Friday, April 27, 2007
Check out his old album “Schizophrenic”. I recommend “100 Ways” (if you listen to just one song, LISTEN TO THIS ONE!) “Right Here By Your Side” (my FAVORITE), “Dear Goodbye” (Best Break Up Song Ever), “She Got Me” (Very MJ-ish, but not in a perverted, baby-dangling way), “One Night Stand” (Hilarious!), and “Come To Me” (it’s a techno song about phone sex!).
Also, check out his new singles, “Until Yesterday” and “You Ruined Me” on AOL’s music page.
Callie was whining about Izzie! Izzie was eating! And it was metaphorical! Funny things were lodged in a man’s penis! Alex was all…protective and macho. Bailey had a bit of a storyline! George was all stumbly and adorable! McSteamy was sexually harassing everyone! And Mer/Der were annoying the crap out of me! (All Patrick Dempsey does is whisper and contemplate stuff. Seriously. All Mer does is push people away then have sex with them! Usually in reverse order though. “Happily Ever…whatever” is so not good for ratings.)
I was very happy with the episode, and as they build up to Addison’s spinoff, I’m excited that some of the characters will get the heave-ho. Hopefully the writers can find the real “Grey’s” under the clutter of too-many awesome characters. Awesome ratings and I’m sure a ton of a pressure has made this season a bit cluttered and not as tight as the previous two. But “Grey’s” was back! (“I mean it’s not fish in my hoo-hoo, but it’s not easy ride.”)
George/T.R. Knight better not leave the show. I’ve been hearing murmurings that he’s unhappy on the set. Kick off Dr. McHomophobe! Let George stay. Everyone needs their own George to be there no matter what and remind you that “you don’t even have a penis!” because even doctors forget gross anatomy. Lindsay Lohan wouldn’t be so lonely if she had a George (See The Media Mishmash Part Deux below). Hell, neither would I!
Lindsay Lohan, who has been criticized for hitting the clubs after a stint in rehab, says she goes out because she feels isolated.
"Though it's hard in L.A. not to go out, it gets lonely," she tells Nylon magazine. "Being an actress is lonely, and I never want to be alone. I hate sleeping alone."
Lohan, 20, lives in Los Angeles, but she was interviewed in her native New York City, where she says she was staying at the request of her younger brother Michael, 19, and sisters Ali, 13, and Dakota, 10.
And while she defends her social life - "I work hard enough and I know how to take care of myself. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow," she says - she admits: "It's so much harder to stay sober in New York."
Lohan, whose film Georgia Rule opens next month, recently said she "felt safe" during her month-long stint at the Wonderland rehab center in West Hollywood.
At the suggestion of her therapist, she checked the place out and found "a quiet room, all white, with parquet, and it was different!" she told Allure. "I just felt safe. I thought, 'I'm going to stay here tonight.' And I stayed there. For a month. It was great."
Seee! I told you. Wisdom! Acting is lonely and New York makes you want to drink.
I think she’s a talented actress (although I’ll turn in my fan card if she ever tries to sing again, or starts hanging out with The Spears and the who shall not be named again), I just think that her crazy ass parents are more concerned with breaking the law and mooching off their successful children to take care of them. I also think LiLo needs to go to a real high school and learn some real things about the world. I’d love to show her for a small fee. How healthy is it to party a while you’re still technically in rehab? If it’s hard in LA, why don’t you leave? You could move in with Julia Roberts at her ranch in New Mex. You’re both fiery redheads with a streak of badass. She could teach you how to manage badass without the rehab stint!
I guess I couldn’t pretend to understand her life or the loneliness of Hollywood (sarcasm alert!). So listen to the creepily freckled LiLo, y’all!
The Hoax—Movie Review
I went to see “The Hoax” starring Richard Gere aka the legenday lover of women who angered an entire country with a sloppy dip and a few smooches and Alfred Molina as his brainy sidekick. The movie—about one unremarkable author’s escalating lies to write the “most important book of the 20th century” (the autobiography of Howard Hughes)—is an entertaining hybrid, both lighthearted buddy comedy and a dramatic exploration one man’s desire to be successful, important and powerful. It’s a buddy flick for the babyboomer’s generation that’s lousy with the serious side of infidelity, the common man’s lack of power, and how easy pulling scams were before the internet, but pokes fun at stealing files from The Pentagon. And Stanley Tucci’s in it! He uses the word “BALL FUCK.” It’s awesome.
