TV Review - RHONY Season 5

For me, admitting to watching any of the `Real Housewives` franchises is like suffering thorough a bout of colitis: painful, tiresome and embarrassing to talk about. But here we are, another season, another gaggle of horrible shrews behaving badly.

This season of the `Real Housewives of New York` has been going on for a couple of months now and so far, YAWN. The folks at Bravo jettisoned some of the dead weight from the cast (Cindy Barshop, we hardly knew ye) and added some new, equally shameless broads:


Aviva: mother of four, native New Yorker, cousin (by marriage) to Fran "Bobbi Flekman" Dresher and actual real housewife! She's also missing a leg, which they mention in EVERY SINGLE EPISODE. What she lacks in limbs, she makes up for in phobias. Girlfriend is afraid of everything: elevators, flying, heights, farm equipment (understandable, since that's what ripped off her leg). Or maybe she just uses them as an excuse to avoid doing humiliating things (e.g. hang out with the other Housewives).


Heather: zaftig owner/driving force behind something called "Yummie Tummie", which is not a fat free frozen yogurt stand, nor an upper body strengthening device for infants, but is instead a Spanx knockoff. Prone to randomly using "urban" words like, "holla." Winner of "Phoniest Smile" award in high school.


The Kennedy Chick - I think her name is Carole. She is like, Jackie O's grandniece, or something. Friends with lots of bigwigs and at one time had an actual real job as a news producer for ABC. Also, is a princess of some sort, thanks to her dead husband. Why is she on this show? Her pedigree seems legit. Apparently, she's got a book and an upcoming TV pilot to hawk. Despite messed up plastic surgery and horseteeth, seemingly too normal and self-aware to be at all entertaining. Snooze.


Rounding out the cast are the standbys from seasons past: crazy Ramona, stuck-up Luann and slutty Sonja.


Like a microcosm of America, things seem to be shaping up along class lines, with the old money going to battle against the downtrodden nouveau riche. Aviva and Carole, with their "credentials" and "connections" seem to have been recruited in an effort to make the already crass and classless Ramona look even trashier and Sonja even skankier.


So far, there has been nothing going on. Ramona hates Heather for some reason and vice versa, and there is some low-level annoyance brewing between the Countess (Luann) and the Princess (Carole). Most of them went to London together where Sonja stuck her face in the hotel bidet (seems about right). Ramona continued to cash in on her drinking problem by cutting a deal with Target to have her pinot grigio sold there. Did I mention that it comes in a box? Of course it does. Aviva fell down the steps, because SHE HAS ONE LEG. Luann, at 47, is "pulling a Ramona" and trying to get pregnant. HAHAHAHA. The show is still embarrassing, but it's boring, too. Like going to your old college roommate's one-woman show about Sojourner Truth.


If the previews for episodes to come are to be believed, however, it's all going to change next week! Finally, stuff starts happening. When they ran the ad, I was in a stupor after watching a particularly boring episode, but here's what I remember:


- Viva Aviva! Suddenly, she gets something to do and starts laying into people, namely Ramona. Something must go horribly wrong on their current jaunt to Miami where they are hanging out, being friends (?), because in the preview, Aviva busts out the "WHITE TRASH" sash and pins it on Ramona!


- She's also had it with Sonja, apparently. Evidently, the plan to hook Sonja up with Aviva's "sex addict" FATHER did not go according to plan. I don't know - it seemed foolproof. Anyway, in the preview, Aviva calls Sonja out on her sorority girl behavior (i.e. being a sad, drunken mess with her skirt over her head).


- At one point in some future episode, Aviva comes out with this notable quotable: "This isn't about you or me! This isn't about my charity! This is about the kids... WHO DON'T HAVE LEGS!" Awesome. I'll be watching for that exchange alone.

TV Review: 24 Hour Catwalk

Did you ever watch this show "24 Hour Catwalk" on Lifetime? It's the worst. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who has seen it besides the moms of the "designers" on it.

The "concept" is that four fashion designers of dubious talent are thrown into a warehouse with the most ridiculous materials on the planet (a terry cloth bathrobe! a diaper! a snake!) and told to create ugly and stupid clothes out of them that are usually at odds with the fabric (make a sexy bathing suit out of a down comforter!).

