Whatever happened to Baby Jane?
Whatever happened to the Empire? You know, that’s a tough question to answer because whenever I get in front of a computer to write something, I’ve forgot what I wanted to write about. Its either such and such thing is cool or such and such thing is pretty lame, but then again, does my opinion actually matter? Sure, a friend or two may tell me that they’ve enjoyed the long winded and rambling MySpace bulletins, but who actually has the time in their day to read a MySpace bulletin unless it’s about a party or something involving the word, “Free,” unless it’s one of those things about getting a free Xbox or gift card by simply filling out a survey. Has anybody actually gotten an Xbox from doing those things or is it an off brand Xbox style product? Like an Smbox or something? Let alone, the concept of how can an intranet company can generate enough revenue by having dopey teens answer questions about what they like about Applebee’s? So, that’s been the struggling as of late, forgetting about the words or just getting too entirely distracted by something else. Not to mention, what’s interesting these days? Or at least, what’s the different opinion I could prevent on whatever is interesting these days. It’s like really another person who thought Superbad was funny or was disappointed by (insert recently released album by a high profile group or artist here). Nor do I think I could work up the energy to make fun of famous people or at least pseudo famous people. Kim Kardasian has a big ass, but what else is there to talk about? Her sex tape was kinda meh and her dad was OJ’s attorney. Boring. Other so called famous people are going or have been to jail, but who gives a shit. Does anybody remember the days when famous people got to be famous and written about because they did great job? Sure, a high glossy close up of Jonah Hill on a cover of US Weekly isn’t going to move a lot of units, but the dude deserves it because his performance in Superbad was so good that it made me forget that Jonah Hill usually creeps me out.
Sure, I might be creating a plan in the back of my head to become Britney Spears’ third husband or if you will, rebound husband. Granted, my abs aren’t as solid or toned up as a back up dancer, but I think they’re at least good enough for one of the girls on “Rock of Love,” but not one of those old ladies or ladies whose hair is their entire personality. It should be noted that I’ve been working out while listening to Santogold (Dude, have you heard “Creator” yet?), so I’m getting into back up dancer shape. From watching all of this media coverage of Britney Spears’ meltdown, I’ve assumed that neither she nor any of her hang on-ers understand the meaning of the word, “discrete.” It’s fun to go out and get comp’ed at clubs like Opera or whatever the cool place in Las Vegas is, but do you really want to get the same type of treatment that any cute girl and her foxy wifetourage from Ontario, California will get from middle age business man in stripped button downs and linen shirts with True Religion jeans? No. These people need to teach Britney Spears things that can be fun without having to go out to the club. You know, going to the beach and just hanging out while reading a book can be fun. Stealing all of Bret Michaels’ hats and bandanas before a taping of “Rock of Love” can be a lot of fun. Be like Navin R Johnson and build a disco inside the house and book like Crystal Castles to jam out for a weekend, invite Cory Kennedy and that Skull Set kid to take pictures and have fun while being discrete. Perhaps, I’m all hoped on the term, “discrete” because it seemed like a solid buzz word I used in a job interview the other day. I mean it makes sense to be discrete and I assumed that Britney Spears makes assistants and nannies sign confidential agreements, but why doesn’t she sign one for her own life? Okay, I don’t think that teaching her on how to be sneaky like ninja is right place to build our relationship. You know, I assume that she’ll say something about how it’s easier said than done and probably the term, “y’all,” will also be added into the mix. Nor does any one who at one point in their life was considered to be one of America’s greatest sex symbols want to hear that she needs to act like Brian Wilson in the 70s and raise her kids. You just know that one of those kids is going to be overweight like Carnie Wilson, so why not embrace it and go all the way with it?
Or she should just go in the complete opposite direction embrace being bat shit crazy and hook up with Tom Sizemore and Danny Boudouche and do a VH-1 show. Or at least in a couple of years do a show like “Britney Spears is 30 With Two Kids and Single.”
