have a SCREAM of a good time. Where in the world are you GOULS from?"

Before I can say Sydney, Pam replies, "We're from Los Angeles." Oh, yeah. I'm from Los Angeles, too. I had completely forgotten there was a time before Sydney, before my boyfriend. It had all vanished, along with memories of my sixth birthday or anything I ever learned in my eleventh grade Physics class. Completely gone. Never happened. Selective amnesia.

The hostess drops her vampire accent. "Are you both agents?"

Pam and I make eye contact. How badly should we mess with her?

"We're in the film industry, yes."

A vague answer like that has different meanings depending on where its said. In Los Angeles, "I'm in the film industry" means exactly what we are: we went to film school. It could also mean we work at a video rental store or see movies. In the rest of the trustworthy US, it would be taken at face value: our careers fall somewhere within the film industry. At Dracula's Cabaret in Melbourne, however, it meant we, Pam and I, are the saving graces of these struggling Australian actors. As much as we desperately wanted to experience their campy dinner theatre, they desperately wanted to steal our passports and Nicole Kidman's movie roles. We are their golden ticket out of here.

We let our hostess marinate in her pipe dreams and we took our seats. The theatre was filled with about fifty tables facing a stage, each table seating various couples and groups. While I assumed all the other tourists here tonight were celebrating engagements, anniversaries, and other such events, Pam and I were commemorating our love of horribly, embarrassingly bad theatre. Sometimes our jokes come to us; sometimes we have to actively seek them out.

The show consisted of a dozen random sketches, all surprisingly focused on poking fun at the nationalities in the audience rather than vampires and vampire-related subject matter. French people are snooty, oh-ho-ho! Canadians are super friendly, ay! Americans constantly wave tiny American flags and like to have loud sex! It's like they're reading my diary!

Each sketch was separated by a musical interlude of the same actors performing songs that were currently popular on the radio. I was confused with the ultimate lack of vampires in Dracula's Adult Cabaret. It was more like Hot Topic Sings the Hits.

We kept drinking and the show got proportionally more and more enjoyable. Another Long Eyeball Iced Tea, another Zombie, another non-vampire-related pop song.

At the next table, a middle-aged Indian couple was clearly enjoying their Coffinapolitans. Every lame joke onstage resulted in a shrill, obnoxious laugh, their upper torsos doubling over with convulsions.

"Look at them," I said to Pam. "They're going nuts. I'm getting a Coffinapolitan next."

A performer came onstage dressed in a turban and spoke with a heavy Indian accent. Immediately the inebriated wife screamed, "I am Indian, too! I am Indian! Like me, like me!" We Americans, particularly New Yorkers, are known for being incredibly proud to the point of arrogance of our home turf, but this woman's drunken screaming "I am Indian!" to a room full of couples and pseudo-vampires could teach us a thing or two about pride.

However, the woman's equally drunk husband wasn't hearing any of it. He waved his hands in front of her, trying to quiet her down, as if to say Sorry, folks, I don't know why I bring her places.

But as soon as the wife hushed up (it's hard to scream while sipping through a straw), Mr. I Am Indian immediately started screaming at the stage himself, pumping his fists in the air.

"Yaawoo, Indian! Karma sutra! Karma sutra!"

I'm drunk at this point and in a happy place – Dracula's Cabaret. I have a huge desire to stand up and proclaim, "I am Indian! I am Indian!" myself, get a whole pep rally started. It would be a very Malcolm X-type moment. Pam would get my joke, because she's a cinephile like me, but even if she didn't she'd still laugh. Having my best friend around, even just for the week, is a huge comfort. She's my partner in crime. And with her she brought a piece of Los Angeles, of the United States, that I've been distanced from for the last three months. Her reappearance in my life jogs my memory back; I'm not Australian, I'm not a part of the community and lifestyle I've come to nestle myself into. I'm a born and raised, proud New Yorker. I'm a Hollywood wannabe. I'm a runaway from all of these experiences and characteristics that have attached themselves to me my whole life without my permission, but with Pam beside me, I'm momentarily homesick for the mini American flag I've never owned, I've never waved.

* * *

It was after midnight when we returned to our hostel room, falling like dead wood on top of our creaky twin beds. I yearn to shout "I AM INDIAN! KARMA SUTRA!" as loud as possible so Toothy MgGee would hear, the sound echoing throughout the cavernous space where her two front teeth used to be. Except I realize she's probably at work, her undisclosed job keeping her up late nights, ruining the vacation of every backpacker to cross the Elizabeth Hostel's florescent-lit threshold. For a moment I feel pity for her that she'll never have a night off to enjoy Dracula's Cabaret. Then I think, That's what you get for being a bitch. No Werewolftini for you.

I fall asleep smiling, dreaming sweet dreams of starving artist vampires participating in Karma Sutra on American Idol.

me and melb'n - frenemies

*names have been changed to protect Jan's identity**.

**Oops.

License to Shoot Myself in the Face If I Have to Watch This Movie's Trailer One More Time

2007-06-28T17:19:00.000-07:00

So this horrible movie is coming out, and I am ashamed of even mentioning its existence here on P&B. Usually I don't like to point out the things I truly despise, because that just gives it more publicity and I've done my part in making the cause of my hatred stronger and more unstoppable. So, sigh, begrudingly, in the name of the humor that will follow at the expense of reminding you that this movie exists, here is the winner of What I Wouldn't Even Watch on Basic Cable While Blow-Drying My Hair in the Same Room, Just to Have Something On in the Background:

Let's take a closer look at this poster and analyze what each actor must be thinking while this photoshoot was taking place:

John Krasinski - (looks at camera with wide-eyed expression of shock and amusement) Wow. What am I doing in this movie? I'm on a hit TV show and every secretary in the world has my photo on their bedroom ceiling at night. Every woman with a television set, a cat, a scented candle and not much else has a giant crush on me, rubbing their cat's fur while watching The Office marathons, pretending it was my mop-top of hair. This is not a good career move into feature film leading man territory. I am so much better than this.

Mandy Moore - What the hell am I doing in this? I'm a pop star and an acclaimed actress (well, for a pop star, anyway). My hair is too pretty for this kind of movie. Just because Lindsay's in rehab doesn't mean I need to scrape up all her shitty roles! I'm firing my agent. God, I hope my new CD does well. I can't be known my whole life for being Vincent Chase's girlfriend.

Robin Williams - Aaaaaall in a day's work! Time to go cash that phoned-in paycheck! (Does an imcomprehensible impression of something-or-other while running around the room.)

Gimme Gimme Gimme Gimme Gimme!

2007-06-28T15:49:00.000-07:00

I want this. In a bad way.

Gwen Stefani's Fragrance

The funny thing is, it's a perfume. Who cares what the bottle looks like? I won't be carting it around with me or fuse it onto a chain and convert it into some blingage. The only person who will even see it will be me, in the glass case where I keep all my other bevvy of perfumes. And who cares that it's Gwen Stefani? It's a SMELL. If I don't care for the smell, then the celebrity designing/promoting said fragrance shouldn't matter, right?

Who cares. I love Gwen Stefani, so according to chain rule, I will love this fragrance and will pay nearly $80 to own it, which, now that I'm typing that aloud, sounds FUCKING CRAZY. But who cares what it smells like! It smells like me owning anything my one true idol produces! Including this wallet, twice:

mine's empty because I spent all my cash on owning this wallet, twice

I bought this wallet in the first place because it was Gwen Stefani-related, also because I needed a new wallet, also because for a 10th grader, it was expensive but affordable (around $45, aka, I went a few months without buying any new CDs), but as it turned out, it was the best wallet in existence. Not only fashionable, it came with an outside guitar strap and an exterior coin purse large enough to fit your car keys in. It becamw it's own little bag extraordinaire. I worshipped it like a new tattoo, welcoming it into the rest of your life.

