Saturday, April 28, 2007

Beans, Beans, Good For Your Heart...

So everyone's favourite stuttering Englishman-cum-latter day cinematic bad boy, Hugh Grant, has been arrested.

We won't quibble with what he allegedly said:

"I hope your kids die of fucking cancer. Do you know who I am? I'm a millionaire."


because it's nasty whatever way you shape it. But we can happily examine the other facts about the incident, viz. the baked beans.


Usually, when one throws edible foodstuffs at another party, the food in question is either a cream pie, a la clown fun everywhere, or rotten fruit. But...baked beans?

Um...



It's just not rock'n'roll, is it? Now, rock'n'roll might not be the first thing you associate with Hugh, but that's simply because his made-him-a-star role was as a bumbling tit. Followed by any number of bumbling tit roles. But he played a Dirty Bastard (the type of man who'd shag you against the wall but you could still take him home to meet your mother) in About a Boy, Bridget Jones, the second Bridget Jones, that funny American Idol pisstake thang with Mandy Moore... The man has gotten away with murder in his entire public life based purely on his first major role.

This is a man who got arrested FOR BLOWJOBS as far back as 1995:

yet we still think of him as 'what ho, bumbling Hughsie'.

Personally, I think arrested-for-hooker-BJ is sorta rock'n'roll. (Although the striped polo shirt he was wearing at the time is not.) So I expected more from Hugh on his first Public Breakdown. (I am secretly hoping he will make a statement blaming alcoholism or Kim Basinger, as seems to be every celebrity's favourite defence.) Why couldn't he have thrown a punch? Or popped a cap in the photographer's arse? Or kicked him kung-fu style, instead of the Knees Up Mother Brown footsie-style kicks he delivered?

Instead, the man throws breakfast foods. From a tupperware. What next? Will Colin Firth hurl some Pillsbury Dough - removed from the tube and kept in a baggie - at a photog? Perhaps Johnny Depp will fling a couple of croissants at waiting paparazzi, or Jake Gyllenhaal will take to carrying around Tupperwares of cornflakes.

The thing is...there's no reason to have a Tupperware full of beans, other than to hurl at the pavarottis. If you have beans with you, they'd be in a tin, surely? You come back from the shops, tin of beans and a newspaper in hand, maybe a packet of fags if that's the way you roll. Or if you're on the way to a friend's barbeque, and they call you and say, "hey, we have no beans - can you bring some" you similarly would go to your cupboard and fetch a tin. Grant was returning home from a jog, so....why did he have a tin of baked beans? Is this his jogging snack? Is 'cold beans' the new celebrity fad diet? Or - dun dun DUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNN - was this a pre-meditated attack? These are the questions the police should be asking, don'tcha think?

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Who's Your Daddy?!

Alec Baldwin, the most famous and least tragic of all the Baldwin brothers (not actually much of an achievement, but we take what we can get), except Adam which doesn't count because they're not related and merely share a surname, left a mean message on his daughter's voicemail.



This tragic news beats all tragic news, both celebrity and real-life, into a cocked hat! All celebrities are perfect, with perfect lives and natural good looks and awesomely shiny hair, so it is naturally quite disturbing to witness a crack in their perfect facade.

Did he call his daughter 'sugar tits'? Did he yell racial slurs? Did he blame the Jews for everything? Did he flash his vagina hither and thither? Was his Blackberry hacked? Nay, nay -- he called his teenage daughter rude. I know. Somebody hold me, please.

Here it is in full.

The transcript (or bits of it) (thanks to What Would Tyler Durden Do?):

"I wanna leave a message for you right now because again it's 10:30 here in New York on a Wednesday
...
I go and I make that phone call at eleven-o-clock in the morning in New York and if you don't pick up the phone at ten-o-clock at night and you don't even have that god damn phone turned on.
...
I don't give a damn if you're 12-years-old, or 11-years-old, or that you're a child,
...
So you better be ready Friday, the 20th, to meet with me so I'm gonna let you know just how I feel about what a rude little pig you really are. You are a rude thoughtless little pig, okay."


Reasons Why Alec is a Great Dad

Adorably Scatterbrained

He doesn't know how old his kid is. 11? Or 12? Which is it? Who knows? My own parents have guessed everything from 19 to 29 when trying to remember my age: it's every parent's duty to be adorably scatterbrained!

He Can Control the Space-Time Continuum

More from the adorably scatterbrained category: Alec has to make his phone-call at 11 o'clock. The message begins, "it's 10:30 here in New York". Oh, Alec. Alec, Alec, Alec. You're a half-hour early! Ireland probably has her phone switched off and charging to make sure she has 100% battery power for your call! Silly Alec.

Also, he calls at 11.00 am. Ireland picks up the phone at 10.00 pm. He's in New York City. Let's use this handy reference to work out where Ireland could be, for such a time difference!
If it's 11.00 am in New York, and Ireland (the person, not the country, silly!) is eleven hours ahead (remember, it's 10pm when the lil' scamp picks up the phone - or doesn't, as on this occasion) -- she's currently living in Calcutta!

Teenage Kicks

Let's all cast our collective mind back to our teenage years... In the mindset yet? Try slicking on a little Bonne Bell Lip Smacker, cranking up New Kids on the Block on the stereo, sneaking a sip of vodka from your parents' cabinet, and stuffing tissue in your bra. Ready?

Mummmmmmmm...daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad....like, oh my god, you're like, sooooooooo embarrassing. I hate you! I didn't ask to be born!

Stomp foot, slam door, cry!

Ugh, I like, can't just answer the phone, I've got really important things to do, okaaaaaaaaaay? Like, Kevin told Alice that that slag Judy Fitzpatrick totally let the football team feel her up behind the bike sheds, even though she KNOWS I like George, so whatever, I can't believe this and anyway, I have to go shoplift lipgloss in Woolworths for Friday night's disco.

My parents, adorable scamps that they too are, called me rude and thoughtless on a daily basis from aged ten to twenty. Wanna know why? I was. Here's a sample convo:

Bring bring! (telephone noise)
Me: Hello?
Mummy: Hello, it's your mother. Can you put some baked potatoes in the oven?
Me: What, now? Are they already picked out and washed and stuff?
Mummy: No, just find five potatoes, give 'em a quick scrub and pop them in the oven.
Me: Ugh, that'll take ages. Neighbours is on. I cleaned my room last month, why are you always picking on meeeeeeeeeeeeee?
Mummy: Fine, DON'T then!
Click, brrrrrrrrrrrrr. (hanging up on me noises)

MY OWN FLESH-&-BLOOD MOTHER HUNG UP ON ME!!!11!1!!!1! Alec Baldwin ain't got nothin' on that.

He Shows No Fear in the Face of Technology

Since my teenage years are now over, and slap bracelets, knock-off Wonderbras from the market, whore shoes and glittery eyeliner are no longer part of my wardrobe, my phone calls with my parents are much improved.

