So...finally get around to reading this issue. I generally disagree with People's decisions, although I'm not really especially picky, nor do I actually really care, but I tend to shy away from the more "obvious" choices.
This year's sexiest: Matt Damon. Okay. Do not find him sexy. But I do love the fact that he has a non-celebrity wife, and I also love the fact that I had NO IDEA he had TWO daughters. Love that he keeps his fam out of the spotlight.
Also love the fact that he seems really...REAL...especially when hangin' with one of my all-time favourite sexiest men alive...Ben Affleck, whose letter to People is totally hilarious. Ben is kind of the full package to me: the funny, funny family man, who went through a whole whack of ridiculous phases (I loved them all...even blinged out Ben) and is all comfy in his skin now.
Patrick Dempsey: Way back in Can't Buy Me Love, absolutely. Even better: Loverboy. Now...I realize it's the character...but he's just wayyyyy too broody - I'm so over the sad eyes. (Of course, I've been fully sucked into the hype of the other Dr. Shephard, who was completely overlooked, but will likely be on the 2008 list...)
Would love to offer complete commentary on just about every picture in this spread, because I just know that all the male celebrities of the world are just dying to know how to bring sexy back (to my specifications), but I do need to leave some mystery in the world.
But allow me to wonder how the H the truly, madly, deeply sexy (not to mention locally-grown!) Ryan Reynolds made the grade, and yet I have to keep re-watching Just Friends to get my fix! (Haven't seen it? It's not rocket science, but you will pee your pants laughing.) He's the BEST kinda sexy - FunnySexy! So bring him back, yo!
Footnote on RR: I have to say I liked it better when he was dating Alanis...Dating ScarJo seems like some kind of Hollywood publicity set-up...but at least we're seeing more of him.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
America: Can we trust you?
Okay. I know it's not "cool" to love America, but generally I do. I love their tv shows, their stores (sorry, Roots), and their ingenunity in finding new places in which to stuff cheese.
However, lately, I have been confused by several of America's decisions. I know that America itself did not specifically select the lazy-eyebrow-afflicted* Eric to be it's Player on this season's Big Brother (8, if you're counting). Nor do they pick the inane tasks that America's Player must perform. However, while America's early selections were dead-on (climbing into bed with Joe - well duh), or at least challenging (give the silent treatment to - gasp - Jessica? But she's my closest alliance!) - as the show's editing has shown Eric to be increasingly annoying and creepy, America decides to go easy on him? Giving him a chance to get closer to Jessica by passing on the woobie = barf. Although it made me fall a little bit in love with Zach and his extremely odd behaviour.
But the real reason that America has totally freaked me out is that it appears that America feels that a ventriloquist best represents its talent sector. No shit. A freaking puppeteer. Who apparently "hopes to bring back ventriloquism". America, I'll deal with you later. First of all. Puppet dude. There is a reason that ventriloquism is dead. Because it's weird and creepy. Puppets on their own are okay. Who doesn't love Fraggle Rock? But when I can see you with your hand up a puppet's butt and the entire show is basically you talking to yourself, it's just uncomfortable. Now I'm not saying you don't have talent. While I've never tried it, I'm sure that having the puppet sing while you drink a glass of water is tricky. But are you really the most talented person in America? No offense, but I watch a lot of Youtube and I'm going to have to give you a pass on that one.
America: It's not like there was no other talent on stage. I know you already have a show for singers. (By the way, so do we! Cool, huh? Unfortunately, like most Canadian rip-offs, it sucks.) And I'm not too sure about what, specifically, Butterscotch's talent was, or whether it was fair at all to do a final performance with the number one artist of the summer. But that other dude? He was really good!! And he may not have made it on American Idol, because, let's face it, he doesn't have what's called "the look" (because Clay Aiken TOTALLY has the look).
Anyway, America, you do have a chance to redeem yourself. PLEASE MAKE ERIC KISS ZACH!
*I prefer to think that one eyebrow is simply lazy, as opposed to the other eyebrow suffering from some kind of epilepsy, which appears to be the only other possible explanation. Yet, I do believe that one day, his left eyebrow will prevail and join the right one skewed at an impossible angle up on his forehead near where the curl-hawk used to nest.
**I really need to make it known that while I do watch Big Brother 8, I absolutely do not watch freakshows like America's Got Talent. I just happened to be flipping through the channels with absolutely everything being a repeat, and was first riveted by "Butterscotch", because I thought she was Ciara, and hey, where Ciara at? Then I got sucked into the drama of it all when I flipped through again and heard the drumroll.
***Jerry Springer: WTF?!!
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
I don't really want to like Fergie
I was loving this new song on the radio, and thinking how the voice was a LITTLE familiar (Pink). But I really, really liked it, as in, "pay 99 cents on iTunes to purchase the song even though it's on high play on the radio" like it.