I don’t understand MTV anymore. Whenever I flip by it, I see endless reruns of “America’s Next Top Model.” Who gives a shit? You know whatever happened to all the women who won America’s Next Top Model? I haven’t seen them in the magazines, but then again, you could count the number of fashion magazines I read on a single hand. Maybe they’re all “Deal or No Deal” girls, but whose got the patience to lock that stuff up? Let alone the concept of who wants to watch reruns of a show that people already know the outcome of? That girl won and didn’t have a career. I saved y’all two hours of programming, now let’s run a batch of dating shows, so I could see Cal State L.A.’s finest please or at least a couple of girls from The Social on Sunset; like the ones I drunkly yelled “Holler, Holler, Holler,” at a month or two ago. Without these dating shows, how all of the young and untalented going to get exposure? I know that there’s going to be a “Flavor of Love 3” and a second cycle of “I Love New York,” and they’re probably in pre production on a second season of “Rock Of Love,” but how many washed up musicians is VH-1 going to drag up? A dating show with Artie Lange? Well, I’d watch that in a heartbeat, but you know what I mean? Where’s the training in lightly scripted drama for these kids outside of bad student films? Sure, one could take the easy way out and start to date Audrinia from “The Hills,” but how many dates is one going to last without thinking about her face looks like a dummy.
Speaking of “The Hills,” I tried…. I tried real hard, Ringo to not watch it, but I did and all I can say is that Whitney is insanely hot. It look me a while to figure it out, but holy shit, that girl is a stunner. Smart and tall. Yet, the most interesting thing about those two episodes was that guy, Justin Bobby. Yes, I know that guy is the big waste of a sperm and egg since Rainbow from “The Rock Life,” but please don’t let that guy be the representation of what everybody in LA is like. Call me a hater, call me an angry man, but man who can’t cut his own food doesn’t deserve to live. These man sloths in flannels and ripped jeans, what a waster. What a fucking waster.
And have you seen the Cisco Alder vehicle, “The Rock Life” yet? I went into watching, thinking that Cisco Alder is a douche and it would be just 30 minutes of him douching off. Yet I found myself amazed that I felt bad for the dude. You know, his dog dies, he breaks up with Mischa Barton and worst of all, he has to hang out with that Rainbow guy. What a bummer. What a fucking bummer. Cisco Alder and Roy Osborne’s kid are the only normal guys. Everybody else is a piece of shit and/or some of the worst people alive. Why has television programming become about giving shows about horrible people?
Granted, it’s a good idea to show people like Spencer Pratt, so we know how to identify pure evil. Now only if this was the good old days, an angry mob with torches and pitchforks would be storming an high rise apartment complex right about now or at least a crazy doctor who looks like Donald Pleasance would be transporting him to a mental hospital. I can understand how shows like “The Hills,” and “Sunset Tan” serving as a deterrent for people to not move out to LA, which is a good thing because hopefully it means less crowded streets and easier parking for me. So, the rest of America, yes, LA is full of women with orange skin and clown tits and the men sleep for like 20 hours a day and spend like 200 bucks on a t-shirt and if you were to parking for half an hour in Century City, you’re going to need to take a small loan out from your bank to pay for it. Please, don’t come here. We’ve already had enough unless you’re insanely funny, happen to have a region 1 DVD copy of Garth Marenghi’s “Darkplace,” have real boobies, and willing to finance/purchase any of my movie scripts or the scripts of my friends. So, in other words, we need to more girls like Whitney from “The Hills” with a large disposable income and doesn’t believe that “surrealism” is a dirty word.
Anybody else wondering if Mitch Hurwitz, creator of “Arrested Development” will have a similar rise to success in the movies like Judd Apatow? Apatow had a bunch of brilliant, but canceled TV shows before he struck it big in the movies by doing the same type of humor as his TV shows just with more dirty words. I want to believe that it’s possible because Mitch Hurwitz needs to be do something funny. Or at least, can’t Judd Apatow throw Mitch Hurwitz a bone? Produce a movie that he wrote. Just don’t hoard all of the juice for Jonah Hill or Martin Starr. Granted, I like Martin Starr is hilarious and all, but you know, Apatow should use of this synergy and produce a decent film starring Gary Shandling written by Mitch Hurwitz. Spread the comedic love or at least make a Charlyne Yi movie.
So, I’ve never actual seen it, but for some reason I know who most of the cast of “High School The Musical” is. I feel bad about it. I don’t know all of the names of the Republican canadiates running for President in 2008, but I know who Vanesse Hudgens is and Corbin Bleu and Zach Efron and Ashley Tisdale. Something is wrong with America or at least me.
“Weeds” is still good. That’s all that needs to be said. Can’t say the same thing about that show named after that lame Chilli Peppers song.
And finally, one has to wonder what the cast of the third season of “Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County” is up now that the show moved up PCH a smidge to Newport. If Joe Francis wasn’t in so much legal trouble, late night television would be filled with commercials featuring the likes of Cammy and Kyndra. According to Wikipedia, a source more reliable than the New York Times, Kyndra got breast implants and MTV decided to move up the street for a new cast? What a bummer, man.