So, Calliope and I reunited last Sunday. Sure, she may just be using me for her Buffy fix because I got her completely addicted, but I love her anyway. We venture to Swork because Kay needs our company-slash-is using us to bring her food.
Anyways, it's been like a thousand degrees in LA, so a blended beverage seemed like the frosty, reasonable choice. Kay claims she can do a strawberry shake but that's another one of her lies. Because the gelato was raspberry. Point being, she orders me up a specialty shake. Mitzye and I are counter-bound, waiting for our refreshments.
I notice the boy baristas talking while fixing my shake.
Me: Why are they making fun of my milkshake?
Callipe, with complete deadpan sincerity: Because it brings all the boys to the yard?
I still have no words, people. No words.
Aug 8, 2005
Aug 5, 2005
Is it live or is it Memorex?
This is terrifying:
Ladies and gentlemen, that's a wax figurine of Miss Simpson. One which is completely indistinguishable from the "starlet" herself. And one that likely contains less plastic. Jessucka was just the cohost of "Live with Regis and Kelly" and the same dead-eyed, Jaws-Wide-Open look never left her face. Even though Kelly Ripa proved herself to be quite a sly, stone-cold bitch by dissing Jessica repeatedly to her face with such a "ha!, we're joking because we're gal pals" layer smeared on top of a "I will cut you" undercurrent. All Jessica could do was laugh, smile, insert a half-thought and continue on without either realizing that she was getting slammed or being too feebile to manage even the slightest banter back.
My point is that it's not just her looks, it's her very personality that makes her so beyond fake. You can gaze and gaze but there's no there there. It's like looking at those burnt-out shadows of where objects should be after a Nuke blast.
Or you could believe your own eyes:
The amazing thing is that "I put the 'ho' back into 'house of wax' " (hi, Paris!) and this jackhole dude have more chemistry than she demonstrates with Nick Lachey these days.
ETA: Hmm, ohnotheydidnt just now wrote about this a day later. But you heard it here first!
And GFYself totally started with the "real or wax jess" a day or two later. TINFOIL HATS!
Ladies and gentlemen, that's a wax figurine of Miss Simpson. One which is completely indistinguishable from the "starlet" herself. And one that likely contains less plastic. Jessucka was just the cohost of "Live with Regis and Kelly" and the same dead-eyed, Jaws-Wide-Open look never left her face. Even though Kelly Ripa proved herself to be quite a sly, stone-cold bitch by dissing Jessica repeatedly to her face with such a "ha!, we're joking because we're gal pals" layer smeared on top of a "I will cut you" undercurrent. All Jessica could do was laugh, smile, insert a half-thought and continue on without either realizing that she was getting slammed or being too feebile to manage even the slightest banter back.
My point is that it's not just her looks, it's her very personality that makes her so beyond fake. You can gaze and gaze but there's no there there. It's like looking at those burnt-out shadows of where objects should be after a Nuke blast.
Or you could believe your own eyes:
The amazing thing is that "I put the 'ho' back into 'house of wax' " (hi, Paris!) and this jackhole dude have more chemistry than she demonstrates with Nick Lachey these days.
ETA: Hmm, ohnotheydidnt just now wrote about this a day later. But you heard it here first!
And GFYself totally started with the "real or wax jess" a day or two later. TINFOIL HATS!
Well, there goes my non-innocence...
Thanks to StickyKeys, I checked out ohnotheydidn't this very early morning (late night, whatever, semantics) and feel so bummed out:
[image ganked from Getty, obviously]
Hell to the nah.
Let's all be greatful he's still hung like a horse, okay? To think that Owen is the one with the stallion-based nickname. If anyone would like to send evidence, reports, him to my house to confirm this rumor, that'd be great.
Because it helps to focus on a happy place. Other than the fact that I need to gain (yet more) weight so that I can wear that incredible suit. It's so gorgeous that I wouldn't even want him to step out of it -- which may be good, considering the girth Vince is displaying, and not the fun girth either.
In completely unrelated news, I bring you two recent items of note from some celeb boards:
From the BI Thread, from 7/31's NYDN:
To quote Brittany Murphy: "I've never even seen cocaine."
[image ganked from Getty, obviously]
Hell to the nah.
Let's all be greatful he's still hung like a horse, okay? To think that Owen is the one with the stallion-based nickname. If anyone would like to send evidence, reports, him to my house to confirm this rumor, that'd be great.
Because it helps to focus on a happy place. Other than the fact that I need to gain (yet more) weight so that I can wear that incredible suit. It's so gorgeous that I wouldn't even want him to step out of it -- which may be good, considering the girth Vince is displaying, and not the fun girth either.