After like 3 minutes, a gaggle of judges takes a look at their hideous creations and boots off two of the designers who "do not meet our standards." I'm not sure what kind of standards they have - they're judges on "24 Hour Catwalk." The only one I've ever heard of is Cynthia Rowley, who hasn't eaten solids since 1992. She usually likes the fugliest stuff. There is also Alexa, some other weeenie with a neck beard and a nerdy guy who told me he's trying for a "Simon Cowell meets Alton Brown" thing: being a jerk, minus the manboobs, plus a bowtie.

After the initial beat downs/cutting of the fat, the remaining 2 designers are tasked with creating "an entire collection" (3 pieces) in 24 HOURS!! Don't worry, though, they have a team of sassy sewers to help them, including the incredibly named JustRaymona, who is a drag queen. Right? I'm sorry if she's not. If she is, then congratulations to her on being relatively demure and understated. The sewing teams give lip to the designers, who get super frazzled before shoving their polyester wares on some cut rate models and having a "real, live fashion show". The winner gets 10,000 smackers.

The real sadness here is when "24 Hour Catwalk" is the only viable option of what to watch on Comcast's Video on Demand. Why isn't "Locked Up Abroad" on there?!?! I would watch the hell out of that. This is just sad, unphotogenic "Project Runway" rejects forced to work under even more ridiculous circumstances with cheaper fabrics.

Blowin' Up

What is it about turning over the last page in the calendar that makes people want to detonate explosive devices in close proximity to their homes? I'm talking about those who, instead of watching professionals on TV deliver a quality fireworks display choreographed to Auld Lang Syne, would rather set off some jank illegal ground mines to the sweet, sweet sounds of Uncle Kracker.

As a person averse to loudness in general, lying in bed waiting for the random explosions to be over and wondering if any of them are aimed at my car isn't fun. It gives me fodder for future PTSD therapy sessions. And what's the excitement in a loud noise? I mean, come on. And it just goes on and on, since there's not usually a time limit set when drunks get a hold of stuff they can blow up. You just have to hope someone blasts their finger off so everyone heads to the ER and you can get some sleep.


At least with a professional display, you get the benefit of some colors and sparkles and maybe one of those newfangled fireworks that looks like a peace sign when it explodes in the air. Now that's progress. If the ancient Chinese come back, we can totally show them the smiley face firework as evidence of our evolution as a species.

Haute Kid-ture

A Facebook friend who likes to keep me angry recently sent me this article about upper crusty fashion houses releasing clothing lines for small children. So the good news is, if you have like 600 bucks to drop on some stupid t-shirt with a Swarovski crystal skull on it for your three year old, you're in luck. Basically, if you're into forcing your kid to look like one of of Gwen Stefani's offspring, you're good to go. (On a related note, WHO DOES THIS TO THEIR 5 YEAR OLD? I hate you, Gwen Stefani.)

If you've got money to burn and time to kill shopping, then knock yourself out, I guess.

More disturbing than the immediate financial aspect is what kind of values dumbass parents are instilling in their progeny with this kind of thing. It reminded me of this post on STFU, Parents, a site that I visit when I want a laugh. In short, some mom's got her kids all outfitted up in "Jordans", Coach sunglasses (??!!), Dooney and Bourke bags, etc. so much so that they actually DEMAND these items by name and reject lesser impostors. Her kids are 7 and 2. Ugh. Way to perpetuate the mindless consumerist culture that's running us all into the ground. Also, newsflash: labeling them "divas" just because they like "the finer things" doesn't make this cute - it just makes it grosser.

Visiting STFU, Parents always starts out good (the Mommyjacking threads are pretty awesome), but it ends up depressing. You start thinking, "Why are morons having children? STOP IT."

I say, let's put something in the water that makes everyone sterile, and then if you want to have a kid, we'll give you a basic skills test and if you pass, BAM - antidote coming your way. I mean, you need a license to go fishing but not to have kids? Mind boggling. Of course, it opens up questions of who is writing this test and by what standards are people being judged, to which I say, "Me" and "Mine."

Bad Romance

If something doesn't happen on Facebook, did it really happen?

Like, for instance, if you catch your boyfriend cheating, you should probably paste a blow-by-blow (in some cases, literally) of all of his indiscretions on Facebook so everyone can recognize what a wad he is. And if you're sad about it, you should probably post that on your wall so EVERYONE knows. Because what is the point of having the sads if no one knows about your suffering? And when you find a new dude, you should probably unfavorably compare the old guy to the new guy, stat.

