The girls are coming out tonight...

Now see? This makes me happy.

Lara Flynn Boyle has gained some weight.



She has hips! And boobs! The woman has boobs, for the love of Pete!

Know who else has boobs? This "lady":



I have NO idea who she is...but I'm going to take a WILD guess and say that PERHAPS she works in film. Straight-to-video type of film, if you catch my drift. I'm going to assume that she's not a dancer because one swing in the wrong direction and she could knock off someone's head with those things.

Also, I'd like to know where she got that darling ensemble...I have a baby shower coming up and I can't think of anything more appropriate to wear.

Hermione's Vice...

Emma Charlotte Duerre Watson, what on EARTH do you think you're doing?



You are 16 years old. 16! You're a child. And you're Hermione, for God's sake. You're supposed to be smarter than that.

How many times do I have to tell you...drink Bud LIGHT, not Budweiser! It has fewer calories and you need to start watching your figure!

The Coreys Strike Back…

Oh. My. God.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Is it my birthday? Am I on Candid Camera? Did I just win some fantastic TV lottery? Because – and I am NOT kidding here – Corey Feldman and Corey Haim (HAIM!!) are teaming up on a new “hybrid improve comedy” show that “centers on fictional versions of themselves a la ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm.’”

No, for real. FOR REAL.



Was License To Drive not sheer genius? And Lost Boys? I mean, I don’t even LIKE vampire movies but damn if I didn’t want to have my blood sucked by a Corey (Haim) after watching that movie.

Haim was always my favorite. I HEARTED him. Feldman was always kind of weird in his Michael Jackson wannabe mullet-sporting kind of way. But you know what? I think the tables may have turned.



Oh Corey, Corey, Corey…Haim. What’s with the hair? That’s not even a color. And the tats? I mean, who ARE you? I don’t even know you any more, CH. The sleeveless shirt, the beaded necklaces, the stoned, bleary-eyed look…what’s happening here? He looks like some sort of middle aged C-list former movie star. Oh, right. He is.

If you would’ve told me 15 years ago that I would be talking this way about Corey Haim I would’ve said, “Like, get real!” Then I would’ve attempted to flip my hairspray-frozen bangs, adjusted my Scrunchi and gone back to reading my Big Bopper magazine.

Reading the show’s plotline it’s kind of starting to make sense:

"The Coreys picks up with Feldman living the comfortable suburban life with his wife Suzie and son, until circumstances bring his old pal Haim back into the picture. Episodes would follow Haim -- single and the total opposite of Feldman -- as he shakes life up for the Feldmans.”

Regardless of Haim’s new trashtastic look, I’m so looking forward to this show. I am sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the Coreys…at least on this blog.

A little diddy for Selma...

Hollywood romance boggles the mind, does it not? Take Selma Blair for example. Selma filed for divorce LAST WEEK from Ahmet Zappa, her husband of two years who I think is oddly attractive in a weird, pasty, white, bald guy kind of way.



THIS WEEK she's seen cavorting with P.Diddy. Or Diddy. Or Puffy. Or Puff Diddy. Or whatever the F he's going by these days.



And by the way, I only find Diddle-Puff attractive when he's wearing sunglasses.

Anyway, I'm all for mixing it up and diversifying your portfolio, shall we say. But dude - she filed for divorce on Friday and now she's shackin' up with Fluffer-Nutter three days later? Have we no decency?

A moment of silence...

Oh no, you guys! I'm sad! Moose died! Come on! You know Moose!



Moose played Eddie on Frasier. He was 16 when he passed away.

I loved Moose. He was so cute and fluffy and friendly - quite frankly, he was the best looking guy on that show.

Here's lookin' at you, Moose. I hope you're enjoying that giant chew toy in the sky.

Sexy is in the eye of the beholder...

Things that are NOT sexy:
1. Middle-aged women in shiny black snakeskin mini-dresses with Frankenstein flops and anklets.




Mom, I told you! If you’re going to wear the dress grandma made you out of Uncle Jimmy’s vinyl seat covers, wear it with the moon boots, not the Frankenstein flops!

What in the…

So I was at the gym tonight (stop laughing) and I was sort of watching that show How I Met Your Mother. And it made me think about how much I dislike that Allyson Hannigan chick. You know, the lesbian witch from Buffy? The flute girl from American Pie? Yeah, her:



So I’m all, “Oh, I’m going to blog about how that annoying Allyson Hannigan chick reminds me of a girl I went to elementary school with who used to eat paste and make me play with her imaginary friend Puff-Puff until I called her stupid and then she cried and I got put in time out and my sadistic teacher made me draw a circle on the chalkboard and stand with my nose in it until I started sneezing so hard that I left a wet trail on the green board.”

(My internal monologues are awesome, huh? Hard to believe I’m not taking down 8-balls like they’re Tic-Tacs.)

