...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.

The Fabric of Our Lives.

Please explain these cotton commercials to me. Like, why do they need to advertise cotton? It's like advertising steel. Few of us are actually purchasing this on the open market. Even if you're going all "Project Runway" and making your own clothes, it's not like you would storm into JoAnn Fabrics demanding cotton. I don't get it.

I also don't get this Zooey Deschanel person's voice. I guess there was a certain appeal to it in "Elf" when she was singing that song about it being cold outside, but in this commercial, she sounds weird. Like an old woman who has been hitting the Dimetapp a little too hard. Like a muppet on 'ludes. Like old gum in the dirt.

At least now we know what fabric to wear while sticking Post-Its to an antique upright piano and going banjo shopping.

Dirty Diapers.

WTF is up with the people at Pampers? Most of their ad campaigns (with the exception of that one with Salma Hayek and the most-imitable pronunciation of "Pampers" ever) are geared directly at toddlers. Like, they address babies directly about their diaper needs.

Where do I even start with this nonsense? How about that it's totally gross to market directly to PEOPLE WHO CANNOT EVEN INFLUENCE PURCHASING DECISIONS YET since they can't, you know, TALK. Like it's not bad enough that kids are constantly bombarded with commercialism and consumerism, now we're indoctrinating them to buy, buy, buy practically as soon as they emerge from the birth canal? Are the parents watching this thinking, "Why aren't they talking to me? I'm the one with the cash money"?

Secondly, what is this crap about how busy toddlers are, toiling around the house? No, they're not. They're napping, being waited on hand and foot, occasionally throwing tantrums and generally making a mess.

I get that they're really addressing the parents here with mentions of lawn care, household chores, etc., but it's really disturbing. Isn't it bad enough that 6 year olds know all the words to Pussycat Dolls songs and that child beauty pageants exist? Do we have to take a bunch of kids with no pants on who can't even use indoor plumbing yet and project them into roles of daily drudgery? Can we not just let kids be kids? Cripes. It's enough to make a person want to turn off the TV and become Amish. Although then I guess the kids would be raising barns from the time they could walk, so...

Trite Tripe.

Can we all agree to stop using the phrase "I love [whoever] to death"? I mean, WTF does that mean, anyway? That you love the person so much you want to kill them? That is not cool, man.

Even if intent to murder is not the intended subtext of the phrase, I've noticed that people usually use it to talk about someone they actually don't like all that much. "I love Hans to death... But his sandals make me gag." "I love my mother in-law-to death... but I'm glad she lives in Guam." "I love children to death... But I have vivid nightmares that those creepy twins from that Ikea commercial will somehow find me and murder me in my sleep." (Seriously, what is that commercial even about?! That the mom loves her matching ovens more than her twins? That twins are evil? The Twin Anti-Defamation League needs to get on that.)

While we're eradicating irritating, meaningless phrases from our collective vocabulary, let's also do away with the space-filler, "It is what it is." Oh, is it, really? WHAT? If it's not what it is, then WHAT IS IT? It's like an existential mind-bender. But stupid.

Maximizing Exercise.

So, like: exercise. Cardio, more specifically. The goal here is to raise your heart level up and get that sucker pumping, right? Strengthen it up, burn those calories? To accomplish this, it's often recommended that you strap ankle and wrist weights to yourself and then go walk up some stairs or gad about town. Wouldn't it create the same effect if you were just fat? Because then you're hauling around extra weight all the time and, hey, no Olivia Newton-John accoutrement needed!

Along the same lines, smoking is also proven to raise one's heart rate. If you lit up while running, you could get twice the workout in half the time! How about installing some ashtrays on the elliptical machines at the gym? I saw a guy out jogging once: sweatbands, shortie shorts, tank top, the whole nine, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he chugged down the sidewalk. Some would call him an idiot. I dub him a Master of Optimization.

Tippie Toe.

Remember that whole Ted Danson/Whoopi Goldberg conflagration? Like, what was that? They got together whilst filming edgy, topical comedy "Made in America" during which Whoops visits Ye Olde Sperm Bank and gets implanted with Sam Malone's fluids. Next thing you know, they're dating in real life and he's donning blackface at the Friar's Club in a misguided attempt to be his generation's Al Jolson (not to be confused with this guy).