(Unlike the Rihanna/Jay-Z song, which went from mildly annoying, to stuck in my head, to me liking it...but I am sure that the radio will beat the crap out of it soon enough...)
But I could never figure out who was singing it. I actually said "no way" out loud in the car when they were saying it's Fergie. Which guarantees it will get the crap played out of it, but maybe it will be one of those songs, like "Irreplaceable" or "What Goes Around" that I seriously cannot get sick of.
I really want to dislike Fergie, her physical appearance scares the crap out of me for one thing. But more importantly, most of her songs are all about lady lumps and using them to get boys spending money...even if that's not the song's main focus, a Fergie song is guaranteed to have at least one line that makes me say, "Is she really singing about that?" with a scrunched up face. And when you have to wonder what the metaphor is really about (um, London Bridge?) you know it's super dirty!!
But I do find myself head-bopping a little to the (usually borrowed) beats and somewhat clever rhymes, and I guess I can pretend it's about female empowerment in the same way that the Pussycat Dolls keep saying that they are.
Or maybe I can not take it all so seriously?!
Postscript...Um, I can only find the "explicit" version on iTunes, so I'm sure I'll be mildly offended by some of the content. But I'll leave all the indignation to Oprah and her town hall meetings. This is somehow all Russell Simmons' fault, isn't it?
(Unlike the Rihanna/Jay-Z song, which went from mildly annoying, to stuck in my head, to me liking it...but I am sure that the radio will beat the crap out of it soon enough...)
But I could never figure out who was singing it. I actually said "no way" out loud in the car when they were saying it's Fergie. Which guarantees it will get the crap played out of it, but maybe it will be one of those songs, like "Irreplaceable" or "What Goes Around" that I seriously cannot get sick of.
I really want to dislike Fergie, her physical appearance scares the crap out of me for one thing. But more importantly, most of her songs are all about lady lumps and using them to get boys spending money...even if that's not the song's main focus, a Fergie song is guaranteed to have at least one line that makes me say, "Is she really singing about that?" with a scrunched up face. And when you have to wonder what the metaphor is really about (um, London Bridge?) you know it's super dirty!!
But I do find myself head-bopping a little to the (usually borrowed) beats and somewhat clever rhymes, and I guess I can pretend it's about female empowerment in the same way that the Pussycat Dolls keep saying that they are.
Or maybe I can not take it all so seriously?!
Postscript...Um, I can only find the "explicit" version on iTunes, so I'm sure I'll be mildly offended by some of the content. But I'll leave all the indignation to Oprah and her town hall meetings. This is somehow all Russell Simmons' fault, isn't it?
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
America's Next Top Model...cycle 92
If you know me, you know I love reality TV. But even I have relegated America's Next Top Model to the Sunday night repeats.
Clearly, they have run out of gimmicks. Tonight's episodes features "how Twiggy got her name", and the wanna-be models have to come up with their own nicknames.
I have this love-hate relationship with Tyra, you know I have to give her props for being herself, even though her self is totally weird and awkward. So is mine, girlfriend, so go on with your bad self! (let's keep the steppin' moves - or any dancing, for that matter - off-camera, kay?)
But anyway, isn't what defines a model looking good in pictures and on the runway? I especially get annoyed when it comes down to that ridiculous final 2 where Tyra makes the spiel about "One of you looks perfect in every picture, but isn't showing me any personality; the other takes crap pictures, but we really like her. So which one goes home?" Translation: one of you makes for good drama TV (crack baby, anyone?) and the other is just an awesome model, but keeps to herself and doesn't wreak havoc in the house.
I suppose that Tyra Banks just possibly might know a bit more than I do about what makes a top model, I just find it incredibly difficult to believe that when you walk into an agency, they're all "so what is your nickname?"
Clearly, they have run out of gimmicks. Tonight's episodes features "how Twiggy got her name", and the wanna-be models have to come up with their own nicknames.
I have this love-hate relationship with Tyra, you know I have to give her props for being herself, even though her self is totally weird and awkward. So is mine, girlfriend, so go on with your bad self! (let's keep the steppin' moves - or any dancing, for that matter - off-camera, kay?)
But anyway, isn't what defines a model looking good in pictures and on the runway? I especially get annoyed when it comes down to that ridiculous final 2 where Tyra makes the spiel about "One of you looks perfect in every picture, but isn't showing me any personality; the other takes crap pictures, but we really like her. So which one goes home?" Translation: one of you makes for good drama TV (crack baby, anyone?) and the other is just an awesome model, but keeps to herself and doesn't wreak havoc in the house.
I suppose that Tyra Banks just possibly might know a bit more than I do about what makes a top model, I just find it incredibly difficult to believe that when you walk into an agency, they're all "so what is your nickname?"
