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accordingtoalannaFiled under: Popculture, Television | Tags: Ashlee Simpson, Melrose Place
When I was 10 years old I used to sneak into my parent’s bedroom every Monday night at 10 pm and watch “Melrose Place.” My mom didn’t want me watching it for every reason that I wanted to watch it: sex, liars, hot older men and adultery galore. Back when I was 10 years old, the original cast did not include Sydney, Kimberly, or Amanda and Michael Mancini was a good husband. By the time I was 12 half of those people had faked their own deaths and had all slept with Michael. So when 17 years later the CW announces that they are bringing back “Melrose Place” I have to watch, right?
So many questions filled my head. Will there still be a sassy opening that lists the cast in alphabetical order? Will the music get rougher when the bad boy comes on like it did for the brooding Grant Show? Will some one capture my heart the way Billy (Andrew Shu) once did? Will the first episode feature a ridiculous amount of the song “Keep on Walkin” by Cece Peniston (anyone remember season 1 cast member Rhonda using the song in her aerobics class every week?) And finally I asked myself… really CW? Ashlee Simpson?? Really???
Oh you heard me correctly. Former blonde/brunette and permanent shadow stander, Ashlee Simpson-Wentz (or is it Wentz-Simpson?) stars as Violet, a sweet and innocent newcomer to Melrose Place. After a couple of minutes of her looking like she’s trying to remember her lines and staring into the camera, it becomes clear that this is no Courtney Thorn-Smith (pre- “According to Jim” of course.) Luckily, Ashlee doesn’t get camera time until the other cast members establish their roles, which is actually good because she seems to mess up the flow of every scene she’s in. And if you think I’m just being hard on her because she’s the only one with some fame pre-Melrose then you’re right. I want to see her flex the acting chops she flexed when she was a judge on “Say-What Karaoke.” I know you got it in you girl!
After a few episodes, I began to feel that the couple of Riley and Jonah (played by Jessica Lucas and Michael Rady) are a cross between the original Jane and Michael and Allison and Billy. Jonah is reminiscent of Billy in both personality and physical similarities, but is loyal the way Michael was in season 1. Jessica is relationship-phobic the way Allison once was and pretty the way Jane always was (even though they do not look alike at all, they are both beautiful girls.) I think Ella (played by Katie Cassidy) is supposed to be a weak attempt at creating an Amanda-esk character. Career oriented and a blonde bombshell but Heather Locklear, she is not. Instead, Ella comes off as annoying, demanding and slightly pathetic. There are a few worthless characters like Lauren Yung (a wanna be doctor who whore’s herself out in the first episode… literally) and Auggie Kirkpatrick (a recovering alcoholic turned chef) but there is a character with a slight twist and that is David Breck (played by Shaun Sipos.)
David Breck is a character scorned, he’s no brooding bad boy Jake, don’t misunderstand but he is slightly interesting. He’s angry and scorned by his father, Doctor Michael Mancini… dun dun dun! That’s right folks, the original Michael is back on the show. Michael and David don’t have a great relationship which would be interesting but unfortunately for this show, they don’t have a great story line either. They have both slept with Sydney (yup, THAT Sydney) and now Sydney is dead (AGAIN!) They have anger issues, abandonment issues, money issues- and yet some how it all plays out very dull on TV. I want to be interested in David and Michael’s battle but alas, I am as bored by that story line as I am by Ashlee Simpson’s music career. 
Seventeen years ago Melrose Place was edgy. Things were happening on that show that people had never seen before on television. Television was filled with “Blossom” and “the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” and Melrose brought shock value to prime time. Being sexy and edgy these days is a lot tougher. Sex isn’t taboo anymore and 10 year olds aren’t as easily drawn in. Melrose Place 2009 will have to spice things up and try something new in order to get people’s attention. It will need a super villain like Amanda, a good guy like Billy and a brooding rebel like Jake. As it stands right now, even my 10 year old self would be bored with this new Melrose Place.
Filed under: Celebrity News, Music, Popculture | Tags: concert review, fearless tour, madison square garden, taylor swit
We’ve all held grudges longer than necessary. I’ve fallen victim to that more times than I can possibly imagine. I’ve forgiven, but not forgotten; I’ve gotten mad and then even; I’ve killed them with kindness; I’ve even reverted to my belief of karma as my only hope for revenge. Eventually though, I get over it and move on. Taylor Swift, on the other hand, doesn’t. Instead, she builds an entire persona, or brand, if you will, around her grudges. She calls it ‘fearless,’ but I just call it bitter (with a hint of overkill).
