32isthenew25.com

I can't even remember the last time I read news this exciting:

According to Beyonce -- and thanks to [perhaps dubious, but who am I to judge or care?] hard evidence obtained by Media Take Out -- 32 is the new 25!

Apparently someone from the Texas Department of Health faxed a copy of Miss B's official birth certificate to the gossip site which, if the document is accurate, indicates that Beyonce is actually-- well, she's just OLD. 32 to be precise!

[Is that big enough to read? I'm thinking not, so you should probably just check their site.]

So even though Beyonce has [potentially] been revealed as a [potential] bearer of false witness, the good news -- or at least what I'm spinning as good news -- is that if Beyonce is 25, I'm... 17! [Why is math so hard?!] I'm 17! I'm 17! Gosh-- I can't wait to buy porn and vote! This is the best day ever!



Good day and Godspeed, youngin'!

Serious Hottness!!

It's been ages -- quite literally, and for that I am truly sorry -- since I've even had a spare moment to update my blog. However, that all changes now, because Christmakwanzakah came early this year. And so did I.

Today's obsession is fantasy made flesh in the form of exquisite French figure skater turned husband-of-my-dreams, Brian Joubert. The man can do three quads in one routine, so my infatuation and enthusiam are totally justifiable-- and what's even better is that it's all in a completely acceptable, sportslike "isn't his athleticism positively fascinating" sort of way. Anyhow, the clip is utterly ridiculous, and yet somehow ridiculously hott, all at the same time. Behold him in all his glory:



I hope you enjoy this tasty tid-bit. I know I will be... for the rest of my life. Especially when we get married. So back off! He's mine, okay!?



Good day and Godspeed, fellow purveyors of figure skating!

Cheese Curds, Indentured Servants, Possibly Just 75 Cents in Wisconsin If You're Feeling Lucky

ANTIGO, Wisconsin-- Three-year-old Robert Moore, while under the watchful eye of his grandmother, got stuck in a vending machine at the local mall last Saturday, attempting to win a SpongeBob Squarepants stuffed toy. According to his "Oma", the child was delighted:

"He was having a ball in there, hugging all the stuffed animals," [grandmother] Fredricka Bierdemann said. "He was so good-natured, but I was shaking like a leaf."

...at least that's what the Master of Spin, Freddi-B [as she's known on the black market], is trying to sell, because the photo tells an entirely different story-- the true story-- of human trafficking:

It is my sincere belief, based on the above scientific photographical evidence, that little Robert escaped to said vending machine to protest, metaphorically speaking, his slave-driving "Oma's" cheap sales of children into lives of indentured servitude. Just one look into this brave child's eyes bears his haunting plea of "let my people go". Unfortunately for him and his misbegotten band of vagrant siblings, his petit coup d'etat was tragically ended by Fredricka's co-conspirators and fellow child-haters at the Antigo Fire Department. As punishment for his inspired act of civil disobedience, one can surely expect that poor sweet Robert has already been bartered to a small island-nation, exchanged for a burlap sack filled with coconuts, various odd tropical birds, and a shrunken head.

Let us all bow our heads and observe a moment of silence for visionary activist, Roger Moore -- if that was even his name -- for he will be missed, dearly.



Good day and Godspeed, my fellow freedom fighters.



***
Link to the AP article by clicking on the photo!

Paris Hilton, Desecrator of Teddy Bears

An epic love for the ages:

Oh wait. Remember when these two were dating? I know-- I cried when their publicists issued the news of their break-up, too. And then immediately forgot all about them... until now!

Nick Carter -- currently of E's smash-hit new series House of Carters [I kid, I kid, it's really a piece of shit]

-- recently made another grab for his sixteenth minute of fame by speaking candidly on record about Paris. Carter says:

"She relied heavily on drugs and drink to give her confidence in the bedroom and was more often than not too wasted to even perform. I lost count of the nights I had to pick her off the floor and drag her to bed passed out. If she was going overseas she'd cut a hole in her teddy and stuff it with cannabis. She had to have her own private stash with her at all times regardless of the consequences."

