This one's going out to my Daddy...'cause he digs it and I dig him the most. Enjoy the soothing sounds of The Honeydrippers with their hit cover of "Sea of Love."
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
This one's going out to my Daddy...'cause he digs it and I dig him the most. Enjoy the soothing sounds of The Honeydrippers with their hit cover of "Sea of Love."
Monday, July 30, 2007
I've kind of given up on VH-1's Rock of Love. I gave it the old college try but, as so often happens in the first semester, I must withdraw for fear that continuing will just drag me down into a hole that I can't escape. Luckily for me, A&E's new Sunday night show, The Two Coreys, has swooped in and filled the void that Bret Michaels could not. Probably the only void that guy hasn't filled.
If you were alive in the '80s, you'll remember The Coreys who starred in many teen movies together - Feldman and Haim. The former was the nerdy-looking kid who morphed into a coked-up Michael Jackson wannabe and the latter was the Tiger Beat-friendly, slack-jawed boy who morphed into a coked-up...uh...coke-head. While Feldman was known for his roles in Stand By Me and The Goonies, and Haim for Lucas and that totally bogus Stephen King werewolf flick, The Coreys' shared path to '80s greatness began with their onscreen pairing in the totally rad vampire flick, The Lost Boys. After that came the sadly underrated License to Drive, which was hilarious in spite of Heather Graham's presence, the horrific Dream a Little Dream, the thankfully unseen by me National Lampoon's Last Resort and the sequel no one asked for, Dream a Little Dream 2. They were best buds on-screen and off who boozily followed each other down that clichéd child-star path to the Land of Unemployed Bitterness.
Both Coreys have been through their shit and now seem bent on finding their celeb status again. Feldog kicked his drug habit, stopped raiding Jacko's wardrobe, hit up all the reality TV shows that would have him and somehow managed to find himself a wife. (If you're wondering who would marry Corey Feldman, please reserve all judgment until you learn a little bit about the Missus.) The Haimster took a bit longer to straighten up, going through a fat-guy-who-lives-with-his-mom phase, before turning clean and sober. Now they are ready for the next phase in their lives - reliving old glory days while whoring themselves out and refusing to grow up. Praise be to the TV Gods!
Now that you're properly caught up, on with the show...
Episode 1, The Reunion - Corey Feldman and his wife, Susie, invite Corey Haim to stay with them for a few weeks. Quickly, we discover that this is meant to be a modern-day "Odd Couple" with Feldog as Mr. Prissy Pants and The Haimster as Mr. Slobby Slacks. We also learn that the neat-freak vs. slob conflict is not the only one going on between the Coreys. Haim reveals that he hasn't been laid since...I dunno...the late '80s, while Feldman blissfully prances around with a neon "WHIPPED" sign above his head.
Cracker of the whip, Susie, is basically a stick figure with a head full of helium and two balloons full of saline. She's also a PETA freak. Feldog is also a PETA freak. I don't know if one influenced the other, but does it really matter? Just two more annoying people in the world who expect me to feel guilty that animal flesh is delicious. Susie invites an even crazier PETA freak over for dinner and, since it's a big deal to her, she immediately starts worrying that the uncouth, carniverous Haim will ruin the whole night. She jibber jabbers to Haim about how eating meat is really "ingesting the bad karma from the animal who suffered" in the creation of that meal. Up until now, I was kind of annoyed by The Haimster's frenetic, childish attitude but now I'm actually starting to feel for the guy for having to put up with such a hostess.
Of course, the vegan of honor just happened to be an attractive woman around The Coreys' age. How nice for the horny Haimster. Susie starts to sweat when Haim blatantly hits on PETA chick, and then just about loses her mind when he has pizza delivered for himself. For some reason, while Haim was flirting out by the hot tub, Susie broke down and sobbed to her husband that his best bud was totally out of line. Oh no! A single meat-eating guy is flirting with a vegan girl! The world is about to cave in! Susie manages to turn nothing into a huge, dramatic scene and she, not The Haimster, ends up being the idiot who makes everyone uncomfortable.
Finally, everyone makes up. Awww.
Episode 2, Lost Boys - The Coreys are invited to the 20th Anniversary screening of The Lost Boys, while Susie's biggest dream comes true via a phone call letting her know that she's been chosen to appear in Stuff magazine. Right away, this causes a problem because the boys are supposed to do a radio station promo for the screening which only Haim shows up for because Feldman has to hold his wife's hand while she talks to the Stuff people about her (lack of) wardrobe choices for the upcoming shoot. The Haimster is pissed. I can't really say I blame him. Feldog is really a little girl. Siamese spouses are the worst.
Turns out, Haim's goal right now is to write a sequel to The Lost Boys with Feldman, even though he clearly has A.D.D. and could never be depended upon to sit down and come up with any kind of cohesive storyline. This is all he talks about up until and during the screening of the film, where The Coreys and Susie meet up with Jamison Newlander, who played the other Frog brother. (I'll bet that if Jamison had changed his name to Corey when The Lost Boys came out, we would all know who he is.) Newlander and Haim are totally into the sequel idea and Feldman kind of plays along, but seems to just be humoring them. The Haimster hands out autographs and takes pics with fans while Feldog sits there and pants over his wife's breasts. Then Susie, who may be a bigger attention whore than both Coreys put together - if that's possible, inexplicably takes a white marker and writes her name on the movie screening poster as if anyone is coming there to see her. Haim just about pops a vein over this and becomes increasingly agitated by Susie's constant presence, as do I. Whipped Corey won't even go out for a night on the town with his friend, Jamison, whom he never sees, because he has to go home and snuggle with Tits McGee. (I'm starting to think that the couple really has been surgically grafted together with some sort of invisible membrane.) Haim's vein pushes further toward its breaking point over this "blow-off", lamenting that marriage has turned his best bud into a dud.
