Well another year has passed, which of course means another year of me being single. I actually really enjoy it, but if there’s one day that has to try and convince me that I’m a lonely and pathetic person because of it, it’s that abomination of a 24-hour time period: Valentine’s Day. Really, this is just the stupidest holiday we have, and this is taking into consideration we also have Columbus Day. I mean, what did that guy ever do?!
But really, what this is about is how gross people get around and on Valentine’s Day. I’ve got one set of grandparents that are vacationing in Hawaii. Gross. I’ve got another set that will probably have a nice dinner, drink some wine, go home and watch Dancing with the Stars or Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Ew. My parents will probably tell each other that they love each other. I mean, come on!!
Listen people, I get it; you’re in love and you like being around another human being for long periods of time. You like to talk about feelings. That’s great. I’m so glad you’re happy, but keep that crap away from me. On Valentine’s Day, if I see a couple holding hands, I’m going to shout, “Get a room!” at them. If I see a couple making out, I’m going to yell, “Gross!”. If I see a couple with their clothes off about to have sex, well, I’m going to call the police because that is public indecency.
I know it sounds like I’m bitter about being single on Valentine’s Day, but I’m really not. One of the best parts about being single on Valentine’s Day is being able to do whatever you want with impunity or fear to ruin a “relationship” by not buying the “right” roses. Sometimes I like to buy a box of chocolates and tell the cashier they’re for a special someone, but really I’m my own special someone and I really like chocolate. However, I can’t really do that this year because I’ve already done that twice this week, and three times just seems desperate. Other times I like to watch romantic comedies and heckle them for being “sweet” and “sincere”, but I’m currently banned from all AMC movie theaters nationwide on Valentine’s Day.
This year, I might try something different. Since I’m dating myself, I might take us out for a nice couple’s dinner at the all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse that I live above. And nothing says, “I love me” quite like a box of donuts in bed. I might even go to Applebee’s and get the 2 for $20 lunch special for the both of me. And if anyone asks if I’m waiting for someone else, I will proudly state that no, I am not waiting for anyone else, I am merely treating myself to a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner, is there a problem with that are you judging me can I have a third bottle of that pinot noir and bring me more meat too, thanks.
So to all of you happy couples out there, I sincerely wish you a happy Valentine’s Day. I hope you enjoy your time together and don’t run out of things to talk about. And if you see one of us helplessly single people staring at you across the restaurant tonight, we’re not judging you. We’re merely staring at you to make you uncomfortable so we can enjoy our Meat Lover’s Meat Plate for Two without gagging at the sight of you holding hands in public. Get a room.
There are many things I love in this world: my family, my friends, food, and air conditioning, to name a few. And then there is the one thing I would throw that all away for, even if just for the opportunity to be in awe for five seconds: Beyoncé. Ever since my sister first introduced me to the sweet, sweet sounds of Destiny’s Child, I haven’t been able to get over my addiction to Beyoncé. With each passing year, this passion grows larger and fonder for the world’s most fabulous force of nature. Normally, I would assert that this sort of hyperbole would be inappropriate, but we are talking about Beyoncé here! There is no way you could ever possibly over exaggerate anything about her, ever. I mean we’re talking about the woman who rented out an entire floor of a hospital for the birth of her first superbaby. Granted, it was probably so they could redecorate with red carpet and crown molding and marble and art pieces from the Louvre, but that only furthers my point.
Way back when it was announced that Beyoncé would be performing at the halftime show of the Super Bowl, I was giddy. Then, that giddiness turned ecstatic when I found out that there would be a Destiny’s Child reunion. So between all of that buildup, the San Francisco 49ers playing in the Super Bowl, and the fact that I had been drinking mimosas at a crowded bar in SF since 11am, by the time the lights went down for the halftime show, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
And then the Queen rose.
I have never seen anything prettier rise out of anywhere (except for maybe chocolate coming out of a fountain). Her fierceness could be felt through my bones, and I knew that I was about to enter 12 minutes of nirvana.
Naturally, she started with ‘Love on Top’ (of course she did!) because like love, she is also a sensation that can’t be destroyed. Quite literally, she is made of fierce, and to quote Sir Isaac Newton, “Fierce is an element that can’t be destroyed”.
And then, the segue into ‘Crazy in Love’. With each ferocious stomp of her (I’m sure) perfectly manicured limbs of destruction, my heart quite literally stopped. Other things that happened with each stomp of her high heels: earthquakes, buttons popping open, haters being silenced, spontaneous orgasms, and the heavens being shaken.