I’m proud of myself for making it through the first twenty minutes of the movie without hyperventilating, because the protagonist’s first book didn’t sell and a powerful executive killed his second book that was an assured bestseller by his editor. (I’m in the process of writing my book, and have waking nightmares about my book—two years of tireless work—not even being published). Clifford Irving is no spring chicken, and wants something to show for his career. After he’s ousted from his hotel room in the Bahamas by the billionaire/genius/recluse, he spontaneously comes up with a plan a…well, hoax, and pulls the wool over an entire nation’s eyes with anxious Doc Oc backing him up.
The film prods the audience progresses an amusing, unpredictable rabbit hole, and when we emerge Irving believes he’s Howard Hughes, seduced by his character and accomplishments. At some point, you want him to get away with it. He’s fought so hard and crafted beautiful stories by bending the true emotions. At other points, he’s so painfully convincing, you believe he actually is in cahoots with Hughes and has been given the task of taking down a PRESIDENT. Gere is furiously talented and with an awful dye-job and a partial-prosthetic nose, he’s not the suave AIDS activist, but a lackluster Every-Man.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
As soon as I bought the unnamed CD, I was a music freak. Within a week, I was glued to MTV. I would run home after school and watch “TRL.” I loved the other shows like “Making the Video,” “Diary,” and a lot of their other music-based shows. How MTV—Music Television—transitioned from a channel that played a tons of music videos, and had shows about making music and behind the scenes of the ‘biz to a nauseating mishmash of reality shows about spoiled, rich teenagers and crazy guys hitting each other in the junk with bats with virtually NO music content is beyond me. (I flipped to the channel over the weekend and saw a guy flying off his skateboard and landing head first into the concrete. Because THAT’s entertainment, folks!)
According to the article in the L.A. Times, MTV is planning to diverge further away from the music:
In an attempt to reconnect with young audiences that have drifted from the channel recently, MTV will begin to roll out series that showcase the best of the Web, require heavy viewer participation and feature the lives of real teens. While YouTube and MySpace made noise first by trafficking in do-it-yourself media, MTV will now put viewers in the driver's seat by serving teens the entertainment they crave most: the kind they create. Internet pages about themselves. Video shorts they direct. Sliced and diced bits of movies and TV shows, re-cut into something new.
It sounds like it’s going to be a hot, seizure-inducing mess. I don’t know why I’m picturing visual vomit of drunk teenagers pantsing each and poorly filmed parodies of videos of that the channel doesn’t actually air.
It’s funny that with all those high-powered executives with decades of experience can’t realize that by pigeon-holing the entire network to the high school demographic, barely showing music videos and churning out shows with absolutely NO celeb-factor is why people aren’t watching it.
I could fix it! And I come cheap!
Source: "MTV gets a new program", latimes.com
Monday, April 23, 2007
This is kind of random things I think about while working on spreadsheets at work. It was a very frustrating day, so I decided to let my mind wander, instead of throttling my co-worker.
The casting directors of Disney Channel’s The New Mickey Mouse Club must basking in the glow of their overall awesomeness in castin’ abilities. The show ran roughly from 1989-1995 and boasted the pint-sized talents of Justin Timberlake, JC Chasez, Keri Russell (“Felicity”, “Mission Impossible II”, “The Upside of Anger”), Ryan Gosling (see: Fracture Movie Review Below), Christina Aguilera, and Britney Spears. Here are some little tidbits in case you don’t know who they are:
- Ryan Gosling was nominated for Best Actor Academy Award for the creepy, but surprisingly sedate, “Half Nelson.”
- Christina Aguilera has four Grammy awards and one Latin Grammy. She’s been dubbed “The Best Voice of Our Generation.”
- Justin Timberlake he brought sexy back, has four Grammys of his own, and um…he’s probably one of the best performers of our time.