Taylor Swift performed at Madison Square Garden on August 27, 2009 to a sold out crowd of 20,000. The concert was part of her ‘Fearless’ tour, which has been one of the most sought-after tours for females this summer — sort of like what Lillith Fair was in the 90s, except with more shaven armpits and cowboy boots with sparkly skirts.
Despite my lack of appreciation for Taylor Swift and her music, I attended her concert in support of my friend who is a huge fan (but I won’t judge her, since I like some really questionable things myself). And believe it or not, I found myself knowing more Swift songs than I’d like to admit (when I was actually able tell them apart).
Taylor Swift definitely knows how to get girls riled up and cheer for the underdog, which in this case, are themselves. With a full back-up band and two back-up singers to boot, she sang her broken heart out for an hour and a half while reminding everyone every chance she could that boys do indeed suck.
In between each song, Taylor took a long deep breath – gazing out into the sea of estrogen – and told one of four poignant tales: the one where she was ignored by her High School crush, the one where she was cheated on by her boyfriend, the one where she burned his pictures (which I highly doubt she actually did; she probably just untagged him on Facebook), the one where he will get what he deserves, or – my favorite — the one where she still believes in fairy tales, but realizes that “prince charming isn’t as easy to find as [she] thought… and in real life, the bad guy is actually really, really cute.” (Oh, I see… Thanks for the heads up, girl.)
Ya know, it’s pretty ironic (and hard to believe) that she has been screwed over by so many guys in the past, considering she is only 19-years-old, takes pride in being wholesome and is a firm believer of fairy tales. But, at least all of this supposed heartbreak inspires her to write mediocre songs in hopes of empowering former sluts, current prudes and those who are still resentful about the one that got away… And because of Taylor Swift’s redundant rants and words of wisdom (I get it, it’s her gimmick), they now know better than to get involved with bad boys. (Or at least nice guys who happen to buy you a toaster for your birthday, as shown in “Crimes of Passion,” a sketch video that played during a set change depicting Taylor’s many male muses. It was an obvious joke, but I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.)
Swift’s stage presence was very endearing and definitely better than I predicted, but it was still quite theatrical and contrived (not like I expected any different from such a huge production). She strutted her stuff, booty popped, head-banged, fluffed her hair, batted her eyes and paused in “awe” of the crowd at the most precise times during the show. “I will remember this night for as long as I live. I will never, ever, forget what you just did for me,” she said in sheer amazement as the crowd went bananas for almost two minutes (apparently 30 seconds longer than at most of her shows – wow, weren’t we the lucky ones). I have to say though, those two minutes were awesome to witness, even if they weren’t entirely authentic – I love attending concerts at Madison Square Garden for that very reason; seeing musicians get overwhelmed with emotion standing in such a historic stadium gives even me chills.
There were two outstanding moments of the show that I would go as far as to say were my favorites of the night. One was when Taylor went into the audience (all the way up to the second mezzanine, which at MSG, is pretty high) and performed a couple of songs from that section and then moved her way down to the floor (with four bodyguards surrounding her, prepared to tackle any single white female that got in their way). It made being in such a huge arena intimate and sincere (and also hooked the people in the nosebleeds up with a pretty good view).
My second favorite moment was at the very end of ‘Should’ve Said No’ when it began to “rain” on stage with Taylor underneath it — getting soaked and wet — as the water spelled out words like “No.” (see this video for the visual.) Funny, The Jonas Brothers also make it “rain” on stage at their concerts, except with hearts engraved in the water. I hope Taylor gets the memo and bitches about it at her next show. (Oh, those heartless bad boys!)
A memorable mention: The many costume changes — The show kicked off with Taylor and her crew dressed as a High School marching band and chearleaders ala the ‘You Belong With Me’ music video and later went back in time to the Rennessaince period ala ‘Love Story.’ Even on top of the extravagant costumes, Taylor’s personal wardrobe changed a good five or six times during the duration of the concert. I felt like I was watching Sarah Jessica Parker host MTVs Movie Awards circa 2000 all over again. (Don’t get the reference? My apologies, I’ll try to be more dated next time.)