Feldman invites Newlander over for breakfast the next day and I try not to imagine what nastiness vegetarians eat instead of eggs and bacon. They catch up a bit and, after the other Frog brother leaves, the subject of the sequel comes up again. Feldog takes The Haimster into another room and breaks the news to him (and me!) that there already is a sequel in the works. Warner Brothers is making one without them. Well, not quite. Seems that they did ask Feldman to do a cameo, which he turned down because he wouldn't do it without his bud. TPTB never even entertained the thought of putting Haim in the movie. The Haimster openly weeps, realizing that he still has a long way to go to repair his damaged reputation.
All crying ceases when Haim disappears for a walk. Then, the ginormous crew from Stuff shows up, and Feldman can only beam proudly while his scantily-clad wife writhes around on various pieces of furniture. As the couple basks in the afterglow of T&A, The Haimster returns bearing a gift. To make up for the fact that he never bought them a wedding present, and for tracking mud all through the house, he presents them with a Tiffany vase.
Finally, everything is cool. Awwww.
Hey! I wonder what would happen if a smoker and a recent non-smoker lived together? I bet the results would be hilarious! Well, find out next week...on The Two Coreys!
Saturday, July 28, 2007
...brought to you by Time Warner, the beastly conglomerate that finally got off its giant, money-filled ass to restore my service.
I should explain first that my Internet service was actually restored on Wednesday, but I haven't really had time to blog since then. I tried on Thursday, but somehow the computer was registering the current date as December 31, 1969, causing Blogger to not recognize me because, well, neither I nor the Internet existed back then. (I guess that was the closest to my dream of time travel I'll ever get.) Anyway, I couldn't fix it because this is my roommate's computer and he has all the settings locked so that they can only be adjusted by the administrator. Perhaps I seem like the type who might try to sabotage a computer that I use on a daily basis? Whatever...he fixed it, the Internet is back up, I finally got some sleep and now I'm ready to roll. So here is my recap of what's been going on with me all week:
Saturday - Some friends and I headed down to Coney Island for the annual (and final?) Siren Festival. The headliners this year were the New York Dolls, and I was slightly intrigued to see them up close. We only arrived around 5:00, in time for the Brooklyn-based We Are Scientists who are quite good, though somewhat lacking in originality. I really like their song, "Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt," and the rest of their songs turned out to be pretty enjoyable. I was a little disappointed in their wardrobe because in all the pictures I've seen of them, they're always dressed kind of geeky, like you might expect of a scientist. Yet there they were onstage, in nondescript t-shirts and pants. Bah. The next act was M.I.A., a hip-hop chick I had never heard of, so my friend S-Ho and I took off for the boardwalk during her set. S-Ho's husband desperately wanted a hot dog, which we promptly returned with...one hour later. What I could hear of M.I.A. didn't persuade me to head back to the insane cluster of sweaty, stinky hipsters any quicker. We got back in time for the New York Dolls set, which was cool even though I didn't know most of the songs. Then, we foolishly rode the Cyclone or, as I like to call it, The Back Breaker. I'd been on it before and should have known better, but the coaster enthusiast in me couldn't resist. My neck finally stopped hurting on Thursday.
After the Siren Festival, we met up with some other friends for drinks at The Belgian Room in the East Village. It's a cool little bar that, fittingly enough, serves Belgian and Belgian-style beers with dirty after-tastes, but fantastic names like Delirium Tremens, Cantillion Geuze and Ommegang. I was in a beer-drinking mood that night, but the first time we were there, I was on a sparkling wine kick. It certainly helped that it was Happy Hour, and since the bartender didn't have any champagne glasses, he filled up a Hurricane glass with sparkling and charged me $3 for it. Now that's my kind of Happy Hour.
As I was heading home, I noticed I had a voicemail from my roommate. He was calling to let me know that we had no cable, Internet or phone service and that the kind folks at Time Warner were being jackasses about it. He tried telling them that we must have had an outage in the area, but they didn't agree. They said maybe they would have a repairman come out on Sunday, but didn't commit to anything.
Sunday - No word from Time Warner. Not that I cared, because I was unbelievably tired. I was supposed to go salsa dancing, but decided to skip it in favor of going to bed early. Maybe not being able to watch Rock of Love sapped me of my will to live?
Monday - I was supposed to go to the Monday night movie in Bryant Park after work which, this week, was The Sting, starring the very yummy and young Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Unfortunately, it rained. So far this summer, the rain has caused me to miss free shows by Spoon and Drive-By Truckers and a classic film. It's also caused me to buy 2 more umbrellas than I need, because it always seems to hit when I'm not expecting it.