In completely unrelated news, I bring you two recent items of note from some celeb boards:
From the BI Thread, from 7/31's NYDN:
Which actor, shooting a film opposite a certain tabloid-fodder actress, is popular on the set, even though he needs a break between each take to accommodate his monster cocaine habit?We also happened to discuss "coke bloat" on the "Everything You Wanted to Know About" thread. If anyone else has more info or scientific theories, that'd be awesome. For research purposes, of course.
To quote Brittany Murphy: "I've never even seen cocaine."
Aug 1, 2005
Dear Hollywood -- Look at how Trendsetting I am!
It's become obvious to me that my friends and I have some brilliant, trend-setting taste -- essentially, we're trendy and rich and famous without having the benefits of money or power or whatnot.
Case in point: The Broadway Bar. It's right by the Orpheum (or is partly inside it?) and is from the creators of the old, reliable Golden Gopher. The interior is gorgeously dark and oak-y, with black-and-gold brocaded wallpaper, an indie-heavy jukebox, et cetera. The first time I went there with Krystal, about three and a half weeks ago, it was notable for two things.
1) A bad, bad bartender lady. How bad? She served Krystal a Salty Dog straight-up in a martini glass. And granted, she did ask Krystal, who wasn't paying attention enough to answer but still. Even worse? She asked a guy what was in an Irish Car Bomb. How incompetent can you be? It's really unfair and troubling because I see people like this gainfully employed in the bartending arena yet I am not. And I would be the best bartender ever -- in part because I'm flirty and partly because I'm a lush.
2) The complete and utter lack of people. Maybe fifteen people in the entire bar, including bartenders. It was a barren, post-apocalyptic wasteland, with booze.
The next time? Still barren, only with a cameo from Frodo himself. Good god, Elijah Wood is both extremely short and possibly heterosexual. He was there with a cute-ish girl. Krystal harassed him using the "you look familiar - did we go to school together" bit?
This past Saturday, it was packed. Brim-filled with hot hipsters and tarts. Alas, Krystal was too tired to mingle. I did finally get to see the upstairs, though, and I highly recommend the couch. Balcony is kind of lacking, view-wise, unless a dilapadated board-up building counts as scenic.
Many moons ago, Mitzye and I wished to visit the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. In part due to the ghosts of Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift -- man, what sad, depressing, drunk/pill-popping ghosts those must be. But now Mitzye can't even get it because there's a list and Lohan is all sunbathing at the pool. Defamer claims that the renovator/promoter lady says that she wants "really great, interesting people"
Umm, hello? We're right here. Sigh. If I am going to be a trend-setter, I want the trappings (money, power, influence, groupies) that come with that. I'm tired of just giving it away for free. So would all restauranteurs, club-owners, hotel moguls and such please be advised that if you want success, you have to court me first.
Case in point: The Broadway Bar. It's right by the Orpheum (or is partly inside it?) and is from the creators of the old, reliable Golden Gopher. The interior is gorgeously dark and oak-y, with black-and-gold brocaded wallpaper, an indie-heavy jukebox, et cetera. The first time I went there with Krystal, about three and a half weeks ago, it was notable for two things.
1) A bad, bad bartender lady. How bad? She served Krystal a Salty Dog straight-up in a martini glass. And granted, she did ask Krystal, who wasn't paying attention enough to answer but still. Even worse? She asked a guy what was in an Irish Car Bomb. How incompetent can you be? It's really unfair and troubling because I see people like this gainfully employed in the bartending arena yet I am not. And I would be the best bartender ever -- in part because I'm flirty and partly because I'm a lush.
2) The complete and utter lack of people. Maybe fifteen people in the entire bar, including bartenders. It was a barren, post-apocalyptic wasteland, with booze.
The next time? Still barren, only with a cameo from Frodo himself. Good god, Elijah Wood is both extremely short and possibly heterosexual. He was there with a cute-ish girl. Krystal harassed him using the "you look familiar - did we go to school together" bit?
This past Saturday, it was packed. Brim-filled with hot hipsters and tarts. Alas, Krystal was too tired to mingle. I did finally get to see the upstairs, though, and I highly recommend the couch. Balcony is kind of lacking, view-wise, unless a dilapadated board-up building counts as scenic.
Many moons ago, Mitzye and I wished to visit the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. In part due to the ghosts of Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift -- man, what sad, depressing, drunk/pill-popping ghosts those must be. But now Mitzye can't even get it because there's a list and Lohan is all sunbathing at the pool. Defamer claims that the renovator/promoter lady says that she wants "really great, interesting people"
Umm, hello? We're right here. Sigh. If I am going to be a trend-setter, I want the trappings (money, power, influence, groupies) that come with that. I'm tired of just giving it away for free. So would all restauranteurs, club-owners, hotel moguls and such please be advised that if you want success, you have to court me first.
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