However, I rarely answer the phone because 24 and Heroes are more important than phone calls. When confronted with voicemail, this is the kind of message my dad leaves:

Hello? Hell-ooooo? Hell-oooo? Is this your phone? Helloooo? I think this is your answer-phone. This is your daddy, leaving a message on your answer-phone. Will you know I've left you a message? Anyway, I am. Hellooooo?

Baldwin gets kudos for at least understanding he'd got the machine.

Babe

Pigs are cute:

The only thing cuter than that is Knut - it would even have been okay for Alec to call his kid a cunt, because that means "adorable German polar bear cub"!

Other People Are Worse At Parenting

Alec Baldwin is totally hot, which is not a defence but it is a fact. Also, he didn't ask his daughter to make out with him for free tickets!

Disclaimer: the following video will scar your very soul. YLBLT holds no responsibility for your committing hara-kiri after viewing.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Goosey Goosey Gander

Regular readers (I totally have those! My stat counter confirms that at least one person revisits this place on the regular, and that totally counts...except I suspect if I took a look at the ISP number it registered as that one regular visitor would be...me. Um, anyway...) will have noticed the old slack-on-the-update nature of this here blog. Once was the day I could merrily update twice weekly with thrilling tales of teen starlets and teen TV and other deep subjects. Not so now, my friends. I think I've become (shocking) an adult.

Not that I'm no longer interested in celebrity (au contraire), but the twin toils of full time MA and full time job (not to mention full time fabulosity and part time drunkenness) leave little time, oh so little time, for keeping up with the exploits of La La Land. (And LiLo Land, since Lindsay is really a country unto her self. They say no man is an island but where La Lohan is concerned one suspects this is not the case. She is a tiny island made entirely of a sort of white sandy substance, surrounded by a sea of alcohol.)

I’m going to turn into one of those oddballs who says things like "Tom and Nicole split up? You're having me on!" or "Clooney is gay? As if -- he's just not found the right girl!" or "Mel Gibson is crazy? Pshaw, he's a totally Jew-friendly nice old guy" and everyone will point and laugh at me. I will wear tights with feet and have a small handbag and think Nicole Richie is the fat one from season one of The Simple Life, and what are these "Eye Pods" people keep talking about, are they some sort of organic spectacles case?

For all I know the world of celebrity could have gone doolally! Lindsay could have turned over a new leaf and be in rehab, Brad and Jennifer could have split up that happy golden marriage (ha! I know those crazy kids will make it work somehow), the Camberlakes could have split up and Matthew McConaughey could be totally gay with someone random like Lance Armstrong. See? I'm way out of the loopy.

In honour of said out-of-the-loopiness, because I am never ever going to catch up on these important doings with my eight million jobs and commitments, since a girl has to sleep (and by 'sleep' I mean 'stay up all night watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer'), and thus I cannot reasonably hope to provide you (my one reader, which is me) with up-to-date gossipy goodness, I shall count down the best celebrity gossip ever. Yes, it's years out of date. Yes, you've heard it all before. But show me a gal who doesn't enjoy the story about Fabio killing a goose with his face, and I'll show you the black, cavernous hole where their heart should be. Lead on, MacGossip!

Life is a Rollercoaster, You’ve Just Got to Ride It



'Hi, I'm Fabio Lanzoni! You probably just know me as "Fabio" -- one name, like Madonna, Cher, and The Fonz. I think The Fonz might be two words. I dunno, I can't count. I'm just pretty. Wanna watch me flex?

You may know me for my catalogue work -- Gap Menswear A/W 1998 was a particular high point. I really mastered the blank gaze for that one. Or perhaps you've seen the covers of such luminary novels as Hearts Aflame or Comanche. I wrote that one myself -- well, someone else did the words and stuff, but I'm on the cover and it says "Fabio" on it:



Which is practically the same as writing it. I was also in an "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!" advert, where I turned in a winning performance. Probably because I really couldn't believe it wasn't butter! It was kind of greasy and yellow and you put it on bread -- it probably was butter, come to think of it. Nothing gets past old Fabio! Not that I'm old.

I just told you how nothing gets past Fabio, and now I can tell you I mean that literally. Lit-err-ali. Like this one time, a goose didn't get past Fabio. Oh, it tried, my friends, it tried.

I was riding a rollercoaster -- some people are afraid of such dizzying heights and masterful speed, but not Fabio. I'm tuff. Anyway, I'm right at the front of the 'coaster, surrounded by chicks, hair billowing in the wind (shirt on, since this isn't the cover of a romance novel and a guy has some pride; and I hadn't been to the gym in five hours, so you know: paunchy) when I see a goose fly towards us. Well, I wasn't going to take that!

I'm a hero, a lover, a fighter, a pilot, an author, a model, an occasional appearer on reality shows, a Zoolander cameo actor: that bird's ass was grass. It flew towards Fabio! Fabio thought, nothing gets past Fabio! We met in mid-air! We fought a mighty duel! The bird plummeted to earth!

Naturally I was comforted by a hot blonde chick. There's a picture of her here, dabbing my wounds. That would make a great romance novel cover. It could be called, "Gaping Wound". That sounds kind of dirty. The chicks'll love it.

So that's the story of my heroism. That goose was cooked! Ahahahaha! Please buy my new book.'

Thanks, Fabio, for sharing your tale. It was truly...well, it was truly...it was.

Next week, YLBLT re-tells the classic tale of that one time Crazy Sharon Stone's ex-husband Phil Bronstein was bitten by a Komodo Dragon. Stars: they're just like us -- they get attacked by animals too! Don't forget to tune in, same bat time, same bat channel. (Once a week, until I get bored or run out of ancient stories about celebrities to rehash or possible -- gasp! -- catch up on what the kidz are up to these days. Say, did you hear James Brown died? Bang up to date, me.)

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Running For the Shelter of a Mother's Little Helper

I'm really, really good at hangovers (I should be, having had ample practice). The desperate pounding headaches? Bring. Them. On. The gut-wrenching nausea? What-evah. The eyeballs that feel as though they were wrenched out and rinsed in acid before being shoved (in the wrong sockets, natch) back into your skull? Please -- that's amateur hour, baby.

I mean, obviously, ob-vi-ous-ly, I would prefer to not be gripped by any of these traumas, preferring instead to wake tender as a Disney maiden: i.e. small birds are combing my hair and tweeting whilst butterflies apply my lipgloss, and a fawn or other woodland creature is brewing my coffee, etc etc. Possibly there would be some sort of tra-la-la singing going on as well and my eyes would be big and innocent rather than red-veined and piggy.

But since I am a martyr to my hangovers, I have learned to cope. The headaches are easy peasy lemon squeasy: simply fashion one's pillows into a sort of head-shaped hole, and bury head in it until everything goes away. (An extra pillow to put atop your head is helpful at this juncture.) It also helps if you remembered to buy Diet Coke at the all night Holo-Costcutter on the way home from the tube -- simply rummage under pillows until contact is made with the frozen tin of icy goodness, and chug-a-lug away (supplemented by large headache pills, of the variety also used to sedate horses before they're shot in the head after falling over something at the Grand National) until headache is bye-bye. Simple.