I thought there would be umpteen sites about FB breakups, and there are. And dude, some are REALLY funny. Especially when grammar and spelling are concerned, because not only do you get to feel superior to someone dumb enough to air their dirty laundry (in some cases, literally) on Facebook, you get to laugh at their inability to punctuate.

Breaking up with someone you actually like: painful. Sometimes rage-inducing. But if you take to the internet to register your dissatisfaction about your mate or relationship, IT'S OUT THERE. It's not like telling your friend how much your boyfriend stinks (in some cases, literally) and you can hope she'll be too drunk to remember. You're posting this for 237 of your close "friends" to see. So if you do work it out with Loverboy, you're gonna look like an even bigger idiot when you post pics of you guys snuggling at someone's wedding. "Didn't she make disparaging remarks about his manhood and then change her status to "Single" a week ago?"

Let it marinate. Think about what you're doing. Here's an idea: KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. For real! It can be done! People used to do it all the time! There were things called "privacy" and "shame" and they worked out OK for a long time. Then reality TV happened and people started wearing pajamas in public and all hell broke loose (in some cases, literally).

Idiot Box

Is it too much to ask to go and pump some stupid gas and not have a TV blaring nonsense at me while I'm doing it? Can I just go, fuel up, inhale noxious fumes and stare at the pump, contemplating what else I could have done with that $30? Seriously, it takes like 3 minutes to fill up. I'd like to spend it in a moment of Zen-like peace, or at least be able to squeegee my windows without some tool screaming at me from a TV screen mounted above the gas pump. We already have idiots pumping gas while sucking on a cigarette or talking on their stupid cellphones: do we need a bunch of yahoos spraying gas all over the place because they were watching a segment about Star Jones' weave.

The worst is when every pump at the gas station has one of these things on top of it and they are all blaring at full volume, but are all like, an eighth of a second from being completely in synch with one another. It's an endless echo of insanity that I could do without. I don't need to be marketed to every time I step out on public, thanks, and I'm actually fine with not being entertained every second of my waking life.

Speaking of entertainment, I also don't appreciate paying $89 for a movie ticket and then being forced to watch commercials before the movie starts. Let's try paying Reese Witherspoon a little less, instead.

Speaking of irritating: now those things in the drugstore that they mount to the shelves to dole out coupons come with tiny monitors that talk to you while you're trying to buy some damn shampoo. Like, SHUT. UP. First of all, no. Secondly, sometimes I like to listen to the sweet sounds of Mr. Michael MacDonald or Ambrosia as I wander the aisles, OK? So I don't need some tiny woman squawking at me from a tiny monitor and telling me to buy lotion. I'll decide when I need lotion, thanks. I don't need you inflaming my touch of Aspberger's in the meantime. Maybe that's what the lotion is for.

Toilet Paper Revolt

Can someone tell me what is up with this spate of disgusting toilet paper commercials? Listen: this is America. Toilet paper is, thankfully, pretty plentiful, even if it's the nasty one-ply kind found in public restrooms or the guest bathrooms of cheap people. WE GET WHAT IT'S FOR. What is up with all these commercials hell-bent on elucidating exactly what it does? Enough, already! Unless they're marketing to the recently toilet trained or members of some ecoterrorist group ideologically opposed to toilet paper, I don't get it.

Cases in point:

1) Those Charmin bears who are plagued by their TP "leaving pieces behind". Um, just because they're animated bears and one's a baby doesn't make this any less gross. And it's not bad enough that they just talk about this burning issue - then they go a step further and show the particles. I don't care that it's just a cartoon - it's disgusting.



2) Speaking of disgusting, let's talk about this new Quilted Northern commercial where a bunch of non-animated dames stand around and talk about what they need their toilet paper to do. "It gets you clean while helping to keep your hands clean." HELLO. It's toilet paper. THAT'S WHAT IT DOES. This whole "we need it to protect our hands, too" stuff... Isn't that part of the deal?! Who is watching this and thinking, "Oh, I never thought of that!"? Since this commercial is clearly not teaching us anything new, I can only conclude that it exists to enrage people with its stupidity. And totally skeeve them out.