And then my gym locker at my Australian gym was broken into and they took my wallet (along with my cash, credit cards, and ID - not exactly the best thing to lose while in a foreign country). My precious, precious L.A.M.B. wallet - gone! So months later I finally found a replacement (although a brown one - not as cool) on eBay - for $100. But it had to be mine. And mine it still is, and if anybody ever messes with my L.A.M.B. wallet again, they will have to deal with THESE lambs.

OH YEAAAAAH!

2007-06-28T15:42:00.000-07:00

Kool-Aid is awesome because, not only is it a delicious drink, you could dye your hair with it. After a long day dying my hair bright red, I always like to relax with a cool, refreshing glass of Tropical Kool-Aid!

Purple Stuff auditioned as Kool-Aid Man, but they didn't think he was quite right for the role. He then got drunk, drove recklessly over to Sunny D's condo, and bitterly killed him.

Tonight, at 11: Anchors Head Explodes, Paris Finds It "Hot"

2007-06-28T15:36:00.000-07:00

Wait, so Paris Hilton did something recently? What? What was it? Is she in a new movie? Was she in some sort of trouble? Maybe she's designing a line of handbags? Guess I'll have to watch the news to find out what!

What?? You're not going to tell me what happened with Paris Hilton? Then how am I going to find out?!? YOU'RE THE NEWS! Now I'll never know! Damn you, Mika!

hey, don't pin this on me

Girl vs. Boys

2007-06-26T16:02:00.000-07:00

This College Humor clip is pretty much representative of my own job, where I'm the only girl working alongside a team of guys in their 20s:

If any guy I work with gets out of line, having these would come in handy sometimes:

Victoria's secret is that she has machine gun boobs

Good thing I still have this! Girl power! And awkward trips to the dentist!

Fall Out Week - Moment #4

2007-06-26T14:58:00.000-07:00

i'm so angsty!

F.O.B Week continues here on P&B. This is all a bit different from Gwen Stefani week - I don't really have life changing experiences with this band. There's really only two experiences of note (which are obviously reserved for slots #1 and #2) and besides that, I just really, really love their songs. It's that simple. Touching lyrics and catchy music (and an excellent singing voice) are the way to my heart. (Add skinny jeans and eyeliner and you've found the map to my crotch.)

Most of my favorite F.O.B. songs don't even have videos, so the music vids I choose to highlight this week are more a P.S. than videos I wholeheartedly endorse. I'm including "Saturday"'s video because

a) it's their earliest video (You've come a long way, baby!)

b) they close every concert (i've ever been to, anyway) with this song for some reason

c) Pete Wentz really looks like my ex in this video*

*You'll probably never see a pic of my ex (of whom I'm still friendly with) in this blog being that i have (some) respect for his privacy; if alluded to at all, I'll try to just keep it on my side of things. Sometimes I honestly feel bad for anyone who lets me into their life, nonetheless dates me, because you never know if you'll end up in a blog post or a song. I should just apologize at the beginning of every introduction of anybody I ever come into contact with. (extends hand) Hi, I'm Bex, I am so sorry that in a few weeks when you inevitably become a douchenozzle and I am too emotional about it to deal with it maturely, I'm going to end up writing this. Just thought I'd warn ya! Anyway, so watch the video and know that I got to bone (Ed. note-- is "bone" exlusively a Guy's Only euphimism for "fuck"? Cause that ain't fair) somebody like Pete Wentz for a few months. Hot.

And because everyone's all like "what in the eff are F.O.B. saying???", here are the written out lyrics to one of my favorite songs (without a video, as it was not a single), with possibly the best title of any song ever. Some of the lines in this song are absolutely heartbreaking to me. Oh, Petey, you can come cry on my shoulder. And on my vagina.

"Homesick At Spacecamp"

Landing on a runway in Chicago and I'm grounding all my dreams
of ever really seeing California, because I know what's in between
is something sensual in such non-conventional ways.
Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't (say).

Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
(Tonight I'm writing you) a million miles away

Tonight is all about "We miss you" (We miss you) "We miss you" (We miss you)
Tonight is all about "We miss you"
And I can't forget your style or your cynicism,
somehow it was like you were the first to listen to everything we said.
My smile's an open wound without you...and my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back.

Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
(Tonight I'm writing you) a million miles away

Tonight is all about "We miss you" (We miss you) "We miss you" (We miss you)
Tonight is all about "We miss you now"

These friends are, new friends are golden [x3]
These friends are, new friends are...

Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
These friends are, new friends are golden

I Would Give My Right Arm For This Photo to Be Real

2007-06-26T11:22:00.000-07:00

I'm not above shouting out to other celebrity sites (or any blog or website in general) that endlessly entertains me throughout my ~~neverending~~ busy work day. I came across this one today - Planet Hiltron, where all your favorite celebrities are brilliantly photoshopped into opposite genders, get puffy, and wear clothes not sold at Kitson's.

Example:

Standing in line at the buffet at the twins' quincinera

Turns out they spent all those multi-millions of dollars on cheeseburgers.

Another fantastic website is Gallery of the Absurd, an excellent artist/cartoonist with a really mean bite. Here's a sample, which will also count, why not, close enough, as our Thanks, Japan! moment of the day!

the extremely popular Hello Paris' Kitty doll

Thanks, Japan!: Where's Knut When You Need Him

2007-06-25T19:38:00.001-07:00

Take note, young Knut - once puberty strikes, you won't be able to contain your emotions. You'll be growing white hair in strange places, and attacking other "polar bears" just to get a taste.

Funny Polar Bear

please let me take off this hat... oh please let me go home to my family!

Is it just me, or does this polar bear clip remind you of Pepe Le Peu mistaking a cat with a white stripe as a female skunk and le stalking her?

Pepe Le Peu is such a confident rapist

Today's Thanks Japan! moment provided by Dance (yes, that's her name). Got a good Thanks, Japan! suggestion? Leave a comment and I'll link to it! Domo!

Fall Out Week - Moment #5

2007-06-25T17:46:00.000-07:00

Last week was Gwen Stefani week in honor of her concert I went to last Friday in Irvine (more on the amazingness that occurred at said concert later). The very next day I saw my beloved Fall Out Boys at The Forum in LA. As not to steal Gwen Stefani's thunder, I chose to save Fall Out Boy week for this week, since I'm seeing them again anyway next Monday in Anaheim.

My memories of F.O.B. don't go back too far compared to my decade of No Doubt - their music and pop-culture presence has only been in my life for about a year and a half, give or take. But they've quickly spread their seed into my CD collection, my rolodex of memorized song lyrics stored in my brain, and my heart. (Aww.) I'll slowly get into the reasoning for my love of Joe, Andy Patrick and Pete over the next few days, so in the meantime I'll leave you with the video for "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race", which, believe me, is oh-so-fun to scream in a giant stadium with thousands of other people. Even if the first few verses sound ripped from a Backstreet Boys album.

Finding Emo

2007-06-24T21:16:00.000-07:00

There's only so many funny Japanese clips on the internet... just kidding! There are endless amounts of funny Japanese clips! I will never, ever run out! The day I run out of hilarious, awkward and nightmare-inducing clips from Japanese commercials, game shows, or whatever the fuck this is, I will personally fly to Tokyo and take some home movies of dogs riding bikes and english teachers exercising while teaching you about the finer points of rape prevention (as I assume will be on every street corner).

But maybe Japanese video clips aren't enough for you. Maybe you're in the mood for something darker, something more emotional, something more, I don't know, Fall Out Boy-ish.

You're in luck! Bex has a new feature called Finding Emo - because I find emo culture mesmerizing and hilarious, and there's tons of emo things wandering around on the web.

