« February 2007 | Main | April 2007 »
My tempestuous relationship with ANTM continues. On the one hand, Sears??? On the other hand, I was quite entertained by this week's photo shoot. On the one hand, the shoot bore almost no resemblance to anything an actual model may have to do. (On that same hand, the CW website has yet to post candid photos from the episode.) On the other hand... I think I'm falling for Natasha.
It's a complicated thing we've got, baby.
Britney and K-Fed hammered out a divorce agreement yesterday, making one or both of them closer to being official deadbeat parents. Now, maybe I'm being a little stodgy about this, but it seems to me that 8 days after one's release from rehab isn't the ideal time to sign a legally binding document that will affect one's wealth and offspring. But I'm not Britney! (Or, thank God, K-Fed.)
Nobody knows the details yet. News reports say that the divorce settlement "covers child custody and financial matters." Which is like saying that a shirt covers your torso; it's so obvious as to be meaningless.
But at least it's one more hurdle conquered in Britney's quest to rid herself of K-Fed. And now, back to partying! (And I think you know what that means: awful pictures after the jump.)
Continue reading "She's makin' her move, she's got nothin' to lose" »
Actually, I wouldn't call this episode of Top Design hell. Unless maybe it's that Sartrean hell in No Exit, where you're just stuck with people being themselves for eternity. (Fact: I once tried to create a "Hell Is Other People" cross-stitch for my apartment. Never had the time to finish it.) Matt is still quiet, still doing his understated chic thing; Andrea is still overthinking things and shying away from vibrant colors; Carisa is still being a brat and griping about her carpenter; Goil is still looking at everything in a new way, but is perilously close to losing his mind.
And Kelly? She's Mrs. Roper.
I know it's been forever since the episode aired, but I've had a hard time getting juiced about this season, and this episode in particular creeped me right out. I'm used to a certain amount of exploitation and objectification of the contestants; after all, that's what modeling is. But I think ANTM finally went a decomposing hair too far with this week's shoot.
Almost as appalling as the "dead is the new hot" photo shoot is the fact that the episode was kinda ... boring.
Dammit, Top Design. I came thisclose to loving this episode! On the one hand, it's finally (finally!) an individual challenge, so I get to see more of each designer's personal style. On the other hand, I simply did not need to see that guest judge.
And poor Goil is coming apart at the seams again. Hang in there, bowl-of-noodles guy!
It's mama drama time on I Love New York, as the two mothers of the remaining three dudes are brought to the mansion for ritual humiliation. (Well, only one of them receives that, and it's really more like random, impromptu humiliation.) Will New York come between two brothers? Will she open her heart to the genuine, not-at-all-manufactured-for-television love of Tango?
Or will she fart?
We interrupt our blog already in progress for a special bulletin. If you or someone you love owns a hair salon, works as a paparazzi photographer, has a Starbucks franchise, frequents nightclubs or is employed at a strip-mall pet store anywhere in the vicinity of Southern California, be aware: Britney Spears has left rehab.
This time, she's supposedly "graduated," having spent 30 whole days at Promises, the most laid-back substance-abuse treatment facility this side of Dr. Nick Riviera. And while Britney might have attended a couple of AA meetings during her stay (off-site meetings, for some reason -- the better to be photographed entering and leaving, perhaps?), I have no reason to believe she's changed that much.
Because Britney's drug of greatest dependence is still attention. She needs to be reported upon like junkies need the needle, but she lacks the discipline (and talent) to produce something noteworthy, so she'll inevitably go the quick-and-dirty route. In other words, the cooter-shot countdown begins now, my friends.
[If my friend Patrick is reading this, he'll hopefully recognize the sleazy Sir Mix-A-Lot reference.]
Today was Mammogram Day. Wheeeeee! (Yes, that means you all tragically missed Mammogram Eve.) A mammogram is definitely the lesser of two evils; when the other option is breast cancer, it's hard not to be an improvement. Still, it's not what you'd call a pleasant experience.
Essentially, the goal of a mammogram machine is to render a three-dimensional object full of nerve endings into two dimensions, at the coldest temperature possible and at a funny angle to the rest of your body. I know, I know, it's better than cancer; you're absolutely right. But that doesn't mean I was happy about the re-shoots. Maybe next year I'll schedule it for a Friday afternoon and just show up drunk. Yeah, I might start changing into the gown while still in the waiting room, or yell, "My boobs are nuke-ular! Woooooo!" but I don't think I'll mind the cold or the compression anywhere near as much.
Yea, it's the makeover episode! Every season on this show, we get to see what the show's producers think the contestants should look like (when they're not giving them moving wigs and clown make-up for the photo shoots, anyway). The show made a ridiculously overt attempt to cut off any makeover-related drama at the pass, but who needs girls crying over their hair when you've got a genuine tragedy in one girl's life and Renee doing her best to introduce tragedy into anyone else's life?
Sorry, Tyra, you did your hammy-yet-cheesy thing for naught.
Continue reading "8-4: The hair has changed, but the bitchface remains" »
