I had a post planned - it was going to be about how shamefully bad I am at blogging. But it will have to wait, because there are much more important things to discuss.
Specifically, Tyra Banks' book.
Tyra Banks' YA magical supermodel fantasy book. It's coming out in September, and I just don't know if I can do it. I want to, because I love YA, and I love trashy urban-fantasy YA even more. 70% of the books I've read in the last three months have involved angsty witches and lovestruck half-demons. Modelland should offer all of that, plus some good old fashioned Tyra-brand narcissism.
And the magical supermodels are called Intoxibellas! That is the single most ridiculous thing that I've heard in months. Which is saying a lot, given my new-found infatuation with Toddlers and Tiaras.This book sounds like the exact sort of thing that I would buy with cash at a bookstore in a part of town where no one knows me, read four times, and NEVER EVER put on my bookshelf.
But then...
The internet tells me that about a week ago, Ms. Banks herself went on GMA with a giant feather glued over her eyebrow. She told GMA Lady Host that it was called a "smize" because of course it is. Apparently, a young Ninja-Fairy-SuperMagic Modelling School candidate increases her chances of being admitted to Ninja-Fairy-SuperMagic Modelling School by 91% if she has a piece of leftover Mardi Gras mask stuck to her face. Why? I have NO IDEA.
Because I tried, y'all. I did. But I only made it a minute into watching the video online (I don't watch GMA - what's the point of a morning show that doesn't include Kathy Lee downing half a bottle of wine?). I just couldn't take it. And if I can't handle three minutes of Tyra, how am I going to handle 576 pages?
That's right, 576 pages of pure Tyra. This could easily prove to be the most amazingly unnecessary book in the history of the world. I MUST KNOW what Tyra Banks spends nearly 600 saying about Tookie (actual character name) the Magic Model, and the perils of Thigh High Boot Camp (actual plot point), but I think that reading it might break my brain.
Note: This is the first time I've used "books" as a label. So, to the casual observer, this is the only book I've ever even considered. If you need me, I'll be in a shame spiral.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Out of touch with reality
It's been awhile. I'm going to blame holiday-related lethargy. It radiated into the entire month of November.
Anyway, I spent all last night preparing to post about ANTM, but it occurred to me that regardless of the winner, I didn't care that much. Ann can't do commercial work, and even at her best has a weird walk. Chelsey is probably too old to really take off, and I keep calling her "Celia" in my head, so obviously I don't have some great love of her work either. I haven't really cared about a finale since Annaleigh (completely illogically) lost to "McKee" a million seasons ago. But that left me with nothing to write about.
And then I watched the premiere of Top Chef: All-Stars. (Warning: There are spoilers ahead. But season premiere spoilers, so they barely count).
The episode itself was pretty good - the All-Stars are pretty well-selected (though I wish Nice Voltaggio or Future Santa Claus Kevin signed on instead of Mike), and the producers can be happy that most of the people known for being a-holes seem largely unchanged and unapologetic (looking at you, Marcel). Everything was exactly as it should be, including the first challenge - revamp the dish that got you booted from your season. Even better, while half of the chefs cooked, the other half ate their competitions dishes with the judges. And the chefs who cooked watched the diners on closed circuit TV from the kitchen. All good stuff. Then Anthony Bourdain called Fabio's pasta dish one of the worst things he'd ever eaten. Only, you know, in a Bourdanier (let's agree that that's a word) way. Fabio was pissed, which is fair.
Here's what isn't: at judging Fabio went off on this whole thing about how he came here to be criticized in a constructive way, not to be made fun of (question: how do you rephrase that to move the preposition? I mean, without sounding like a douche). He even implies that, if they weren't in a judge/contestant situation, he might even actually fight Bourdain.
That's where I got kind of annoyed - it's not just that I'm pretty sure Bourdain is a scrapper who could totally take Fabio. Nor is it just that I'm of that camp that thinks getting in the judges faces is petty and unprofessional. No, my main problem is that being made fun of is EXACTLY WHAT YOU CAME HERE FOR. Because, before anything else, this is a reality show. So when Tyra calls your walk goofy, Michael Kors says you made your model look like a slutty disco ball or Tom Colicchio says your food was so bad it actually offended him on a personal level, yes it sucks, but no one made you audition.