My least favorite part of the show (besides the constant reminder from Taylor Swift that she will write a song about you if you so much as break up with her in a 27 second phone call, or just not like her back) was this bizarre pseudo-drum duel between her and the violinist during the encore. The drums were designed to look like stacked garbage cans, but were completely irrelevant to not only the song they were leading up to (‘Should’ve Said No’), but the entire theme of the show. To make matters worse, they weren’t even actually drumming! They each would bang once on the drums then dramatically fall to the floor or sway their heads in slow motion while creepy background music played. (Like oh-my-god, maybe the violinist was playing the chick that TayTay’s ex cheated on her with and the garbage drums were representing like—wait, no, you lost me at garbage drums.) The light scheme during this performance was blue accompanied by clouds on the screen, signifying only what I can assume is… I have absolutely no fucking idea! If they were trying to gain street-cred with this segment, they failed. Not even Oscar the Grouch would be amused. It left me absolutely perplexed, but perhaps someone can enlighten me on its significance… anyone… anyone? Bueller?
I do want to say that I was thoroughly entertained by the entire spectacle and liked the experience of seeing the number one selling artist of 2009 live in concert. My friend — who I went to the show with — said to me afterwards, “Where was Taylor Swift when I was growing up?” And that’s when it hit me; Swift is representing bubble-gum tween angst for the Z-generation… I can only just hope these girls graduate to Fiona Apple when their broken hearts and unhappily ever after fairy tales are all grown up. But for now, I guess they’ll just have to idolize a run-of-the-mill songstress whose entire shtick is to hold miniscule grudges for the sake of selling out places like Madison Square Garden.
Filed under: Popculture, Television | Tags: kristen cavelerri, laguna beach, lauren conrad, mtv, new york, the city, the hills, whitney port
Is it possible that MTV has finally found a show more dramatic than Laguna Beach and more vapid than The Hills? If this question was proposed to me a few months ago, I would have chuckled and flippantly waved my hand and said “oh go on” in my best Zha Zha Gabor voice. Unfortunately, if you ask me now, I would say “Yes. It’s called the City.”
The City is actually a spin-off of The Hills which is a spin-off of Laguna Beach which is a reality version of The O.C. Are you following? It’s a long line of crap we had to go through to get to The City. Never in my life did I think I would long for the days of 8th and Ocean and actually miss Kristen Cavalerri (say it with me now… STEEE-VEN.)
Whitney Port, Lauren Conrad’s former coworker and advice giver at Teen Vogue, has moved to Manhattan and took a job in publicity at Diane Von Furstenburg. Her co-worker is uber-snobby socialite Olive Palermo, and her boyfriend is a lower-eastside transplant from Australia named Jay. Whitney deals with conflicts that every New Yorker deals with… should I hang out with the peeps on the upper east side or the peeps on the lower east side? Should I take the luxury apartment in gramercy or continue to crash in my friend’s great condo in union square? Should I be nice to the girl embarrassing me in front of Manolo Blahnik or shush her? I know as a native New Yorker, I deal with problems like these EVERYDAY.
In all fairness to the producers of this show, they try to recreate similar dramas that have worked for them in the past. There is cheating, lying, betrayal… when you say it like that, it actually sounds good. It’s not. The problem is, these characters are completely unlikable. Whitney used to be the likable cast member on The Hills but as a leading lady, she falters. She seems to be really thinking about her lines, which for a reality show is not a requirement. All of her loyalty to her friends also seems forced… why befriend the past angry boss, the random skinny model AND the trust fund baby? None of these people seem to be a very good friend to you, Whit.
Her boyfriend and his roommate are the least appealing boys to yet appear on any of these faux reality shows. In the past, I never respect for Brody Jenner and Stephen Colletti but they actually were able to be cheaters and manipulate their girlfriends and still come out likable. Adam, Jay’s roommate, is not only a liar and a cheat but it seems like he has a hard time speaking coherently and being covered in pleather at the same time. Should those two things interfere? Should the latter even exist?
As for the reality of the show, well that’s laughable. Everyone knows by now that the term “reality” is used loosely. The scenes look staged, the lines seem rehearsed and the rumor mill has it that Whitney and Olivia don’t even work for DVF, they just come in once a week to film themselves at desks in the office. Some DVF employees have even been complaining that the filming disrupts the normal work flow of the office. SHOCKER.