And also, don't dudes buy toilet paper? How come all these commercials feature women (or adorable bear children)?

Look, all you need to do to successfully market toilet paper is to ensure people that it's not going to scrape off their flesh when they use it (I'm talking to you, Scott Tissue) or render you infertile. Let's leave this all behind (no pun intended), bring back that Mr. Whipple guy and tell him to start squeezin'.

TV Review: Ma's Road House

When I saw Ma from TruTV's "Ma's Road House" on "The Soup", I was, to loosely quote Biz Markie, very enthused. Here was Ma, trash-talkin', cantankerous old lady who reminded me of my own dearly departed grandmother, perhaps best known for her habit of dropping cigarette ashes on the carpet and grinding them in with her slipper, claiming it somehow "conditioned" the rug. Observe "Ma" in action:

"Happy wedding day." Gold, pure gold!

Eagerly, I programmed the DVR and awaited more of Ma's eloquence and grace, certain that hours of amusement awaited.

WRONG. This show sucks. I'm aware that at this stage in the game, all reality shows are fake: but I like my reality shows to disguise that fact with a little more panache than "Ma's Road House" does. Which is to say, not at all. The episode I saw featured some stupid story line about the health inspector showing up to shut down said Road House for various violations including but not limited to Ma smoking in the kitchen and bikini clad waitresses swimming with STDs serving food, or something. It ended with the "health inspector" (read: boom operator for the show) getting drunk at a Road House sponsored Bikini and Prison Tattoo contest and then forgiving the violations after a day of wild debauchery. RIGHT. Basically, the producers were like, "How can we cram as many fake boobs and dudes with ZZ Top beards as possible into 22 minutes?"

In between, the gospel according to Ma is showcased. Turns out what's funny in 5 seconds on "The Soup" becomes painful to watch any longer than that. By the end of it, I felt like reporting Ma to Child Protective Services for being a wad to both her son and granddaughter - except that the former is like 50 and the latter, 20, so CPS doesn't want any of that mess. But basically, instead of being endearingly frank, Ma's just an abusive a-hole. How she made it this long without getting shanked, I don't know. I kind of felt like doing it myself, by the end of the episode.

I've learned my lesson here. From now on, the only "Road House" I'll be frequenting is on Spike TV and is run by The Swayze with a little help from Sam Elliott and his mustache, along with that blind dude who plays the guitar behind chicken wire.

Nothin' But Their Jeans.

People need to stop doing stupid stuff to their kids in the name of fashion. Your kid does not exist as your opportunity to show the world how cool you think you are, OK?

Case in point - the skinny jeans for toddlers phenom that someone recently clued me in to. Where do I even start with this? First of all, what? This whole "jeggings" (jeans + leggings = jeggings) thing has been done. Except in the late '80s and early '90s, they were acid washed and called "stretch jeans" and if they were formal, they included zippers and little denim bows at the ankle. They took awhile to pull on, and were the preferred costume of those who aspired to be groupies for Britny Fox. But at no time were they made in size 2T, as they are today.

What is the point of putting your kid in these, other than to announce to the world that you're a tool who likes to torture toddlers? These things are a pain in the rear to put on a full-sized human, so forget about wrestling with a kid with limited motor skills and who is sporting an apple bottom courtesy of Huggies. I'm glad your vegan baby has a slim physique, but we don't need to see it swaddled in spandex.

Newsflash: your kid is a kid, not a short adult. So dress the kid as a kid, why don't you? Your baby does not dig the Arcade Fire, so stop trying to hook up the baby jeggings ("bajegs"?) with your hipster onesie. It's annoying. There's plenty of time for your child to WANT to wear dumb clothes and have a stupid haircut - he doesn't need you giving him a mohawk at age 2. DO YOU HEAR ME, GWEN STEFANI?

Let the freakin' kid be a kid. She's going to be judged as being cool or uncool by her looks soon enough: why accelerate the process?

TV Review: Locked Up Abroad

When you see something affiliated with National Geographic, you know it's going to be both classy and educational. There might even be nudity involved, but it will be strictly legit and cultural-like.

Well, there's no nudity in National Geographic Channel's "Locked Up Abroad", but it's plenty educational. And the message is, "Don't be an idiot and smuggle drugs across international borders unless you want your ass thrown in a Thai prison for 30 years."