Next there were some other songs that were not my favorite (NO JUDGEMENT), but there was some pretty sick technology-schmecnology going on. Basically the consensus was that the best backup dancer Beyoncé could have was more Beyoncés. And it was fabulous.
Then, the event that everyone said they were ready for, but no one was actually ready for: The Return of Destiny’s Child. And there was much rejoicing. As always, the performance was perfection on stage, even with Beyoncé making up for Michelle’s ungreatness. For it isn’t truly a Beyoncé performance without her doing something charitable, like putting up with a walking train wreck like this:
As for the next song, I knew it was coming. You knew it was coming. But you weren’t ready for that jelly: ‘Single Ladies’. It had it all: impeccable dance moves; fabulous hair; her dancing army of clones; ‘tude strong enough to strip the paint off the Golden Gate Bridge. Just try to keep up, world.
Last but not least was the emotional destruction of your soul: ‘Halo’. Probably my favorite of all the Beyoncé songs, and boy did she deliver. I thought at some point God was going to come down and tell Beyoncé to come back up to heaven because we were not worthy. Which we are not. We are not worthy of the Beyoncé.
And so ended my nirvana, and like a crack addict coming off a 3-day binge, I curled up on the floor of the bar and cried that I had nothing to live for. After that soul-shredding performance, what do any of us have to live for?! Nothing. Except for her live show at the HP Pavilion in San Jose on July 2nd.
May Beyoncé have mercy on your soul. Beyoncé be with you.
So, as none of you noticed, we have been on a bit of a hiatus here at The Ironical Chronicle. I could say it was do to a slew of momentous life milestones. I could say it was due the obligations of living in the adult world. I could even say it was due to a freak storm that completely wiped out electricity, and thus all possible forms of communication. However, you all know it was due to sheer and utter laziness. Surprise.
In all seriousness though, it has been a busy few couple of months. In the firstly, I received an offer to become Grand Emperor of China (White Version), but I had to turn it down at the last minute because I forgot that I’m mildly racist. So I took a desk job instead. That being the case, I had to break the news to my parents that I was moving out of the house. They took it pretty stoically, considering I am far and away their child, but I could have sworn I heard giggling in their room that night. On the night I was moving, we had a big party to see who would take my room. It was very sweet.
It was also very drunk, as usually happens when you get my entire family together in a room by ourselves. Like the Bluth’s staged intervention with their alcoholic mother, this turned out to be one of the better Gullickson parties. Needless to say, in the morning I was still drunk and facing the prospect of 6 hours trapped in the car with my ruthlessly cheerful talkative father. This was probably the most hellacious experience that seemed like would never end. And I’ve been to a Catholic wedding.
After about a month in Northern California, I finally found a place in the heart of the city that is 375 glorious square feet of bachelor living! That’s right! I am single, and ready to come home alone and struggle to make a basic dinner for myself. Cooking is always exciting because I have a gas stovetop, and I never know if any of my meals are going to be my last. I’ve never been so focused in my life. But, I am extremely proud to say that I am now able to cook chicken without it being raw in the middle. I am also extremely proud to say that my stomach has never been more resilient. And I’ve been to Malaysia.
As of now, I’ve been working and living in the adult world for about 6 months, and let me tell you, I just want to retire. Or marry rich. Or win the lottery. Cause it sucks. You have to get up early, and on your own, without your mother to wake you up or anything! It’s hard! Also, you have to make your own food, and clean up after yourself, and be held accountable for your actions. What kind of bullshit is that, am I right?!
Anyways, now that I’m living in a new city on my own, I will have plenty of tales about my misadventures, interesting events around San Francisco, and embarrassing stories about my interactions with other humans. Like, for example, how I always carry spare change with me around the city to give to homeless people, who then in turn I become tight with, who then in turn tell me about all the places that have the cheapest alcohol. Usually it’s convenience stores that sell rubbing alcohol by the jug, but I’m pretty sure I’m on to something there. There is nothing cooler than having an army of homeless people, trust me.
To the select (read: awesomest) few who are still aware of this blogs existence, get ready for some awesome posts. Because I’m awesome. And you’re awesome. Let’s be awesome together.