- Britney Spears proved that you can sell a crapload of well, crap, with very little discernable talent and education. But I’ll give her props. She’s worked very hard to get where she is.
- JC Chasez is in my humble opinion one of the most underrated singer/singwriters that I can think of. He’s eccentric, sexual, has an amazing voice, and he’s gorgeous.
- Keri Russell is a fantastic actress. “Felicity” showed me how beautiful new York is.
I used to watch “MMC” when I was a quiet little girl living in Indiana. I was bored at school, wanting to be an actress, but not knowing how to start or how to even voice such desires at 10 years old. I would run home from school and watch the show, wishing I could be one of those kids. History tells me my life would be all the more awesome if I would have been on the show.
- I’d be rich: 99% of my problems and/or regrets stem from lack of money. If I had money, I would have gone to a better college, met awesome people, and not been stuck in Bumblefuck, Midwest. Oh, and I could start my awesome shoe collection!
- I’d be HOT: HAVE YOU SEEN RYAN, CHRISTINA AND KERI AND JUSTIN? SMOKIN’. Christina especially. I love her style. She’s tiny, curvy, my height, but has long legs. *guzzles haterade*
- I’d be a better writer: experiencing more would ultimately improve my writing. I’d do more crazy stuff and be able to write it as well as I want to!
- I’d be able to sing: Music was so freakin’ confusing me to as a child, but I love it now and love to be able to sing.
- I’d be friends with some hot, hot guys: Ryan, JC and Justin…Oh my. I’d make one of them my husband! I’d be Ms. Hot Guy!
Friday, April 20, 2007
There’s nothing more attractive to me than talented men…and this movie has two of them. Double the fun! I love seeing people in their elements, and Hopkins and Gosling were born to be actors.
“Fracture” is a methodical, beautiful, yet honest legal thriller centered around Ted Crawford, an engineer, tortured by his very brilliance and knowledge that his wife his cheating on him. He kills her. And he then takes a liking to Willie Beachum, a young, arrogant prosecutor one case away from starting a job in corporate litigation that comes with a corner office, a fat paycheck, and a hot blonde boss (There’s a crossroads here: a fancy life, challenging job, and fringe benefits out the wazoo on one side and then there’s a life of a public defender sending people to jail and making no money on the other. TAKE THE PERFECT LIFE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!).
There’s a mystery of course and a twist at the end, but the treat of this movie is the relationship between Crawford and Beachum. It’s a dark, sometimes paternal battle of wits (“Don’t make me come across that table…”) and it’s rooted in all things confusingly masculine.
The movie itself is realistic, but not boring. It is also filmed in such a way where sunlight silks through the shot, catching the actors’ faces in odd angles. It washes Hopkins out and exaggerates the cataract-silver of his eyes. It highlights Gosling’s flawless skin and Leno-esque jaw. "Fracture" is an aesthetically pleasing movie, easy on the eyes without the flash-factor of stylized shots or overly-staged blocking and dialogue.
The one and only downside of this film is that there is this mounting conflict between Crawford and Beachum, but the climax and resolution doesn’t hit as hard as the trailers and even the title makes it seem it would. After seeing the trailer, I expected to see them lobbing grenades at each other in the courtroom, instead they’re tossing nerfballs and water balloons. (The other downside could be that Gosling is never shirtless…WHY? Just WHY?)
“Fracture,” with its deeply portrayed characters and comical dialogue, is more than worth the overprice of admission. Hopkins with his facial ticks and lazy British lilt is both eerie yet fascinating. Gosling is just amazing to watch.
BRITNEY Spears has no one to blame but herself if she loses custody of her two sons and ruins her career, according to her father, Jamie Spears. In a statement to Page Six yesterday, Jamie sticks up for Britney's manager Larry Rudolph - who was fired by Britney last Friday, as we first reported.
Britney was furious with Rudolph for forcing her into the Promises rehab clinic in February after she went out almost every night for a month, posed for photos in her underwear with New York dancers and shaved her head.