The show's webpage claims that those "Locked Up Abroad" were just looking for a good time in a foreign land when BAM! they land in a Mexican jail. But every episode I've ever seen goes like this:

1. Some dope goes to Columbia (or other nation renown for drug production). Initially, times are good with partying, ethnic food and cultural music shown in a montage of wacky camera angles as an actor in a bad wig reenacts what went down.

2. Some guys offer the dumbass a ton of money to smuggle massive amounts of cocaine (or heroin) to another country. "Just cover up these 10 lb. bricks of heroin in your suitcase with a towel - no one will ever know it's there."

3. The idiot thinks this is a foolproof plan. Didn't he ever see that "Brokedown Palace" mess? Should have asked himself WWCDD (what would Claire Danes do?) and done the opposite.

4. On the way to the airport, or in the airport itself, the drug mule has the opportunity to abort the mission and chooses not to.

5. Just when he thinks he's gotten away with it after making it through airport security, some guy in a uniform confronts him and DAMN! you get that sinking feeling he must have had when he realized it was all over.

They're spending some coin on this show, because they actually shoot it in the country where the guy is now locked up (abroad). The reenactments are interspersed with video of the perp/victim against a black backdrop, telling his story. Then, towards the end, the camera pans back and you see the backdrop is some old sheet draped across a couple of bunk beds over a latrine and they're shooting it in the guy's jail cell while 14 of his cellmates hang around. Holy moly.

It's all pretty formulaic, so why is it so compelling? Because we've all had that "Oh, crap" moment when we've done something stupid. Except it usually doesn't result in us languishing in a Thai prison for the rest of our lives.

TV Review: Runaway Squad

A&E is offering up some new reality programs to compliment their holy trinity of "Obsessed", "Intervention" and "Hoarders". "Runaway Squad", however, is a departure since rather than dealing with people and their compulsive disorders, it involves a Gene Simmons lookalike and wayward teens.

By virtue of the fact that the word "squad" is in the title, it's automatically awesome. The show follows the exploits of a goon squad of ex-NYPD cops hired to locate kids who are themselves exploited and/or missing. This includes the aforementioned Gene Simmons clone, complete with a Just For Men saturated coif, muscle t-shirt and concealed weapon, his spiral-permed wife, a bald guy, a guy with a big nose, and a dude who stalks the teens on the internet to find out when was the last time they tweeted. They get hired by parents whose teens have taken off for points unknown. Hopefully, they find the kids. In Episode 1, the job was done for them, since the kid returned home on her own.

The entire profession exists in some sort of netherworld of legality: they're not cops, but they go and shake people down (mostly off camera, but probably with said weapons) and presumably can take the kids off the streets against their will. I guess since they're minors and the parents are presumably shelling out the big bucks for the service, it's all good. Plus, the people they're shaking down aren't exactly pillars of society: we're talking about pimps and drug dealers - your general, garden-variety scum.

Watching the process of them narrowing down where the kids might be is fascinating (and probably something that happens on any number of police procedural shows, but I'm not trying to know anything about those). It's also beyond disturbing to follow the paths of these kids and to see how a girl from Long Island can end up in a gang and being held as a prostitute against her will, all at the age of 15.

Evidently, A&E aired this pilot back in December to determine if Gene and co. had the chops to run with a whole series and apparently, they do. So welcome to the home of Candy Finnegan and Dr. Shana, Gene.

TV Review: Dwarf Shows

Have we had enough of these shows about midgets, or what? I swear, every time I turn on the TV there's some new show on basic cable about ice road truckers - who are also little people!

As far as I'm concerned, what kicked it all off was the TLC special, "The Smallest People in the World" featuring poor Sharon, a primordial dwarf with regular-sized teeth. Oh, my word. That'll make you cry. In case you don't know, primordial dwarfism produces people who are teeny tiny, like this dude (no, that's not Photoshopped). It's pretty rare, but like, aren't their lives tough enough without calling them "primordial"? I mean, it doesn't sound nice, because what do you think of when you hear the word "primordial"? Ooze, right? Not nice.

Then that spawned "Little People, Big World" about the tractor-riding drunken Roloff family of dwarves somewhere in the midwest. BORING. They run a pumpkin patch or something and it's all well and good, but who cares?

Then they started with this "Littlest Couple" which I've never seen but I think is about a couple of dwarves trying to have a kid. Whatever.