My dear readers, it has been a while since anything has been posted, and we apologize for the lack of comedy and inspiration for the past month. Mostly because TV shows are over, but also because us correspondents haven’t had many new posts. Well, that’s about to change! So, to make up for this fact, I’m dedicating this post to you, our dear readers, and what makes us here at The Ironical Chronicle love you so much.
One of the best parts of having this blog is being able to see the google searches people use in order to link up to your site. Recently, NY Correspondent Gen and I had a great laugh about some of them, so we’d like to share them with you:
Instructions to make a human centipede
Khloe & lamar dvd cover
Love is useless
Dr. pepper brownies
New styles lady blazer
Cool celebrity encounters
Beyonce falls Michelle Williams laughs
Is Jan Terri a real person?
Sexy mature incest
“vanilla ice” tracksuit
Now obviously, these search items reflect not only the type of reader we attract, but also the type of material we put out. All in all, it is very disturbing. However, I didn’t mention what the most searched item on the internet that led people to our site was. With a whopping 61 searches, ladies and gentleman, your winner is:
Helen Mirren Boobs!
That’s right! The only way our blog has any sort of audience is because people want to see pictures of Helen Mirren’s boobs. Or they are waiting for my follow up to “Top Ten Helen Mirren’s Boob’s Movies”. This number of searches did not include “Helen mirren tits”, “Helen Mirren boob”, “helen mirren bra pics”, “mature boobs hanging” or “Helen mirren breast size”.
Apparently the only way we can attract more people to our site is to try and figure out what type of boobs people want to see, and then include those hot topics on our site. I mean, anyone can find pictures of Lindsay Lohan’s boobs or Christina Hendrick’s boobs on the internets these days, so what’s our competitive advantage? That’s right: mature boobs.
Here, for your viewing pleasure, and for our site hit count, are some historically regal boobs:
Maggie Smith Boobs
Barbra Streisand Boobs
John Travolta Boobs
Bette Middler Boobs
Jack Nicholson Boobs
Judi Dench Boobs
So, thanks for reading this blog folks, and be sure to come back soon for even more great posts like this!
Since I’ve been living in Los Angeles, I’m sure plenty of people believe that I am living a very glamorous life. Well, I am: I live at home, I have a two hour commute, and my mother makes me dinner every day. It’s pretty rad. However, sometimes I like to imagine that my life is even more glamorous, so I will share with you a day in the life of my pretend glamorous life. Then I will share with you a day in the life of my regular glamorous life, just to see how little I have to go to achieve this fantasy. You know me: always giving minimum effort to achieve maximum result!
PRETEND GLAMOROUS LIFE
9:00 AM: Wake up to to the sound of “Crazy In Love” playing in my hotel suite at the Downtown Ritz Carlton.
9:01 AM: Walk out of my room to find Beyonce playing a stripped-down version of “Crazy In Love” on the white baby grand piano in the penthouse suite adjacent to mine.
9:02 AM: Fist bump Beyonce.
9:05 AM: Fist bump Blue Ivy on the way downstairs because we’re cool too.
9:30 AM: Have a champagne breakfast with Helen Mirren. She reads the NY Times out loud in her English accent while I pour her tea. It’s very fancy. We’re both wearing crowns because we can.
10:00 AM: Get picked up by my personal chauffer, Morgan Freeman, as we drive around downtown pursued by paparazzi. Thank god I had those built-in missiles installed.
11:00 AM: Meet up with Julie Andrews for a rigorous hike. We climb every mountain, ford every stream, while following every rainbow till we reached “Your Dream”, a super-secret mountain villa for super famous people only. I flash my veneers and we go in for some truffle fries, caviar, and peanut butter M&Ms.
12:00 PM: Catch a helicopter down to Hollywood for some really successful movie premier. I don’t really know what one, because I go to sooooo many, but it was fun.
12:30 PM: Go to the park with Jon Hamm where we feed breadcrumbs to Lindsay Lohan. Then we laugh about how handsome we are and talk about doing this again.
1:00 PM: Get lunch with Paula Deen, Ina Garten and Mario Batali. Then we realize the elevator won’t hold all of us, so we kick Batali off cause we don’t do gingers. We have such a great time without him that we send him pictures of us at lunch with the text, “Suck it, Ginger!”
2:00 PM: Receive a frantic call from Yo-Yo Ma saying he has become too arrogant to perform and needs me to come down to deflate his ego.
2:15 PM: Traverse secret tube system used by famous people to travel to brothels and strip clubs without being seen. Wave to Tom Hanks as he heads to “Hoe’s R Us”.