Jamie Spears told us in an e-mail: "When Larry Rudolph talked Britney into going into rehab, he was doing what her mother, father and team of professionals with over 100 years of experience knew needed to be done. She was out of control. Larry was the one chosen by the team to roll up his sleeves and deliver the message, to help save her life.
"The Spears family would like to publicly apologize to Larry for our daughter's statements about him over the past few weeks. Unfortunately, she blames him and her family for where she is at today with her kids and career. Larry has always been there for Britney. For this, we will forever be grateful to him."
Britney told us via her rep, "I am praying for my father. We have never had a good relationship. It's sad that all the men that have been in my life do not know how to accept a real woman's love. I am concentrating on my work and my life right now."
A pal of Britney said the pop tart "had no drugs in her system when she was admitted to Promises - they [tested her] and there was nothing. She was embarrassed she had to go in there when she knew she was suffering from postpartum depression, not a drug or alcohol problem."
As for the bizarre head-shaving incident, the pal continued, "Britney's aunt had just died of cancer. She was feeling very guilty because she hadn't been there with her, she was overwhelmingly depressed and she shaved her head in solidarity."
A friend of Rudolph, who's hired high-powered p.r. man Allan Mayer, said, "Britney obviously has a lot of issues . . . Larry's trying to lay low and letting her act out, but . . . he doesn't want to see her wind up like Anna Nicole Smith. He won't get into a public fight with her - yet. This is about saving her from herself." Mayer had no comment.
Britney freakin’ Spears. When I was 16, she was the coolest thing in the world. I was young, barely into music and didn’t know girls my age could sing and dance and get record deals all on their very own. By the time I was 17, she had nothing on Christina Aguilera and never would. At 19, she broke Justin Timberlake’s heart and began to lose her damn mind. Finally, at 25, the woman just needs Jesus.
I’m not one of those evil critics that want to pounce on and broadcast every mistake a celebrity makes, especially the paparazzi-magnet that is B-Fed, but the things she does are things most of us learned were yucky at the age of five: never go barefoot in gas station bathrooms; never let boys see up your skirt; never share underwear with goo-goo dancers. Spears’ life is more entertaining than her poor attempts at singing ever could be. It has all the elements of a soap opera; there’s heartbreak, affairs, public puking and nudity, bad hygiene, head shaving and Vegas marriage and a driving with a baby on her lap! The writers of “Passions” need to hire her STAT!
America seemed to watch, captivated, as she went to rehab, then left, then went to another one and left, and then was forced to go back. I grew up in the *vomits* Age of Britney and sometimes it feels like she’s the badgirl in your graduating class that dated your crush and didn’t go to college. You want to see how bad she’ll end up, because you’re wired to follow the rules and she thrived on breaking them.
Daddy Spears has highlighted some very troubling issues: 1) Her manager was chosen to push her into rehab. Not her mother, father, siblings or friends. Her MANAGER. (Mama Spears and Mama Lohan need to start a support group! They teach each other the art of mooching off of their kids!) 2) She’s pissed off that she was made to go to rehab when she didn’t think she needed to go, and wants to concentrate on her work….um, what about the babies? Remember them? You ran to PEOPLE magazine every other month to tell them you were soooooooooooo happy when you first had them? 3) YOU CAN’T HANDLE A REAL WOMAN’S LOVE, Y’ALL!
She needs to be sent back to rehab for that comment alone.
Ultimately, Britney’s got issues and she seems HAPPY with her issues and that is scary and not at all funny. Love her or hate her, no one wants her to end up like Anna Nicole Smith.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
I was so excited to start this blog that I never took the time to introduce myself.
I’m K. Not the dude from “Men in Black,” but just K for now. I’d like to pretend I’m all exclusive and mysterious, because I assure you the mystery is more exciting than the answer. I promise. I, K, have wanted to start this blog for a long time and thought I’d take a minute to make a proper introduction. I’m an opinionated, stubborn female and I don’t really like it when people disagree with me. (I mean, really, I don’t…try it and see what happens.)