As for nausea -- how is this a problem? I was a teenage girl in the nineties, hello? I know how to throw up, and in fact I got very good at it. Is there an adolescent alive who didn't flirt with bulimia? Not in the yucky, actual eating disorder way -- gross! -- but we've all overindulged on the food front and then tentatively waved our hands near our mouths in a sweet parody of Princess Di. (Every girl wants to grow up and be a princess, and what better way than blinking moodily through mascaraed eyelashes and pretending to throw up everything you eat? You can try the pea-in-the-bed route but mums get mad when bedsheets get messy -- and peas make bedsheets messy. Also, so do pees, as I discovered when I first read (and misunderstood) that story. Anyway.)

Sure, I never actually made myself throw up, because eurgh: but you had to go through the motions to be a proper teenager. You know: lock the door, read magazines full of thin people, think self-loathing thoughts (burying one's actual self-esteem temporarily, in order to properly get the experience), kneel by toilet...think "ow, my knees hurt" and "but I don’t want to throw up", unlock door, return to kitchen and eat cake. That sort of thing. So yes, nausea is familiar.

Eyeballs can be similarly dealt with as with the headache: close them until they go away. Note: this is not recommended for people with jobs / lives / etc, which is why you stop drinking tequila when you stop being a student, otherwise you turn into one of those "problem" employees who never turns up and spends all their time in bed wondering who they let suck on their eyeballs last night; and that way leads unemployment and from there it is a short and fast spiral to watching The Jeremy Kyle Show every day and eating crisps that have fallen onto your festering trousers.

The overall "gah! I feel disgusting!" problem? In order, you will need: Duvet (large). Television (quiet, showing soothing things such as Gentle Ben and Happy Days, not Resident Evil). Cake. Chocolate. Tuna mayo sandwiches on brown baps with salt-and-vinegar crisps and tins of diet coke. Sausage and bacon sarnies (on plastic white bread with margarine, not butter). Pancakes.

Also: Diet Coke. Coke. Cups of tea. Orange juice. Grapefruit juice. Apple juice. Coffee. Chocolate milk. Hangovers are not a problem, because problems are not things that can be solved with beverages. Try: "I'm getting divorced. It will all be better if I could just have some chocolate milk" or "my family died in a horrific fireball of death and wanton destruction -- lemme at the Fanta". You see? Doesn't work; ergo if it does work it is not a problem. You'll never take me alive, Hangover Gods! Probably because I'm nearly dead! But whatever, whatever! You'll get this Diet Coke when you prise it from my cold, dead fingers!

So obviously, I’m really really good at hangovers, and can handle whatever they throw at me like a pro. (Although I’m fairly certain the term for "professional hangover dealer-with" is "an alcoholic"...) What bothers me is the fact that I’m awake. Like I said, the headache, the nausea, the pain, the gross -- can all be dealt with. It would be just nicer if my body dealt with it whilst my mind slept. So that way I wouldn’t have the recurrent memories of the night before, when I...oh god, and then I...oh no! I did that as well...etc, et-oh god the embarrassment-cetera.

I can absolutely deal with vomit, headaches and mysterious bruises; the scent of last night's takeaway on my sheets, the phone number scribbled in eyeliner on my thigh. What I can't deal with is being awake -- oh god, the awakeyness. Like clockwork I wake with my hangovers at 4.00 am. Unless I happened to return home at 4.00 am, in which case I wake like clockwork at 6.00 am. In the horrors. The horrors, the horrors.

...

The horrors. Wake me when it's over, please. Bearing cups of tea.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

A Presidential Home Companion

Their will be votting in 2008, for a president. Young generations and old generations will have an opportunity for future ways to change the world. I am excited that I am the entertainment candidate for adequiteness.



This picture of me shows I love peace. Vote for peace and I will send a letter to the press showing we want peace to make a change and strive for peace and an end to tediousness, drama, and these accusations.

Are you willing? Does you want change?

There is, young, younger peoples, who's moms and teachers... they are anorexic and drug-taking and I'm here to be a roll model, to say: its O.K. I UNDER-STAND.

Vote for me and we can change ways of the future and make this world as adequite and politically morally and/or accusation free without tabloids and recluses.

This is my manifest. Oh.

Number One: Lindsay's Freedoms

Their should be freedom. I am not free, I just nearly witnessed three (4) paparazzi running over a children, I swear to G*d bless. All should be free, free to not be accusationed, and our vaginas must be free. So point one when I am president is that everyone is allowed to be knickerless because freedom is adequite and are coochies included in that free.dom. Also, their is going to be free coke and drink and munchies on my manifest. Oh.

The Fighting is Tedious

When I is presidential their should of been an end to wars. The fighting, the anger, the drama is tedious. In Iraq, in Untied Britian, in Afg in Aphgu in Affgannis in that cuntry next to the other cuntrys, we will make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves' (12st book) – and this will end of the wars and the drama. Because I am tired of rumours starting and I am tired of wars starting two (**).

Homelessness and Other Diseases

There is lots of people homelessness, and their shouldn't. Be. I am sometimes not without homes because the Chateu, the Sha, the Chatoo Marmoset doesn't let me lives their always. This is not right. I am going to build a c astle for the homelessness in a forest, and call it Fire Croft.

and Al Gore will live there with me; also Lord Lucan, Jimmy Hoffa the lindberg baby and others who I CANT TELL YOU.

Stealing

Yoo shouldnt' steal. People are just mean. I stolen from me a bag, with diamonds and bracelets and money and coke in it. Why would you steal it? Why? I am fully and eagerly prepared to learn why you accuse others of stealing. It is unintelligent and vulgar to steal so when I am president for my generations, and older and younger ones, there is and end of stealing.

Peace and Love Always

So there, you should vote for me. I will be not just and/or an adequite and morally u njust candidate but not that without trying. If we can only TRY. For the world, and our peoples.

Vote Lindsay, on for the better of your country.
Thank you and god bless, and Paris is a cunt my friend.

Vote______________________Lindsay Lohan___________ X

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Britney, Baby -- One More Time!

Birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it, apparently.

And what is Kevin Federline but a barely-educated flea? Yes, ladies and germs, I write, of course, of divorce. Or Dee Eye Vee Oh Aargh See Eee, as Tammy Wynette would have it.

Just as spring is the season when a young man's fancy turns to love, autumn-winter seems to be the time for young and old, rich and poor, beauties and beasts, to turn to one another and deliver those heartfelt words..."get the fuck out of my house, you low-down dirty scheming double-crossing &*$@*&!!!!". It's almost...touching.

Where every article on the hilarious Mills-McCartney split must be headlined "All You Need is Love?" or similar, any mention of Britney Spears kicking her dead weight to the curb must be accompanied with puns on the subject of "Oops...I Got Divorced Again" or "Divorce Me Baby...One More Time".