Anywho, so I was looking for a picture to help illustrate this article and I came across these:




What in the hell? Okay, for the record, these photos do NOT remind me of my paste-eating Puff-Puff loving friend.

But I mean, is it me or is this just an odd and totally unbelievable look for her? Maybe it’s because I’m not a ‘tween girl dabbling in Wicca. Or perhaps it’s because I’m not a college-age boy who’ll pleasure himself to a Lands End catalog if the need arose. (and there’s always a need, right boys?) I just don’t get it.

Part of me thinks it’s sad that she has to turn to nudie pics to up her sex appeal…although if I had her stomach and legs I would be posting nudie pics of myself on this blog every hour on the hour.

So okay, maybe I can understand.

The Evil Brit Witch is Ripping My Heart Out…

Damn you, J.K. Rowling! Damn you straight to hell!

On Monday that wicked shrew did an interview with a British TV show and hinted (read: threatened) that Harry Potter may not survive the last book.

HARRY POTTER. SURVIVE. BOOK.

Are you HEARING me people?

"The final chapter is hidden away, although it's now changed very slightly. One character got a reprieve. But I have to say two die that I didn't intend to die," she said. "A price has to be paid. We are dealing with pure evil here. They don't target extras do they? They go for the main characters. Well, I do."

Yes, we are dealing with pure evil, J.K. And that evil is you! Look, all I’m saying is that 90210 and Saved By The Bell both went on for like, what? 80 seasons? I mean, they were in high school for like 10 years. They went on to college together. And then Kelly and Zach got married and I totally hated her for taking what was rightfully mine because I had pined after Zach Morris for years, giving up my Saturday mornings to love him. But noooooooo, the chick with the big boobs always gets the guy. I mean, is it my fault that genetics made me flat chested? No. No it’s not.

But I digress. My point is, if the class of Saved By the Bell can keep rocking for the same length of time slouch socks were in style, why can’t Harry & Co.?

I can see it now! A whole series dedicated to Harry Potter: The College Years. Harry, Ron and Hermione can have some sort of booze-induced threesome and chalk it up to experimentation. Think of all the adventures they can have with magical drugs, and summer abroad, and passing out in a haunted frat house with their head in the toilet and wearing someone else’s pants! That’s at least five books right there.

I’m just saying, J.K. I’ve got a whole lot of free time on my hands and I’d be willing to ghost write. I don’t even need all the credit. Just let me have a shot.

…oh, to do that I’m going to need Harry alive. Don’t make me come up with some weird soap opera-esque plot in which Harry magically comes back to life. Because I will. Don’t put it past me.

So if you’re so concerned with keeping your precious Harry safe from the mooching literary hacks who will try to whisk him away to a magical land of beer pong and keg stands, I suggest you work with me here. And let’s cut evil off at the pass.

Perspective...

Okay, I'm not nutritionist. And I'm certainly no mathmetician. But I'm pretty sure that when your head is wider than your hips you can be considered too skinny.



I mean, the dress is adorable. The hair looks great. Pretty make-up. Not sure how I feel about the shoes but three out of four ain't bad.

But she's starting to look like a bobblehead doll and that's just not right.



Nicole, either eat a lot and often, or get some sort of head liposuction and call it a day.

Cyanide & Happiness

Sexy is in the eye of the beholder...

Things that are NOT sexy:
1. Cornrows, in a ponytail, with a sweat band.


Excuse me, sir? Oh, sir? Yes, hi, um maybe you didn't realize it but your hair looks like a black squid died on your head. Oh...you MEANT to do that? Right. Okay then. Well, sorry about that. My mistake.

Dude looks like a lady...

God I hate her.



I know, I know. You guys are all, "What is your deal with Paris Hilton? Let it go, okay?"

But I cannot. I will not. And you can't make me. EVER.

Here's the thing. What annoys me most is when Paris is photographed looking...well, pretty. I hate when she tries to dress like a lady. It's like she's in costume. I feel like she's getting ready to make her stage debut in a heartbreaking production of Our Town set to 50-cent music.



(by the way, P...I hate your shoes - proof that you can take the lady out of the whorehouse, but you can't take the WHORE out of the lady)

Anywho, my point is that this is Paris Hilton and I'm disappointed when I don't see her looking like the dirty, vapid slut-puppy she really is. I'm disappointed when she doesn't look like this:



Or perhaps this:



I mean LOOK AT THIS:



Glossy hair, pretty make-up, a dress that's long enough to cover her ovaries. It's brilliant. And yet it wouldn't be me if I didn't say WHAT THE F IS UP WITH THAT HALF GLOVE? Maybe it's actually a bandage treating some sort of infection that she got from scratching her crotch in the photo above.

Damn you, Paris. Damn you straight to hell for making me admit that sometimes, in the right light and semi-sober you actually look somewhat attractive.