I'm not sure what surprises me more: that Nick Carter is smart enough to have a vocabulary including the word "cannabis" [highly suspect], or that Paris Hilton is smart enough to A) wield a sharp object without maiming herself in the process, and B) use said object to cut open a stuffed animal without maiming herself in the process [maybe she has the help do it?]. Plus, I don't see why Carter had any complaints at all-- what did he care if she was passed out, he could've done whatever position he wanted then and wouldn't have to waste any time telling her how pretty she was. If nothing else though, Carter's statement flies in the face of one Elliot Mintz who, earlier this month, tried to explain away a mystery bag of "potpourri" in his beloved cash cow/client's purse as nothing more than tobacco. Or as I like to call it, wacky tabacky.

"I just want to get something clear with you. Paris Hilton rolled her own tobacco cigarette. It was tobacco that you saw."

[Elliot Mintz should really consider a career in acting; it's miraculous that he can keep a straight face while attempting to spin the media such a ridiculous story. Seriously, Maryl Streep would be proud.]

Again, I'm not sure what surprises me more: the suggestion that A) Paris is smart enough to roll her own cigarette, or B) Paris is smart enough to use a lighter and/or matches without setting herself on fire [I'm just saying]. Plus, personally, I don't have such a hard time accepting allegations that Paris enjoys an altered state of being, because it certainly explains away this whole atrocity:

Although it does not, by any means, justify the wholesale slaughter of countless Teddy Ruxpins in the pursuit of international drug trafficking. Say it with me people; Paris Hilton must be stopped!


Good day and Godspeed, fellow junkies.

Homosaywhat?!

The hellfire and brimstone that have been swirling around the explosive altercation on the set of Grey's Anatomy -- as first reported by famed bastion of media integrity the National Enquirer and independently confirmed by Pulitzer winning journalists Rush & Molloy -- came to a head yesterday when T.R. Knight confirmed to People.com that he does, indeed, enjoy both the giving and receiving of felatio. At the same time.

In case you're not familiar with the events, I'll break them down for you. It all started with this exchange of words:

"What are we waiting on?" said Isaiah.

"Not me," said Patrick. "I'm always ready."

"At that point," said the source, "Isaiah said something mean to T.R. Knight" (who plays mild-mannered Dr. George O'Malley).

"That's when Patrick told Isaiah, 'Pick on somebody your own size.'"

[Yay, McDreamy! What a stud!]

But then, basically, Burke decided it was time to choke a bitch, grabbed McDreamy by the throat, and shoved him into a wall. Controversy ensued, publicists made statements, everything was made right in the world... Or was it!?

[Boo! Bad Burke!]

The Enquirer -- fearing that everything had appropriately died down -- sent out an inflamatory email blast this week clearing up the nature of what was said to/about T.R.:

"A heated discussion quickly escalated to violence when Isaiah snapped, revealed an eyewitness. At one point, Isaiah yelled, "I'm not your little faggot like (name deleted)," according to the source. Those who heard him were stunned.

Because of the extreme nature of the slur, The ENQUIRER is withholding the name of the co-star targeted by Washington."

Ummmm... yeah. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to figure out that the two Enquirer pieces are reflexive? Nice literary work, geniuses.

Of course, not to be out done, T.R. Knight sashayed over to People.com to issue a [typically] dramatic [read: gay] statement addressing the now mounting rumors about his sexuality:

"I guess there have been a few questions about my sexuality, and I'd like to quiet any unnecessary rumors that may be out there. While I prefer to keep my personal life private, I hope the fact I'm gay isn't the most interesting part of me."