All Britney herself has to say on the subject is...well, sadly there is no official pop princess quote on the matter on her website, but there is a very nice picture of a tiger that occasionally pulsates to reveal a very nice picture of La Spears, and whilst I'm not entirely sure of the deeper meaning, it's good to know that Britney is still, um...queen of the jungle and likes cats.

Or possibly she's going for a "tiger, tiger, burning bright, Kevin ain't getting my money, it's locked up tight" theme. Thank goodness that she found time in her busy schedule of Cheeto eating, pot smoking and knock-upping to get herself a water-tight pre-nup. Although of course K-Fed's impending poverty may yet inspire him to glom onto yet another nubile, mildly stupid, fertile young Hollywood star. (Note to Lindsay: I know you like 'em sleazy -- I speak here of the Valderrama years -- but...run, don't walk.)

In any case, who cares what Kevin does next? He's toxic and Britney's no longer a slave 4 him! She's no longer a girl but she's definitely now a woman, if one can deem anyone a woman who chooses to end her relationship by text message.... Oh, whatever: sing Hallelujah! Sing Overprotected! Sing ...One More Time! Put on your tightest PVC catsuit, your tackiest hair extensions and make the dumbest facial expression you can, in celebration, all right!

This can only mean a glorious return to power: killer abs, skimpy outfits, giant snakes, identikit pop tunes, and, um...that other stuff Britney used to do. Matching denim formalwear with her beau! Too bad that ship has sailed, but er...pop videos! And...skimpy outfits! And...okay, mostly she was just about the skimpy outfits.

It's just been so long since Britney's done anything but sport bad weaves and eat junk food I've forgotten just why she was so fab in the first place. Were the abs really that great?



Yes. Yes they were. Oh, Britney. Welcome back. Please keep the current boobies (I can no longer rely on Lindsay to fly the boob flag, so it's on you), regain the killer abs, and come out with a super pop record. I see you've started combing your hair and grinning like a fool once more, which is all for the good, but baby steps, baby steps. Don't console yourself in the arms of Colin Farrell again, nor yet have another quickie Vegas wedding. Steer clear of crisps, chips, pretzels, cheetos, in fact any snack food that comes in a giant bag. Most of all, don't let the haterz stop you from doing your thang.

Is there something in the water? Reese and Ryan are kaput (who would've thunk that blond muppet would kiss goodbye to his gravy train so quickly?), the true-love story of Heather'n'Paul has come to a tragic end, and Britney and Kevin are no longer Chaotic - perhaps she just could not handle his truth. (Yes, I went there.) Is it divorce season? There have been few celeb pregnancy or wedding announcements recently. Perhaps it's easier to move in packs with these things -- you have your awards season, your sweeps season, your "oh, my fabulous new body? I eat burgers and never exercise, 'candids' on the beach season", and now your pregnancy season, your death season, and this current, the divorce season.

It helps to have someone share the attention (because we all know celebrities love to share that spotlight -- let no-one in Hollywood bogart the Us Weekly cover!), so when things turn ugly (yes, Lady Macbeth-Mills-McCartney, the world is pointing its ginormous collective finger at you) the next warring couple can step up to the plate; but better yet, it means that the minute you find yourself suddenly single, so do your fellow celebrities. I'm not entirely fond of the idea of a Britney-Paul McCartney union, but if really, truly, all you need is love, I see no reason why those crazy kids couldn't work something out.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down

Famous people. They're just like us, only thinner, wealthier and more attractive.*

*Note this final clause does not apply in certain cases: see Danes, Claire.

Anyways, they do tend to have more money, more babies, (more babydaddies, even), better clothes (or at least more expensive clothes), lots of free stuff, drugs, hookers, etc. That's why it's funny when bad things happen to them. One of the funniest bad things that can happen to a celebrity is that they fall over.

(And yes, I also laugh at chimps dressed in human clothing, birds walking, and pictures of cats doing funny things - humour doesn't always have to be sophisticated, and I bet if I write the word "titties" real big you'll laugh, so there!)

So, famous people falling over. It's rarely a less than joyful experience, and it's the kind of celebrity fun the whole family can share. Sex tapes and drug scandals are not really a fun conversation to have with grandma; but famous falls? Granny'll be laughing with the best of us! (Also, old people fall over a lot, so it's both entertaining for them and informative.)

YLBLT would now like to present the Top Five Celebrity Pratfalls Of All Time**.

**in this instance "of all time" means "that we could remember offhand".

In (Or Out of) Her Shoes


To start us off, let's look at an amateur effort from Cameron Diaz:



Note that Diaz never hits the ground, and thus this is never going to be a classic fall. Also, the lack of abject horror on her face detracts from the comedy. The whole point of laughing at celebrities falling over is that their faces make a little :-O of horror and they look all skewiff - by remaining resolutely upright Diaz has committed a fatal error. We are not amused.

This makes the grade though for Diaz's later cunning which sees A-list celebrities kneeling down and attending to her feet:



Getting Lucy Liu to be your personal servant on the red carpet is worth almost as much as an arse-over-tit fall.

Fall of an Angel


A more impressive effort comes from young Miss Church. Best known for smoking, swearing, drinking, wearing big gold hoop earrings and "my barbie is a crack whore" t-shirts, Charlotte occasionally sings. Here she is demonstrating the "drunken fall". This really is a comic category of its own, quite apart from the red carpet fall or the catwalk fall (more of which later).



We have the added delight of seeing that the celebrity in question is absolutely off their tits; we get their best drunken "huh?" look, and generally there is the bonus of scraggy hair, boobies flying everywhere and make-up sliding off the aforementioned "huh?" face.



Do You Prefer "Gravity Victim" or "Vertically Challenged"?


Of course the drunken elements can detract from the sheer, simple pleasure of watching someone famous look quite silly. They're not really aware of their surroundings and thus the combined anger and embarrassment that should be writ large on their face for us to laugh at is missing. Luckily, there is always a po-faced holier-than-thou teetotal PC celebrity on hand to fall or be pushed for our amusement:



Note the furious contorted brow, the hilarious flying hair, the detail of the knees going one way as the ankles decide that they will be travelling elswhere.



See also how the crowds of minders and security can do nothing to save the celebrity from the fall. It will get us all, eventually. You can't run, you can't hide, you can only wear sensible shoes and hope that this:



never happens to you.

If the Shoe Fits...Wait, I Said IF!


Speaking of sensible shoes, remember this?



Man, that was funny.

(I never said I had any witty remarks to make on the subject of people falling over. Like chimps in human clothing or gigantic cats, people falling over is a big cake of funny that requires no word icing.)

I wanna see it again:



Oh boy, that was good.

I'm Free, Free-Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallin'!


So, we've seen Cameron lose her shoe - kinda dull, although an A-lister attending a premiere shoeless has its own amusement factor. (Unless they are Joss Stone trying to be interesting and creative, in which case they should realise that foregoing shoes just makes them look dumb, along with their nasty straggly hair.)