There is one hidden gem in the show. Snobby Olivia Palermo has nothing on her hilarious super snobby cousin, Nevin. Nevin is an evil villain who at one time had a 9-5 job and his rent paid, but now crashes on Olivia’s couch (even after he previously trashed her apartment.) He spends his time stroking his small dog, judging guys on the lower east side who wear fedoras and can’t help but sport ugly shoes that are “super comf!” While he seems to have no malicious intent on the show, he does seem like the character I would vote “most likely to stroke his pet with just his ring finger and do a muah-ha-ha laugh.”
I have a strong tolerance/love for awful reality shows. If the characters are likable enough, smart enough or even just relatable, you can enjoy the show. These characters have none of these traits. The portrayal of New York City and how a young person in the city act is laughable at best and MTV should hire better writers if they are going create a faux-reality show. At the risk of sounding like every other critic of MTV, go back to music videos and stop shoving a camera up these young people’s asses. They already have a silver spoon there.
Filed under: Advice, Arts & Culture, Celebrity News, Lifestyle, Popculture, Style | Tags: bette midler, beyonce, cher, christina aguilera, cyndi lauper, gay icon, gays, joan crawford, kathy griffin, madonna, rosie o'donnell, sasha fierce
If there is any group of people who are kicking 2009 off on a good note, it’s the celebrities that gays go absolutely bat sh*t crazy over. Example: Lady Gaga went from being a drag queen-looking chick with allergies to pants to a legitimate #1 artist, Liza Minelli went from being married to an ogre and having a semi-anti-climactic comeback on Arrested Development to being a Broadway star all over again, Beyoncé went from being herself as Beyoncé to being herself as Sasha Fierce (quite possibly the most unnecessary alter-ego since Chris Gaines, but at least this b*tch provided us with the fiercest viral phenomenon yet) and Oprah is back on the weight loss bandwagon and there ain’t no stoppin’ her! It might be too soon to say, but gosh darn it I’ll say it anyway: Gay Icons could quite possibly be having the best kickoff to a New Year ever!!!
But what does it take to actually be embraced by a community that is not only fabulous, but also picky and willing to turn their backs on you if you just so much as peep a negative word about Britney’s comeback? I decided to put on my faux fur parka and silky weave and hit the streets of the Internet to figure out exactly what it takes to become a Gay Icon, so you can be on your way to becoming this:
1) Fashion Don’ts Are Your Best Friend: Seriously, if there’s a warrant out for your arrest by the fashion police, then keep on hiding from the po-po, because the gays need you in their lives. Remember, being a hot mess is still a compliment.
2) Hard Knock Life: It seems as though many Gay Icons were outcasts as children (see: Oprah, Christina Aguilera, and Victoria Beckham). If you were once an ugly duckling or jumped by your entire 4th grade class, then wipe those tears away because honey, you’re almost there!
3) Potty Mouth Trained: Bette Midler, Cyndi Lauper, Cher, Joan Crawford, Kathy Griffin, Rosie O’Donnell and Madonna are all broads who have put many Sailors out of business with their impressive swearing skills. Practice using f*ck, sh*t and motherf*cker in the same sentence and you’ll be on your way.
4) Drink Up: The classiest Gay Icons were also closeted drunks. Go raid your grandma’s liquor cabinet for that old sh*t; you’ll instantly feel like an incarnation of Judy Garland (R.I.P. baby girl)
5) Here Comes the Bride… Again: Either they’ve been married more than once or they’ve been in long-term relationships that are all shades of what-the-f*ck (if Chris Hansen existed in the 80s, he would’ve been telling Celine Dion’s manager-turned-husband to “have a seat”). If you prefer to be an independent woman, go get yourself a Stedman.
6) Don’t Give a Rats Ass: After struggling with a stint of hardships, the key attitude to have is one that doesn’t give a f*ck. If you have to shave your head and release an album whilst in rehab or talk smack on other celebrities whilst moving up from the D-list, just do it.
7) Get What You Want: Not all gay icons have to automatically be divas, but many are (J.Lo, I’m looking at you, homegirl). If you need that dressing room to be covered in chocolate, dandelions or horse urine, you demand that crap until some poor helpless underpaid shmuck gets it for you!
8) That’s Fat, Yo!: You have to go through some chubby/overweight/child-bearing hips stage at some point in your career. So grab the Cheetos now and worry about being sponsored by Jenny Craig later.