I will never forgive you.

Back in Black...

After a week of speculation that she was wearing a wig, we’ve now confirmed that Britney Spears has dyed her hair black.



Know what? I kind of don’t hate it. I mean, I liked her when she was all cute and blonde and healthy looking (a look we CLEARLY haven’t seen in a looooong time) but this new, darker side of Brit is sort of…I don’t know…appropriate, I guess. Perhaps she’s mourning her lost youth.

ASIDE: Whoa, whoa. Wait a second. Something just struck me. I thought pregnant woman weren’t allowed to dye their hair? Can someone please confirm or deny this?

Back to the business at hand. You know, at the start of Spring, I got some face-framing highlights in my hair. My stylist said they made me glow. Okay, not really. Actually what she said was that they made me look less yellow and plain. (bitch) BUT, my point is, no one noticed. No one cared. No one said a thing.

Britney goes and dyes her hair and it’s international news. Can you imagine being obsessed over like that? Although I think it might be fun to screw around with the press a bit. Maybe she should try a few different looks. AND, I just happen to have a few suggestions for her.

1. Carrot Top? Or the Jessica Simpson Wig Collection?

I’ve always been a sucker for a redhead.

2. Good at parties…

Now that she’s a mom wouldn’t this be a fun way to keep her kiddies entertained? Think of how much fun she’d be at cocktail parties!

3. Edgy Brit…

Maybe she needs a new professional image and I, for one, would like to recommend the edgy, punk look. I mean, it’s worked for Mr. T all those years. And if it’s good enough for Mr. T…well, you know where I’m going with this.

4. Intellectual Brit…

Take a page from the Condaleeza Rice School of Feminism. The tighter the do, the tighter the brain. If she wants us to take her seriously and not think she’s so “country,” perhaps this would be a good change.

An open letter to Mary Kate Olsen...

Dear MK:
Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Mary Kate. This is all some weird twin rebellion thing. Ashley’s all cute and sophisticated and glowing and dewy and since you are a rebel, you want to be the complete opposite. Dirty, trashy, ugly, scary. The list of adjectives goes on.

Let’s review.

Ashley:


MK:

Son of a…what’s going on here? I thought we left the heroine chic look back in the mid-90s with Kate Moss and Calvin Klein? Were you even BORN in the mid-90s? I want to chase after you with a comb, some eye make-up and nail polish remover. And that ‘tude! Why so angry, MK? You’re worth a bajillion dollars. Buy some happiness. And a Twinkie, while you’re at it.

Let’s see what else we’ve got here:

Hey MK, can you hand me a pair of scissors to cut those heinous pouf-sleeves from your heinous dress? You kind of look like you popped off the cover of an Anne Rice novel, rolled around in dirt, did some crystal meth and then posed for a red carpet picture. Not good, MK. Not good at all.


Eew. I…you…I mean…why…good god, woman. Have you no shame? By the way, I’m pretty sure I saw Kate Hudson wearing this same outfit and, guess what? It looked like ass on her too. Don’t repeat the mistakes of other too-skinny, stringy-haired, pseudo-hippie actresses.


Yes, MK. There is such thing as glasses that are too big for your face. And from the looks of it, you found them! Congratulations! Now drop them into a steel bin and set them on fire. Then walk away and never look back.


Holy over-accessorized, Mary Kate. I’d be willing to bet that we could get Egyptian cable channels if we stuck you on the roof and pointed your arm upwards.


Three words for you - Lose. The. Scarves. You look RIDICULOUS. They look as though they are eating you alive. If you’re cold buy a warm coat. Preferably one in your size…and not off the rack at a Goodwill…and maybe one that’s, oh I don’t know, pretty. And if it’s warm enough to wear a short white cotton dress and straw hat, I’m guessing it’s warm enough to lose the scarf and cowboy boots. Perhaps if you had a few ounces of body fat you wouldn’t be so cold all the time.


Does MK stand for Maniac Killer? Because that’s what you look like in that outfit. Jeez, ever heard of a manicure?

And now, for the piez de resistance (that's French for ugliest outfit in the entire known universe):

I really want to understand what this is, Maniac…er, Mary Kate. Are you channeling the Dali Lama? How spiritual of you. Now stop it. Couldn’t figure out what to wear this morning so you wrapped yourself in your bed linens? Understandable – they’re so soft and cotton really breaths, you know? But next time, MK, how ‘bout throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt that fits and hell, maybe a scarf. Because I think I would prefer a thousand scarves to this look.

Just a suggestion.

Kisses,
Denise

Poshitively creepy...

I’ve deliberately stayed away from blogging about Victoria Beckham (a.k.a. Posh Spice) but I’m afraid I can no longer keep my mouth shut because she’s totally starting to creep me out.