We've seen young Charlotte stagger from a taxi - sadly although I've googled til I just can't google no more I cannot find the excellent series of photographs that demonstrate exactly where she THWUMP! bumped her head on the taxi door. Just imagine it instead and the effect is almost as good, especially as you know it's true.

Alicia Silverstone brought us the sober vegan fall, which is better than the drunken fall because there is just no excuse for such clumsiness, and makes her look absolutely Clueless (yes, I went there). Hilarious.

The Naomi Campbell-Vivienne Westwood effort will always hold a fond place in my heart, mostly because Naomi Campbell is very tall and has an elegance about her body, which makes her fall all the funnier. (The rule is, if you are short, squat and look like Danny DeVito, the fall will be merely amusing. If you are, say, Grace Kelly, it will be hilarious.)

Spring, Summer, Winter - Fall's the Best of 'Em All!


And now we come to the best fall of all. It is one of the most recent, and it's special for oh-so-many reasons:
  • We have video evidence - motion beats a photograph any day.
  • It involves so-much-for-sisterhood bitchery and a "screw her!" hair toss
  • All our other falls involved small crowds and limited space - this fall was presented on a stage, in front of thousands, on the tee vee!
  • It is followed by a helpful hand up and a confused look on the celebrity's face that is almost as brilliant as the consolatory pat on Fabio's arm from a 12-year-old girl after he killed a goose with his face on a rollercoaster that one time.

For your continued amusement (because this will never, ever get old), I present:

Michelle Williams from Destiny's Child signs her own death warrant (complete with Beyonce Hair Flick O' Hate)



Oh So Still


Poetry in Motion!
Clicky clicky for hilarious in-motion pratfallery!

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Tonight We're Going To Party Like It's...1998?

Let us assume, gentle reader, that The O.C. is a latter-day Dawson's Creek - only where stuff actually happens, and with more attractive actors, and a less twee theme tune. And fewer giant-headed man-freaks.

Based on this assumption then, we can predict the exciting future lives of wide-eyed O.C. starlets by stating exactly what has happened to various Dawson's Creek alumni and replacing the names of the WB actors with the Fox lot and hoping that everyone assumes (so many assumptions!) that I have consulted astrologists and fortune tellers such as Madame Olsen comparing them, scientifically and stuff, to the now pensionable Dawson's Creek cast.

Oh, if you're wondering where You Look Beautiful Like That has been for the last few months, um...well, I certainly wasn't kidnapped by a quasi-religious cult and brainwashed into dumping my loyal management and agent and then impregnated in a ritual ceremony deep in the bowels of a volcano! A ha ha ha ha ha, no indeedy, I was not!

Anyways, let's unwrap this bundle o' fun:

Bows and Arrows, Stars and Sunsets, La La La La La

First up, the aged and withered cast (and that was back in the heady days of 1998, when they didn't wanna wait for their lives to be over!) of Pacey's Creek:

Dawson Leery aka The Beek (Jane Van Der Beek)

The large-headed titular character, whose acts of passive aggression and homoerotic flirtation with his father failed to set the screen alight. The least talented writer-director the world has seen, Dawson Leery will long be remembered for the I Ate Poo face:
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
The actor who was unfortunate enough to portray this boring waste of screen space, Jane Van Der Beek, will be remembered for...for...someone help a gal out here. I know he got married, which...giggle. Who does he think he's kidding?

Pacey Witter aka Oh, Pacey! (Joshua Jackson)

The world quickly recognised the creator's error in not making the show Pacey's Creek, and teenage girls the world over soon settled down to ignore Dawson and give their hearts to Pacey. In return, Joshua Jackson gave teenage girls the world over...herpes. Since the show, Josh has, variously: spread his herpes far and wide, been briefly engaged to Rosario Dawson, dated a bevy of blonde skanks, and occasionally done some acting.

Joey Potter aka The Girl Who Lived (Kate Cruise)

Joey Potter, a side-talking mouth-breather, somehow managed to have Jack (until he got gay), Pacey, Dawson, and numerous others fighting over her, despite the fact that Katie Holmes (as was) mumbled her way through the role to such an extent that even after five years, I'm still not sure that Joey ever said anything other than "*crazy bug eyes* wzzawzza *shrug* Dawson!" Since the show ended, Katie Holmes rested happily on her laurels, fading into obscurity by getting engaged to the only person duller than she, Chris Klein. Katie Holmes is now dead, long live...Kate Cruise!

Jen Lindley aka What Did She Do To Piss Kevin Williamson Off? (Michelle Williams, No Not The One From Destiny's Child Who Keeps Falling Over)

Possibly the Creek's most well-developed, rounded character, with better hair (let's just pretend season one never happened, mmmkay) than the other female lead, (whose half-brunette half-ginger horror 'do still haunts our dreams), better fashion, better lines and better post-Creek babydaddy, naturally Jen was shafted throughout the series until even the advertising portrayed the show as a three-lead love triangle, with support from Jen 'n' Jack. Michelle Williams gets her revenge by acting in a series of well reviewed art films, getting jiggy with Heath Ledger, and looking beautiful.

Other regular and supporting cast included

Jack McPhee aka I'm Not Gay in Real Life! I Hate The Gays! (Kerr Smith); Mitch Leery aka The Flash (John Wesley Shipp); Gail Leery aka Did Something Die On Her Head? (Mary-Margaret Humes); Andie McPhee aka (Meredith Monroe).

Jack's Hot Gay Kisses! lit up the screen with as much firey chemistry as Teeny Tiny Tom and Katie Holmes have ever mustered, whilst Mitch beat out Dirty Den for best screen death by being killed by an icecream. If anyone has heard a peep out of these guys since, let us know. Maybe we could start a charitable fund for them?

California, Here We Come

Let's now leave The Creek and head down the 101 to The O.C., where we find another group of ageing actors portraying teens and twenty-somethings, only this time with better tans and teeth.

Seth Cohen aka A Tool (Adrian Brody*)

Seth Cohen, a totally geeky comic-lover who just happens to dress in non-vintage vintage-style t-shirts whilst showing no signs of acne or bowl-haircuts or other geek afflictions, is, according to many, the new Pacey Witter. Obviously those of us who remain loyal to Pacey are aware of the inaccuracy and lunacy of this statement. Given that Seth is the least talented artist since, well, Dawson Leery, and suffers a similar passive aggressive affliction (though we have yet to see, and I dread the day, a Seth Poo face), it is clear that Seth Cohen is the Dawson Leery of the show. And thus we can look forward to Adam Brody disappearing into obscurity sometime around..now, please?

*This is a joke.

Marissa Cooper aka A Cardboard Cutout (A Twiglet)

Resident side-talker, mouth-breather, bad-posturer and mumbler Marissa Cooper would have got on fabulously with Joey Potter, if either of them had self esteem or loyalty or any nice and attractive qualities. If we close our eyes and wish real hard, she might go away. Damn. Mischa Barton has become, well not popular, but well-regarded among snotty bitches for being the snottiest bitch of them all. With any luck, by the time the Tom Cruise-Katie Holmes marriage is through (5 years, if rumour is to be believed, and isn't it always?), Mischa will be ready, willing and able (read: good candidate for Xenu to fill her with thetans and brainwash her, or whatever it is the magical volcano of happy vitamins does) to become Mrs Tom Cruise IV.