9) Fierce is Not a Word, it’s a Lifestyle: If you call yourself fierce, then you’re everything but. Wait until others coin you “fierce” before you start throwing that word around like you’re a Tyra Banks with turrets.
10) Talent or Bust: You MUST be talented in your field of work to actually even be given the time of day by the gay community. You can have as many rehab stints, divorces, tacky outfits and weight issues, but if you’re not a true performer, you’re ass is dunzo.
Do you hear that? I’m pretty sure it’s the sound of Kathy Griffin’s gays knocking on your door.
Filed under: Celebrity News, Popculture, Television | Tags: awards, celebrities, liquor, Movies, TV
Ahh, the Golden Globes. Opening day in a month-long masturbatory spectacular that Hollywood feels it deserves regardless of the actual quality of product it delivers every year. I’m going to be honest, I haven’t seen any of the high art movies this year, mostly because I am unemployed and waiting for a day I can devote solely to theater-hopping, but apparently, from last night’s results, this year is all about Bollywood and Kate Winslet. And TV I actually like.
Let’s start with Kate Winslet. I will admit that she is one of the high-octane actresses I pity. It’s hard to pity any of them, when they have stretched and sanded skin and bone structures a cat could envy, but I do manage to find a little sympathy for the underrated. I hated Titanic, but felt kind of bad when Helen Hunt won the Oscar for Best Actress over her. (Whatever happened to her, anyway?) And since then, she’s pretty much been on a roll. She’s one of the few actresses who manages to play more than one role (I’m lookin’ at you, Cameron), and both Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Little Children would have suffered without her. So sure. Give her an award. Hell, give her two, why not? Also, I will forever admire her for admitting how ultimately forgettable Angelina Jolie is. But Angelina seemed too cranked to mind anyway, so everyone wins.
Next, Bollywood. Or Mumbai. Yes, I am an ethno-centric American who hasn’t seen Slumdog Millionaire. My only familiarity with it, in fact, is that it was directed by the same guy who gratiously revealed Cillian Murphy’s junk to the world in 28 Days Later. So obviously, I’m already a fan of this guy. I never thought Who Wants to Be a Millionaire would be relevant again once Meredith Viera ushered it into syndication. I was wrong.
Finally, TV. I love 30 Rock. I love Mad Men. I love award shows that Tina Fey attends because her acceptance speeches always bring a sparkle to my day. Imagine my disappointment when she let a perpetually drunk Tracy Morgan deliver it instead. To be fair, I’ve been waiting for someone to call out Cate Blanchette’s obvious racism. That Aryan bitch. This means, however, that I’m forced to be glad that she won Best Actress in a Comedy Series just so I could hear her snap, crackle, and pop. And what did she do? Told a bunch of stupid internet trolls to “Suck it.” Damnit, Tina, even though they undoubtedly used language like “TINA FAY SUX 4EVER” and “I CULD RIGHT BETTER THEN THIS BICH,” you’ve got to keep the quality of your snark high. If you sink to their level, you’re only letting them win.
Like any awards show, it was about 90% boring, 5% heart-wrenching, and 5% infuriating. Why the hell didn’t Jon Hamm win for Mad Men? I guess because he’s so damn good-looking he doesn’t really have to do anything except brood, furrow his eyebrows, and suck suggestively on cigarettes. All right, so maybe 3% infuriating and 2% awe-inspiring. Why did it appear like the celebrities weren’t eating anything? Are they like vampires, who maintain the illusion of humanity with empty plates and dishes? I did see some wine and Voss bottles. Apparently they all maintain those skeletal frames through a carefully designed liquid diet. Liquor, water, and the blood of virgins. Take note, American youth.
Filed under: Popculture, Television | Tags: Bravo, Christian Soriano, Evander Holyfield, Kim, Nene, Real Housewives of Atlanta, Sheree, Television
Kudos to those who are so involved in the election process this year that they make it a point to watch every debate. However, for those who skipped another q and a with the candidates last Tuesday, you may have found another person to root for. I know I did. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Nene (pronounced knee-knee.)
If you don’t know who Nene is, you better get your ass onto the couch next Tuesday night at 9pm because she is the sassiest, fiercest diva on Bravo… sorry Christian Soriano fans.
