Fucktard of the week:
Many people around the world have a particular dislike for Tom Green, but that dislike festers up here in Canada, like a puss-filled sore on Paris Hilton's punani. We were his reluctant audience in the early days of his career, when he was just a cable TV act with a penchant for screwing with his sweet parents.
His stunts with dead animals are worthy of particular disgust, and his films have been universally panned as the stinkers that they are. Despite that, he has been invited back here to host not only the Canadian Walk of Fame events this year, but bafflingly, the Live 8 in Barrie as well. I hang my head in shame, and remind people of this: Tom Green is not representative of all Canadians. Or, any Canadians. Or, people in general.
My Tom Green-related story:
I'm listening to the radio one day, X-FM with Mauler and Rush. They're a couple of funny dudes who I liked to listen to, and who played some decent music. And on this day in particular they were giving away free passes. I got my hands on 2 of these passes - to see Freddy Got Fingered.
So Jason and I turn up to the theatre on opening night, and Mauler and Rush are there making grilled cheeses for the movie-goers (if you've seen the movie, you'll get the tie-in). Jason and I took our seats in the crowded theatre (crowded because Tom Green is a native Ottawan...apparently we are a supportive people) and before the movie can even begin, Mauler and Rush are up there giving a riotous speech and then giving away prizes...and wouldn't you know it, my name is called. Way, way too embarrassed to go up myself, I send Jason. And he comes back with oodles of merchandise that we giggle over for weeks: Freddy Got Fingered t-shirt, soundtrack, visor, etc, etc. Great.
So we watch the movie. We try desperate to find something, anything, worth laughing about. No such luck. It was painful. It stank so much it made me miss my greasy neighbour who didn't believe in underarm deodorant but did believe in cooking curry when he came home from working at the fish market.
The next day, I write a letter to the radio station. The gist of this email is: I regret wasting 97 minutes of my life on this bad, bad movie. Even though the tickets were free, I hold these two radio personalities responsible for subjecting me to such baditity. To make it up to me, I suggest they can buy back my love my providing me with passes to the big Survivor party they were throwing.
Yes, I realize I was just an audience member who should have felt grateful for the first set of free movie tickets in the first place, but...BUT, I've said it before and I'll say it again: being cocky gets you places.
A return email from the radio stations says that if I will call in that morning and repeat my humorous opinion of the movie, said passes shall be mine.
So, proclaiming Tom Green to be a fucktard has been beneficial to me in the past...who knows where it will get me today? I think that if Tom Green were here, he would totally approve. He seems like a materialistic guy with lax morals, just like me!
Fucker of the week:
Ew, ew, ew, ew. It looks no less than horrendous on the above pasty person, but is more commonly found on, um, older ladies, especially those don't know how to say no to a tanning bed. Their sun-damaged skin is wrinkled, their mouths appear to be cast in permanent puckers (probably they are smokers too...just oozing good health and good hygiene). These ladies are baked so brown they give George Hamilton a run for his money. In fact, using shoe polish for foundation may give a more subtle effect. And then they top it all off with a thick orange smear. Oooo, sexy.
To recap: no matter your age, your skin tone, your level of colour blindness - orange lipstick is not, never is, acceptable. In the least. In the slightest. For any reason. Even if it's on sale. Especially if it's on sale. Just don't ever do it. Orange lipstick is not your friend.
This week's most fuckable:
Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe
He's gorgeous, she's gorgeous, it's sickening. I can totally imagine them spending Saturday nights locked in the following battle:
Ryan: You're cuter.
Reese: No, you're cuter.
Ryan: No you are!
Reese: No you are!
etc, etc, etc...
I've offered up a married couple this week, because everyone knows that married couples (especially ones this cute!) make for great menages a trois! A married couple is 2/3 of a threesome, if you're counting, so just add yourself to the mix, and stir!
What makes this couple even more irresistible is their obvious devotion to each other, and their family. Despite two movie careers, family comes first. And what I like best about them (besides the fact that you can't make a Bennifer type amalgamation out of Ryan and Reese) is that for a Hollywood power couple, they sure do keep out of the spotlight. Oh sure there are premieres, but other than that, they keep to themselves. They seem like normal, grounded people - and shockingly, still happy after 6 years of marriage and counting (a flippin long time by Hollywood standards!)
Even pregnant, Reese exudes grace and charm. These two are so good looking they seem destined to be together - and just think how blonde their children must be with those genes!
If the whole rubber-sheet scenario doesn't work out with them, I for one, would be just as happy spending a day or two inside their closet. Look at them, they're impeccably dressed and always so polished. Reese's hair never even has the just-screwed-around-in-the-limo look that most of us would suspect with a handsome husband like hers (could any of us resist kissing those lips of his?) - but then, when you're living large, maybe you employ someone specifically for putting you back together after quickies behind tinted windows...who's with me?