I was goth for my entire 9th grade and the beginning of 10th grade. No, I didn't wear white face makeup or commit suicide (uh, obviously). I never even referred to myself as "goth" or "freak", if by those terms you mean "Every Other Day I Wore Black Lipstick and Thick Black Eyeliner and Okay Sometimes an Entire Outfit Made of Pressed Black Velvet (No Joke, I Totally Had This In My Wardrobe For An Entire Year With No Shame) Unless I Felt Like Phoning In My Outfit and Instead Wore Old Navy". I did write a lot of ~~bad~~ mature poetry and the Lost Highway sountrack was in my CD collection.

As far as turn ons of the opposite sex go, I have always been into the "bad" boys - goth boys, boys who wore eyeliner and hair in front of their face, boys who played guitar regardless if they were any good at it or not. My last boyfriend was one of these types of boys, and it was major swoon! I guess he would be considered more "emo" than "goth", though (although he wouldn't seriously label himself as anything, just like I never called myself "freak" in high school, but that's what I was called by others).

What exactly is the difference between "goth" and "emo"? Emo is goth with a sense of humor. I think when most people define themselves as being "emo", they're really in on the joke - the whole entire culture can make fun of itself, while goth kids are really just moping around, trying to get attention. Emo kids blast their iPods and wear ripped up, tight, black clothes like a faux-rockstar to get attention - but have fun in the meantime.

I don't think the local news team reporting on emo culture are in the joke, though:

Watch out! Emo could happen to you or somebody you love.

And just because I am a shameless self-promoter, check out one of my favorite songs I've ever written about my love for boys who know how to cry - Tongue Ring in Chic. Who doesn't love a good song title pun?

A Gwen Stefani Moment #1

2007-06-22T14:27:00.000-07:00

And now, the top Gwen Stefani Related Moment of My Life. This is gonna have to be short because I have to leave to drive lightyears away to Irvine to get to her concert on time.

"Simple Kind of Life" is probably my favorite No Doubt song, my favorite Gwen song, and in my Top 5 favorite, most personally heartwarming/breaking songs of all time. (Also on that list: Grand Theft Autumn by Fall Out Boy (of whom I am seeing tomorrow in concert [but that's another post]), I'll Fly with You by Gigi D'Agostino, The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel and a wild card song).

This is the first song Gwen ever composed completely on her own. It's one of the most honest songs I've ever heard - at points it doesn't even care if it rhymes anymore:

I always thought I'd be a mom
Sometimes I wish for a mistake
The longer that I wait the more selfish that I get
You seem like you'd be a good dad

That entire verse isn't even concerned with being included in a song - it's just honesty that I doubt could ever have been written by a man. It's exclusively the female perspective, and it's not often that you hear that on the radio. (Mad props to Alanis and Tori Amos, while we're at it.)

I fell in love with this song while I was falling in love with one of my high school friends. We were close enough to know one another well and hang out occassionally, but not close enough to hang out that often (he was in college for most of my time spent in high school), and his absence throughout most of my days made me pine for him more, and cherish our coffee dates and movie nights. He inspired my first mature thoughts of adoration and love - the first person I ever thought I could marry, not just go to a dance with. I remember walking throughout Williams-Sonoma with my mom when I was 16, and looking at the couches and silverware and other adult-home necessities that I generally yawned over, but this time, I couldn't wait until I was old enough to have a home and come here to decorate it. With him, more specifically. Children, home, family, the works, and that was nothing something I thought I wanted.

But could I ever really have that? The life I chose for myself when I was sixteen - eventually attending film school, on my way to fame and fortune and Hollywood - didn't seem to encourage families or anything "simple". But if anything, the family part with love and committed relationships (and suburbia and humility and co-dependence) is what's complicated. Those things are anything but simple to get.

Did I mention I love her pink hair? And that I was so inspired by Gwen's dye job that I decided to try it myself?

Okay, so I didn't have the balls (or enough dye) to color my whole head pink. And yeah, Gwen did it first. But dying your hair punk colors is the sincerest form of flattery.

move over, Smurfette

Again.

move over, Gwen

Thanks, Japan!: Give Me Your Wallet... and Then Do Downward Facing Dog

2007-06-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

Are you a busy woman who wants to look good and feel good, but also learn how to defend yourself against rapists?

And, oh yeah, learn how to speak English?

Is it also the 1980s where you are?

Well, today is your lucky day! No need to sign up for pilates classes or self-defense workshops or English-speaking lessons. Just watch this video!

Does a Spanish version of this video exist? It would have came in handy when I was living in South Central LA.

Snakes! Why Did it Have to Be Sn--- Ow, My Back, Calista, Get My Slippers, I Need a Nap

2007-06-22T10:29:00.000-07:00

I love me some Indiana Jones. (Last Crusade is obviously the best movie in the trilogy. Disagree with me? Then start your own blog with your own opinions [or in this case, fact].) How could someone not love Indiana Jones? And I'm not talking about the movies. I'm just talking about this:

I'm here for the bachelorette party

Sweat! Scars! Weapons! A sensitive look on his face! If I had been anywhere near puberty when the Indiana Jones movies first came into theatres, I would have came into theatres.

On the flip side, what I don't love is this:

Indiana Jones and the Early Bird Special

Oh, Harrison Ford. You're still looking good for your age (roughly one billion years old) but the dusty fedora is like me trying to fit into my prom dress. And my prom was just six years ago. The last time you wore that hat with any relevance, it was 1989, almost twenty years ago. Hayden Pannetierre wasn't even born yet.

Tell me a story, Uncie Indy!

Using the age of teenage Hollywood starlets to gauge just how really old you are really puts things in perspective, you know?

(P.S. is it wrong that I want to name my (eventually, I assume) son Indiana? His nickname could be Indy, and how hipster-cute is that? I totes would have crushed majorly on a guy named Indy, had I ever met a guy named Indy. But is that really a cool boy's name to have as your own, or a curse to always be associated with a movie character? I suppose it depends on how this fourth Indy film turns out. In any respect, it's a better name than Shia.)

Thanks, Japan!: somethingsomethingsomethingsomething POCKY!

2007-06-21T21:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a few days without a Thanks, Japan! segment. Shenanigans! To make up for lost time, here are three highly entertaining commercials for the Japanese snack Pocky.

I got tuned onto Pocky from my sister, who lived in Japan for a year and ate these delicious chocolate sticks regularly. What's more important, I got tuned onto Pocky commercials from my sister. We YouTubed the shit out of Pocky commercials after a night of drinking in a Bahstin pub and everything was funny to us. Surprisingly enough, these commercials are just as entertaining sober!

At least she has a good personality... and she can dance!

Isn't that cute and somewhat ridiculous for a mila-second commercial? It's got its own story and character arc and dénouement*.

*Possible t-shirt: "I Went to Film School and All I Got Was This Vocabulary of Useless Screenwriting Terminology"

or

Possible bumper sticker: "How's My Formatting?"

or

Possible sandwhich board sign: "Ask Me About My Foil"

But look! There's more than just regular ole chocolate Pocky:

What's better - there's more than just one regular ole Pocky commercial! Yay!

Lemme in! My pocky's getting all wet!

I love how epic this commercial is in just thirteen seconds. Why is she so upset? Are they long lost siblings? Former lovers torn apart because of war and social turmoil? Whatever it is, Pocky makes it all better. Personally I cannot wait for the Pocky dance to take the nation by storm. It'll be like the Macarena + the Electric Slide + Hands Up, Baby, Hands up x A MILLION.

But you haven't seen epic til you've seen this:

In a world... where chocolate sticks rule supreme... one man must bite

That's like the Pearl Harbor of Japanese commercials.

Oops. Too soon?

A Gwen Stefani Moment #2

2007-06-21T21:07:00.000-07:00

We're coming down to the wire on Gwen Stefani week. Tomorrow's the concert! Squeal!!!

