… or is it?
Heck, if it makes me look like Edy Williams, pass the WATE ON.
Maybe more drastic measures are needed:
I remember these. My friend’s dad bought them for her older sister! She was insulted, but we tried them. They were weird and chewy.
I seem to be on some sleazy mailing list for sluts. The “monokinis” (isn’t that one of the stupidest words ever?) are expensive, ugly, and not even fun-trashy in a Fredericks kind of way. Oddly, my name on the catalog has a middle initial of “F” … for “Francine” I hope.
Look at them chicken cutlets! Ouch.
While fresh young actors continue to drop dead at an alarming rate, Mickey looks plumper than ever … like a butterball turkey. Look at him with Brangelina: he’s probably thinking she doesn’t have enough meat on her bones, but combine them and they’d make a tasty meal, prolonging his life for another few months.
Or maybe they’ve adopted him? And what’s with those medals? Is he doing a Jacko-thing now? You know they’ve really gone over the edge when they start wearing faux-medals.
There’s a reality show on VH1 and I don’t even know if it’s new or old (it’s got Sebastian Bach and Ted Nugent) but that isn’t what riveted me. It’s the house they are staying in, in Vegas. Every inch of wall space is covered in ornate, rococo paint and murals. I was dying to find out more about this incredible house. I had a feeling it was Liberace’s and sure enough, it is! Liberace had a replica of the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling painted on his bedroom ceiling (can you imagine laying in bed and staring up at that?) I’m not sure if his “piano bathtub” is in that house, but if it isn’t, there’s plenty to boggle the mind. It looks like a gilt god vomited all over. There’s a video of “88 Keys” where he’s playing his bathtub-piano, but I don’t see it on YouTube, so we’ll settle for “The Look of Love” instead:
My aunt sent me one of those “helpful” emails about identifying the signs of a stroke. I replied to her: “Don’t send an unemployed hypochondriac these things.” She’ll probably reply, “Who?” but that doesn’t matter. I know if I read it (it came with helpful diagrams) I will soon start to feel those small signs of impending doom. Yesterday I thought was one of the crumbiest days yet of 2008 but then I heard the Heath Ledger news and realized that $500 of unexpected dental work + slamming your thumb in the car door while mailing your unemployment claim wasn’t the worst that could happen. Eve can’t crank the obits out fast enough and that one is just too damned sad to post. There’s info about Vampira’s memorial fund up at Vampira’s Attic so please check that out!
And on a much lighter note:
CROWSNEST PASS, Alberta — A paramedic who’s used to saving the lives of others found himself having to eat beaver and fend off snarling animals to ensure his own survival while trapped for 96 hours in Alberta bush country.
Oh and I’m blogging for a few other sites now, including a movie one, “Celluloid Slammer.” I found out via Flickr that there are folks into punishment by permanent. Yep, that’s right. Learn something new every day!
More! Lois Nettleton, Suzanne Pleshette … and still, you-know-who hangs in there. There really is no justice in Hollywoodland.
I had an unexpected lunch with Pat Boone, complimented Tippi Hedren on her gorgeous boots, and had Mr. Blackwell run his fingers through my hair, while assuring me I’d never make his (worst-dressed) list.
All in one day. Read about it here.
More proof of a godless world: Vampira dies yet Mickey Rooney continues to outlive everyone!
PS. Top right: Vampira in “The Beat Generation,” lower right: Lisa Marie as Vampira in “Ed Wood.”
From “Luciana Avedon’s Body Book,” (after she divorced the Prince and married her book
editor.) I have to say, she looks fantastic in all the photos - she’s in a white bikini, with her frosted blonde hair and tanned, somewhat oiled physique. Let’s turn to page 30:
“Isn’t Housework Exercise in Itself?”
Some housework may also be exercise, but not the kind that keeps you beautiful. Making beds never helped anyone’s inner thighs; washing dishes does not firm the behind.
Magazine articles that explain how housework can do marvels for your figure strike me as the ultimate con. It is bad enough to have to clean house and boring enough to exercise. Prologing both by combining them is strictly for Ms. Masochist. Furthermore, unless you keep the refrigerator door shut, all those pliés, jetés, and pas de deux you do with the mop wind up as extra pounds.
So, she’s basically saying what she says in “The Beautiful People’s Diet Book” - don’t eat and get someone else to do your cleaning. PL, you’ve done it again.
photo from Shorpy.
In line at Ikea, Saturday night. Everyone else had the same idea and the line is long.
Two kids behind me.
“Smell this.”
“No.”
“Smell it!”
“I don’t want to.”
“But I thought you liked the smell of money.”
“I do … but I’m kinda getting over it.”