2:23 PM: Arrive at Walt Disney Concert Hall. Shred the cello until I reduce Yo-Yo Ma to tears in awe of how he will never come close to being half as good as me. He considers himself successfully humbled enough to perform that evening.
3:00 PM: Meet up with Taylor Lautner to go visit his family at the Alpaca Farm.
3:30 PM: Play a match with Roger Federer over in Malibu. We get some beers afterwards and throw some darts. Rafael Nadal’s face is the bullseye, naturally. We have a great time.
5:00 PM: Smoke some weed with Miley Cyrus, Snoop Dogg, and Tom Cruise. Things get weird when Tom thinks Snoop is Katie Holmes and tries to make out with him. Miley and I politely extricate ourselves from this awkward social situation.
7:00 PM: Go to dinner and a concert with Celine Dion and Cher. We heckle the shit out of Barbra Streisand, with Celine piping up that her nose looked like it belonged on Mt. Rushmore. We got thrown out of the concert, but we don’t care cause we’re divas.
8:04 PM: Secret handshake with Celine and Cher as we part ways.
9:00 PM: Attend plastic surgery consultation with Kim Kardashian so they can verify that my measurements are correct so that she can get the right amount of bounce on her next round of cheek implants.
9:23 PM: Punch Kim Kardashian in the face.
10:00 PM: Go clubbing with Brad and Angelina
11:00 PM: Perform a perfectly choreographed re-enactement of “Jai Ho” with Brad and Angelina. All the brown people cheer.
12:00 AM: Go to afterparty at Gwenyth Paltrow’s house. You must have an Oscar statue in hand to enter, but I didn’t know which of my 27 to choose from, so I blew that joint.
1:00 AM: Go to after-afterparty at Richard Simmon’s house. Why? I don’t know, I just do.
2:00 AM: Go to after-after-afterparty back at the Ritz Carlton. Beyonce is riding a lion, and Jay-Z is riding an emu. The theme for the party was Dr. Doolittle, so I guess it was fortunate I was already on my unicorn by the time I got there.
3:00 AM: Close out the party and the night with a dramatic rendition of “Survivor” my Destiny’s Chilled, a Destiny’s Child cover group with Kelly Rowland, Michelle Williams, and Solange Knowles. Beyonce falls asleep in a large-backed chair petting a white cat while the lamp shades her facial features. Destiny’s Chilled looks terrified, but they do a great job.
REGULAR GLAMOROUS LIFE:
10:00 AM: Wake up.
10:15 AM: Wait around for my brother to come downstairs so he can make me scrambled eggs because I’m too lazy to do it myself.
11:00 AM: Read the paper for a reaaaaaaally long time.
11:30 AM: Wander around the house.
11:45 AM: Look busy.
12:30 PM: Go to the library and peruse their encyclopedias, magazine, and large print sections. Leave shortly after finding that the latest Mary Higgins Clark novel isn’t available yet.
1:30 PM: Work out, but not to the point of sweating. Wander around the gym a bit, using it as a time to get updated on Sports Center, as well as the latest gossip magazines.
2:00 PM: Feeding time. Anything in the fridge is fair game, even entire cheesecakes.
3:00 PM: Wander around the house.
4:00 PM: Get caught up on the 10-17 TV shows I couldn’t keep up with during the week.
5:00 PM: Complain about being hungry, but be mysteriously absent when dinner is being prepared.
6:00 PM: Feeding time again. There is also an unwritten rule that if you do not finish before me, whatever is left on your plate is fair game.
7:00 PM: Attempt to “conversate” with family unit.
8:00 PM: Mock the stupidity of people competing on “The Amazing Race”
9:00 PM: Decide between Game of Thrones, Mad Men, and The Good Wife based upon whichever has the most amount of nudity, witty reparte, and Jon Hamm.
10:00 PM: Bed time.
So you see, I’m not really that far off from my pretend glamorous life. Because at the end of the day, my life is pretty glamorous as long as Jon Hamm is a part of it.
This is the first in a weeklong homage to one of the greatest musicians of the modern era. Please don’t look for any other videos other than the ones I’ve posted, or else it will ruin the surprise.