So, My #2 Most Beloved Gwen Stefani-Related Moment are the songs New and Cool, both in regards to my time spent in Australia. More specifically, my time spent in Australia with my ex old boyfriend. (I hate the word "ex". "Ex" implies something along the lines of "well that was a mistake!" when in this case, it was anything but.)

To save the long story for my own personal Dear Diary journal entry (and therapy sessions [and poetry jams]) we met at a nightclub in Australia and it pretty much took off from there. Everything about how I felt that night, and the following months of our courtship, is pretty much summed up by this song (and somewhat the video as well):

"New"

Don't let it go away
This feeling has got to stay
Don't let it go away
This feeling has got to stay
And I can't believe I've had this chance now
Don't let it go away

New, you're so new
You, you're new
And I never had this taste in the past
New, you're so new

My normal hesitation is gone
And I really gravitate to your will
Are you here to fetch me out?
'Cause I've never had this taste in my mouth

Oh you're not old
And you're not familiar
Recently discovered and I'm learning about you

New, you're so new
You, you're new

And you're consuming me violently
And your reverence shamelessly tempting me
Who sent this maniac?
'Cause I never had this taste in the past

Oh you're different, you're different from the former
Like a fresh battery, I'm energized by you

Don't let it go away
This feeling has got to stay
Don't let it go away
This feeling has got to stay
And I can't believe I've had this chance now
Don't let it go away

Why am I so curious?
This territory is dangerous
I'll probably end up at the start
I'll be back in line with my broken heart
New, you're so new
You, you're new
And I never had this taste in the past

Don't let it go away
This feeling has got to stay
Don't let it go away
This feeling has got to stay
And I can't believe I've had this chance now
Don't let it go away

And I can't believe it
Can't believe it
Can't believe it
Can't believe it
Don't let it go away, this feeling has got to stay
Don't let it go away

So, good times. (How can you have anything but good times in a place this effing beautiful?) Unfortunately, good dating times aren't so easy to have when you live the entire length of the Pacific Ocean apart. So "New" has evolved into "Cool":

(Did I mention this is probably the most beautiful video ever shot? I'm not even talking about Gwen [although she looks adorable in brown hair and that retro dress, and the classiest lady I would ever consider sexually reassigning myself for when she's rolling around on that bed]. For reals, though, look at that scenery! Booking a flight to Italy as we speak.)

(Okay, I'm full of lies. Just watch the damn video.)

"Cool"

It's hard to remember how it felt before
Now I found the love of my life...
Passes things get more comfortable
Everything is going right

And after all the obstacles
It's good to see you now with someone else
And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool

We used to think it was impossible
Now you call me by my new last name
Memories seem like so long ago
Time always kills the pain

Remember Harbor Boulevard
The dreaming days where the mess was made
Look how all the kids have grown
We have changed but we're still the same
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool

And I'll be happy for you
If you can be happy for me
Circles and triangles, and now we're hangin' out with your new girlfriend
So far from where we've been
I know we're cool

Just look at Gwen's dead-on-accurate facial expressions in this vid! You so know she absolutely hates this and is trying her best to be polite and friendly to her old flame and his new gal. That is exactly what I imagine my own face to look like when I inevitably go through the same thing, whenever in the future that is. It will probably happen when I'm in sweatpants, not wearing makeup, stepping off a plane, jetlagged, and not at my Italian villa when I look absolutely perfect and put together. Anyways, I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be able to be satisfied the rest of my life with just "Cool". (For the past few months it's been more akin to these lyrics. Or, ya know, from time to time, these.)

Quote of the Day/Week/Month/Life

2007-06-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

"How come I'm the one who always has to squash the bugs or fix the dead people?"

--me, to my roommates, who made me come outside last night to see if a (homeless?) person laying outside our apartment building was either sleeping, passed out or dead

I'm usually the one they come to to kill the spider hanging from their ceiling; half a year living among the bugs of Australia has made me Miss Tough Gal. But what could I possibly do to aid this situation? How could my presence help? Bring him back to life with my sarcasm and witty observations of celebrities?

status at the moment: unclear

You Got Daft Punk'd!

2007-06-20T15:25:00.000-07:00

So this video is circulating the web, and because I am half web (my mom's jewish, my dad is Internet Explorer) it is my civic duty to embed it as well:

how a deaf person communicates at a rave

But honestly, I am only allowing it on my blog because a) hands are awesome (as is my understanding of Edward Scissorhands) and b) I love me some Daft Punk. This song has a heavy rotation on my iPod, particularly on the treadmill. I'm glad to see it have a surge in interest today.

But in more timely news, I was watching this yesterday:

I wasn't on drugs, but I was tired, so it was almost the same lazy-eyed, sleepy-brained experience. I'm not really a fan of this kind of animation that seems exclusive to any and all animated feature coming out of Japan (years of Disney conditioning during childhood?) but I think with a blacklight and a more powerful stereo system, I would have definitely raved about it!

Bex sure does love her drug puns!

Anyway, here's the trailer to Daft Punk's lastest film, Electroma. It's probably not at a theatre near you, unless you live near the one cinema in France that they're showing it at one day a week at midnight.

long walks in the desert

+

experimental space movie that's pretty boring without drugs but features cool imagery and white rooms

+

midnight

x

robot LSD

=

Electroma

Not So Good Luck Chuck

2007-06-20T13:38:00.001-07:00

Remember this awesome poster?

Best places for a beej - bathroom stalls, under the table at a fancy restaurant, and movie posters

Well, it has a non-awesome brother.

Okay, I won't lie. I find Dane Cook attractive. Maybe this is because I have yet to see him do stand-up comedy - live, on TV, on a DVD, in a movie, on SNL - I've never actually seen him do anything related to comedy. (Then how come I know he exists and that he's famous at all? Oh, the conundrums of living in a civilization with pop-culture.)

But regardless, Dane Cook with tight abs on a movie poster = good.

And Jessica Alba, more than usual, looks-wise = good.

Horrible photoshopping + recreating an iconic John Lennon/Yoko Ono Rolling Stone cover for your movie that remains ambivilent about what it's even really about = not so good.

But seriously! Are they floating on a cloud? Is that supposed to be a giant California King sized bed with white satin sheets? Are they making snow angels? I'm so horribly confused it's almost a distraction from Jessica Alba's crazy head that looks misplaced.

Nicole Richie Eats Peanut; World Thinks She's Pregnant

2007-06-20T13:07:00.000-07:00

Don't look at me! I'm not responsible for Good Morning Revival!

I for one hope she's not. No one should be brought into a world where they are forced to listen to Good Charlotte's music.

blarg.

In other ridiculous celeb-baby news: Hey, look guys! Christina Aguilera is obviously pregnant.

What? You don't see it? Of course you don't see it! Her hands are in front of her stomach, masking her pregnancy! IT'S GENIUS!

But she simply can't hold her hands in front of her forever. Soon enough she'll put her arms down at her sides and her portruding belly will just POP out for the world to see! Wait for it, wait for it... NOW!

Uh huh... see how GIANT she is? How MASSIVE her stomach is? And how about this one of Katie Holmes, whose also rumored (ha! like any of this isn't absolute fact) to be pregnant:

Get it?? Okay, ignore the fact that she's a fucking stick. She's wearing a Black One Piece Swimsuit. With a BELT. Need I say more?

All I have to say is, if that's what being pregnant makes you look like, that I need to get knocked up with quintuplets, cause I want a fucking body like that.