Monday, March 19, 2007
Wal-Mart (and why I can't shop there)
So we took Benson for his photos on Saturday. Yes, Saturday at the Langley Wal-Mart. Brave souls, indeed!
It took a while getting in, as the family before us had 3 little kids. I can't even imagine trying to organize that photo. We sat in the lobby watching the interesting procession of shoppers. I swear, every 4th person was on an oxygen tank. What is up with that?!
The pictures were flawless, it was a 5 minute process. Benson finds everything hilarious, so we had no trouble getting the shots. (I love playing Tyra ... "More neck! More neck!")
Then I told Bill we'd need to pop in "for just a few things". Basically I avoid the great big American evil companies, but every so often I can't resist. And I really need a new swim diaper for Benson or we are going to have an accident that's going to get us kicked out of the Y!
Bill immediately headed to the fishing section, and I couldn't find him...who knew that fishing was a "sport"?! I decided to see how much their leggings were, if I could find a cheap pair maybe I could try out the look? At least in the comfort of my own bathroom...I'd probably never have the cojones to try to wear them in public.
I found a pair strewn over a rack, my size, but they had that horrid lace at the bottom. I couldn't find any hanging on a rack. So I asked an employee. She said, "They should be in the women's section". Yeah okay, the women's section in Langley is about 3000 square feet. And I was on a timer, once Bill decided it was time to leave Wal-Mart, I would have to leave Wal-Mart. Immediately. I timidly asked, "any idea where, specifically?" since she was putting away clothes, I assumed she may have an idea. She simply glared at me and made a sweeping arm gesture somewhere toward the front of the store.
Well, I could always cut the lace off, I suppose.
Once I'd collected Bill and hidden my 80s treasure in the cart, we headed to the very back baby section. I found that they only carried Medium swim diapers and my little wee baby is by now clearly a large. Well, I think. The sizes are listed by pounds, and Benson's a little overdue for his 18-month checkup...
Anyhoo, I picked up a booster seat so that Benson can sit at the table like the civilized young babe that he is. Yay! No more picking old food out of that stupid high chair seat. From now on I'll get to pick it up directly off the floor! What a time-saver...since I'm picking up food directly from the floor, anyway.
While I was getting yet some MORE of the stupid sippy cups (and I wish The First Years would just sell packs of lids, or just cups, because I always have tons of one and none of the other)...I noticed the cutest little mini-tumblers, like the coffee cups mom & dad carry around. I thought it would be so great for B because he could use a l'il straw or use them to learn to sip from a big boy cup. AND they were on clearance, only $2.
Bill started making the face so we got into a bearable line-up. The cashier was about 16, well I think she worked there, she had no name tag or apron on, but she did share the same "I don't give a F" look on her face as the other employees as she scanned in the items.
Then the following conversation took place:
She: You can't buy this cup. It has no UPC code.
Me: Um, there's a price-tag, and it was on the shelf.
She (with great hardship): Do you want me to call someone to look it up?
Me (glancing at the man behind me, who was glaring at me with what can only be described as stifled murderous rage): If it's not too much trouble.
She: Well do you want to pay for all this stuff, or wait until I get a code for the cup.
Me: I'd sort of like to pay for it all together. How long will it take?
She: It's SATURDAY. I HAVE NO IDEA.
Me: Sure, I'll pay for this stuff.
Bill: Just leave the cups.
She: calls something on the phone.
Me: Those were the last 2 on the shelf.
She: What? SIGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. (on the phone): Yes, they're mini-thermoses.
Me: Actually, they were in the baby section. And they were the last 2.
She: What? SIGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. (on the phone, in an incredulous manner): She said they were in the BABY section. Yeah the sticker SAYS they are on clearance. (laughs) YES totally.
Me: And they were the last 2 on the shelf.
Benson: WAhhhhhhhhhh
Bill: I think we can live without the cups.
She: Well look, I am going to have to call a manager now. And it is a SATURDAY. So this could take a while.
Me: Fine. I'll leave the cups. (loudly, with much passive agression to Bill) They shouldn't be ON the shelf, with a PRICE TAG, if a customer can't BUY them.
She: (to someone picking up the returns): yes they go in the baby section with the cups.
So basically someone is going to do the same thing, all over again! Argh.
One thing is clear: Wal-Mart should definitely sell alcohol in bulk containers. And Xanax.
It took a while getting in, as the family before us had 3 little kids. I can't even imagine trying to organize that photo. We sat in the lobby watching the interesting procession of shoppers. I swear, every 4th person was on an oxygen tank. What is up with that?!
The pictures were flawless, it was a 5 minute process. Benson finds everything hilarious, so we had no trouble getting the shots. (I love playing Tyra ... "More neck! More neck!")
Then I told Bill we'd need to pop in "for just a few things". Basically I avoid the great big American evil companies, but every so often I can't resist. And I really need a new swim diaper for Benson or we are going to have an accident that's going to get us kicked out of the Y!