The premiere episode of “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” did not disappoint. While the women of the Orange County may have been the most plastic and the women of New York City may have been the snobbiest, there is no doubt that the ladies of Atlanta are living the most lavish of housewife lives. From hair salons in their home to personal fashion designers, these ladies are HIGH MAITENANCE. And my main girl, Nene, is living large, looking fab and taking no shit.
I first fell in love with Nene when they flashed her name on screen and I saw her in the background snapping her fingers in a z-formation. Nene calls her son her pooh-pooh, eats fried crab cakes instead of potatoes because she cares about her bod, and likes all eyes on the most important person in the room… which is always Nene. While getting ready for a party Nene tells her make up artist “she needs her lashes poppin’, lips bustin’ and needs to look awake even though she’s drinking.” Mmmm hmmm, I always say the secret to any good outfit is looking awake.
In a true ‘love thy own self’ moment, Nene sees her reflection in the mirror shrieks with pleasure. How many women do that when they see their reflection? I have only shrieked with fear at the sight of mine. In a world filled with girls that have self-esteem issues, isn’t it nice to see a lady just loving what god gave her?
When describing what happens when she enters a room, Nene can only make the following sounds, “mmmmm, wow, and bam!” I’m sure if the cameras continued rolling on that moment there may have been “ooohs and ahhs” as well.
Nene’s bff is Kim. Kim is everything you would want in a best girlfriend. She has a ton of money thanks to her secret boyfriend, Big Poppa (Biggie? Is that you?), a great sense of fashion (partly thanks to her personal designer) and huge double-d breasts, which, in Nene’s opinion, make her a good shimmy-er. Nene squeals “oh Kim, you shimmy real good!” when she sees Kim jiggling her chest in her new $80k escalade. The best part about Kim? She’s got Nene’s back.
Like all great princess stories, there is an evil queen trying to take our heroine down. That bitch, is Sheree (pronounced Shah-ray)
Sheree is throwing the biggest party in Atlanta and only the cream of the Atlanta crop can come. She has a publicist and boxing champion, Evander Holyfield’s, daughter working for her on the party. She even personally called Nene to invite her to the party. But guess what? When the ladies get to the party, Nene isn’t on the list. Did Evander Holyfield’s daughter tell security about that error? No. Did Sheree act humble and come out to apologize to Nene? No. Was Nene pissed? Hell yeah, it’s on now.
What does the future of this season hold for Nene? One can only assume that she will continue to look fierce, work it, put bitches in their place and have all eyes on her when she walks in the room. And, if we are lucky, Kim will shimmy some more. Nene and Kim… possibly the best ticket out there this election season.
Filed under: Popculture, Television | Tags: dr. drew pinsky, fatman scoop, love line, man & wife, mtv, sex with mom & dad, shanda, trl
Now that TRL got canned, MTV is officially music video-free (aw, bummer). With an array of quality reality shows vying for attention (Paris, meet Heidi, Heidi meet Paris), MTV decided to also sneak in two shows about sex… Right, because those who listen to music also have sex and a music television channel should cater to those people, or else they will write angry e-mails complaining about the lack of sex shows on a music channel that stopped airing music videos years ago. Yes, that’s exactly fucking it! BRILLIANT, MTV, JUST FUCKING BRILLIANT! So, now instead of an hour of TRL, we are now blessed with Sex… With Mom & Dad and Man & Wife.
Let’s start with Sex… With Mom & Dad. Not only is the title cringe-worthy, but the premise is just as equally cringe-worthy. Basically, hot ass Dr. Drew Pinsky (of Love Line and Celebrity Rehab fame) teaches parents and their slutty offsprings how to talk to one another about sex. Apparently, it’s part of Think MTV’s sexual-health campaign entitled “It’s Your (Sex) Life,” but I don’t know anyone who is sexually-active and would tune in for this half-hour gem and want to approach their parents about sex afterwards. Aw, what a precious PSA that could have been summed up in less than two minutes and aired as a commercial. But instead, it’s like a fucked up episode of Full House. Not to mention, how many more episodes can you produce before this subject becomes redundant?
I’m barely ever home in time to watch Sex… With Mom & Dad anyway, so I don’t even feel like I should keep bitching about it, but what I was at home in time for the other day was Man & Wife, and Jesus-fucking-Christ, how I wish I wasn’t.