A Gwen Stefani Moment #3

2007-06-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

I have an Alice in Wonderland fetish. Example:

me, halloween 06

Yes, I made my own Cheshire Cat satchel. I also have a hard on for arts and crafts.

better angle, because this is my blog and I can post as many embarassing photos of myself as I see fit

I watched the Disney cartoon growing up... and then I watched it again the first time I was ever totally bonged out my junior year of college. (Comparison: not much had changed; I still didn't understand a damn thing in that movie.) I read the books (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass) by Lewis Carrol, and the made-for-tv movie featuring every celebrity on Earth alive in the 80s was watched on repeat until I was ~~eight~~ ~~twelve~~ today.

So when Gwen's first single off her first solo album Love. Angel. Music. Baby had an Alice in Wonderland theme... I was hooked. She knows I exist! She's doing everything according to my tastes! Either that, or Gwen knows that somewhere out there, there is a college student destined to be her BFF 4EVA. And that college student (at the time) was moi.

Anyway, here's a link to the normal, director's cut of the video. Below is a video for the remix of the song, which is mushroom-taking-tastic*.

*Posh&Bex does not endorse the use of taking psychotropic mushrooms. She much prefers these. Or really, these. Especially when she's on this.

A Gwen Stefani Moment #4

2007-06-19T20:10:00.000-07:00

You knew it was coming. I love this song so much that it's gotta be on the Top 5 Gwen Moments List. And not even as a guilty pleasure, as displayed by me admitting just how much I love this song in this public forum. ("Public" in this context meaning "I write, you read, and comment if you're feeling especially randy.")

Hollahback Girl, the song that keeps on giving whether you're on a treadmill, at a gay club, in a private karaoke room, or just singing at the top of your lungs in your car:

Mostly, I love this song (besides how catchy the beat is) because it's effing ridiculous. This shit is bananas? And then you SPELL the word "bananas"? That's your chorus? But it works. For me anyway. I know people who imagine hell as this song being played over and over. But, oh no. It's not this song. It's this song.

What's Published in Boston, Doesn't Necessarily Stay in Boston

2007-06-19T19:45:00.000-07:00

I write a monthly column for INsite Boston, a monthly magazine that features celebrities, movies, TV, media, and other less-nationally celebrated, more Boston-centric forms of entertainment.

How did I get this job? Well, I'm offended you even have to ask. Obviously it is because I am such an accomplished writer and social satirist that I have developed a fan base in states I do not even reside in!

Also, my sister owns the damn thing.

Also, my friend Chris who was originally writing the column for the past year quit to go be a producer's assistant and didn't have time to not be paid to write.

But I have oodles of time to not get paid to write! So enjoy! This one puts Celeb against Celeb: Lily Allen vs. Lindsay Lohan.

I know what you're thinking. One is British (and wears insaley cute dresses that I admit to searching ebay for an hour to purchase myself), and the other is Fucked in the Head. And yet there was 800 words worth to keep the discourse alive!

Confessions of Someone Sort of Working in the Film Industry, Sorta, If the Internet Counts.

(Ed. Note-- Chris' last column was called "Confessions of a Film Student", despite the fact that he was a year out of film school while writing it, nor does he live in Boston. [Cue a round of "Boo!"'s reminiscent of the last scene from Dangerous Liasons])

And here is my first column, in case you missed it, which you surely did. Who wouldn't miss me? (Cue gagging noises.)

And if you live in the Beantown I call home about one week a year, pick up a copy of INsite while waiting for the T. Then you can either burn it for a heat source or use it to fan the sweat off your body, depending on which two seasons of the year you are currently in Boston.

A Gwen Stefani Moment #5

2007-06-18T11:10:00.000-07:00

This week is officially Gwen Stefani week here at Posh&Bex. I'm seeing her Sweet Escape concert on Friday and I shall spend the next five days celebrating that I finally get to see her perform live.

I've seen No Doubt in concert twice before, but this is different. This is MY IDOL on her own tour. I was in Australia during her last tour (damn, Australia, 7,488 miles away from everything!) and I've been bitching the last year about missing it. But finally, on Friday, I'll be heading down to Irvine to see her in concert, by myself. Naturally it's always more fun to go to concerts with somebody (there's a lot of down time in between acts where a whole lot of nothing is goes on) but at the time same time, my affinity for Gwen is best appreciated without the scrutiny of others.

Really? You like her THAT much?

Yes. Yes I do.

I bought Tragic Kingdom like everyone else who was alive in 1995. Along with Jagged Little Pill and Nevermind, everyone owned that album. The songs were fun and catchy, Gwen was attractive, the Tomboy Next Door, and their music videos were light and colorful. What's not to like?

This was during my initial songwriting and poetry writing phase, where I would read the song lyrics in every CD's liner notes and see what my favorite bands/musicians were actually talking about. I realized that songs like "Hey You" and "The Climb" were actually really well-written, with themes and opinions and more than two-syllable words! This was surprising and inspiring to me, since most songs I listened to at the time were less than subtle in their meanings. And I also discovered that Gwen wrote all the lyrics. The girl can write AND sing! I immediately loved her.

(Of course there is also the fact that the boy I was in love with at the time had a huge Gwen Stefani obsession, which effectively bearded his homosexuality I soon discovered at my 15th birthday party when I found him making out with another male invitee. But that's another life-damaging story for another post!)

Gwen, you and your music has been in my life for over a decade. Thank you.

And the countown begins! I'll start at Gwen's own beginnings, No Doubt's Trapped in a Box video.

Look how cute and innocent and unplatinum she is in the video! Not like she's an uncute, corrupt blonde ho-bag now, naturally, but she's so grundgy ska it's adorable. I wish flannel shirts would hurry up and come back into style. They were soft, easy to sinch with a scrunchie, and when worn around your waist, it could mask one's huge ass like an invisible cloak. Flannel was magic.

Thanks, Japan!: Come ON Already, Toshi

2007-06-15T16:32:00.000-07:00

Do you like me? Respect me? Trust me? Good. You'll have to trust me when I say watch this video. Now. Especially if you're at work. In Japan. With the speakers up as loud as possible. And take notes!

Where is this Toshi?! He doesn't know what he's missing with this geisha gal! I hear "First Rate Cunt Lapping" and I don't need to be told twice to get my ass in bed.

Thanks, Japan!: He's Never Gonna Put That Fire Out on Time

2007-06-15T16:16:00.000-07:00

So, it's a slow news week. The City of Lights is still in jail, the Firecrotch who Went To my High School (true story) is still leaving rehab to go to the gym, and Baldy McYou'reNotFoolingAnyoneWithThoseCheapAssHairExtensions is still attempting a career in comedy. Aaaaand failing. Embarrassingly.

A lone tumbleweed rolls past Hyde nightclub.

But Japan is always up to fun things! We can always depend on them. Except for when they bombed us. That was way harsh, Tai.

My favorite thing about this clip is how fucking batshit crazy the crowd is going over this dog. Or maybe it's a sheep? Who can tell anymore!

Thanks, Japan!: I'm Hungry... Let's Go To Third Base

2007-06-14T15:19:00.000-07:00

Here's your daily Thanks, Japan moment. I wish it was filmed in night vision.

Who doesn't love something tasty and wet in their mouth? Ya know, like a penis during a blow job?....... or noodle soup. Yeah. Noodle soup. Anyway.

I like to imagine this actress talking with her parents. It would probably go something, uh-like this:

ring ring... ring ring...

Actress' Mom: Hello?

Actress: Hey, mom! Guess what! I got a starring role in a commercial!

Actress' Mom: Thank's amazing, honey! What's it for?

Actress: A popular brand of noodle soup!

Actress' Mom: I'm so proud of you!

Several months later the commercial airs in Japan.

ring ring... ring ring...

Actress' Mom: Hello?

Actress: Hey mom... it's me...

Actress' Mom: I. HAVE. NO. DAUGHTER. You have brought shame on your family.

Mom hangs up. Actress commits sepuku.

SCENE.