Then, things started getting really nutty. "The Little Chocolatiers" is yet another show about a confectionery-type company (like "Cake Boss" or "Ace of Cakes"), but is different because it's RUN BY MIDGETS. Are you kidding me? Sigh.

Over on Animal Planet, they've got "Pit Boss", which as far as I can ascertain is about a group that runs an illegal pit bull breeding and dog fighting business but, you guessed it, is comprised of dwarfs (the people, not the pit bulls).

ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THE MIDGETS. If the point of these shows is to show that they are just like "regular people" then LEAVE THEM THE HELL ALONE. Stop trotting them out and making them hop on a step stool in front of the cameras so they can pay for gum at the store. This whole "they're just like us, see?" idea is a crock, because if they were, they wouldn't be on TV. Just let them do their thing!

TV Review: Undercover Boss

So I watched that show Undercover Boss a couple of times. It's the one where some CEO of a billion dollar company puts on a smock and a name tag and pretends to be a normal person for like a week. Then at the end, s/he usually learns Valuable Life Lessons about Blue Collar People and gives them some sort of token gift while everyone claps and faith is restored in Corporate America.

This had the potential to be good ("Let's see what a jerk this guy really is! He can't even operate a cash register!"), but just plays like an extended PR piece. It might as well be called CEOs Are People, Too. Maybe they are, but in the wake of all of this banking bailout/economic crisis nonsense, I'm not in the mood. I'd rather watch a show called Underworld Boss that portrays heads of companies as Satanic minions while minimum wage employees poke them with sharpened hockey sticks.

The Blue Collar types they get to be on the show all go in every day with a smile and scrub toilets like its going out os style. At least one Average Joe per episode seems to be on dialysis. Let's see some real employees, grousing about their paltry salaries (a topic which I've not seen raised yet) talking on cell phones and demanding more smoke breaks.

At the end, the CEO meets with the Magical People he's learned from all week and reveals his true identity. Sometimes he's just like, "Thanks, you're super." Then there's usually some sort of company meeting in a warehouse where the CEO reveals that s/he has been an Undercover Boss for the past week and has done all manner of the mundane, dead-end jobs that everyone in the room does every day (gasp!). They usually show outtakes where the Blue Collar Types are telling the Undercover Boss that he's not cut out to be a tow truck driver. This is to of course, give the illusion that the CEO has a sense of humor about himself and that the regular folks actually somehow have the upper hand.

Another annoying thing is that usually the Blue Collar people on the show are like, "I never dreamed this would happen to me." What? Shaking the hand of a guy who makes 9,000 times your income and probably works half as hard? Let's give everyone a raise instead of just giving Hector every Tuesday afternoon off for his medical treatment.

I'm not buying that marginally bettering the lives of a handful of employees makes the companies or the CEOs profiled any more altruistic. Am I just a jerk?

Dope Driving.

I don't drive very often, but when I do, there's always a theme. It's like the first idiot creates a topic sentence by doing something stupid and then everyone else plays the role of supporting sentences by doing something similarly dumb. The conclusion comes when I've reached my destination, fuming with rage. PEOPLE ON 'LUDES SHOULD NOT DRIVE.

Some popular themes embraced by stupid drivers include:

1) Let's cut you off and then go 12 MPH in front of you. A slight variation on the theme is the related "Let's cut you off and then repeatedly brake for no discernible reason." Like why do you HAVE to get in this lane when there's nothing wrong with the one you're putting along in? STAY THERE AND LEAVE ME BE.

2) Even though we're on a 4 lane highway and there is not another car in sight, I'll ride your bumper instead of passing. New Jersey, I'm looking at you. Any time this happens to me, I guess that the car will have NJ plates (they're usually tailing too close to see in the rear view) and I'm right 98% of the time.

3) Taking up as many lanes as I damn well please because I'm too busy like, WATCHING TV while I'm driving. I swear I was behind a car with a TV screen in the sun visor yesterday. WHAT IS THAT? Do we need to be entertained at every waking moment, at the expense of careening into other cars?!

4) If I am not sure where I'm going, I'll just stop in the MIDDLE OF THE ROAD to figure it out. No need to actually pull over - I'm the only person in the world who matters!

These are but a few. What are others you've experienced?

...and Twins!