Synopsis from MTV.com:
“Man and Wife break new ground as the first married couple in the hip-hop genre discussing sex, money, sex, relationships, sex, jobs, sex, politics, sex, marriage, and yes, sex! Inspired by Scoop and Shanda’s www.ManandWife.tv, one of the most popular video podcast shows across the internet and a podcast that consistently tops the charts on iTunes, Man and Wife, the TV show, is one of those rare programs that boldly goes where no show has gone before. But make no mistake; this is not just a show about talkin’ dirty.”
No, MTV, it isn’t just a show about “talkin’ dirty,” it’s also a show that we can all do without. Honestly, just because this did well on the internet, doesn’t mean it will do well on basic cable… with a live audience, nonetheless.
First of all, I don’t need to see Fatman Scoops’ man tits and back rolls seeping through his wife beater right before I go to sleep; this is how nightmares are formed! And what the hell does fierce Shanda, and her crazy ass weave, see in him?! He looks like he smells 24/7. (I can only assume he is good in the sack, since their entire forte is talking about it, but still, not an image I want to envision… ever.)
And they lay in bed during the entire show! NO, JUST NO. I understand it may look “innovative,” and it may fit perfectly with the theme, but not only is it fucking awkward as hell, but having the hosts of the show lay in bed for the entire duration is going to bore the A.D.D. demographic the is attempting to target.
Oh, and the best part is when Scoop and/or Shanda make a corny sexual innuendo and the camera cuts to an audience member laughing their fucking ass off. I can almost guarantee that they shoot the audience members’ pseudo reactions before the show even begins so they have reactions to insert into the show when needed. Sort of like an applause meter, except not. And you wanna know why? BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT FUNNY!!!
And the fucking questions that people ask… LOVE LINE ALREADY ANSWERED ALL OF THEM…10 YEARS AGO…BY DR. DREW (geez, with all the fucking sex-related shit that he has done, I hope he’s like the second coming of Christ in bed)!!! And just because this time around the questions are being answered by a sassy bitch and her loud and obnoxious spouse, doesn’t mean it’s any different or ground-breaking. It’s just awkward and contrived as shit. It’s more awkward than watching Sue Johanson – who is a little ol’ grandma – not only talk about sex, but talk about sex while holding the newly released sex toys with her little ol’ grandma hands. And I was also about to say it’s more contrived than anything Diablo Cody could ever write, but that’s actually not true at all.
MTV: totally irrelevant, one show at a time.
Filed under: Celebrity News, Popculture, Random Shit, Style, Television | Tags: boohbah, Fashion, pierre cardin
I don’t know much about fashion, well, I really don’t know anything about fashion; but I do know what a steaming pile of shit looks like.
Pierre Cardin, a French designer, who before today I have never heard of, revealed his new “ready-to-wear” collection yesterday. Now, when I read “ready-to-wear” I assume that the piece of clothing in question isn’t some haute couture dress you would only see on the runway, but something you would be able to buy at a boutique and go out in.
So explain this. No, seriously, I’m waiting. Do you know what I see when I look at this shit? Pierre Cardin is a big Boohbah fan. You know the Teletubbies’ ugly stepsister the Boohbahs? Probably not; the best way to explain these bizarre creatures is to close your eyes and imagine giant colored testicles that float in the air, and somehow produce queefing noises as they flutter through their magical atmosphere. All the while their tiny human faces are wrapped up by layers of crumpled foreskin.
This is Jumbah, the blue Boohbah. Look familiar? It should, as it’s the same fucking thing Pierre Cardin “designed.” Now maybe I’m missing something, but does a woman really want to look like a giant queefing testicle with foreskin around her delicate features? I’m sure there’s a niche market out there somewhere for deranged fetishists, but is this shit really considered “ready-to-wear”?
Pierre Cardin doesn’t stop there, he has a lot more stupid shit to bring you, and it comes with even more blatant hijacking of pop culture. Now you might be thinking, oh he’s going to make some joke about Ms. Pacman getting her period here, but you would be wrong; that would totally be funny though so I’ll save that for later. Not many people are as well versed in early 90′s mascots as I am, so I don’t blame you if you didn’t recognize this one, but it’s without a doubt Cool Spot, the now defunct 7 Up mascot. Most people don’t remember the poor guy, he was a symptom of the “cool” and “rad” phase advertisers went after Sonic the Hedgehog became such a hit.