Since I still had no TV or Internet, I stopped at Barnes & Noble and picked up some books with a gift card that I've had since Christmas. I realized that reading had recently taken a backseat in my life, which was unfortunate. I bought The Waterworks by E.L. Doctorow, because it appealed to my love of mysteries, and The Ginger Man by J.P. Donleavy, because it appealed to my love of tales of drunken Irishmen. I started reading The Waterworks on the train ride home and was immediately sucked in. I also bought the new Crowded House CD while I was at B&N. No, it's not a book, but I read the liner notes when I got home.
Tuesday - At work, everyone was talking about Lindsay Lohan's newest troubles. I can't count how many people said something along the lines of, "I feel sorry for her." I just kept quiet so no one would think I was a total bitch, but the fact is, I don't feel sorry for her! There are plenty of young, rich, successful, famous people who haven't followed this clichéd path of self-destruction. Don't get me wrong, I'm just as sympathetic as the next guy. Well, as long as the next guy doesn't have any sympathy for Lindsay Lohan.
I met some friends at a Thai place for dinner around 6:30. They were all going to the White Stripes show at Madison Square Garden. They went thataway and I went solo to see Maria McKee at Joe's Pub. I'd always wanted to see her live, and she didn't disappoint. Her voice was still completely awe-inspiring. From some of her little banter in between songs, I definitely got the sense that she's a very quirky gal. She seemed to have an odd sense of humor that I appreciated...I'd bet that she and I could have some great conversations. She was making some jokes about Britney's recent shenanigans involving greasy chicken, dog doody and a designer dress. I felt so at home. Alas, I didn't get to even meet her because there was another show coming on and we all got the bum's rush out of the venue.
Wednesday - After work, I was going over to Bar Nine in Hell's Kitchen to see a friend's band play. I decided to walk up to 53rd Street and then follow it over to 9th Avenue. As I was getting deeper into Tourist Central, I noticed a huge crowd of people standing outside a building with a small door, including paparazzi and average Joes with digital cameras, all sort of corralled into sections by the police. I figured that they were waiting for play actors or something and continued walking. Then I noticed that it was the side entrance to the Ed Sullivan Theater, and realized they must have been waiting for Late Show guests to leave. I turned around, went back and asked a guy if he knew who was inside to which he replied, "Catherine Zeta-Jones." Well, as you can imagine, my inner lesbian started doing cartwheels at the prospect of seeing the glorious CZJ up close. I hadn't planned on hanging around very long because I don't have much patience for that kind of stuff so, luckily, she came out about 15 minutes later. It was a very brief sighting, but I can tell you people that her beauty is not movie magic of any kind. She is STUNNING. I was hoping we might lock eyes and have a moment, but I'm sure all the camera flashes ruined any possibility of that. That and the fact that, as I remembered later, she and I are both straight.
I got home pretty late that night, so I didn't check to see if we had cable/Internet yet.
Thursday - I checked the Late Show schedule at work, since my CZJ spotting put the thought in my head to go gawk at the departing guests if there was ever anyone else gawk-worthy in the future. Sadly, I discovered that John Travolta had already been on the show last week. Not only did I not get to see and/or manhandle him, but I didn't even see his appearance on the show.
I had absolutely nothing to do on Thursday night , so I headed home to find that all technological services had been restored! Yay! I got to watch a re-run of My Name is Earl that was, as NBC would say, new to me. I also got to watch Don't Forget the Lyrics, which wasn't nearly as fun as I thought it would be. Somehow, TPTB managed to suck all of the charm right out of Wayne Brady and turn him into yet another soulless game-show pod, like Howie Mandel and Jeff Foxworthy. And speaking of pods, I also got to catch up on So You Think You Can Dance, hosted by that animatronic wonder of the UK, Cat Deeley. I realized that I'm not enjoying the show this season as much as last, although there are some truly hot male dancers. I'm totally in love with Pasha. If he goes, I'm sure I'll quickly lose interest. Hmm...unless Neil is still around.
As I mentioned earlier, I tried blogging but found that the computer had been transported back to the late '60s. I asked my roommate, Dan, to fix it when he got home and decided to go to bed, because I had probably had about 5 hours of sleep all week. Anyway, before going to bed, Dan explained how Time Warner had been jerking him around all day. They told him that a repairman would be out to our place between 10-2, and no one had shown by 3:00. When he called, the operator told him that someone had come at noon and no one answered the phone. Dan asked what number they called. Of course, she told him our home number, which is the one that is out of service. Well, he went off on this woman, telling her that he's been there all day waiting, no one has shown, and that he hates them with the heat of 1000 suns. Then he went over to the window and saw a tech over on the next roof. Dan asked the guy what he was doing and the tech told him that there was an outage in the area and he was fixing it. Evidently, Dan completely flipped out and started screaming at the Time Warner minion that he's been trying to tell them all week that there was an outage and they wouldn't listen to him. Guess what her response was? "The computer didn't say it was an outage." You know, I love technology, but it is probably the biggest factor contributing to the deterioration of customer service. All customer service people understand is "what's in the computer." "That's what the computer says." I'd bet that if the CSR's computers all suddenly showed that it was December, 1969, they would all put on bellbottoms and start passing around the bong. And I'd further bet that if you cut a Time Warner rep, they will bleed green slime. Or sparks will just shoot out of the wound.
Friday - Besides work, I did nothing. I kid you not, I went to bed at 7:30 last night. I didn't wake up until 10:00 this morning. Ahhhh, 14 1/2 hours of sleep. That hit the spot.