Can someone please explain the concept of the celebrity look-alike to me? Like, how is it a job to sort of look like a famous person who actually, you know, does stuff? What is the market for this? The opening of a mini-mall? And who's getting excited to see a discount version of say, Fantasia? Does she sing like Fanny? No? WHAT IS THE POINT? Even for like, a kids' birthday party, I don't think this would fly. They might be excited until they finally realize that that's not really Britney Spears prancing around their living room. Then the whole situation just becomes embarrassing for everyone involved.

Even worse are celebrity look-alikes of people who don't even do anything in the first place. We're talking Paris Hilton, the Pope, et al. That's great that you have a big ass and look kind of like Kim Kardashian. What are you going to do at a corporate function? Reenact scenes from her sex tape?

Along the same lines are wax museums. Why do these exist? Are you supposed to take photos from just the right angle so that you can't see the shiny, waxy veneer and try to fool your friends into thinking you actually met Rodney Dangerfield? Um, first of all, he's dead. Secondly, they always look kind of off. Like the wigs are askew, the eyes a little wonky, the features a little too masculine or feminine.

Wax museums always seem to be in major metropolitan cities (London, New York, San Francisco, etc.) where there's any number of better things one could be doing than looking at a fake version of Brad and Angelina. WHY WOULD YOU GO THERE? Maybe if it was raining and you had a coupon. Even so, though.

Much more amusing are sites like http://totallylookslike.com/ where they compare celebs to one another, or ones where you upload a pic of yourself and it tells you you look like Kathy Bates.

Movie Review: Orphan.

So I watched this movie "Orphan" last night because it looked dumb and I like movies that are unintentionally funny.

Basically, the theme was, "don't ever adopt a kid in Victorian clothing with a Russian accent". There's even a PSA before the movie starts about adoption and how it doesn't necessarily lead to death and destruction for all involved. How nice.

The movie is about a family with an adorable deaf 4 year-old and a bratty tween son who plays Guitar Hero and looks at contraband Penthouse magazines in his professionally engineered treehouse. The mom - the (only) woman from "The Departed", lost a baby in childbirth and now she and her husband, Peter Saarssssgaaaard are in the market for a new kid to bring home to their totally un-childproof home. Peter is like his generation's Andrew McCarthy or Campbell Scott; he squints his way through scenes and seems to be in danger of bursting into tears at any moment. He's one of those guys who also seems prone to discussing his feelings at great length, and no one wants that mess, so just back away.

Pete and that Maggie Gylleenhaaaaaaal have a baby together in real life. Ramona Saaaarsssgaaaard-Gyllenhaaaal is quite a handle for an infant and let's hope the kid split the difference with the genes and came out looking OK, is all I have to say. I'm sure Mags is a nice gal, but let's get her a supportive bra and some under-eye cream, right?

Anyway, the parents go to this swanky orphanage run by kindly nuns and pick out a kid pretty much based on the fact that she refuses to socialize with anyone else and displays savant-like tendancies. Good move! They bring her home the next day, because apparently picking out an orphan is like ordering something from Amazon and next-day service is available.

If you saw the trailers for this movie, you know where this is all going and I'm not really giving anything away. Soon after the Orphan moves into the Departed-Saarsgard house, things start going awry. The Orphan insists on wearing these ruffled pinafore numbers with velvet ribbons around her neck and wrists, complete with Shirley Temple/Snoop Dogg curls on the head. Hey, parents: RED FLAG.

Next, people start getting maimed and/or killed. It's basically like "The Bad Seed" but set in a house with an open floor plan where no one can have a private conversation without the Orphan lurking around and listening, then glaring in a menacing manner before tiptoeing off behind some architectural element.

Things continue to escalate. The mom considers going back to drinking. The dad cries (naturally).

Then the amazing twist is revealed about the Orphan's true past! I won't give it away, but suffice it to say it was something I jokingly posited as an explanation for this girl's behavior within the first 15 minutes of the movie and I can't believe I was right because it's pretty hilarious. After we find out the truth, the movie really picks up, but unfortunately, it's almost over by then.

Have you seen this film? What did you think?

Christmas Jeers

There are many gross things associated with the Christmas season. Even with the decorations and stuff, the cheer part often eludes me. Let's have a rundown of what's not cute about this time of year:

1) Commercials like this, which are even more annoying because you can't embed the file in your blog. Here's the gist: "I love Christmas because... I love to shop!" Really? That's great.