I Wish I Knew How to Quit You... Oh Wait, Yes I Do, You're Fired

2007-06-13T14:57:00.000-07:00

So this douchebag

was fired for using a homophobic remark, making this guy

sad. Aww.

Washington's rep, Howard Bragman, confirmed the news, adding that his client was informed by Grey's executive producer Shonda Rhimes earlier today that he was not being invited back to the show. In a statement, Washington, referencing the iconic line from Network, said, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore."

He released a second statement, saying, "Show me the money!" and "I see dead people."

You had me at hello, Isaiah. Actually, you never had me, I've never watched one single episode of Grey's Dr. McAnatomy.

BABIES EVERYWHERE

2007-06-13T00:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes my own snarky comments don't add anything to something that is already hilarious to begin with. For example:

This commercial is a joke, but every guy I work with drink an elixir called "Five Hour Energy Drink" which has 4000% your B-12 intake for the day, and about seven hearty tablespoons of meth. The above ad makes me giggle (TO THE EXTREME!) but it does remind me of the best commercial in recent years:

Thanks, Japan!: Not as Good as a New York Slice, but Definitely More Epic

2007-06-13T00:05:00.000-07:00

Here's my all new feature: "Thanks, Japan!: Gifts the Japanese Have Given Us The World, Particularly in Media, Even More Specifically in the Genre of Commercials." Here's my all-time favorite. You'll know why around the 18 second mark.

There's romance, drama, angst, hope, and even a giant ensemble dance number. This is what a Bollywood Pizza commercial in Japan looks like.

New Zealand is So Hot Right Now

2007-06-12T15:29:00.000-07:00

Good things to come out of New Zealand:

*my ex-boyfriend

*Peter Jackson (Heavenly Creatures for me, Lord of the Rings trilogy for the rest of humanity)

*Flight of the Conchords

*party pills (nope, they don't sell to the US anymore, don't even try)

*me, alive, after falling out of a plane:

*this kiwi chocolate i bought at the Auckland airport that was deeeelicious

*anything EXCEPT the zorb - i spent $50 to roll down a hill for ten seconds and get dizzy

and THIS MOVIE:

Then again, I did have multiples from said ex-boyfriend. Then again, who said I won't have an orgasm watching this?

You're Getting Sleepy... Sleepy...

2007-06-12T15:27:00.000-07:00

Did you watch the whole thing? I bet you did.

Season Finales: Eating Onion Rings is the New Multiple Deaths

2007-06-11T17:45:00.000-07:00

In honor of The Sopranos finale last night (which I am appreciating more the longer I think about it... which has been all freaking day long [good work toying with my emotions and productivity today, David Chase, you motherfucker]) here is the best finale of all time of the best show of all time, Six Feet Under. Time and time again, I always say, genuinely, without any hyperbole, if I could have brought the world of film and art one product, one piece of work, I wish I had given it Six Feet Under. It's that good.

Also, this finale made me openly sob, weep, that my roommate had to come in my room to make sure I was okay. You try composing yourself when people you've hung out with and cared about for six years DIE IN FRONT OF YOU. To a pretty woman's voice. During a Hybrid ad.

You Can Add "Tony Eats Onion Rings; Cuts to Black Abrputly" To This Poster

2007-06-11T17:09:00.000-07:00

Other Endings Not Ruined (But I'm Going to Ruin Them Anyway):

*she winds up with the guy from Alabama

*look behind the poster

*the boat sinks

*turns out people who blog on the internet aren't really interested in your movie, no matter how hilarious its title or how many times "motherfucker" is uttered

*they're gay; society has a problem with it

Now I Know How Those Cavemen Feel (does that mean I get my own sitcom?)

2007-06-11T17:04:00.000-07:00

Even a woman or child could easily identify a "good" or "bad" fuse... if they weren't too busy baking cookies or getting Daddy's slippers.

An Ode to Raul (David Hyde Pierce doesn't get an ode, so suck it, Frasier-boy)

2007-06-11T00:32:00.000-07:00

Since you don't need a literary agent or a publisher to post whatever you god damn please online (thank you, internet, for both that and ~~free porn~~ Amazon.com), I can use my blog for good or evil. Fear not - usually it will be for evil. (Everyone I work with thinks I'm a bitch for my previous fat-bashing post of Beth Ditto of The Gossip. I can't say I didn't have a moral judgment call in writing it, but in the end, comedy triumphed.)

But today's post will be used for good. Good, in this case, in the form of this man:

I first saw Raul Esparza perform as Riff-Raff in the revival of The Rocky Horror Show in 2000, when I was 17. Growing up I had a thing for goth boys (still do; re: My Chemical Romance), and Riff-Raff was all goth'd up in the show. See for yourself:

Hot. By my standards anyway. But then he opened his mouth and sang and I melted. THIS MAN IS AMAZING. His vocal range was phenomenal. Who is this person??? During intermission I fumbled through my Playbill to catch his name and where he's been all my life. This was his first Broadway play. He had done theatre in Miami and Chicago, and he went to NYU's Tisch School of the Arts.

For my HS newspaper, I was the arts editor and wrote a theatre review of the show, making special mention of the man behind Riff-Raff, what I considered the breakout of an already extremely entertaining show that's hard to upstage. But in my eyes, he did it.

That same season, Tick...Tick...Boom! was hitting Off-Broadway and I was beyond excited. Rent was pretty much my bible at the time and Jonathan Larson was my personal icon. And who, of all people, did I find out was playing my one true idol?

That's right. Riff-Raff, star of my Broadway sex fantasies.

I saw the show in the third row and had never been so certain that me and him were meant to be together. I'd be riding the subway and he'd be there, and we'd make eye contact, and strike up conversation, and faaaall iiiiin loooove. I was deeply enamored. It felt like fate. This person had entered my life in the form of art. (Also, he was a brilliant lead actor in one of the best performances I had ever seen in my life. Probably helped that I was emotionally involved in the subject matter and the theater was incredibly intimate.)

A few weeks later there was a Broadway in the Parks concert and he was performing songs from Tick... tick... boom!. Of course, I went, complete with a page-long letter I nervously wrote on the train about how amazing I thought he was, how inspiring he was for an aspiring actress/singer like me. I went to Bryant Park and was able to go right up to him. I introduced myself - "Mr. Esparza? Excuse me?" - and that I was a big fan. We took a photo, he signed an autograph on my writing notebook, and he was a sweet guy.

Long story short, I've now met him about eight times. I drove down to D.C. - twice - to see him in Sunday in the Park with George and Merrily We Roll Along at the Kennedy Center. I've seen him in Cabaret, Taboo, Comedians, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and finally, Company, of which he was up for Best Actor in a Musical.

Everytime I've met him I've sent flowers backstage - once I sent a teddy bear that read "Someone At USC Loves You". I tried to toe the line of "genuine fan" and "serial killer/stalker". By the third time I met him, he knew my name. Outside of Chitty and Company, he's the one who came up to me. If you know me, I don't always look the same (hello, various hair dyes) but he still recognizes me each time I see him and always appreciates my fandom.

He's one of the sweetest, most sincere, talented people I've ever met and I'm incredibly proud to be a fan of his. I've seen him in his first Broadway play as a supporting role, and tonight on the Tony Awards I saw him sing "Being Alive" in front of a theatre of hundreds of people, and on national television in front of ~~millions~~ thousands (yeah, the Tony's don't exactly rake in TV audiences). It's somewhat cathartic for myself to see someone develop into a real star. He even had a caricature of himself framed on the wall at Sardi's. That is no small feat. That's legendary.

But alas, Raul did not win Best Actor tonight. I'm sure it's not far off, though. When I first heard "Being Alive" on the original Broadway soundtrack, honestly, I was bored by it. This was the big finale number to the climax? This is the climax? As far as I'm concerned, Bobby is a dull character and this song is ending the show on a low note.