If you're looking for a bunch of people to taste your food, then focus on helping you improve it using really constructive and ego-bolstering language, you should take cooking classes at Williams-Sonoma. These are judges. Their job is to judge. Preferably in a way that's entertaining. And using language strong enough that it helps the audience get really committed to the idea that this person deserves to win, and this person should be banned from ever cooking again ever.
Not knowing this going into a competition-based reality show is naive (the format is hardly new); not knowing this going into your SECOND competition-based reality show is just plain dumb. But that's okay. Given the competition, I'm sure Fabio will only have to deal with it for a few weeks.
Anyway, I spent all last night preparing to post about ANTM, but it occurred to me that regardless of the winner, I didn't care that much. Ann can't do commercial work, and even at her best has a weird walk. Chelsey is probably too old to really take off, and I keep calling her "Celia" in my head, so obviously I don't have some great love of her work either. I haven't really cared about a finale since Annaleigh (completely illogically) lost to "McKee" a million seasons ago. But that left me with nothing to write about.
And then I watched the premiere of Top Chef: All-Stars. (Warning: There are spoilers ahead. But season premiere spoilers, so they barely count).
The episode itself was pretty good - the All-Stars are pretty well-selected (though I wish Nice Voltaggio or Future Santa Claus Kevin signed on instead of Mike), and the producers can be happy that most of the people known for being a-holes seem largely unchanged and unapologetic (looking at you, Marcel). Everything was exactly as it should be, including the first challenge - revamp the dish that got you booted from your season. Even better, while half of the chefs cooked, the other half ate their competitions dishes with the judges. And the chefs who cooked watched the diners on closed circuit TV from the kitchen. All good stuff. Then Anthony Bourdain called Fabio's pasta dish one of the worst things he'd ever eaten. Only, you know, in a Bourdanier (let's agree that that's a word) way. Fabio was pissed, which is fair.
Here's what isn't: at judging Fabio went off on this whole thing about how he came here to be criticized in a constructive way, not to be made fun of (question: how do you rephrase that to move the preposition? I mean, without sounding like a douche). He even implies that, if they weren't in a judge/contestant situation, he might even actually fight Bourdain.
That's where I got kind of annoyed - it's not just that I'm pretty sure Bourdain is a scrapper who could totally take Fabio. Nor is it just that I'm of that camp that thinks getting in the judges faces is petty and unprofessional. No, my main problem is that being made fun of is EXACTLY WHAT YOU CAME HERE FOR. Because, before anything else, this is a reality show. So when Tyra calls your walk goofy, Michael Kors says you made your model look like a slutty disco ball or Tom Colicchio says your food was so bad it actually offended him on a personal level, yes it sucks, but no one made you audition.
If you're looking for a bunch of people to taste your food, then focus on helping you improve it using really constructive and ego-bolstering language, you should take cooking classes at Williams-Sonoma. These are judges. Their job is to judge. Preferably in a way that's entertaining. And using language strong enough that it helps the audience get really committed to the idea that this person deserves to win, and this person should be banned from ever cooking again ever.
Not knowing this going into a competition-based reality show is naive (the format is hardly new); not knowing this going into your SECOND competition-based reality show is just plain dumb. But that's okay. Given the competition, I'm sure Fabio will only have to deal with it for a few weeks.
Friday, November 19, 2010
La Croix, sweetie, La Croix!
Ok, so this is far from a certainty, but I'm opting to get really excited now even though it may mean being horribly disappointed later : AbFab may come back!
Jennifer Saunders isn't currently working, because she's in treatment for breast cancer, but it seems like she's been kicking the idea around with Joanna Lumley. BUT she's not making any statements about it at this point (which is understandable- she got bigger things to deal with), so she may never opt to advance it past the "kicking the idea around" stage. Plus, who knows if June Whitfield, Julia Sawalha and Jane Horrocks would necessarily be interested in coming back.
But who needs a measured and reasonable perspective on the situation? AbFab may come back!
While we're on the subject of fashion comedies, on this week's ANTM Tyra (who is basically a parody of a parody of a parody of herself at this point) aired her directorial debut. And it is...so many things. Mostly it's like a really bad student-level art film. But there's a wonderful segment around the 1:15 mark where Tyra seemed to ask herself "What if that girl from The Ring had been FIERCE and SMIZED?"