Bill immediately headed to the fishing section, and I couldn't find him...who knew that fishing was a "sport"?! I decided to see how much their leggings were, if I could find a cheap pair maybe I could try out the look? At least in the comfort of my own bathroom...I'd probably never have the cojones to try to wear them in public.
I found a pair strewn over a rack, my size, but they had that horrid lace at the bottom. I couldn't find any hanging on a rack. So I asked an employee. She said, "They should be in the women's section". Yeah okay, the women's section in Langley is about 3000 square feet. And I was on a timer, once Bill decided it was time to leave Wal-Mart, I would have to leave Wal-Mart. Immediately. I timidly asked, "any idea where, specifically?" since she was putting away clothes, I assumed she may have an idea. She simply glared at me and made a sweeping arm gesture somewhere toward the front of the store.
Well, I could always cut the lace off, I suppose.
Once I'd collected Bill and hidden my 80s treasure in the cart, we headed to the very back baby section. I found that they only carried Medium swim diapers and my little wee baby is by now clearly a large. Well, I think. The sizes are listed by pounds, and Benson's a little overdue for his 18-month checkup...
Anyhoo, I picked up a booster seat so that Benson can sit at the table like the civilized young babe that he is. Yay! No more picking old food out of that stupid high chair seat. From now on I'll get to pick it up directly off the floor! What a time-saver...since I'm picking up food directly from the floor, anyway.
While I was getting yet some MORE of the stupid sippy cups (and I wish The First Years would just sell packs of lids, or just cups, because I always have tons of one and none of the other)...I noticed the cutest little mini-tumblers, like the coffee cups mom & dad carry around. I thought it would be so great for B because he could use a l'il straw or use them to learn to sip from a big boy cup. AND they were on clearance, only $2.
Bill started making the face so we got into a bearable line-up. The cashier was about 16, well I think she worked there, she had no name tag or apron on, but she did share the same "I don't give a F" look on her face as the other employees as she scanned in the items.
Then the following conversation took place:
She: You can't buy this cup. It has no UPC code.
Me: Um, there's a price-tag, and it was on the shelf.
She (with great hardship): Do you want me to call someone to look it up?
Me (glancing at the man behind me, who was glaring at me with what can only be described as stifled murderous rage): If it's not too much trouble.
She: Well do you want to pay for all this stuff, or wait until I get a code for the cup.
Me: I'd sort of like to pay for it all together. How long will it take?
She: It's SATURDAY. I HAVE NO IDEA.
Me: Sure, I'll pay for this stuff.
Bill: Just leave the cups.
She: calls something on the phone.
Me: Those were the last 2 on the shelf.
She: What? SIGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. (on the phone): Yes, they're mini-thermoses.
Me: Actually, they were in the baby section. And they were the last 2.
She: What? SIGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. (on the phone, in an incredulous manner): She said they were in the BABY section. Yeah the sticker SAYS they are on clearance. (laughs) YES totally.
Me: And they were the last 2 on the shelf.
Benson: WAhhhhhhhhhh
Bill: I think we can live without the cups.
She: Well look, I am going to have to call a manager now. And it is a SATURDAY. So this could take a while.
Me: Fine. I'll leave the cups. (loudly, with much passive agression to Bill) They shouldn't be ON the shelf, with a PRICE TAG, if a customer can't BUY them.
She: (to someone picking up the returns): yes they go in the baby section with the cups.
So basically someone is going to do the same thing, all over again! Argh.
One thing is clear: Wal-Mart should definitely sell alcohol in bulk containers. And Xanax.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Seriously. Seriously. SERIOUSLY!
Yet another day of snow. Before this winter I thought that snow would mean I could legitimately rock fake Uggs and pom-pom hats in a cute manner.
Today was so NOT cute. I mean, waterproof taiga jacket with dress pants tucked into some really ugly pink boots (the only ones I had with traction). Oh dear. The absolute worst part has to be the backpack that I have to wear, the only way to carry my goods and drag a stroller backwards up my hill.
But I am more sick of all the talking about snow than the actual snow. So I'm done.
Wait - one more thing...why does the snow stop all those usually responsible doggy owners from picking up poop?! With a fire hydrant on our front lawn, it's a fave spot for Fido & the gang. Ew!!
Today was so NOT cute. I mean, waterproof taiga jacket with dress pants tucked into some really ugly pink boots (the only ones I had with traction). Oh dear. The absolute worst part has to be the backpack that I have to wear, the only way to carry my goods and drag a stroller backwards up my hill.
But I am more sick of all the talking about snow than the actual snow. So I'm done.
Wait - one more thing...why does the snow stop all those usually responsible doggy owners from picking up poop?! With a fire hydrant on our front lawn, it's a fave spot for Fido & the gang. Ew!!
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