Posts tagged celebrity
good morning miss bliss
Jun 8th
A friend of mine, oh let’s call her Liiska, recently sat next to a celebrity on a plane from Milwaukee to New York. For our age group, this particular celebrity will always bear a special place in our hearts, even though his acting career has completely fizzled, unless you count the odd pornographic movie and terrible standup routine.
Liiska was not sitting in first class. She had a window seat back in coach. That means that said celebrity was sitting in the middle seat of the row. In coach. That’s gotta be hard on the ego.
At this point, you may be wondering if I’m playing it fast and loose with the definition of “celebrity, and that is a fair question. Indeed, this whole story may have seemed suspect if Liiska had not gotten photographic proof:
Yes, that’s right, it’s Dustin Diamond. Better known as Screech to anyone who was alive during the 90′s.
If I was sitting next to Screech on a plane, I would be so excited, so excited, so….scared!
who and why
Feb 16th
The other day, I’m on Yahoo! news like I normally am and I see all these “BREAKING NEWS!” yellow headlines that are normally reserved for something really important. Naturally I look to see what the breaking news is, and it leaves me with a feeling of “…huh?”
The breaking news of the day: Alex McQueen had died.
Now I hope I’m not insensitive when I say I had no idea who that is. I started thinking, “Was that Steve McQueen’s kid? Did Steve McQueen even have a kid? How long has it been since I watched ‘The Great Escape’? ‘Bullit’ is awesome. Yay cars.” Rather than keep going down the road of random free associates, I wikipedia’d Alex McQueen and found out that it was an English guy who made clothes. And not even clothes that normal people wear, but the kind that only anorexic models on runways wore for about 30 seconds and then never wore again.
Color me confused as to how this man affected my life. As far as I can tell, the only time we crossed paths was when this yellow banner appeared on my Yahoo news.
Maybe I’m wrong and I have half the clothes in my closet are somehow distantly related to something he did on a runway in Milan.
So internet, let me ask you, who was Alex McQueen and why should I care?
I’ll tell you right now, I hate “reality” television. I think it’s about as real as Montag, as scripted as an Obama press conference, and as edited for television as a George Carlin routine. So when I’m in the checkout line and see a dozen different magazines talking about Snooki, I’m required to try and figure out who the heck this Snooki is.
So after hours of research, I have been able to determine that she appears on this unholy wreck of a show called ‘Jersey Shore,’ she has large hair, and she got punched. Which, quite frankly, if the first two things are true then the third was bound to happen sooner or later.
So I’ve answered the first part of my question: who the hell is Snooki. And maybe I’m wrong about this next part and she has somehow affected my life in hidden and mysterious ways or invented a new vaccine for fake tans, but my dear internet, maybe you can tell me why I should care?
agony of the feet
Sep 8th
I’ve never had good feet, and I don’t mean that I’m bad at dancing, although that is true as well. My feet have been beat up and uglified over my time on this planet. I played soccer for many years, during which I broke every single toe at some point or other except one. Do you know what you do to fix a broken toe? Nothing. You do nothing. It just hurts until it doesn’t anymore.
So I have hobbit feet, after they climbed through the mountains and into a volcano. I’ve grown to accept this, and just leave my socks on at parties. Recently, my feet have started hurting because apparently I also have no arches. My feet are so flat, they make Kansas look mountainous. My feet are so flat, they’re like a 2-liter with the top off for a week. My feet are so flat, they nearly gave Dr. Scholl’s a heart attack (I have like 50 of these, but I’ll stop now).
Last night I was being lazy on the couch with Wife, and my feet were hurting because they’ve actually gone beyond “flat” and are now working on “inverted”. I asked Wife if she could please rub my feet, and believe me I know what kind of request this is considering what she’d have to touch. I was prepared for some bargaining and dealing (“If you rub my feet, I’ll go grocery shopping for the next two weeks”) but being my awesome Wife, she agreed without bartering me up.