Evidently, movie sets lead to strange bedfellows: Billy Bob and Angelina, anyone? Those were the days: those two sittin' around, swappin' blood vials and eatin' only orange foods. Then there was Brad Pitt and Juliette Lewis. Um... what? Slightly less weird was the Uma Thurman/Gary "Sid Vicious" Oldman connection. Homegirls were hitched when Uma was only 20 years old and Gary had not yet made cinematic history with his pivotal role in the cinematic classic, Tiptoes.

Are you aware of this film? If not, you should familiarize yourself with it, stat. It features Matthew McConaughey and Gary Oldman as twins. Not only are they visibly like 20 years apart in age, but Gary makes a brave choice here and plays a midget. Matt's midget twin brother. Walking around on his knees, not unlike Dorf. It's all quite extraordinary. Thrown in for good measure is a cornrowed Patsy Arquette, Kate Beckinsale and real-life midget Peter Dinklage. He also makes a brave choice by playing a Frenchman with what might be the worst fake French accent since that guy who called Sarah Palin pretending to be the King of France. I hope I'm not giving anything away, here. It's really a must-see.

Border Follies.

Here's a fact: when you flee Canada for the U.S. via plane, they make you go through U.S. customs in Canada.

In Toronto, for instance, you go into the airport, expecting to proceed through the metal detectors and on to your gate and the opportunity to buy duty-free perfume and tobacco, but no. First you're confronted with a bunch of signs saying "U.S. Customs Checkpoint" and a line about 7 billion people long. If you've been up all weekend chugging maple syrup and searching desperately for moose, being confronted by all of this is a bit disorienting.

To complete the tableau and create the illusion that you're really about to cross the border, the stations are manned by surly, unsmiling customs people. Just in case you still have doubts that you've actually left Canada (even though you're still in Toronto), a miniature Statue of Liberty flanked by two crooked American flags with a sad "Welcome to the United States" banner draped in between is the first thing you see after your passport (no longer) gets stamped. Like that's going to fool anyone. "Look kids, it's the statue of Liberty! We must be in NEW YORK CITY!" All I wanted to know was, can I still unload some of this money with beavers on it?

Getting Perspective.

Sad news: some dog that was like, in the running towards becoming the World's Smallest Dog, died. That's a bummer, because it was cute and its name was "Scooter", which was also the name of my favorite tertiary character on the original Degrassi Jr. High series (the Canadian one, eh?). He was like the original Urkel. But I digress.

Anyway, Scooter (dog form) was totally adorable, but just how small was this dog? I need a picture of it being held by some sort of standard-sized human hand so that I can do a compare and contrast. The only pictures I could find were that of Scooter in a tea cup (shown here) with the disembodied head of I guess his owner. This tells me nothing. That could be one of those big-ass cups you put ice cream in when you're trying to tell yourself that it's somehow less than if you just used a bowl.

Then the other picture was of scooter with the world's largest dog or something, which I suppose is approximately the size of a small elephant. I just want some perspective, here. Would this dog have fit in my pocket? Somehow if it did, it makes me miss it more.

Spoils of War.

Been waiting for the opportunity to wash that man right out of your hair AND cash in during these Troubled Economic Times? You're in luck:



Um, what? There's a lot going on here. Let's review:
1. Talking dogs.
2. Talking dogs who get their hair did at "Le Bistro". A cafe/dog groomer? Does not meet the health code.
3. Talking dogs with bling.
4. Talking, web-savvy dogs.
5. Good-for-nothing oglers.
5. Talking, web-savvy dogs who control their masters and then benefit financially from the behavior of good-for-nothing oglers though the acquisition of bejeweled dog accessories.

The tag line "break up with his jewelry, too" was the only part of this I heard when I first encountered this commercial. I was like, "Why are these women dating men who wear so much jewelry? Who are they dating? Mr. T? Liberace?"

Lashing Out.

Is there an epidemic of "eyelash inadequacy" sweeping the nation? Are people gnashing their teeth and wailing because their eyelashes simply aren't long or thick enough? According to the drug company that makes "Latisse", yes.