Dear readers, sorry I have been MIA for so long. It is perfectly explainable, I swear! Recently, a friend of mine reintroduced me to one of my inspirations, and I have redevoted myself to the enjoyment of this person’s talents. There are only a few people (on the entire planet!!!) who know this person, which makes it even more special. However, I have decided it is time to share this person with the world. And by the world, I mean the 10 people who read this blog.
My inspiration is an exceedingly talented musician, nay!, artist, nay!, entertainer! That’s right, I’m talking about the timeless, the one-and-only, the indomitable: Jan Terri.
This week, I will devote one post a day in tribute to the legend, nay! the icon, that is Jan Terri. In the literally hundreds of seconds I spent scouring her severals of videos on the Youtube, I think I’ve been able to narrow her bevy of hits into what I am now referring as the Top 5 Greatest Jan Terri Videos Of All Time (TFGJTVOAT).
The first is her greatest hit, naturally. It is called ‘Losing You’, but should you ever play this while trying to woo someone into your bed, or impress with your sophisticated musical tastes, there will be no threat of you losing anything. Except maybe your pants and underwear simultaneously.
First off, leather needs to be featured in more music videos. Second, Chicago has never looked more beautiful than in this music video. Third, mullets are making a comeback! Fourth, there is nothing sexier than a woman with a voice, and Jan Terri knows it. Fifth, Michael Bay was the camera operator for this shoot, but he was only able to film 1.3 seconds of footage, so they had a stray cat film the rest. And the cat did a great job! Sixth, I need to stop and just let the video speak for itself, because my words don’t do it justice.
I have also written down the lyrics as I understood them, so don’t be shy about singing along!
I don’t wanna lose you tonight/You’re the only thing that matters
I don’t wanna lose you this way/Just need your love
I don’t wanna lose you tonight/You’re the only thing that matters
I don’t wanna lose you this way/Just need your love
Losing you will be the hardest thing to do/My heart is open like an open book, and yours is closed
I never thought it would be like this/So how do we move on?
Remember long walks, sandy beaches, all those swims together?/We were like a merry-go-round going around in circles
You said we’ll always be together/But you weren’t telling the truth
You were telling lies
Pick up the phone, give me a call, and talk to me
It shouldn’t have been like this/I can’t take it no more
CHORUS PART III
I don’t wanna lose you tonight
You’re the only thing that matters
I don’t blah blah blah blah
Just blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah blah….
In honor of this week of love, I would like to share my feelings about an elderly woman I admire. In fact, the only older women I admire more than her are my grandmothers. That’s right, I’m talking about Dame Helen Mirren. However, as great as she is, I think there are some facets of her that go unrecognized. Yes, she’s utterly hilarious, and yes, she is one of the greatest actresses working today, but I’d like to highlight some of her best assets. Or rather, her breast assets.
Yes, I’m talking about the talent that is Helen Mirren’s Boobs. Here it goes…
1. Calendar Girls: Without question, their finest, most raw, most revealing performance. Literally.
2. Age of Consent: A light and airy performance in which they let everything hang out. Though they are now old and perky, this performance captures the time when they were young and perky.
3. Prime Suspect: Gritty police work and tenacity have nothing on a well-fitted bra and flattering lady blazer that helped define her iconic character, Jane Tennison. Showed that they were more than a pair of boobs.
4. The Queen: Regal boobs whose sheer authenticity and suppression of natural skill won themselves an Oscar. Established themselves as icons.
5. The Love Ranch: They played a madam. They were married to Joe Pesci. Helen Mirren’s Boobs: ain’t nothing to mess with.
6. Raising Helen: Fashionable, yet older, this performance put the work of Kate Hudson’s boobs to shame.
7. Excalibur: One of their more supple and pure performances, showing they could be alluring and menacing at the same time.
8. RED: A killer role. Literally, they killed men. It was very impressive.
9. National Treasure: Book of Secrets: Obviously done for the paycheck, but they performed in surprising harmony with Nicolas Cage’s toupee.
10. Shadowboxer: Decently exposed performance. Unfortunately overshadowed by the performance of Stephen Dorff’s half-chub. Seriously.
Overall, this body of work they have demonstrated throughout the years is quite impressive. In spite of that fact that I’m not really even into boobs, the fact that these ten performances were so memorable speaks to the talent that is Helen Mirren’s Boobs. Academy, are you listening?