Today - It's only 2:00, so I haven't done much. I finished The Waterworks, which I would recommend to anyone who likes a good, old-fashioned detective yarn. It's set in 1870s Manhattan, which also makes it great fun to read. I love reading about things that used to be where huge skyscrapers now sit...and especially about areas where virtually nothing was. It's hard to imagine any empty space in this city, so this book was a great exercise in visualization.
And now I'm blogging! At great length! Look at me, you cable company bastards!*
*A modified line from Addicted to Love that always cracks me up: "Look at me, you credit card bastards!" Must be said with a French accent to get the full effect.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Cable conglomerate bastards. I've resorted to blogging on my lunch break. Therefore, this will be quick because I would like to actually eat at some point.
I probably should've saved the Lone Justice video for this week, as I'm going to see the lovely and talented Maria McKee this evening. But, since I burned that one, and I have no bizarre songs bopping around in my head right now, I'll have to go to the news for inspiration. Need I look any further than Lindsay Lohan? I told you all she was trying to get herself thrown in jail for some hot lesbian lovin'!
I wonder if the "I'm young; I'm allowed to party and have fun" defense will help her out, should she go to court. That girl really knows how to celebrate her youth.
And there it is...my massive reach for a video! I don't think that Rick Springfield had young Hollywood in mind when he wrote "Celebrate Youth." Nope, not one lyric about DUIs and cocaine in there. This one's not only going out to Li-Lo, but to everyone who thinks that "Jessie's Girl" was Rick Springfield's only song (scum!) and Scott, who is a total geek for this song.
Monday, July 23, 2007
My roomie and I lost our phone, Internet and cable service over the weekend, and Time Warner doesn't seem too concerned about it, so not only can I not watch that pathetic Rock of Love, but I can't blog about it. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, but then again, I can't blog about anything else either. Hopefully, I'll be back to normal soon. In the meantime, call the cable company and tell them you want your BeckTV.
One more time for search engine optimization: Time Warner Sucks!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Remember when I said that it was dangerous for Sean Preston or Jayden James to sit in Mama Britney's lap, because you never know when a crotchfire might break out? Yeah, you all thought I was kidding. Well, now is your chance to witness an actual crotchfire in progress, thanks to these new photos...
See, there Britney is just strolling along, enjoying the wind blowing through her wig, when her privates are suddenly engulfed! She has to quickly strip, which, luckily, she's had plenty of practice doing, and run into the nearby ocean to douse the vulvanic inferno. Ahhh...sweet relief. For now.
It's just lucky for Brit that she was near the beach when this happened. What would she have done if she was, say, in line at Starbucks? Dump someone's iced frappa-lappa-ding-dong-cappuccino on her flaming groin?
For those of you who thought that a crotchfire was similar to brush fire, that's a reasonable assumption, but an incorrect one. It's more of an internal flame. I think The Bangles wrote a song about it once. Hmm, maybe walking like an Egyptian causes crotchfires resulting from too much thigh friction.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
This one is for all of you who like to complain that I don't give enough attention to metal in this topic. It's hair metal, but if you've been holding your breath waiting for me to post an Exciter video...well, you're probably dead by now.
I really have no great story behind this week's choice. Strangely, it's been stuck in my head for the past few days, even though I don't think I've heard the song in at least 10 years. So, for no good reason, I give you "Cold Blood" by Kix. Sure, you can thank me now for not posting their horrid, screechy power ballad, "Don't Close Your Eyes."
Man, was Steve Whiteman one of the ugliest guys in rock 'n roll or what? He reminds me of the bratty, evil King from Dragonheart. Hey, Draco was a cold-blooded creature. Coincidence?
Monday, July 16, 2007
Oooh. Blogs turn me on. So does foot fungus. And rubber cement...and ring around the collar...and...
As promised, I'll be providing weekly recaps for the new Bret Michaels mess, Rock of Love. Why did I promise this? Who did I promise? Do any of you care? I only ask because, after watching the first show, I'm not sure how much more I can take. I can only endure so much stupidity, sluttiness and silicone before I pass out.
For those of you not familiar with its concept, Rock of Love is along the lines of The Bachelor or Flavor of Love, starring Poison front-man Bret Michaels. Unlike the many "Bachelors," Bret doesn't often pretend to be sincere about his quest for love, stating that his ideal woman need only be "hot, cool and sexy." And unlike Flavor Flav, he doesn't seem to have a problem calling his groupies by their real names. I don't think Bret has enough imagination, vocabulary or brain cells in his noggin for all that nicknaming nonsense. Not that it matters, since some of them have ridiculous names anyway. I think most of them are probably going by their stripper names.
My favorite part of the show was listening to Bret try to not use "horny" or "turned on" in a sentence. I think he only succeeded once or twice. It was still fun to hear him speaking in his Pittsburgh accent. The fact that he's from Pittsburgh makes me like him a little more than I normally would. Well, he's actually from Butler, PA, which is about 30-40 minutes north of da 'Burgh. It's a pretty countrified suburb. A great place to take a Sunday afternoon drive. Lots of farms and such. So I'll bet Bret even thinks tractors are sexy.