K could stand for kontradiction, because I’m a walking contradiction. I love pop culture, and I even have a shiny journalism degree of my very own currently collecting dust in my bedroom to prove it, but I sometimes hate the industry. I think I’m the only journalist that wants to crawl under the covers when tragedies like the Virginia Tech Massacre happen. My heart aches for everyone involved, but shoving cameras in people’s faces and asking them how they feel after witnessing a massacre seems exploitive and invasive to me. Consequently, my restless, hyper ass has been relegated to a *gulp* 9-to-5 job where I’m chained to a cubicle eight hours a day building at 3,000-cell spreadsheets. (Excuse me, I just vomited in my mouth.) I’m currently working on the Great American Chick Lit Novel, but until that sells and makes me a fat fortune, I’m Queen Excel.
I hate Britney Spears, yet I’m fascinated by the media hurricane she stirs up. There might be a few Britney-related rants, so I’m warning y’all now!
I hate Paris Hilton, and unless she goes to jail, this is the one and only mention of her in my domain, my closet.
To make a long list short, I’m not big on any celebrity that’s famous for being rich or because they have famous parents and/or no discernable talent.
I pretty much gobble up everything related to pop culture. I always have. And now, it is my savior during the workday.
So that’s me! More dish coming soon! Weee!
**turns off light*
Friday, April 13, 2007
Three little words launched a national debate about hip-hop culture’s treatment of women, the history of the word “nappy,” and begged the question: What happened to free speech?
I stewed angrily. I was LIVID. In my 25 years as both a woman and a minority, I have been called a nigger, a slave (in front of my class of all white students in the fifth grade), an Oreo (black in the outside; white on the inside) to name a few. I know how it feels to seeth and boil and hate that history has mounted against you to create this entire canon of bigotry. It is the ultimate in double standards that one doesn’t exist for whites. I cannot, however, ever imagine how they handled that national kick in the gut after placing second in the nation in collegiate basketball. This is mortification on a global scale. And I applaud them for handling it like strong, intelligent women, even though they are teenagers.
I will be honest to say that before this debacle, I have never heard of Imus, probably because I'm not white or 112, I don't fall into his target audience. Plus I all but stopped listening to radio with the advent of the iPod and when it sold its soul to the caterwauling of Britney Spears.
After he was fired by both MSNBC and CBS, I have come to two conclusions: Imus was a scapegoat and freedom of speech is very much alive and kickin’.
I don’t to wax racist about the rantings of Mel Gibson, Michael Richards and even Isaiah Washington, because we all know hatred, outrage, yada, yada, yada. Imus is the first person to be in the position to punish. I boycotted Gibson’s “Apocalypto” (even though I probably wouldn’t have seen it in the theater). I boycotted “Seinfeld” (even though I didn’t watch it in the first place) and loved the nickname “KuKluxKramer.” I did watch “Grey’s” (BEST. SHOW. EVER. SERIOUSLY!) but I swear I glared at Dr. Burke every time and pretended not to listen to him. But Imus had a job. He was a repeat offender, and Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson and company were angry that this kept happening with no consequences. I’m not going to pretend that money wasn’t a factor in his firing. Once Procter and Gamble pulled its ads, it was inevitable. In the end, I’m glad he was fired.
There are a lot of people shrugging and scoffing, “what’s the big deal?” There are a lot of people jumping up and down and pointing fingers hollering, “rappers say it all the time!” And then there are people on their soapboxes, pointing wildly to the First Amendment. Freedom of speech is a wonderful thing. I wouldn’t be a writer if I didn’t believe that we have the right to say anything. I am not going to say that someone can’t be a racist. Hate all you want. But the First Amendment doesn’t protect what happens after you say whatever you want to say. There are always consequences. Words like “nappy” and “nigger” are triggers. Just typing it caused a flare of pain in my gut and my heart. Imus said what he said using his freedom, and the people responded using that same freedom. More people wanted him gone, punished than didn’t—democracy at its finest.
There is also a huge difference in broadcasting your bigotry to friends and broadcasting it to the nation on airwaves that belong to a corporation.
I’m not worried about Imus. He’ll either retire or go to rehab…it fixes everything! I do wish, however, that people will stop talking about this incident, and congratulate the Scarlet Knights on their accomplishments and their courage under the scrutiny of a nation.