But then I saw Company on Broadway with Raul as the lead role of Bobby. And as bias as I am, his performance of this song redefined it in my head and, seriously, in my heart. This is one of the most beautiful, heartfelt, crushingly honest and vulnerable songs I've ever heard. I want this to be my wedding song. I want to love someone this much and be loved that much back.

Check it out for yourself. If I write a song anywhere near as good as this one then I can immediately retire.

Being Alive

Someone to hold you too close
Someone to hurt you too deep
Someone to sit in your chair
And ruin your sleep
And make you aware of being alive

Someone to need you too much
Someone to know you too well
Someone to pull you up short
And put you through hell
And give you support for being alive - being alive
Make me alive
Make me confused
Mock me with praise
Let me be used
Vary my days
But alone is alone, not alive.

Somebody hold me too close
Somebody force me to care
Somebody make me come through
I'll always be there
As frightened as you of being alive
Being alive, being alive

Someone you have to let in
Someone whose feelings you spare
Someone who, like it or not
Will want you to share a little, a lot of being alive
Make me alive
Make me confused
Mock me with praise
Let me be used
Vary my days, but alone is alone, not alive

Somebody crowd me with love
Somebody force me to care
Somebody make me come through
I'll always be there
As frightened as you to help us survive
Being alive, being alive,
Being alive, being alive.

Hell of a Lot Sexier Than a Black Silouette Against a White Background

2007-06-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

If you don't already own an iPod, you will after seeing this photo.

It would be a lot more appropriate if she was listening to/wearing one of these

I'm Also the Caucasian Raven Simone

2007-05-30T17:47:00.000-07:00

http://www.ndtv.com/convergence/ndtv/videos.aspx?id=13672

I know how he feels. I'm the Jewish Scarlett Johansson.

Female Empowerment vs. Sucking It In on the Scale

2007-05-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

My Thoughts About This Magazine Cover On the Outside:

You go, girl! Don't conform to society's interpretation of what "beauty" is! You're beautiful how god made you! Have a second serving of pie! That's what food's for! To be eaten and digested, not just ordered and looked at! Take it all off! You can still be bigger and be a successful rockstar!

My Thoughts About this Magazine Cover on the Inside:

Exactly. Who the fuck is Beth Ditto anyway?

This is why we have Rolling Stone in America and nobody's heard of NME. Also, I need to go to a Weight Watchers meeting and Guitar Center, in that order.

My [redacted] Romance

2007-05-30T13:31:00.000-07:00

The newest video from My Chemical Romance, Teenagers, premieres today on MTV and MTV.com, and I've got a small backstory to go along with this particular video. First off, I had the chance to be an extra in the video (aka, a MySpace bulletin asked all MCR fans in the Los Angeles area to submit headshots and mine was sadly passed over [even though I sent them my best gothy-look while AT the My Chemical Romance concert...douchebag casting director nogoodniks]). Secondly, when I first heard this song, I played it like a bazillion times on my iPod. It's the #1 Most Played Song of all time (well, of all my time). If music could materialize into a useable sex organ I would whore myself out to MCR's music I love it that much. Or I'd convert from Judaism to Emo just to get serious with them. Their music is so good that even if it wanted to switch from "in a relationship" to "it's complicated" on Facebook, but still sleep together occasionally, turning Our Chemical Romance into Our Chemical Fuck Buddies I would have no problem with that, either (although I would cry to Livejournal everyday knowing we were meant to be together and I'm sure MCR would eventually change).

In other words, the band and the song "Teenagers" is awesome - and topical! As the chorus goes, teenagers do scare the living shit out of me! When I was in high school (seven years ago [god help me, life is going at the speed of light]), the most I worried about was making show choir and getting to the last level of Donkey Kong Country. But now it's all school shootings, peer pressure, text messaging rates - no thank you!

So I watch the video (that I am not in [tear drop]), and is it just me, or is there an odd amount of censorship with the lyrics? Sure, the word "shit" is in the chorus, and even though I bet nobody bats an eye anymore at the s-word, I'm used to that kind of censorship. Whatevs. Ruin the chorus, fine, but it's obvious Gerard is scream-singing the word SHIT.

YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE!

But, more surprisingly, there's more words missing. Phrases, even. Take a look for yourself (or just take note of the bolded words in the lyrics I've tactfully copy and pasted for your convenience):

"Teenagers"

They're gonna clean up your looks
With all the lies in the books
To make a citizen out of you
Because they sleep with a gun
And keep an eye on you, son
So they can watch all the things you do

Because the drugs never work
They're gonna give you a smirk
'Cause they got methods of keeping you clean
They're gonna rip up your heads,
Your aspirations to shreds
Another cog in the murder machine

They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me

The boys and girls in the clique
The awful names that they stick
You're never gonna fit in much, kid
But if you're troubled and hurt
What you got under your shirt
Will make them pay for the things that they did

I'm sorry, the word "gun" is no longer allowed in a song? Or "murder"? Or the incomplete thoughts "under your shirt" or "pay for the"? The song is pretty much about SCARY TEENAGERS GETTING REVENGE WITH WEAPONS. Timely, no? Accurate, n'est pas? Is this censorship doing anything except creating a hiccup with the flow of the song? Is some more innocent youth saved because they didn't hear the word "gun" or "murder"? Where were these censors when My Humps was being played out of every speaker, radio and orifice? Where are the good taste censors duck taping Joel Madden's mouth shut? But this they have a problem with?

You're okay by me, My Chemical Romance. You can talk dirty to me.

Other Sponsors for Lindsay Lohan's 21st Birthday

2007-05-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

Svedka Vodka has pulled out as the sponser for Lindsay's 21st birthday party in July. What's a girl to do? Don't fret my Long Island pet - there are tons other companies and businesses out there that would love to endorse your sober (unlikely) big 2-1!

Dasani Strawberry-Flavored Water

it's not cocaine, but it's your favorite flavor! Plus you wouldn't get so dehydrated all the time.

Victoria's Secret Cotton Panties

The best way to put out a firecrotch is to cover it.

More like personALITY training - hey-oh!

2007-05-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

here is a list of unintentionally hilarious things my personal trainer has said to me in the past three months of us working together:

"You know, if you want to cut carbs out of your diet, you should take the rice off when you eat sushi."
(has she ever eaten sushi before? It's pretty much all rice. The foundation is usually all rice.)

Her: "Have you seen any good movies lately?"
Me: "I just saw The Last King of Scotland. It was really, really good."
Her: "Is that that one where the guy won Best Actor?"
Me: "Yeah."
Her: "Yeah, everyone's been talking about it. I probably won't see it, though, I don't like Scotland."

things i didn't say but thought immediately upon hearing this:
a) You don't like Scotland? Why don't you like Scotland? Why wouldn't you like an entire country?
b) You don't like Scotland so much that you would refuse to see a movie with "Scotland" in the title? No matter how critically acclaimed it is?
c) Do you not realize that the movie does not even take place in Scotland, but Ugunda? Have you seen a poster for this movie or a trailer or have even heard about it in the least?

"I'm getting liposuction next month. Get rid of all thsoe problem areas."
(Aren't you a personal trainer??)

Her: "I'm drinking only green tea today. I need to lose ten pounds by Easter. I need to be a rockstar."
Me: "Easter is four days away."
Her: "I know."
Me: "I don't think you're going to be a rockstar in four days, I think you've got some time."

Despite all this, I love her. Even though during our session last night she made me do 200 push ups, which resulted in me crying and thus vomiting when I got home. (Or maybe that was just in response to J-Lo on American Idol.) She's the gift that keeps on giving in regards to comedy material. I've already written a sketch for my sketch class inspired by her. And she's a very sweet, friendly girl.