It's one of my new favorite things.
Jennifer Saunders isn't currently working, because she's in treatment for breast cancer, but it seems like she's been kicking the idea around with Joanna Lumley. BUT she's not making any statements about it at this point (which is understandable- she got bigger things to deal with), so she may never opt to advance it past the "kicking the idea around" stage. Plus, who knows if June Whitfield, Julia Sawalha and Jane Horrocks would necessarily be interested in coming back.
But who needs a measured and reasonable perspective on the situation? AbFab may come back!
While we're on the subject of fashion comedies, on this week's ANTM Tyra (who is basically a parody of a parody of a parody of herself at this point) aired her directorial debut. And it is...so many things. Mostly it's like a really bad student-level art film. But there's a wonderful segment around the 1:15 mark where Tyra seemed to ask herself "What if that girl from The Ring had been FIERCE and SMIZED?"
It's one of my new favorite things.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Best thing ever
I haven't seen The Social Network yet. I know I need to, but on the weekends I always go back and forth between absurdly busy and embarrassingly lazy.
But that's not the point. The point is that apparently, the guy who plays the Winklevoss twins is named "Armie Hammer." Armie Hammer. When I read that, I thought "No way," because that has to be a typo, right? Or a stage name like "Ethan Tremblay"?
So I wikipediaed him (is there a good way to past tense "Wikipedia" as a verb?), and his real name isn't Armie.
It's Armand.
Armand.
Armand Hammer.
HIS NAME IS ARM AND HAMMER. That is AMAZING. It's like that time that Bart prank called Moe's and there was an actual guy there named "Hugh Jass."
It's like the example line on a form. It would say, Mr. Armand Hammer of 12301 Deodorizer Way, Anytown USA.
It is one of the most awesome names I've ever heard. I sit in awe of it.
Though I bet, when he was a kid, his parents would say thing like "with a name like Armand Hammer, you think your room would be a little cleaner." And then they'd laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
That probably got old fast.
But that's not the point. The point is that apparently, the guy who plays the Winklevoss twins is named "Armie Hammer." Armie Hammer. When I read that, I thought "No way," because that has to be a typo, right? Or a stage name like "Ethan Tremblay"?
So I wikipediaed him (is there a good way to past tense "Wikipedia" as a verb?), and his real name isn't Armie.
It's Armand.
Armand.
Armand Hammer.
HIS NAME IS ARM AND HAMMER. That is AMAZING. It's like that time that Bart prank called Moe's and there was an actual guy there named "Hugh Jass."
It's like the example line on a form. It would say, Mr. Armand Hammer of 12301 Deodorizer Way, Anytown USA.
It is one of the most awesome names I've ever heard. I sit in awe of it.
Though I bet, when he was a kid, his parents would say thing like "with a name like Armand Hammer, you think your room would be a little cleaner." And then they'd laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
That probably got old fast.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Fear and logic don't really mix
I've been meaning to talk about The Walking Dead. Mostly to say that it's a really good show.
Well. Point of clarification: the pilot is fantastic. Apparently the second episode is as well, but since I haven't yet watched it (and may not ever), I wouldn't really know.
You see, me and horror? Not so much. My husband and horror movies/books/shows are BFFs who would gladly wile away a weekend French braiding each others entrails, but I just can't handle it. But I watched the pilot for The Walking Dead, because I read the comic and - as my husband repeatedly pointed out - it's more character-driven than scare-driven. So I watched it. And here's the thing about a character driven zombie story: instead of sudden moments that make you scream, you instead have sort of a looming sense of panic and danger that just never goes away.
But I made it through, even in spite of some very realistic-looking zombies. I was super proud of myself. Until after the show was over. Because it was then that, walking by the bathroom, I saw that the shower curtain was pulled shut.
I looked at it and thought to myself "I'd better pull that curtain back, so I can make sure that a zombie didn't come up the drain."
And then I thought about the fact that for that to be possible:
1) Zombies would have to BE AN ACTUAL THING.
and
2) A full-sized (albeit slightly decomposed) human being would have to be able to fit through our bathtub drain.
I gave both of these things some thought and decided that yes, that seems entirely plausible, and actually checked my tub for hiding zombies. Because if I didn't, and a zombie later ambushed me when I was trying to use the restroom, I'd have no one to blame but myself.