Ryan Atwood aka Have You Seen His Arms? (Benjamin McKenzie)

As the new boy in the neighbourhood, and the only blond, it's clear the oh-so-bad Ryan Atwood is like a brother to the oh-so-bad Jen Lindley. And thus, if we are lucky, we can look forward to Benjamin McKenzie making many obscure art films and impregnating a slightly unattractive but semi-popular actress out of wedlock, and wander around looking more attractive than his male co-star on a regular basis. Hooray for Hollywood!

Summer Roberts aka McNuggety (Rachel Bilson)

Summer, initially a comic afterthought character played by the slightly oogly-faced Rachel Bilson, is our only true candidate for the O.C.'s version of Pacey. She's cute, witty, looks slutty and can deliver a line, which Sethmumbleymumbley and Marissawazzaduzzawazza fail to do on a weekly basis. YLBLT is aware that, by casting Seth as Dawson and Summer as Pacey, and what with the Seth-Summer (and Adam-Rachel!) relationship, it could be inferred that we are suggesting some sort of Dawson-Pacey liaison, but we're not. That would be icky. Any sex involving Dawson is icky, in fact.

Regular and supporting cast includes everyone's favourite space hooker, Julie Cooper-Nichol (Melinda Clarke), everyone's favourite Incredible Acting Eyebrows, Sandy Cohen (Peter Gallagher), and Kirsten Cohen (Kelly Rowan).

Will our California babes randomly leave the creek beach and move somewhere else entirely for the final seasons, thus rendering the title and theme of the show null and void and inviting cancellation?

So there you have it. The comparisons are hard to draw, mostly because I want everyone I like to be Pacey and Jen, and I am wont to tar those I hate with the unfortunate brush of Dawson, but on the whole I think we can agree that Dawson's Creek + tans, tits, teeth and plot = The O.C., and therefore we can look forward to, in five years time:

  • An OC finale show set 8 years in the future, when Ryan dies, Seth remains alone FOREVER!!!11!1! to run his comic empire, and Marissa and Summer pair off after returning to the OC for Kirsten's wedding to Jimmy.
  • An OC-film star liaison plus pregnancy (attractive)
  • An OC-film star cult brainwashing plus pregnancy (freakish and disturbing)
  • An OC bearding marriage, desperate attempt to revive ailing career, and obscurity (much cackling laughter from me)
  • An OC slutting it up around the world, cheerily spreading STDs and happiness to women everywhere (I would put my money on Benjamin McKenzie for this role, but due to heigh restrictions he's not allowed on aeroplanes without an adult to supervise)

Place your bets now! And congratulations to Michelle Williams (again, not The One Beyonce Keeps Pushing Over From Destiny's Child) on the birth of daughter Matilda Rose!

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Grandma, What a Big Star You Are

This week, You Look Beautiful Like That has been lucky enough to meet world famous psychic, fortune-teller and bon vivant, Madame Olsen:

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The 111-year old regaled us with bawdy tales of her heyday on the Hollywood social scene, parties with Truman Capote (the irrepressable octogenarian claims Capote stole his signature style from her!), gossip about her talented granddaughter Ashley Olsen, and demonstrated her fortune-telling talents for us.

(Despite appearances to the contrary, Madame Olsen is still fairly affluent - having of course predicted the stock markets' fluctuations over the years, and profited hugely from the Great Depression - and though we crossed her palm with silver for tradition's sake, she insisted on returning our coins - and paid for lunch! The 150 year old declared that she had never been in better financial health, and in any case, thanks to her thriftiness with haircare and fashion over the years, had enough put aside to have no need of our charity.)

My, Grandmother, What Great Style You Have!


To younger generations, Madame Olsen is perhaps best known for chaperoning great-granddaughter Ashley to events and parties. As she chainsmokes and toasts her starlet relative with a glass of sweet sherry, she laughingly tells us how the style she pioneered back in '01 - that's 1901, younger readers! - inspired by the paupers and orphans in the poorhouse she noticed whilst touring the UK to read fortunes for the suffragettes, has been adopted by today's ingenues, and claimed as their own!

"Of course dahling, they all think it's quite the new thing," she purrs in her odd accent, and lights her seventeeth cigarettte of the conversation. "Dahling Ashley - such a sweetheart, and what skin! Of course, in my youth I had quite the complexion - thinks she's doing something new and innovative. I haven't the heart dahling, really I haven't, to put her straight, and of course I turn a blind eye to her pilfering from my closet.

"Of course, were dear Truman here he would insist the look is his own. I'm sure he'd be tickled by the notion of young ladies adopting what he calls his style! All I know is, it works for me - people don't want their fortunes told by a tarted up starlet - but I'd much prefer to see Ashley in Halston or Givenchy, she really does have the bone structure for it dahling. Just look at us, her in grandma's clothes! So darling."

Here she takes a photo from her crocodile skin handbag and shows us exactly how Ashley is modelling herself on her grandmother:

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Old Hollywood


Madame Olsen can continue like this for some time, inhaling cigarette after cigarette through her engraved holder - "a gift from Audrey, she stole it from the Tiffany's set. She always was the petty thief, though of course Truman loathed the film. Adored Audrey, but then who didn't in those days?" - working her way through a bottle of fine sherry, changing conversation tack with every sip, and dropping famous names into the conversation like flies. It takes a moment or two to realise that Audrey and Katherine are of course Hepburn, that Truman is Capote, that Eleanor is Roosevelt, and Norma is of course Marilyn.

The Stars Are in the Heavens


Madame Olsen is one of the few remaining famous faces from the 1700s. The names she drops are now mostly long since dead, and as she mentions them, her eyes go soft, as if she remembers parties from her youth, her skin unwrinkled and her laughter free from from the cracks that plague it now, and she pulls her shawl close around her as if she suddenly feels the cold. Usually when she feels frail, of course, her granddaughter is there to support her, take her arm but sadly Ashley wasn't available for the interview.

Some of her friends - and enemies - still remain, of course. She was desperately saddened to see her compatriot, 170-year-old Kimberley Jones, consigned to jail recently: "well darling, really! I remember when a gel had to work desperately hard to get arrested in this town! I recall a night when Bianca and I were turned away from the studio, if you can believe that. I spent hours crying to Jack about it, so of course he took me to the awards that year, and I was quite the turn. I did get my revenge on that set when I read their cards for them, predicted ruin and destruction all round. One shouldn't abuse the gift that way, but fun must be had, otherwise quelle point?

"I once told Mischa that she would one day be known for her work in television! Of course, she was terrified. This was back in 1873, years before television - neither of us had any idea what the word meant, but it sounded so declasse. And of course now it's true! That should serve the wicked witch right!"