While I certainly applaud T.R.'s forthwright honesty and sympathize his feelings about his orientation, I have to wonder if he isn't grateful on some level for the catty outing he received on behalf of the Enquirer? It was probably getting difficult to capitalize on his fame when most gay men neither knew now cared that intern George wasn't actually into Meredith at all, and that the reason she was so thoroughly shaken by their sexual encounter is because he so insistantly pestered her for a five-fingered rectal exam which she agreed to, albeit reluctantly, until a tub of Cricso was produced, thereby reducing her to sobbing hysterics. At least now some sort of moderately attractive fame-seeking whoremonger will agree to pity-fuck him on a regular basis in exchange for some brief tabloid exposure. Well played T.R. -- when the Enquirer gives you a national outing, you parlay it into sex -- this round goes to you!

Good day and Godspeed, fellow patients of Seattle Grace.

***
PS- Sorry for the lack of block-quoting during this outing [so to speak]; they were surprisingly not cooperating.

A Public Service Announcement: Diddy Didn't

Hey all, I just wanted to do everyone the kind service of warning people away from Diddy's new album Push Play. Why, you may be asking? Because it blows-- not in the good way, but in the way with teeth, or braces, or both.

You may also be asking what possessed me to purchase it at all? Well, I thought it would be good times because it boasts production by Timbaland, Kanye, Scott Storch, and Will.i.am; plus the guests include Christina, Ciara, Big Boi, Twista, Nas, Cee-lo, Brandy, and Mary J.-- among others. I was so disappointed to be proven so wrong though, because this album lacks catchy hooks, good beats, and, more than anything, good rapping. Perhaps the Cristal impaired everyone's judgement-- I don't know, and it's not for me to say. It has now become my civic duty, though, to tell the world that Diddy's latest disc is simply a bloated work of ego that should be avoided at all costs-- it would have been more aptly titled This Album is a Big Piece of Shit.

Good day and Godspeed, brave soldiers of hip hop.

Uli and Laura Were Robbed!!

Never in the worst of all possible nightmare scenarios would I have fathomed that the wretched Jeffrey Sebelia would be chosen as the winner of Project Runway.

[We should have been so lucky as to have Jeffrey actually shut his fucking mouth for a hot minute-- this photo is just cruel and unusual punishment.]

Seriously though, what a douche-y ballsack. I just can't stand the fact that he won! However, that being said, I will admit that I was unfairly critical in my criticism of his collection and how heavily he borrowed from Betsey Johnson's new line. Unfair to Anna Sui, that is; Jeffrey is apparently an equal-opportunity plagarist, seeing as how he pillaged both the spirit of Betsey and Anna. I was foolish to have missed it before. Behold, Jeffrey's swimsuit:

And now have a look at one by Betsey:

Are they exact replicas? No they are not-- but my point is that the attitude is very much the same -- retro-rocker chic -- which is why I just don't see Jeffrey as the next great visionary of American fashion. I've seen what he does done before and done better, and I'll see it done again. Uli and Laura may have been "too much of what they do best", but at least what they do best is make wearable clothing with distinct perspectives that for me, personally, have much more interesting points of view. I love the glamour and escapism that Laura offers, and I love her assertion that we all could take more time to be fabulous. I love that Uli is all about life and fun, and that her work really embodies those ideas. Basically, Jeffrey may be "more innovative" and might make some people want some of his clothes, but where Laura and Uli surpass him is in making you crave the lifestyle that goes with their clothes. Which is why, even though they didn't win, they're still the champs to me.

Good day and Godspeed, my fellow brethren of the Runway.



***
Photos cribbed, as always, from nymag.com-- although one is from Bravo.com today, too!

WEDNESDAY NIGHT RAW: PROJECT RUNWAY SMACKDOWN

Far and away the most polarizing batch of Project Runway yet, season three has delivered all the goods with multiple crazies [Bradley! Vincent! Angela!], a first-ever shocking dismissal from the show [Keith!], and more than enough homos to cast an all-gay remake of Dallas called Chelsea -- or Phallus as the cast and crew will take to calling it on set -- starring Tim Gunn as the beloved patriach of a dysfunctional family of charmeuse tycoons living in Manhattan [Hello Kayne, Keith, Robert, Malan, Laura, and probably Michael Knight!]. What, with Jeffrey making Angela's mother cry, Alison's undeserved premature auf-ing, and Vincent's perpetual state of arousal, there was nary a dull moment. Though their collections have been online courtesy New York Magazine for over a month, I had previously refrained from posting anything about them out of respect for those who enjoy the elements of suspense and surprise the show employs. However, since the grand finale is tonight, I've decided it's now okay to do a posting about the Final Four and how well they fared at Fashion Week in Bryant Park. Let's begin...