My least favorite part of the show was listening to the bimbo brigade try to not speak complete jibberish. Out of 16 girls, I could only stomach maybe 4 of them. Most of them have fake boobs, many of them are strippers and two of them are named Brandi. Are you shocked yet?
The show began with 25 horny women, and before they even went into Bret's den of sin, his head of security, Big John, did the typical heavy-metal dick move by eliminating 5 girls immediately. He explained that the show was just like a concert, where not everyone gains "access." Four of the girls angrily left but hardcore slut, Tiffany, finally decided not to take something lying down and pounded on the door until Big John let her in. She was really annoying and everyone hated her right off the bat, so I have no doubt that this was a completely scripted move. Oh wait, the whole show is probably scripted! Aaauuuugh.
After Bret took sexy photos of all the girls - evidently done for the sole purpose of keeping him in his necessary, perpetual state of horniness - he tried to have some one-on-one time with each of them in order to decide which ones he wanted to stay. Yes, there were two rounds of cuts on the premiere episode, whittling down the stable of sluts from 21 to 16.
I know what you're all waiting for. You want to meet these broads, don't you? You masochists. Well, you asked for it. Here is a little about each of the Rock of Love girls and my early-on predictions.
Brandi C. - Your average nightmare. A squeaky-voiced Marilyn Monroe wannabe who thinks that the quickest way to a man's heart is by whining incessantly that he needs to spend more time with her. If you've seen the trailer for the show, you'll know Brandi C. as the girl who came up with the already-classic line, "If we put our boobs together, we can think better." Bret seemed like he wanted to cut Brandi C. because she was such an annoyance, but I guess her parents changed his mind. You know, because Mom and Dad bought those boobs for her. I bet they were the cool parents on the block who let all Brandi's high school friends get drunk and have sex at their house.
Bottom line - Bret won't be able to deal with the Minnie Mouse voice for very long.
Odds of winning - 10:1
Brandi M. - The typical hard-partyin' chick. Brandi #2 didn't annoy me too much, even though I'm sure I couldn't spend more than 15 minutes in the same room with her. She gave Bret a brief lesson in astrology by telling him that she's a Scorpio which means that she's "ruled by her genitals." Wow, so that must mean that most men in the world are Scorpios!
Bottom line - Her goal is to "get some rocker ass" and I believe that she'll get it. Bret seemed to like her right away, but she isn't the breastiest babe of the bunch, which may hurt her chances.
Odds of winning - 3:1
Dallas - Only one of two African-American girls in the group, and the only one who remained after the first cut. I didn't see much of her during the show, except for when drunk-ass Tiffany tried to get in her face. Let's face it. She's not gonna win. This isn't a racist statement, and I'm not insinuating that Bret is a racist, but he definitely has a type. Dallas is not a blonde, blue-eyed, bubble-boobed plastic bimbo, and I doubt that she would ever transform into one to please some has-been rocker.
Bottom line - She'll hang around for a little while longer, thanks to her laid-back attitude.
Odds of winning - 30:1
Erin - All you really need to know about Erin is that she is "Miss Hooters of Illinois." No, actually, that isn't all you need to know. She had her breasts done on Venus. She must've. I've never seen boobs that size or shape anywhere on this planet, ever. But, supposedly she is not a bimbo. I just read on BuddyTV.com that she graduated college in 3 1/2 years with honors. Heh. Yeah, the entire male faculty had the honor of...oh, never mind. If her plastic surgery choices are any indication, trust me - the girl isn't that smart.
Bottom line - Bret likey big boobies. Bret keepy her for a loooong time.
Odds of winning - 5:1
Faith - The longshot. I barely remember this girl from last night. I don't know why she's on this show. She seems way too classy to be with Bret and too boring to be on TV.
Bottom line - I think I just said it.
Odds of winning - 100:1
Heather - This girl looks like any number of actresses you might see while flipping through the cable movie stations late at night. I don't think a thing on her is real, and she flashed two of those fake items within the first 20 minutes of the show. If I were casting a movie and needed to fill the role of "slutty band groupie," I would pick Heather. She totally looks the part, and is my early favorite to be Bret's rock.
Bottom line - She's not going anywhere. Except for maybe upstairs with Bret.
Odds of winning - 1:1
Jes - This fuschia-haired minx (when will I ever get to use that phrase again?) caught Bret's eye, but he actually was impressed by her obvious intelligence and down-to-earth personality. Jes is probably the girl I like the best on the show, which probably means she won't win. Still, I hope she sticks around for a while and puts some of these bimbos in their places.
Bottom line - She's pretty, edgy and smart...but if her brains are bigger than her boobs, she could be in trouble.
Odds of winning - 5:1
Kristia - She quickly became BFFs with Brandi C., the pair who most of the other girls have already taken to calling "Dumb and Dumber." Know why she and Brandi C. thought they would make such good friends? Because they were both blonde, and they could bond over that. Uh....huh. That kind of friendship is really rare. They couldn't have found that with just anyone in the house.
Bottom line - Not as annoying as Brandi C., but she's a little too quiet. Bret could forget about her quickly unless she turns up the tramp factor.
Odds of winning - 20:1
Lacey - Hi, I'm Lacey and I'm in a band. I play drums. I sing. I'm a rocker girl, y'know? I rock! Hey, I'm in a band! Yeah, yeah, no one cares. Well, Bret kind of does. But he'll lose interest soon enough. I mean, what is she, a C-cup? Pffffftt.