During my weekend of walking around aimlessly, running errands, cringing at the worst broadcast of the Grammy’s in decades, and sitting through a glut of advertisements beating Valentine’s Day to a bloody pulp, I had a random assortment of musings that have absolutely no connection whatsoever. Typical
Are You There Grammy’s? It’s Me, Apathy
- The Grammy’s were terrible
- Apparently, the go-to hairstlye of 2012 is Bad Combover. Thank you, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver and Mr. Molesley from Downton Abbey for making balding the chic ‘do of the year.
- Adele’s music has been scientifically proven to induce sobbing, according to the Wall Street Journal. So really, she’s not some poor girl trying to get over a bad breakup; she’s a ruthless villain trying to destroy the world one heartbroken, slobbering mess at a time.
- I’ve watched more videos of Whitney Houston in the past few days than any white, upper-middle class male living at home has any right to. However, I’ve come to the conclusion my favorite Whitney is a toss up between “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” Whitney (a song my friends and I requested at our senior prom), and reality TV star Whitney. Yes, she was “The Voice of a Generation”, but clips like this show you she was really “The Comedic Voice of a Generation”.
- Words I have the misfortune of seeing in the future: Chris Brown, Grammy winner.
- Words I have the joy of writing without fear of libel: Chris Brown, convicted felon
And What Did You Do This Weekend?
- I recently got a library card, and while hanging out at the library on the weekends, have begun to wonder if this might be the catalyst my dating life needs to sputter out of reverse and into park. This weekend I saw the large print section overflowing with elderlies, the computers crowded with people muttering to themselves, and the DVD section being devoured by people fighting over the newest copy of Breaking Dawn. Of course, I stayed and scoped out the crowd. Nothing this week, but there’s nothing more productive to do on a three day weekend than troll the library.
- It was 75 degrees in Los Angeles this weekend.
- Our refrigerator hasn’t been working, which means that I’ve had the enviable task of eating all of the perishable food before it goes bad, and drinking all of the beer before it gets too warm. It’s been a rough week.
- I went on another date with my sister, this time to the mall. Horrifyingly, I had a great time.
Why Valentine’s Day Can Suck My Nuts
- I hate everyone who has someone special to spend Valentine’s Day with, during which they express their love and affection for each other. It’s disgusting. And yes, that includes you, Mom and Dad.
- I considered sending myself a box of chocolates at work to make it seem like someone loved me. Then I realized that would seem desperate, so I settled on an Edible Arrangements.
- If I see anyone, and I mean ANYONE, holding hands on, I will yell at them to get a room.
Things That Help, Thanks For Asking
- I will probably go see This Means War by myself today.
- If I don’t go see This Means War, I will rent Human Centipede, as I feel they both offer up the same sentiment, expressed slightly differently. Either way, Reese Witherspoon is in the middle.
- For lunch, I’m going to go to Applebee’s and order the 2 for $20 deal for myself. And I will finish both entrees.
- I received a card on Valentine’s Day from my grandparents with $10 inside. It totally made my day
I’ve lived in Los Angeles for going on 8 months, and it’s expected that I’ve come into contact with celebrities during my time here, because naturally most celebrities live in small cul-de-sac communities out in the suburbs, 90 minutes away from Hollywood. While I, like most everyone who lives here, have had some celebrity contact, it’s not exactly what you think…
You see, whenever I see a celebrity, I only see them from the back. I’ve never really seen a celebrity straight on, only from behind, and usually from far away. I don’t know if this is a common thing here, or if it’s just me, but I’m getting scarily good at identifying people from behind. And it’s not like the celebrities I see are really famous, they’re just kinda famous.
These occurrences all started when I came home for Thanksgiving from school because I had mono (long story…). I got off the plane and I was walking to baggage claim, I noticed I was walking behind Jennifer Garner. She was very short, and had brown hair, and was nondescript but for the back of her head. It looked distinctly like the back of Sydney Bristow’s head, (Secret Agent (and Overt Badass) from Alias), that I decided it MUST be The Back of Jennifer Garner. The back of her head also looked like the back of Elektra’s head, so that’s what really gave it away. As she was whisked away in a tinted limousine by her big burly security team into the welcoming arms of The Back of Ben Affleck, I basked in the glory of my first celebrity encounter. And you can never tell me otherwise.
Another such encounter I had was at a club in Hollywood when my friend Ross was visiting. We were hanging out in this super fancy club with loud music and really beautiful people (I guess that’s a thing down here), when the crowd parted and I saw something I knew I had seen many times before, but couldn’t place my finger on it. Then it hit me. That big, black head I noticed was attached to a tall, black man, that I was SURE was Cedric Yarborough. If you don’t know him, he’s the black cop from Reno 911!. Anyways, to make a long story short, I was in fan heaven, so I made Ross’ girlfriend take a picture of me with The Back of Cedric Yarborough. It was a great night.