2) The aforementioned Gap commercials which drive me into a near-homicidal rage.

3) Candy canes. They look cute, but I don't want to eat that. And now I feel obligated to do so because what about all the starving children.

4) Cookies and cake that look delicious but then you bite into them and they taste like rum or some crap. What is that? I don't need to get hammered from eating a cookie. I just want a damn cookie that tastes like a cookie, not a cocktail.

5) Those cards that you get that don't fold. Don't get me wrong. I love getting picture cards. But the ones that don't fold and that you have to prop up against the wall get relegated to the back row on the mantel with the free-standing ones obscuring them and their beauty. Which kind of sucks because then I can't see the cuteness.

6) The fact that every store feels the need to play nothing but Christmas music. Come on. Not everyone is into it. Can we throw some Doobie Brothers in there to break it up?

7) Crap like this:

which they then made even worse by making a TV movie based on it. Mom's dying and your buying her shoes? Good luck with that. How about buying that kid a coat, instead?

8) When they do crud that messes with my precious childhood memories. Like those parodies about Rudolph being a porn star or something. Take your pick here. I don't need that, OK? It's not helping.

9) Sexy Santa lingerie. Really?

10) This:

If this is what I'm getting from my piece this year, we're over.

Umbrella-ella-ella Pt. 2

We've touched on this topic before, but more attention must be paid. I've got a lot more problems with umbrellas and you're going to hear about them.

One: People don't know how to use them properly. E.g. if I'm walking toward you and you have an umbrella open, LIFT IT UP so it doesn't poke me in the freakin' eye. Get off your stupid cellphone so you can pay attention and properly wield the umbrella at a safe height instead of resting it on one shoulder and then spinning around, blinding those around you.

Two: If you can't handle number one above, invest in one of those clear, bubble-type umbrellas that are all the rage in Japan (and maybe elsewhere where people have good sense). Then you can actually SEE what is coming toward you instead of blindly staggering down the sidewalk in the rain, holding your opaque umbrella and hoping for the best. Some ideas are so simple.

Three: If you have a sopping wet umbrella, how about not putting it on the empty chair next to you in the restaurant you're in because guess what? Those are actually made to be seats for PEOPLE who don't need a wet butt because you have a separation anxiety issue and can't part with your Totes at the door.

Finally: What is with those little "sleeves" they make for umbrellas? You know what I'm talking about: when you get a new one, it comes encased in this little nylon sheath. Great, but what am I supposed to do with that? Fold the umbrella so meticulously back into its original creases after each use so that it actually fits back into one of those things? I dont' think so. People with that kind of time and patience are doing things like constructing boats inside bottles, writing angry and rambling letters to the editor or making artwork that nobody can see.

Fall into the Gap

Dear Gap:

If your intent was to make me want to put a muzzle on these kids and push them into a mud puddle...

...mission accomplished.

And while they're drying off, I'll be happy to take a Taser to everyone appearing here:


Happy Holidays!

Hype-Cast.

All of these horrible shows on the VH-1 are pretty low-budge', right? Like in addition to being light on content and any lacking in any redeeming qualities, they also don't have much going on by way of production values. Throw some skanks in a room with a D list celeb and a bottle of Old Crow, film it and then slap it together with some Nickelback in the background is pretty much the formula.

If they want to save even more coin, they just need to keep recycling all of the cast members of each show. Maybe they already do this, I don't know. But for some ungodly reason, I found myself watching "Tough Love" the other night. This show features many ladies with low self esteem and body issues being coached on how to hide their foibles and be what dudes like so that some tool will marry them.

One of the charmers on the show is Rocky, whom I recognized from ("The Soup"'s clips of) that show with Danny Bonaduce about how you should under no circumstances let your kid go into show business because the kid might end up looking like a leprechaun made of Slim Jims and giving beat-downs to unsuspecting transvestites. She's the lady who gave us this clip (and no, she is not the transvestite previously mentioned).

Someone please call CPS immediately.

Anyway, they could easily just shuffle these people around: move the skanks from "Rock of Love" over to find husbands on "Tough Love." Have the d-wads from "Tool Academy" go on "For the Love of Gay J". Then funnel everyone on over to either Sex or Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.