"Inadequate" lashes? "Not enough lashes"? Why are they being so judgmental? I can see if you had to undergo chemo or something and lost your eyelashes. Or if your lids are like, stark raving nude. But to get a prescription to help you grow eyelashes thicker? Is that covered under your health insurance plan?

Let's take a look at the possible side effects:

May cause eyelid skin darkening which may be reversible, and there is potential for increased brown iris pigmentation which is likely to be permanent.

So basically, you use this stuff and you could end up looking like Randy Constan.

Edible Infants.

You know how they can take a picture now and stick it on a cake? Yeah, that's weird. Like it's Grandpa's 75th birthday and here you are at the family party, eating part of his chin or working your way through his right arm. Festive.

Well, that's nothing. Because I was recently made aware of the 100% horrifying marzipan babies phenomenon. Like, miniature, realistic-looking babies THAT ARE MADE OUT OF SUGAR AND ARE EDIBLE. And evidently, twisted freaks like to give them out to nosh upon at baby showers.

I have good news. Turns out, I'm like five years behind the times and this all turned out to be a nasty rumor. I Snopes-ed it out and they're actually just these weird little figurines that some artist makes. Which, really, is kind of bizarre enough in itself. Weirder still is that I checked out the website and for some reason (read: to make an extra buck), you can buy little outfits for these mini babies and dress them up. What is the scenario like where someone is sitting around doing that? At least they're not eating them, I guess.

The Gary Busey Story.

What's up with Gary Busey? Is he rockin' a glass eye, or what?

I know he got all messed up when he broke his ass falling off a motorcycle back in '88 after freewheelin' down the highway. He wiped out. Girlfriend didn't have a helmet on and dented his head. So maybe that explains the eye, but that still leaves the Mystery of Busey's Teeth. They're real, right? Because why would you get fake teeth that look like that? "Give me the Mr. Ed." It just doesn't happen, not even in Buseyland. Plus, his son seems to have inherited that mouth. Have you seen him? This poor guy...it's not pretty.

You'd think people would take one look at Gary today and start wearing helmets like, ALL THE TIME, just as a precautionary measure against becoming Gary Busey. It's not nice to make fun of the cognitively impaired, but really, he seems like kind of a jerk. Not sure if this is a direct result of the noggin floggin' or if he was a jerk to begin with, but, there you go.

Put a Ring On It.

Sad news for all the single ladies (all the single ladies): Mr. Mike Tyson is off the market. He married the third in a continuing series of brides (Robin Givens, some other broad, and this woman) this week.

Really? A third person is willing to marry Mike Tyson? I don't know - perhaps he's a nice guy. A nice guy with a history of violence inside and outside of the ring and a rape conviction who has a penchant for threatening to eat other people's children. I mean, who hasn't been there, right? If I had a dime for all the kids I've threatened to consume... but that's another story for another day. I know there's this movie out, Tyson, that's supposed to make us feel bad for him for being some dumbass kid who was abused and manipulated, but you know - not so much.

On another note, now that they're doing the Saved by the Bell reunion, where is the one for Head of the Class? I miss Jawaharlal.

Celebri-Twins

Fatman-in-a-hat mainstay Dom Deluise passed away yesterday. He was 75.

He was also one of those guys who looks exactly like another celebrity. In his case, he was a dead ringer (no pun intended) for Chef Paul Prudhomme, the Cajun guy who used to wheel around on a Jazzy shouting, "I guaaaaraaaantee!" Or maybe that was Justin Wilson's line. Anyway, now Paul won't be so easy to confuse with Dom Deluise, since a) Dom has left the building and b) evidently Paul has slimmed down quite a bit.

What was the deal with Dom, anyway? He was famous, but really the only things I know about him are that he was friends with Burt Reynolds and his kid was the least-sexy cast member of "21 Jump Street".

Dom and Paul are but one celebrity pair I tend to confuse with one another. Other examples include: John Fogarty and Harrison Ford, Samuel L. Jackson and Larry Fishburne and Nick Nolte and Gary Busey.

RIP, Dom.