Sunday, February 7, 2010

Put It Back On, Anne Hathaway

Anne Hathaway obviously still thinks she is something other than a walking/talking scarecrow, because here she is desperately pushing her boobs out on the latest cover of GQ.

Now I have no idea where my extreme lack of appreciation for Miss Hathaway comes from, but it's embedded deep in my mind and I just can't shake it. Maybe it was the nightmare I had featuring a very annoying and squeaky-voiced, eager to please business woman and her eye-rolling fish-out-of-water-in-New York City adventures that I've seen a million times. In this particular night terror, she also had a pot-bellied and equally annoying boyfriend with a hipster white boy ‘fro. This guy didn't leave her annoying ass when she turned into a snobby New Yorker after seeing the lifestyle and did a total 180 from her previously sweet, innocent perky demeanor. You know, another plot that we've seen a million times. Maybe my annoyance was enhanced by the knowledge that this irritating, average-looking actress was sharing screen time with a legendary actress of epic proportions - THE Meryl Streep, resulting in fame-by-association to the benefit of Ms. Hathaway.

But wait - that wasn't a nightmare. That was “The Devil Wears Prada” and ever since 2006, Anne Hathaway has been f’ing up my eyesight with poses like this. I want to blame it all on THE Meryl Streep for making Anne Hatahway famous, but Meryl can’t be blamed as her brilliance simply radiates effortlessly off even the most mundane of actresses. Case in point: Anne Hathaway.

Ambz the Ripper

Got Snow? - A Rebuttal

At the risk of turning the GAY e-magazine blog into our “Point/Counterpoint” column and with all due respect to Ms. Ripper, as a current resident of the DC/VA/MD metro area who spent the better part of the weekend living through “Snowmageddon”, I am compelled to respond to her blog post.

One-to-two feet, you say? You’re not even close. I measured three feet at my suburban Virginia dwelling. Yes, I had plenty of time to get outside and measure since my electricity was out from ~ 3:30pm until ~ 11pm on Saturday. I mean, why stay indoors where my living room is a balmy 57 degrees when I can go outside and shovel for hours? (BTW, Mom – thanks for all those cheesy battery-powered candles you bought on QVC and bestowed upon me over the years. I pulled them out of the spare room and fired them up all over the house as darkness fell.)

This was a storm unlike any I’ve seen in my 40+ years here in the DC area. If I never see a snow shovel again, it’ll be far too soon. I shoveled ~ 8” at 11:30pm Friday night to get a “head start” on the task, only to go out again mid-blizzard at noon on Saturday to find another two feet to deal with. Even when the snow had stopped, several more rounds of digging out were necessary to un-do the damage done every time a plow attempted to clear the street (a task that lead to the erection of an ice wall at the end of my driveway each time). For this, I pay homeowner’s association dues!

As for us snow rookies and our grocery store compulsion, I’ll confess that I was amidst the swarm of shoppers who descended upon the local Safeway Friday afternoon. While my brain understands I won’t be trapped for long, my stomach views any large snow event much like a holiday, a time during which it’s permitted to ingest items otherwise off limits. (Those just-add-butter-and-an-egg oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were delicious!) My fridge is now loaded with Cincinnati chili and a pot roast, complete with carrots, onions, and potatoes. Got snow? Got leftovers!

Call me what you will, but as I sit here with every muscle aching from relocating untold quantities of snow, watching the Super Bowl alone as I dare not venture out on the frozen streets in my Mustang, I feel a sense of accomplishment. It may not be much in the eyes of a Michigan-ite, but I survived Snowmageddon – and lived to type about it.

Candy Parker

Got Snow?

The Washington DC/Northern Virginia/Maryland area is expected to get one- to two- feet of snow over the weekend, and OH MY GOD - SOMEONE CALL IN THE TROOPS WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE.

AOL news reports:

"The second massive -- and potentially record-breaking -- snow storm of this winter has begun pounding the Mid-Atlantic region. The storm already has been dubbed "Snowmageddon" as it is expected to dump 1 to 2 feet of snow by the time it winds down Saturday evening."

Snowmageddon? Really? Could they be any more dramatic about an accumulation of white, powdery frozen water drops that might go up to...your calf?

Having lived in DC for nine years, and having been privy to the last "major" snowstorm in the history of humankind EVER (the December 21, 2009 storm), reminded me how wildly annoying people are who live in an area that doesn't typically receive a lot of snow. They do things like call a teensy snowstorm "Snowmageddon." Or hoard all the meat, water and milk from the supermarket like they're going to be snowed in for the rest of their lives rather than one day. Or have road crews that make the situation worse by dumping sand on the snow, creating a dirt-cicle more slippery than a freshly zamboni-ed ice rink rather than using salt. We all know that road safety takes a backseat when it comes to keeping those SUV's rust-free and looking nice.

One or two feet is nothing. You're talking to someone who was born and raised in Michigan. Talk to me when you have to shovel out of your friend’s trailer with a wooden spoon because you and all your friends got drunk and while you were all passed out, a snow drift accumulated and buried an entire mobile home. Yet you are still expected to make it to work. On time.

Snowmageddon. Pfft.

Ambz the Ripper

Monday, February 1, 2010

Lady Gaga - Phone Home

After watching the Grammys last night, I’ve decided that Lady Gaga is an alien. And not a benevolent one, either. Clearly she has an unjust agenda to hinder the view of Grammy spectators everywhere. I mean, look at the poor guy seated a few rows behind her. His facial expression is all, “Madam, would you kindly remove your hat because I can’t bleepin’ see.”

I understand that entertainers are supposed to be a little more wacky and newfangled than the rest of us, but dressing as if you’re a Star Trek character that wound up on the cutting room floor because it was too over the top isn’t the way to go.

Lady Gaga simply looks ridiculous and her wardrobe theatrics is clearly a cry for somebody (ANYBODY) to look at her. Well, mission accomplished Lady Gaga. Now would you please return to your home planet of Borgsmack and resume your odd and off-putting life amongst your own kind?

I always thought I’d be one of the more accepting people on Earth when it came to an alien visitation to our planet, but I also assumed the visitor would come promoting peace – not an attention-whoring jamboree. After all, didn’t we just manage to rid ourselves of Paris Hilton?

Ambz the Ripper