And truly rad he was. Cool Spot was one of my heroes growing up, along with Chester Cheetah and the aforementioned Sonic. He had the awesome sunglasses, the kickass white gloves, and the awesome “I don’t give a fuck,” take charge, get laid tons by other anthropomorphic dot logos personality that I idolized. Now seriously, look at these two images, is there any fucking difference minus the gloves? They even wear the same leggings as each other, move over Lindsay, Cool Spot was the O.G. of that shit.
There’s so much more to say and show, but formatting this shit is a bitch, so I’ll make it quick.
We have the first model in a dress that looks like Cardin raided his local Gymboree, took their collapsible kiddie tunnel and spray painted it gold. I wonder if any of the kids at the show were tempted to crawl up inside the model’s uterus, that dress is pretty much an open invitation to anything motoring on all fours.
The second model seems to be stuck in her sleeping bag. Who knew awkward mornings and nights out camping were high fashion?
The third model.. Well, that’s what happens when a shark rapes the “dress” the second model is wearing.
Sources: Agenies, Valery Hache
If you’re interested you can check out more of this line here, included are an homage to Sally Field’s The Flying Nun and the terrible afters of someone who was given gastric bypass, with incredibly large amounts of sagging skin under the arms.
Filed under: Politics, Popculture, Style | Tags: bangs, Fashion, Obama, Politics, Sarah Palin
It’s everywhere you turn. On bumper stickers, scrawled across trucker hats,(OY VEY Who the fuck is still wearing trucker hats) in commercials during a television show, staring from the cover of your favorite magazine. All with one resounding message: OBAMA FASHION is sweeping our nation.
Not since JFK has a political figure been so revered and loved by (most of) the American public. And fashion, ever a source of *unique* and “understated” expression, is showing the belabored symptoms as well.
The ubiquitous Obama tee can be seen on everyone from trendy hipsters in France to the glamourous Halle and trannylicious Beyonce strolling the streets of NYC…(minus her wig of course)
Other forms of fashionable political expression are not as endearing.
Honestly.
Who decided to come up with an Obama Dance?
…. Sure, maybe somewhere somehow it will inspire some poor lost youngster to vote… but you have to wonder: especially in light of the Paris Hilton comparisons, is it hurting or helping his campaign?
How long is it before women start coming into the salon asking for the “Palin Bangs”
or the “Alaskan Highlights”? Come on!
Not to quote Bring it On or anything (yea I took it there) but…remember young voters, paraphernalia is strictly forboden at the voting booths so remember to leave your trendy Obama Canvas tote bag at home on election day.
Just settle for the one you bought from Strand.
Filed under: Popculture, Random Shit, Style | Tags: bad hair, jennifer lopez
“Where in the hell have the gays been!?” you are probably wondering. No, I wasn’t having a mental breakdown or locked away in a psych ward nor did I commit any heinous crimes and spend a week at Rikers. (Thought if it’s anything like Oz I might welcome it)
I’ve been in the twilight zone….trapped between crates of shampoos, conditioners, cosmetics and hair dye.
Jennifer Lopez recently launched her new men’s fragrance “Deseo” (Desire for all the gringo’s out there) at the Macy’s in Herald Square.
and she showed up looking like
THIS
What, what, WHAT are you doing!
Honestly Jennifer Lopez. You make millions of dollars. Your ass is worth millions- so I want to meet whoever told you:
“GIRL YOU R SO EFFING FIERCE RIGHT NOW. GO OUT THERE AND SHOW THEM YOUR DESEO GURL”
YOUR BLONDE TONER IS FADING AND SURE THE LIPSTICK IS BLEEDING BUT HEY YOU’RE HENNEEFER LOHPEZ!
OH and don’t worry about your face looking powdery because that is so IN right now!
… Come on. Honestly. if I saw a woman walking around Herald Square like that I’d probably shake my head and say “God Bless Her.” I learned to do that hairset when I was like five. Seriously! Our Abuela’s now have a new style icon.
What I don’t get it is how these celebrities can leave the house looking the way they do sometimes- I know that backstage their handlers must be feeding them the “you look great!” “oh my god so fab.”
Examples:
From the glue in her hair to the animal fat in her lips she is one HBIC
Now, now. GOD BLESS HER. I love her, we all secretly do. but this event will be forever infamous.
But who.
WHO WHO WHO told this queen of mine that she looked hot going onto the stage like that. A real gay would have told her the truth.
Millions of dollars and all the luxuries in the world but no one will tell these divas of our generation the truth.