At this, Madame Olsen breaks into a gleeful cackle at the memory, which soon descends into a series of hacking coughs, which makes YLBLT worried that our new favourite 200-year-old is going the way of her fellow silent films star, a woman she refers fondly to as La La, better known to the world as Lindsay Lohan's grandmother.

Heartbreak in Hollywood


"Oh, dear La La. Such a shame. I don't know which is worse darling, losing Grandmother Kim to the big house, or watching my sweet La La fade away to nothing. So sad. The doctors can't explain her deterioration, of course, but I know."

YLBLT refreshes Madame Olsen's sherry, lights her a cigarette - her hands are trembling - and raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Madame - "

"Oh, call me Margaret, everybody does! Except Ashley and her friends, who all call me grandma," she recalls with affection.

"Margaret, why do you think La La is so desperately ill?"

"Heartbreak, darling, heartbreak. The poor woman lived for her grandchild, like I do. Dear Lindsay. Oh, Lindsay was such a sweetheart - she made some talking picture, Me Girls? Nasty Gels? Some such, anyway, when you've been around for as long as I have - oh I see that look, you won't find me confessing my age so easily! Me and Zsa Zsa both, we're very discreet - younger than Moses, older than Zeta-Jones, though not by much!" she winks, before continuing: "Anyway, Lindsay was such a light in La La's life - so vivid! Such colour! Look at that face! A real character, Truman would have adored her. But since she disappeared, well, La La has just shattered. No one has seen Lindsay for months - I suspect that grotty little boy, but of course I can't say that.

"La la has been so strong, putting on a brave face, and still making appearances, but then she was never careful with money, so she still has to do the rounds. And she has her girls around her - I never took to them, but Lindsay's friends have been such a help, so supportive and sweet, rallying around their friend's grandmother. But I don't think anything can help La La now. Just look - did you ever see an old lady look so frail? Of course," and here Margaret leans forward with a conspiratorial whisper, "I read this long ago darling. All the signs pointed to it. And La La begs me to do her tarot, but, talented actress though I am, I know I couldn't hide the truth from her for long. Too, too sad, and with Grandmother Kim incarcerated, and Mischa reduced to television, really, I'm the only one left."

She makes this pronouncement not with sadness but with certainty. Then, after she predicts a tall, dark, handsome stranger to enter YLBLT's life, she wanders merrily down the street with her grandson who has come to collect her, waving cheerily to her many fans, and chattering gaily to all who approach. A 350-year-old, a grandmother, a survivor. A star.

Fortune Favours the Brave


YLBLT's sister site, Brunette Fantasy, is pleased to announce that Madame Olsen is to be its latest correspondent! Have a question about the stars of yesteryear? Want gossip on the current teen stars, who love nothing more than an evening with the miniature grande dame of Hollywood? Or perhaps you would like your fortune read by the world's finest psychic? Let us know below, or drop Margaret a line at grandma.olsen@gmail.com. Her first prediction is that weekly readings will happen every Sunday at Brunette Fantasy!

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Hollywood Babylon

Danny: "You're looking good, Riz."
Rizzo: "Eat your heart out."
Danny: "But sloppy seconds ain't my style."

A Dying Breed?


With the announcement of latest pitter patter of tiny feet (presumably attached to one humungous head, if parents-to-be Bennifer II: Electric Bugaloo are anything to go by), celebrity experts are musing whether Hollywood has run out of celebrities. There are some schools of thought of course that there are already too many celebrities. People who think this are weird, stupid, and possibly smell. They base this random ideology on the basis that, if such luminaries as Bai Ling, Kelly Osbourne and Glenn Close can count as celebrities, we're casting the celeb net a little too far and wide (literally, in Kelly's case*). So what's the thinking behind the Ain't Enough Famous Folk complaint?

*I am not above making crass fat jokes.

Don't Go Breakin' My Rules


1. Celebrities can only date fellow celebrities.

2. Theoretically celebrities can date non-famous folk, but it is:
a. Unlikely;
b. Less pretty;
c. Not as fun to mock;
d. Only okay for celebrities to date civilians if said civilian is me**.

3. Because of Bylaws 1 and 2 (and sub-bylaws therein), celebrities are reduced to dating other celebrities' cast-offs. Which is tiresome and weird.

**Incidentally, Sean Maher? Call me!

Cheating, Bedhopping, Bartending Sluts!


Think about it, Angelina Jolie - is Brad Pitt really such a catch if he's already boinked Juliette Lewis, Gwyneth Paltrow and Jennifer Aniston? Clearly, the man doesn't play hard to get. And look at his exes: Gwyneth knocking around with Ben Affleck (who, lest we forget, is tainted goods himself), and Jennifer having previously been engaged to Tate Donovan...who was engaged to Sandra Bullock...who fooled around with Mathew McConaughey...who's now knocking off Penelope Cruz...who dated Tom Cruise...who's now squiring Katie Holmes...and on and on and on.

It's confusing and messy, and all it will take is one celebrity with one STD, and bam! the whole of Hollywood has herpes. Wait, that's already happened, thanks to manho Joshua Jackson. Speaking of, the celebrity bedhopping is worse than that of the Dawson's Creek set, with its alleged threeways, fourways, highways and byways.

It's all just too complicated for words. Luckily, many millions of years ago, cavemen invented pictures, for just such scenarios as this. When it's too complicated for words...draw funny stick figures on your cave walls in ugly shades of brown and terracotta. Or, as luck (and modern technology) would have it, run a google image search here, a google image search there, and viola! you have yourself a neato Celebrity Love Shag Chart with which to play popular favourite, Trace The Origins of the Genital Warts. Enjoy!

The Key


Relatives
It's DNA, assholes
Current or Former Co-Stars
It's a film strip, duh
Friends (Current and Former)
C'mon, what else picture could I use?
Unconfirmed Rumours of Sexcapades
He did WHAT to WHO?!
Unofficially Dating
Kay Eye Ess Ess Eye En Gee
Officially Dating (Publicist Confirmation/Public Appearance)
It must be love, love, love
Used To Date
What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?
Broken Engagement
I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts
Currently Engaged
Diamonds are a girl's best friend
Currently Married
Love and Marriage Go Together Like Julia Roberts
Divorced/Divorce Pending
D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
Bearding
He's so looking at Matt
Pregnant or Have Children Together
Aw!  Cute Wikkle Baybees!

Baby Bennifer Garfleck's Family Tree!