Back when she was part of that minion of mini-skirted Brit pop-tarts her sass was cute in a “this is all an act, I promise I’m a totally cool chick when the vinyl comes off” way.

I mean, she had a Barbie doll modeled after her and everyone knows that Barbie would not stand for any bitchiness because Barbie is cool and fun and sophisticated and has worked as a Burger King cashier so she remembers what it’s like to be part of the little people.


But now…good lord God. No, seriously. Have you seen her lately?


Girlfriend, eat some chicken fingers dipped in Crisco rolled in chocolate. Something. You’re killing me.

Actually, it’s not her emaciated figure that creeps me out, though that alone is cause for alarm...and a colon cleanse. It’s her tan and how pissed off she looks all the time. See for yourself:


Is this the kind of person you’d like to go to a soccer game with? I imagine that if I'd been with her she'd be giving me the evil eye and jealously watching me polish off my sixth Bud Light and fourth jumbo pretzel. She'd look at me as if I were a piece of rubbish (that's Brit for "trash" - I use it in her honor) stuck to the bottom of her boots which, by the way, are an inappropriate shoe selection for that outfit and that venue.

How about this?

Even her doorman and bodyguard look scared of her. Is that a scrunchi she's wearing around her waist? Because surely no one has dared make a skirt that short. And where exactly is she going in her scrunchi? The ice skating rink to work on her triple toe loops?

Quite frankly, if I were married to this guy:

I’d be smiling a whole lot more.

The pursuit of happiness...

Far be it from me to stop people from being happy. I mean, sometimes you find love in unexpected places, right? Sometimes two people are drawn together by a force that it stronger than they are...and for those two individuals, come hell or high water, an ocean between them, they cannot and should not be kept apart.

Except these two:



Jim Carrey and Jenny McCarthy. Seriously. Can you image a more obnoxious couple?

Oldie but a goodie...

Words can't describe the comedic value of this photo. Taylor "People's Hottest Bachelor" Hicks gets down and gets funky with Snoop Dogg.

I hope he didn't pull a muscle. But just in case - Taylor, my grandpa swears by Aspercreme.

The Anti-Hop...

Clearly K-Fed didn't get Jay-Z's memo about the Cristal Boycott of '06.



Kevin, you're not going to win any hip-hop brownie points pissing off Jay. I'm just saying.

I hate my commute...

I hate my commute. Public transportation, though convenient, is exhausting. And dirty.

Maybe I'm a little crankier than usual this morning because it's starting to feel like the 5th layer of hell in this God forsaken city and my skirt keeps sticking to my ass. (I hate that)

You have to understand that I take trains, subways, buses, pack mules, etc. to get to work in the morning so I have various opportunities to be thoroughly annoyed by the brainlessness of my fellow commuters.

Take dilly-dalliers at places like Grand Central Station. I know half of you are asking yourselves, "dilly dalliers?" Dilly dally, lollygag, be a slow motherf-er too consumed by your own stupidity to realize that you're in everyone's way. Got it? Good.

The point is, everyone at Grand Central is running to catch a train. The operative word being “running.” Walking in a zig-zag pattern while staring up at the ceiling and talking on your cell phone is really f-ing annoying and it makes me want to trip you and then kick you while you're down and then pour my $5 grande skim sugar-free vanilla latte onto your crotch.

See what you've done? I'm a nice person but you've driven me to violence.

Other things that drive me insane - people who take more than 5 seconds to get on an escalator. Hi, they are stairs...that move...up and down. They don't bite.

I'm also amazed by people that have the most private of conversations while on a train crammed with dozens of other commuters.

To the woman sitting in front of me on today's 7:40am train to White Plains (in the unlikely event you're reading this): He doesn't like you because you are annoying, and because your voice is reminiscent of nails scraping against a chalkboard while jack hammers drill and a dozen toddlers scream bloody murder in the backdrop...with a Bjork CD playing. Yeah, it's that bad. Calling him 5 times this weekend after having 3 chocolate martinis and "oh my god I was so trashed I puked on my roommate’s beanbag chair" is not cool.

Yes, I hate my commute. But at least it affords me the time to write long winded rants like this one. So I suppose my pain is your gain.

Bastards.

Sexy is in the eye of the beholder…The Weekend Edition Part Deux

Things that are NOT sexy:
1. Long cornrows.


2. Overly floral flip-flops.


3. Unibrows.

That’s why God invented tweezers. Look into them.

4. Lace tank tops worn like this.

Unless you work in the world's oldest profession, I'm not going to be able to allow this.

5. This outfit.

A little context. It was almost 90 degrees out. We were at an outdoor bar. She’s wearing a sweater. Also, lycra is a privilege, ladies. And what’s with the ugly belt? Is it holding up her breasts? It looks like something Danny from New Kids on the Block used to wear with Z-Cavarecci pants.