Did I mention the first time I met her and asked for a phone number in case I had to cancel a session, she handed me her headshot?

Yeah.

ewe are an idiot

2007-05-27T23:42:00.001-07:00

can YOU spot the difference?

I know it's tricky. It's like those pre-movie ads for the LA Times that had the real puppy and the CGI puppy on either side of the screen. Except this time one is a poodle and one is a fucking sheep!

and here's the article:

Thousands of people have been 'fleeced' into buying neatly coiffured lambs they thought were poodles.

Entire flocks of lambs were shipped over from the UK and Australia to Japan by an internet company and marketed as the latest 'must have' accessory.

But the scam was only spotted after a leading Japanese actress said her 'poodle' didn't bark and refused to eat dog food.

Maiko Kawakami, who starred in the Japanese thriller Violent Cop, showed photographs of her pet on a television talk show only to be told it wasn't a dog - but was in fact a lamb.

The discovery prompted hundreds of women to contact the police with similar problems and the authorities believe as many as 2,000 people have been conned.

'We launched an investigation after we were made aware that a company was selling sheep as poodles,' a police spokesman told The Sun.

'Sadly, we think there is more than one company operating in this way.

'The sheep are believed to have been imported from overseas - Britain and Australia.'

Poodles are famously used by the rich and glamourous on the continent but are extremely rare in Japan, with many people having little idea what they look like.

The company, which translates as Poodles as Pets, sold the 'poodles' for £630, about half the cost of a normal poodle but is now understood to have been shut down.

Apparently, the Japanese see a white, fluffy animal and immediately jump to conclusions. A New Zealander would know better.

class act all the way

2007-05-27T23:38:00.000-07:00

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Actually I've never said it, so I'll say it now for the first time. That Marilyn Manson is one classy guy.

Is this music video not the definition of good taste? I wish I were to have a gentleman caller such as Marilyn Manson come a-knocking on my door.

I'd be one lucky lady.

Covered in blood.

While licking a knife.

Getting off on being choked during sex.

While my recently divorced, drug-addicted boyfriend who is two decades older than me, videotapes.

And turns it into his next music video.

(please note sarcasm, dripping from everywhere like the blood in that horrible, horrible, horrible video.)

good luck chuck

2007-05-27T23:36:00.000-07:00

i don't know anything about this movie. i assume it's a comedy. a dark comedy? a high-concept sex romp? i have no idea. apparently dane cook is in it. but it's just become my favorite movie poster of all time. see if you can notice why:

I Already Miss Blake

2007-05-27T23:33:00.000-07:00

Yes I know Jordin won. But this is probably the last time I'll be able to post a photo of Blake Lewis, who is sure to propose to me as soon as we meet (aka me buying tickets to the American Idol tour this summer. I'm just kidding, I would never do that. Would I? Oh god, would I???). Look how cute he is in his argyle sweater, with just the inseeiest bit of tattoo poking out!

Okay, Blake didn't win, but he DID beatbox and rap with Doug-E-Fresh. Singing be damned! That performance was the most fun I've ever had watching American Idol. Did anything that lively happen the Carrie-Bo year? Or the Fantasia-Diana year? NOPE. Thank goodness for Blake bringing some fresh life into this series.

Other guest performers included Gladys Knight, Gwen Stefani via satellite, Green Day (my excitement at them performing was taken over as dissapointment when it turned out to be a boring Save Darfur/The Environment/Africa/Katrina Victims/Rubber Bracelet Industry ballad. Blah.), and all the past Idol winners except Fantasia, who's too busy on Broadway in The Color Purple. Taylor sang with passion and perfect pitch, but it didn't make me want to buy his album. Carrie is the prettiest girl in the universe, but she ruined the prettiest dress in the universe by WEARING IT WITH JEANS. JEANS! And it turns out Kelly Clarkson is pretty short.

So, yay Jordin, my favorite since Day Freaking 1! And more importantly, yay ME, for winning American Idol vicariously through Jordin. I go, girl.

This Is My Crappy Single

2007-05-27T23:31:00.000-07:00

Surprisingly, the most hilariously awful/migrain-inducing part of last night's show was not the song that won Idol's Songwriting Challenge (although I did have to take two Aleve and three Midol after hearing it sung TWICE in the same night), but the judges. Simon Cowell looked like a beauty queen compared to Randy's Janet/Black-Michael-Jackson era-style chain jacket and Paula-on-meds with her scrunched up face because of her broken nose. The only way they could look worse is if one of them decided to bring back the ponyhawk.

BLAKEY: You Give Love a Bad Name Redux

Blake needs to smiiiiile more – it makes him come off as nervous. Which he probably is. Personally I wanted different beatboxing than the last time Blake performed this song, particularly cause I've watched that performance a bazillion times already on YouTube. I mean Broadcaster.

JORDIN: Fighter

Jordin, you have a great voice. And I’d say it was a great song choice to show that you’re pop pop pop all the way. But your attitude was lacking and it all felt forced. Maybe you should have gone the entire Xtina route and wore assless chaps. Jordin’s still doing that annoying heart thing again with her hands when Ryan mentions her numbers. Heart shaped hand gestures don't sell albums, Jordy! Assless chaps do!

"Number Of Times Someone Has Mentioned That Jordin Is Seventeen" count: one so far (by simon). Simon also says Round 1 goes to Blake. You know what else goes to Blake? My willing body.

BLAKE: She Will Be Loved Maroon 5 Redux

Didn't he sing Maroon 5 last week? And he didn't beatbox! Wha?? And he also kiiiiiinda couldn’t hit the high notes. But I so want an argyle sweater RIGHT NOW. (With Blake in it.)

But I have to agree with simon. The song and his performance doesn’t leave that much of an impact for the Finale. That happened with Katherine Mcphee last year with “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree”. (PS. I have one super-duper memory and no life.)

JORDIN: Broken Wing one more time

Jordin's race is finally figured out. Black Dad, White Mom. (I think that's a show on Fox's fall lineup.) That's funny, because all season long I thought Jordin's mom would be America Ferrera and her dad would be a Unicorn Butterfly Lollipop hybrid.

"Seventeen count" – 2! (Randy this time)

Oh yeah, and Jordin sings. It sounds pretty, like usual. But most importantly, I want Jordin’s kimono purple toga with fancy belt thing. And I want to match it with a sweater vest.

Speaking of, Blake sings the craptacular "This Is My Now" and his 2nd argle sweater of the night sparkles!!! Way to get dressed up for the finale, blake! And we can see your arm tats. Swooooon-age. But seriously, he text messaged that one in.

The lining of Ryan's fancy Armani-Gucci designer jacket is all Beetlejuice-like with black and white stripes. If anyone mentions that Jordin is seventeen ONE MORE TIME, he turns into a snake monster!!!

OH NO! RYAN SAID IT! "Seveteen, Seventeen, Seventeen!" AHHHHH!

Ok, jordin’s rockin the pop shiznit out of this crappy, crappy, crappy song. This is the same thing Blake sang? And OMG x infinity, jordin started crying at the end of the song! Displaying any emotion = votes votes votes!

And the show's over. I have no idea who will win. Jordin sang better but people can't get enough of Blake, as shown by his loooong applause. Conundrum! Either way, I'll probably be happy since I've loved these two since the very beginning, but I will also be extremely sad because This Is My Now is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

Now Daughtry sings over a clip show of the whole season.

Remember when America thought sanjaya was a good singer? And that he had a semi-hot sister?

Remember when Sundance Head was the front runner?

Remember when Chris Sligh was funny?

Oh, and remember when I had a life? I don't either.

Oh, and Celebs in the audience count: Unfortunately the only person I could make out was none other than... Kathy griffin? What’s she promoting? The fact she’s still alive?