Bottom line - She and Bret will write a really lame song together, make out a bit and then he'll lose interest. Wrong hair color. Wrong bra size.
Odds of winning: 30:1
Magdalena - A Polish Amazon woman who may very well be a man. Don't get me wrong; she's beautiful, but for a woman she's got the deepest voice I've ever heard. Ironically, she's obsessed with the idea that Rodeo might actually be a man. Maybe she's just lining up some action in case the whole Bret thing falls through.
Bottom line - Bret will tell a Polish joke and she'll slap him silly. Game over.
Odds of winning - 20:1
Mia - One of the prettiest girls there, but she's a brunette. As a brunette, I know what that means. Especially to a guy like Bret Michaels. He'll be hair-color blind for a while, but I'm sure blonde lust will get the best of him eventually.
Bottom line - I'll bet that she loses interest in him first. Of course, she'd never be allowed to say so on TV.
Odds of winning: 30:1
Rodeo - Her real name is Cindy, but I guess the name Rodeo comes from the hat that's been surgically attached to her skull. Well, that's one thing she and Bret have in common - they have an aversion to showing the tops of their heads. Rodeo is a single mother and seems like a nice person, but she is a wee bit scary. She's a personal trainer who looks like she could go into a 'roid rage at any minute. I hope several of the girls piss her off.
Bottom line - She's in great shape, but has the face of a 50 year-old. I don't think she can hold Bret's attention for very long.
Odds of winning: 30:1
Sam - Besides Jes, Sam is the only other of these girls who I could actually see myself liking or having a conversation with. She looks like a crazy party chick with millions of tattoos, but she doesn't drink or do drugs. I don't know if that's because she's had problems with them in the past or if she's just not interested. I guess that will all be discovered soon enough.
Bottom line - She's physically just Bret's type, but the fact that she doesn't live the party lifestyle could be a problem. Because he's a damn child.
Odds of winning: 3:1
Tamara - Bret said that Tamara was one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen, but was a bit put-off by her inability to carry on a conversation. Even though she seemed to be a coke-head with a 3rd grade education, Bret decided that her face and body were enough to cancel any other problems out. Such a simple man, that Bret Michaels.
Bottom line - Beautiful and dumb? That's a winning combination! She's kind of a honey-blonde though. She might have to take the peroxide challenge.
Odds of winning - 3:1
Tawny - Like her namesake, Ms. Kitaen, she has a gigantic mouth and crazy eyes but that's about it. I doubt that Bret will ask her to roll around on the hood of his car any time soon. She's just not hot enough.
Bottom line - She's not very memorable, even to a man with fully functioning brain cells.
Odds of winning - 50:1
Tiffany - Take equal parts Jennifer Coolidge, Fergie and Barbara Streisand, mix with plenty of alcohol, top it off with a nice garnish of crazy and you have Tiffany. Bret doesn't really seem to like her, despite the fact that she was the only girl who dry-humped him or, as he put it, "beat his penis to a pulp." No one likes her. She's the most dramatic and most annoying character, er, contestant on the show. Therefore, she will easily coast through to at least week 8.
Bottom line - She's on the show to make "good TV" for its producers, not "sweet sweet love" to its star.
Odds of winning - 30:1.
I hope that C.C. DeVille will stop by the bimbo hut soon. Maybe now that he's sober, he can hook up with Sam and take her away from all the madness.
Happy 40th Birthday to my dear Will Ferrell! If he's this funny at 40, I can only imagine that he'll be hilarious at 80. Especially if he's wearing one of those Oops I Crapped My Pants dealies.
In Will's honor, here is my favorite Ferrell skit ever. Pure comedic genius. "Fred's Slacks" is a winner!
Saturday, July 14, 2007
In other news, rumor has it that Lindsay Lohan is hoping to follow in Hilton's footsteps by getting locked up with a bunch of hard-ass women. Li-Lo is supposedly into chicks now that she's done every guy in L.A. Sorry, lesbians. There goes your "lower STD rate" bragging rights.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
And there you have it, kids - the winning caption! There were many good ones, but this one just made me laugh the hardest. Really, it was a toss-up between this one and Deadspot's very timely fusion of Lindsay's antics with Britney's most recent missive. However, there can be only one winner, so victory belongs to Happy Villain!
Happy Villain, you have won the coveted "Firecrotch of the Month" award. You will be featured in my sidebar in all your glory until the next caption contest comes along. (Actually, that's just a generic cartoon "you," but it's not my fault that you choose to hide your lovely countenance from Blogland.) Here is your Official Firecrotch seal...wear it loud, wear it proud.
Thanks to my eldest bro, Mr. Yak, for the graphic. It and the sidebar showcase may get spiffier eventually, but right now my template is giving me a headache.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The the classic video this week is from The The. This is this is "This is the Day," from the the 1983 release Soul Mining.
I was fairly familiar with the song, but had never seen this video until a few weeks ago on VH1 Classic. No doubt it's resurfaced because of its current use in M&M ads. What this song has to do with candy-coated chocolates is beyond me. Although, by now it's probably seeped into our collective unconscious to the point where the song will elicit a Pavlovian response in us all and we'll soon be a nation of M&M guzzling fatsos. But, so what? We'll be happy and in love.