So, we start with the news that:
Jennifer Garner Aw!  Cute Wikkle Baybees! Benjamin Gaza Affleck
Benjamin Gaza Affleck I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Jennifer Lopez

(As a side note,
Jennifer Lopez What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? P Diddy aka Puff Daddy)

But carrying on:
Jennifer Lopez It's a film strip, duh Michael Fivehead Vartan
Michael Fivehead Vartan What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Jennifer Garner
Jennifer Garner Aw!  Cute Wikkle Baybees! Benjamin Gaza Affleck
Benjamin Gaza Affleck What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Gwyneth Paltrow
Gwyneth Paltrow I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Brad Pitt

(Brad leaves his own random trail of distruction:
Brad Pitt Kay Eye Ess Ess Eye En Gee Angelina Jolie
Angelina Jolie D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Johnny Lee Miller
Johnny Lee Miller C'mon, what else picture could I use? Jude Law
Jude Law Kay Eye Ess Ess Eye En Gee Sean Penn
Sean Penn D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Esther
Esther Love and Marriage Go Together Like Julia Roberts Guy Ritchie
Guy Ritchie It's a film strip, duh Jason Statham
Jason Statham What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Kelly Brook
Kelly Brook It must be love, love, love Billy Zane)

Where were we? Oh yeah:
Brad Pitt D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Jennifer Aniston
Jennifer Aniston I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Tate Donovan
Tate Donovan I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Sandra Bullock
Sandra Bullock What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Matthew McConaughey
Matthew McConaughey Kay Eye Ess Ess Eye En Gee Penelope Cruz
Penelope Cruz He's so looking at Matt Tom Cruise

(By the by, Penelope leaves her own trail of sexcapades:
Penelope Cruz He did WHAT to WHO?! Matt Damon
Matt Damon What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Shoplifting Harpy
Shoplifting Harpy I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Johnny Depp
Johnny Depp What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Kate Moss)

So, we left off with Pen 'n' Tom, which brings us to:
Tom Cruise He's so looking at Matt Katie Holmes
Katie Holmes It's a film strip, duh Michelle Williams
Michelle Williams Aw!  Cute Wikkle Baybees! Heath Ledger

(That would lead us on a brief tangent to:
Heath Ledger What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Heather Graham
Heather Graham What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Ed Burns
Ed Burns Love and Marriage Go Together Like Julia Roberts Christy Turlington)

So anyway,
Heath Ledger What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Naomi Watts
Naomi Watts C'mon, what else picture could I use? Nicole Kidman
Nicole Kidman D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Tom Cruise
Tom Cruise It's a film strip, duh Cameron Diaz

(Incidentally,
Cameron Diaz What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Jared Leto
Jared Leto Kay Eye Ess Ess Eye En Gee Scarlett Johanssen)

Where were we again? Oh yeah:
Cameron Diaz It must be love, love, love Justin Timberlake
Justin Timberlake What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Britney Spears-Federline
Britney Spears-Federline He did WHAT to WHO?! Fred Durst
Fred Durst He did WHAT to WHO?! Jessica Simpson
Jessica Simpson He did WHAT to WHO?! John Mayer
John Mayer What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Jennifer Love Hewitt

(Whose own history includes
Jennifer Love Hewitt It's a film strip, duh Neve Campbell
Neve Campbell What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? John Cusack
Neve Campbell It's a film strip, duh Denise Richards
Denise Richards D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Charlie Sheen)

Anyhoo, back to...
Jennifer Love Hewitt What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Carson Daly
Carson Daly What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Tara Reid

(Where do we even start?
Tara Reid C'mon, what else picture could I use? Paris Hilton
Paris Hilton What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Nick Carter
Nick Carter It's DNA, assholes Aaron Carter
Aaron Carter What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Hilary Duff
Hilary Duff C'mon, what else picture could I use? Lindsay Lohan
Lindsay Lohan What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Aaron Carter
and also
Lindsay Lohan He did WHAT to WHO?! Bruce Willis
Bruce Willis D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Demi Moore
Demi Moore It must be love, love, love Ashton Kutcher
Ashton Kutcher It's a film strip, duh Wilmer Valderrama
Wilmer Valderrama What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Lindsay Lohan
Yup, her again!)

Who started that tangent? Oh right, it was:
Tara Reid It's a film strip, duh Chris Klein
Chris Klein I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Katie Holmes
Katie Holmes What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Joshua Jackson

(Who also
Joshua Jackson I bet Lopez kept the wedding gifts Rosario Dawson)

But anyway,
Joshua Jackson It's a film strip, duh Sarah Michelle Gellar
Sarah Michelle Gellar Love and Marriage Go Together Like Julia Roberts Freddie Prinze Jr

(Whilst we're on the subject
Sarah Michelle Gellar It's a film strip, duh Reese Witherspoon
Reese Witherspoon Love and Marriage Go Together Like Julia Roberts Ryan Phillipe!)

As we were:
Freddie Prinze Jr It's a film strip, duh Image hosted by Photobucket.com
Image hosted by Photobucket.com It's a film strip, duh Courteney Cox Arquette
Courteney Cox Arquette Love and Marriage Go Together Like Julia Roberts David Arquette
David Arquette It's DNA, assholes Patricia Arquette
Patricia Arquette D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Nicolas Cage

(And don't even get me started on...
Nicolas Cage D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Lisa Marie Presley
Lisa Marie Presley D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Michael Jackson)

So,
Nicolas Cage It's a film strip, duh Maggie Gyllenhaal
Maggie Gyllenhaal It's DNA, assholes Jake Gyllenhaal
Jake Gyllenhaal What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Kirsten Dunst
Kirsten Dunst He did WHAT to WHO?! Tobey Maguire
Tobey Maguire C'mon, what else picture could I use? Leonardo DiCaprio
Leonardo DiCaprio It must be love, love, love Giselle Bundchen
Leonardo DiCaprio He did WHAT to WHO?! Claire Danes

(Who has her own scandals:
Claire Danes It must be love, love, love Billy Crudup
Billy Crudup Aw!  Cute Wikkle Baybees! Mary Louise Parker)

But,
Claire Danes He did WHAT to WHO?! Matt Damon
Matt Damon C'mon, what else picture could I use? Benjamin Gaza Affleck

Which brings us right back to where we started, with:
Benjamin Gaza Affleck Aw!  Cute Wikkle Baybees! Jennifer Garner.

The Year Two-Thousand and Fivehead



See what I mean? The same faces over and over and over. And that was without mentioning Renee Zellweger, George Clooney, Drew Barrymore, Salma Hayek, Eminem, Edward Norton and all the other Hollywood serial seducers. All connected somehow, someway, because by law (and by "law" I mean "on the advice of their publicists") they cannot date civilians. So we end up with this tangled mess where poor Baby Bennifer (my money's on "Matt" for a boy, "Jennifer III" for a girl) has a heritage involving Paris Hilton, Wilmer Valderrama, Michael Jackson and Carson Daly. The poor child.

So it's vital that we make more celebrities, and good ones, as soon as possible, to widen the limited gene pool. Because you know what? Cast your eye back over those pictures, and you'll notice an over-abundance of square heads, manly jaws and horrifying Fiveheads. If we don't run interference soon, that is what Hollywood could become. Our own children won't recognise normal foreheads when they see them, having only been exposed to the Hollywood Superhead. Is that what we really want for the future?

If you support Normal-Foreheaded People For a More Celebrity-Filled Hollywood, be sure and call 1-800 555 MOR SLEBS and pledge your donation today! A limited-number of closely-related celebrities are waiting for your call!

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