Michael Knight, America's Sweetheart

Taking this year's "SERIOUSLY-- what the fug were you even THINKING" award, Michael fell in the vein of Daniel V. from last season; brilliant and promising while under the pressure and restrictions of the challenges, but unfocused and too-ambitious in the execution of his collection. Here's his final look:

Arguably, it's his strongest piece as well. The whole collection is very Baby Phat cumGucci by way of Bebe as reimagined by the design team over at Forever 21-- though this print is sort of garish in the way you typically expect from Versace. I really do like Michael, and am glad that he at least won the title of "fan favorite" during the reunion episode. Because he's got about a snowball's chance in hell of winning this season. A poorly-designed, ill-fitting snowball's chance in hell, that is.


Ulrike Herzner, Living the American Dream

I just adore Uli and her quaint foreigner's ever-so-slightly-skewed grasp of the English language. I also love that Heidi gets all a-twitter around her and begins jabbering away in German whenever she sees her. Plus Uli's pretty, but in a delightfully quirky sort of way! Her collection, in turn, suited her well; very fresh, very now, and all the while true to her aesthetic. The final look is one of her signature flowy printed-dresses, and though it isn't her most inspired work it's lovely all the same:

The other thing I like so much about Uli is that she made no qualms about bitch-jacking Michael's model Nazri right out from under him at the first available opportunity, and then later confessed to the camera, "It's a competition. You have to do whatever you need to do to make your presentation the best on the runway." Her attitude, experience, and playful sense of style make her varied-yet-cohesive collection a strong contender for the win.


Jeffrey Sebelia, The Mouthiest Neck Ever

Jeffrey, for me, is one of the most interesting contestants ever to grace the fair Runway. It's fascinating that the producers seem to be torn-- alternately wanting him to be this season's major antagonistic asshole, yet painstakingly attempting to humanize him at every available opportunity should he in fact win the competition and they need to paint him as the scrappy underdog. Now add the recently revealed accusations of foul play, top them off with that God-awful neck tattoo, and you have got yourself one hott mess. Which is why I understand the concerns being raised about the peculiarity of his incredibly polished collection; he's been all deconstruction and layers thus far on the show, and then shows up at fashion week all clean and pared down. Note the final look:

It's just so very Betsey Johnson Spring 2007-- that's my major problem. Seriously, follow the link and you'll see the similarities beteween the collections. Plus, I think this dress does the highly difficult job of making an emaciated girl look fat-- and while the skinny model may be grateful for her healthy new look, the fact that I cringe at the thought of this dress on women sizes 4 and up is probably not ideal. So well he may be a great reality personality, I honestly don't find Jeffrey very original or engaging as a designer, so it'll be a shame if the judges somehow stumble into a black hole and he wins.


Laura Bennett, Producer of Children and Fine Garments

Love her. Love everything about her. She's just pure sophistication and glamour. All class all the way. Her collection, too, is a great reflection of her talent. Behold her final look:

Her whole collection has splashes of the tasteful stylings of de la Renta's gowns, a dramatic flair of vintage Yves St. Laurent, and even a touch of Runway Divo-Judge Michael Kors' Spring '07 line. I imagine they'll probably tell her it was too-grown up, or too-much evening wear, or both, but I really find her collection the most tasteful and strong.

We'll find out this evening what we've all been hotly anticipating for months now; who will be America's next great fashion designer. I'm just so excited I could pee!

See you tomorrow, when we'll discuss the hopefully-joyous results!

Good day and Godspeed, friend!

***

All photos cribbed from the indelible nymag.com! There's also a link embedded in the first picture to a great Project Runway article!