Technorati tags: music, videos, YouTube, 80s, The The
Monday, July 09, 2007
Ashley! Grab an iced tea for Phil Stacey!
Sorry, I couldn't help but title this photo myself. But, it's not too late to get in on the caption contest. Hit me with your best Lindsay line! And speaking of Lindsay...
Damn, it's hot as a crotchfire here in New York. Since I've suddenly been thrust into the tropics, all I want is an iced tea. That doesn't sound like too much to ask, does it? Apparently, it is. I've discovered that finding a good iced tea in NYC is like finding a well-structured sentence in a Britney Spears letter.
First of all, let me just say that Starbucks is the most ridiculous place on Earth. And - joy - there is one on every corner. And then there are a few sprinkled in between. Every time I've attempted to get iced tea at Starbucks, I've been gawked at like I'm a green bug with three heads. Don't ask why I've tried more than once. I don't know. Either I'm a closet masochist or I'm eternally optimistic that Mr. Starbuck, or whoever owns that hell-hole, will finally realize that tea has more than earned its rightful place next to coffee on the overpriced menu.
Oh, and it's not that Starbucks doesn't have tea. They have plenty of tea. They have every variation of tea that you can possibly think of, but they've abandoned the original for its trendy followers. Passion fruit tea? They've got it. Green iced tea? Yep. Got that. Black tea & lemonade? Check. Frappuccino tea? Uh-huh. Dirty sock and porcupine whizz tea? Why, that's their #1 seller! But plain old, run of the mill, normal, average, everyday, proud-to-be-American iced tea? What? Why would they carry such a thing??
The other day, I thought I found an escape from the Starbucks fortress around my office building in the form of Barnes & Noble. They must have good iced tea, I thought. When I worked in a different part of town, I used to get iced tea from the nearby Borders and it was awesome. Borders and Barnes & Noble probably have a similar menu, right? Wrong. Guess who runs the cafe in B&N? That's right...Starbucks. The masochist in me surfaced again, reasoning that it was possible that the B&N Starbucks might have a different menu than the regular Starbucks. My request for tea was quickly rebuffed. And there was that strange look again from the dead-eyed barista. I was suddenly in the Twilight Zone trying to figure out which one of us was the alien. What is this...tea...you speak of?
Today, I ventured over to the Dunkin' Donuts, fully expecting it to be bought out by Starbucks while I was waiting in line. While that didn't happen, I noticed that iced tea was not on their menu either. Hey, maybe they forgot? I got to the counter, asked for iced tea and was, once again, met with befuddlement. For some reason, the guy behind the counter had to deliver his response in a very slow, drawn out manner, as if he thought that anyone who would ask for such a drink must be mentally impaired in some way. "Uhhhhhh.....noooooooooooo.... miss.... noooooooo.... iceeeeed.... teeeeeeeeeeee.... but.... uhhhhh.... weeeee.... have... iced coffee!" If you haven't figured it out by now, I loathe coffee. I hate anything that tastes like coffee. I don't drink Kahlua, I hate tiramisu, and I'd probably have a poop popsicle before I ate coffee ice cream. The only thing I can imagine being worse than coffee is ice-cold coffee. And how did this become such a favorite drink of yuppies and hipsters, anyway? I was a waitress for years, and if I ever brought anyone coffee that was anything less than scalding, they would bitch for 20 minutes about how being served cold coffee was the biggest tragedy in their lives. I just don't get it. So anyway, I obviously wasn't having any part of the iced coffee. The stupid Dunkin' Donuts didn't even have any of my beloved Lipton Brisk, or any other pre-packaged tea for that matter, so I had to go back to the office and suck on the water dispenser for a few more hours. Curses. Foiled again.
By the time lunch rolled around, I'd had about 148 ounces of water and was contemplating going back to Starbucks and getting all Michael Douglas-in-Falling Down on their asses. Instead, I walked down to Cafe Metro to grab a salad (one thing I love about NYC: the proliferation of make-your-own-salad bars) and noticed that they had an iced tea brewer behind the counter. Ahhhhh. I didn't get too excited too quickly though, as I had been burned many times before. Like I said at the beginning of this tirade, it's hard to find a good iced tea in this town. I've had a lot of bad teas. They've run the gamut of taste - everything from lemon-flavored dirt to some strange concoction that actually tasted like latex gloves. So, I was a bit worried that it would be just another full cup that ends in the garbage. I crossed my fingers, tossed in a packet of Sweet 'n Low (I know, that stuff will turn me into a lab rat), took a sip and...heaven. FINALLY. Thank you, Cafe Metro. Thank you for giving me a damn good cup of iced tea and, most of all, thanks for not even batting an eye when I asked for it.
And the coffee achievers think they're so awesome. Please. They can get a cup of coffee without even trying. I had to work for that iced tea, baby! That's achievement.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Yay! Britney wrote another crazy message on her website! This one is for her fans and "the pap" (either the paparazzi, her gynecologist or someone's grandfather, I guess) apologizing for waging a crazy, bald attack on a photographer's car with an umbrella four months ago. Here is the message, unedited:
I apologize to the pap for a stunt that was done 4 months ago regarding an umbrella. I was preparing my character for a role in a movie where the husband never plays his part so they switch places accidentally. I take all my roles very seriously and got a little carried away. Unfortunately I didn't get the part.