Well. Point of clarification: the pilot is fantastic. Apparently the second episode is as well, but since I haven't yet watched it (and may not ever), I wouldn't really know.
You see, me and horror? Not so much. My husband and horror movies/books/shows are BFFs who would gladly wile away a weekend French braiding each others entrails, but I just can't handle it. But I watched the pilot for The Walking Dead, because I read the comic and - as my husband repeatedly pointed out - it's more character-driven than scare-driven. So I watched it. And here's the thing about a character driven zombie story: instead of sudden moments that make you scream, you instead have sort of a looming sense of panic and danger that just never goes away.
But I made it through, even in spite of some very realistic-looking zombies. I was super proud of myself. Until after the show was over. Because it was then that, walking by the bathroom, I saw that the shower curtain was pulled shut.
I looked at it and thought to myself "I'd better pull that curtain back, so I can make sure that a zombie didn't come up the drain."
And then I thought about the fact that for that to be possible:
1) Zombies would have to BE AN ACTUAL THING.
and
2) A full-sized (albeit slightly decomposed) human being would have to be able to fit through our bathtub drain.
I gave both of these things some thought and decided that yes, that seems entirely plausible, and actually checked my tub for hiding zombies. Because if I didn't, and a zombie later ambushed me when I was trying to use the restroom, I'd have no one to blame but myself.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Why I don't watch game shows
Sometimes, I watch Jeopardy and someone misses an answer that I know. Then, of course, I point and laugh because "ha,ha - you rage against the dying of the light, not fight against it! Look at how stupid you are, with your stupid face!"
And then I remember that these people are making thousands of dollars by correctly answering questions that I not only don't know, but occasionally don't understand. Then I go back to rotating between Snapped and A-list New York so that I can get all cozy with my inflated sense of superiority.
And then I remember that these people are making thousands of dollars by correctly answering questions that I not only don't know, but occasionally don't understand. Then I go back to rotating between Snapped and A-list New York so that I can get all cozy with my inflated sense of superiority.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Obligatory Bone Thugs-N-Harmony Reference
It's November first, which means that it's Rabbit, Rabbit Day.
Rabbit, Rabbit Day, according to something I saw on Nickelodeon when I was about 10, occurs on the first day of every month. The idea is that if the first thing you say when you wake up on the first day of the month is "Rabbit, Rabbit" you'll have good luck all month.
Rabbit, Rabbit Day has been the bane of my existence for sixteen years. It's not even that I believe in it, it's just that I want to say it just once, just for the sake knowing I did it. But on Rabbit, Rabbit Day, I always fail. Always. 70% of the time it's because I completely forget it even exists, but the other 30% it's...more of a personal failing.
Apparently, it's impossible for me to go more than five minutes in the morning without announcing "I'm going to watch Scooby Doo until breakfast is ready," or "wouldn't it be cool if Alan Tudyk was on Supernatural?" or "man, I wish I still had a Popple." This happens without fail. Even if no one's listening.
For sixteen years, I've been unable to achieve the (relatively) simple goal of saying "Rabbit, Rabbit" on Rabbit, Rabbit day just once because I am physically incapable of keeping my mouth shut.
Which, I guess, is why I have a blog.
Rabbit, Rabbit Day, according to something I saw on Nickelodeon when I was about 10, occurs on the first day of every month. The idea is that if the first thing you say when you wake up on the first day of the month is "Rabbit, Rabbit" you'll have good luck all month.
Rabbit, Rabbit Day has been the bane of my existence for sixteen years. It's not even that I believe in it, it's just that I want to say it just once, just for the sake knowing I did it. But on Rabbit, Rabbit Day, I always fail. Always. 70% of the time it's because I completely forget it even exists, but the other 30% it's...more of a personal failing.
Apparently, it's impossible for me to go more than five minutes in the morning without announcing "I'm going to watch Scooby Doo until breakfast is ready," or "wouldn't it be cool if Alan Tudyk was on Supernatural?" or "man, I wish I still had a Popple." This happens without fail. Even if no one's listening.
For sixteen years, I've been unable to achieve the (relatively) simple goal of saying "Rabbit, Rabbit" on Rabbit, Rabbit day just once because I am physically incapable of keeping my mouth shut.
Which, I guess, is why I have a blog.
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