After a couple minutes of me moaning all sorts of noises as she did wonderful things to my aching feet, she had enough of my toes. Admittedly, they are the ugliest part, and she felt that she could beautify it. Wife asks me if she can attack my feet with knives and power tools, or in her words “Can I give you a pedicure?”
Quite frankly, I was terrified. I’ve never had a pedicure before, and I didn’t know what was involved with this. I also haven’t had anyone else cut my nails, finger or toe, since I was old enough to learn how to use a clipper. Also, I’m as secure as they come in my sexuality, but if any of my guy friends have ever had a pedicure, they have never told me about it. What if I get one and I like it? Are they addictive? Am I destined to have Korean women chip away at my feet forever? Is this the slippery slope to full mani-pedi’s and martini’s while chatting with my friends with our heads in hairdryers?
All this is racing through my head while Wife is still looking at me. Marriage in an adventure, right? What the hell, let’s do this thing.
She gets out a variety of tools for the job, but I think she only used two of them: clipper and this thing that looks like a letter V on the end of a stick. The inside of the V is sharp, and apparently is used for removing parts of yourself. Any ambiguity on tools and methods is due to the fact that I didn’t see how any of it was done. She shielded me from seeing what was going on with my feet, and quite frankly I wasn’t in any rush to see what horror show was going on down there. I bit my lip and tried not to jump and yelp every time I felt a jab under my toenails, which I didn’t know are one of the most sensitive spots on the human body.
After about an hour (seriously, an hour. Wife is a champ) I got to look at my feet. Or should I say, somebody else’s feet who are now attached to my legs. The only way that my feet could look that human is if she was actually amputating and reattaching a pair of celebrity feet she had in the basement.
Today I’m walking around in my new celebrity feet, and sad that I have to wear shoes at work. I want to put my feet up on people’s desk and say “LOOK AT MY FEET! THEY’RE BEAUTIFUL!” and leave them there until they agree.
P.S. Don’t forget to get me your team name suggestions. We will have the poll this week with your suggestions.
all quiet on the front
Jun 30th
So much has happened in pop news this last week! I can’t check any of my websites for news without being hit by a tidal wave of stories about celebrities passing. After being force-fed the minutiae of every situation, I have come to the not-so startling discovery about myself:
I really don’t care about pop culture.
I don’t care about it so much, that I debated even writing a post about it, because now I’m even further cluttering the blagonet space with more words. Regardless, here is my take on the events that have transpired:
Billy Mays and Farrah Fawcett are the two most tragic things of the weekend. I say this because Billy was young and had a family and it was totally unexpected, and Farrah because she had an ongoing fight with cancer that eventually she lost. The average family out there likely has someone close to them with heart disease or with cancer, and I feel this is a fare more relateable issue.
Ed McMahon was 86 when he passed, and if someone is above 80 I don’t feel as surprised when I hear the news.
MJ…..I don’t know where to begin. Before last week, news sources were making a brisk living at vilifying MJ for whatever transgression he decided to concoct. Now they’re making a brisk living at placing him on a pedestal and asking us all to discuss how amazing he was. I’m not buying it. I have the dozen or so MJ songs I like on my iPod since well before last week, and I didn’t go out and buy all the MJ albums I could when I heard he died (and by the way, what the crap is with that? It’s not like a CD bought the day after is different than anything else). My take has always been he made good music and was a messed up human being, and to me, his death hasn’t made the former attone for the latter.
So there is my take on what’s going on here. I considered doing a post on Iran’s last election and how basically it was between an evil person and a slightly less evil person and all of a sudden we’re acting like if Mousavi had won there would be a “free” Iran even though they’re ruled by an unelected body of clerics headed by someone who’s official title is Supreme Ruler, but then the uninformed liberals out there would try to argue with me that Mousavi is a savior and his followers choose green because they’re environmentalists or something, and I don’t have the energy for that.
Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I can get back to the business of making this blog something you want to read instead of such a downer. I promise I’ll be upbeat soon; short workweek!