I don't know what's funniest:
UPDATE: When I said the message was "unedited," evidently I was lying without even knowing it! Chelene just pointed out that The Superficial caught wind of Britney's letter a day earlier in its original format. Follow the link for fun with homonyms.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Pretty, eh? Well, fireworks schmireworks. Unsurprisingly, the forecast calls for rain so I think I'll just stay in tonight and get in touch with my inner geek by enjoying the rest of the Twilight Zone marathon.
I may be able to see some of the fireworks from my roof, but I'm not banking on that. If not, I guess I can always just flip on the Macy's show, hit mute and use the very excellent and appropriate (but not necessarily patriotic) Bill Janovitz and Crown Victoria record, Fireworks on TV, as my soundtrack. I braved the insane crowds last year to watch the display at the South Street Seaport, and it wasn't that exciting. Personally, I thought Pittsburgh's was better.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
To get this week's video, I thought I'd spin the Wheel of Songs That Have Anything to Do With America, and the sparkly little pointer thingy landed on the 1991 Violent Femmes tune, "American Music." So, from Gordon Gano, those other two dudes and myself, here's wishing you all a happy Independence Day. For Barbara, Dale, Tanya, Les - and any of my other readers whose hoser status I've forgotten about or am unaware of - you can all enjoy this one too because the Femmes are from Wisconsin, which is probably just one bad storm away from falling off into Lake Superior and floating away to Canada.
For my British readers, tomorrow's just another day. To get really drunk. Cheers, mates.
Since moving to New York, I've been disturbed by how much everything costs. There is so much to do here, but having any kind of social life basically means kissing all of your money goodbye. I've heard tales of cheap and free things to do around town, and I'm finally realizing that these aren't just urban myths. They do exist. Perhaps because it's summer there are more of these events to go around but, whatever the reason, I'm all for it. Tonight, I took in my first free movie at Bryant Park.
For those of you who've never been, Bryant Park is a lovely little area in the heart of Midtown Manhattan that boats a gorgeous lawn, surrounded by flowers and trees. It's a favorite lunch spot for workers in the area, and I'm now lucky enough to be working a mere four blocks from there. Every year, the park hosts the HBO Summer Film Festival and will be screening such classic movies as The Sting, Casablanca and Psycho this year. I went tonight with some friends to see the Ryan & Tatum O'Neal grifter flick, Paper Moon. It's one of those movies that I've always wanted to see, and I'm happy to say that I wasn't disappointed. I can certainly understand why little Tatum won an Academy Award for her performance, as she effortlessly walked the line between vulnerable little girl and tough mini-adult. Tatum actually showed up to introduce the movie - a reminder to anyone distracted by the serene garden setting that we were still in the Big Apple.
For anyone who's seen Paper Moon and Better Off Dead...did the writers of the latter draw inspiration from Tatum O'Neal's character, Addie, in creating the character of the paperboy? The paperboy's angry demands for the $2 that Lane owes him seem very similar to Addie's for the $200 that Moze owes her. The characters' snarling expressions are even frighteningly similar!
Prior to the movie, the old bumper that was used to intro HBO feature presentations was played and about 80% of the crowd went nuts. Everyone was jumping and dancing around, much to my amusement and confusion. My friend, Stephanie, explained that it was some kind of Bryant Park tradition to dance to the intro music. I'm not sure why that is, but that didn't stop me from joining in. I hadn't seen that intro since I was a kid, so it was pretty cool to be reminded of it. It took me back to the days of furtively watching movies that I really wasn't allowed to watch. And without HBO back then, I might have never been introduced to the greatest Michael Keaton movie, ever.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Just a few things before I head out for brunch. Yes, I'm going to brunch. I feel like such an adult.
I forgot to mention in my Mixed Bizness post that I've recently welcomed a new addition to my family. Splotchy is running a little black-market adoption agency for character actors, so I headed over there and picked up Joe Pantoliano. I couldn't believe he was still available. Someone actually took Klaus Kinski into their home before Joey Pants. Outrageous! But, their loss is my gain. You can see my little Joey over there in the sidebar under my blogroll. I'm so proud.
I'm completely obsessed with FineTune now. After trying Pandora, LastFM, LaunchCast and a bunch of other internet radio sites, I think I've found one to which I can fully give myself. My Summer Mixx went from about 50 songs to 100 in the past 2 days, and I created another playlist of all Brit-Pop. The only thing that really bothered me was that there were no Beatles songs available. Can you imagine a Brit-Pop playlist without the Kings of the genre?? Most of their catalog is there, but for some reason all of the songs were blacked out so they couldn't be added to playlists. I searched the site for an explanation, but came up empty. I can only guess that The Beatles have been used on such a huge number of playlists that they're now off-limits for variety's sake.
My two playlists are only the beginning, people! I'm sure I wll be completely consumed by this site in a week's time. Meanwhile, if you check out my lists and have any feedback or recommendations for me, I'm all ears.
Speaking of music, has anyone bought or heard Ryan Adams' new CD, Easy Tiger? I am totally in love with his song, "Two," which is on my Summer Mixx. I haven't had a chance to hear much else, but I'm ready to buy the record based on the strength of that track alone. It's just beautiful.
Finally, for those of you who have been living in a cave for the past month, here is the newest Internet sensation, The Dramatic Chipmunk.