Of course, my celebrity encounters were not just limited to these two. I’ve had plenty of other encounters with the backs of celebrities as well:
- Paul Walker (The Fast and the Furious) – walking across the crosswalk at the Burbank Airport. He was wearing sneakers and a backpack. He was really cool!
- Brad Garret (Everybody Loves Raymond)- shopping at Barnes & Noble with his children. The back of him is as tall as it looks on screen!
- Kim Richards (Escape To Witch Mountain)- making out with her boyfriend outside of a movie theater. She had a really nice ponytail, so she must be really nice as well!
- Leann Rimes (Adultery)- sitting at a booth behind me with her adulterer, Eddie Cibrian. She was wearing a fedora. I like Leann Rimes in fedoras, she should wear them more often!
Now, there was one time that I have seen a celebrity full on, in all their glory. One of my most favorite actors of all time works out at the same gym as I do. Yes, that’s right! I have seen Cole Hauser!!!!!!!
For those of you poor souls who don’t know Cole Hauser is (like that’s even possible!), you might know him better from his formidable resume:
Good Will Hunting – Billy McBride
The Hit List – Allan Campbell
The Cave – Jack McAllister
Pitch Black – William Johns
2 Fast 2 Furious – Carter Verone
Paparazzi – Bo Laramie
So, while I have only had the fortune of seeing the face of one “celebrity” so far, I look forward to seeing what the future holds for me. Maybe one day I can graduate from seeing the fat doppleganger of Steven Spielberg to seeing his hand, or his shoes, or even the back of his hat. I don’t ask for much, because I don’t need much to get excited.
In honor of MLK Day and the most recent roasting of her on the Golden Globes (toally related), I offer this piece up for your mastication. Just call it an ode to all things odious…
Living in Los Angeles, you get celebrity updates from all sorts of news outlets, more so than you would anywhere else in America. And of course, since the blowout wedding and subsequent fairytale divorce, there has been no lack of fodder when it comes to the Kardashian klan, specifically Kim.
While most of the articles written about her have been justifiably negative (and the treatment of her (ex)husband, Mutant Taylor Lautner, even worse), there is one side of her that the tabloids, mainstream media, and Barbra Walters have all missed: gay rights activist.
It’s no secret that Kim Kardashian is gay friendly, as can be seen by her asexual best-friend-who-just-hasn’t-found-the-right-woman-yet, Jonathan . However, no one knew just how gay friendly ol’ Kimmy was until she single-handedly obliterated the ‘sanctity of marriage’ argument through her wedding of a lifetime to Mutant Taylor Lautner.
(As an aside, I would like to explain why I am referring to Kris Humphries as ‘Mutant Taylor Lautner’. Here’s why:)
(As a tangent of this aside, it would also be possible to refer to Taylor Lautner as ‘Mutant Alpaca’. Here’s why:)
For years, millions of Americans have argued the pros and cons of gay marriage, and have reached a stalemate. Opponents have resoundly defended that marriage is a sacred act between a man and a woman. Supporters have forcefully argued that marriage should be about love, regardless of gender. Kim Kardashian just took a giant shit on those who oppose gay marriage (and those who support any sort of long term committment in general. Like dieting) It’s really quite impressive that something billed as the American ‘Wedding of the Century’ could turn out to be the biggest P.R. stunt in support of gay marriage. Only Kim Kardashian could take the earnest belief in true love that red-blooded Americans felt while watching her wedding ceremony in a four-hour-two-night special on E!, and crush it between her extremely taut buttcheeks.
There is no argument against gay marriage anymore. Sanctity of marriage? More like sanctity of fulfilling contractual obligations with a television network. If you ever find yourself in an argument about gay marriage, all you have to do is say ‘Kim Kardashian’, and the argument is won. Maybe someday in the future, there will be a challenge to this ‘Wedding of the Century’ with a ‘Gay Wedding of the Century’, which is exactly the same as Kim’s except that there’s 7 fewer crystals.
So going forward, I ask that your opinions of ol’ Kimmy be tempered in light of this new perspective. History books will be rewritten to put Kim Kardashian in a revered place alongside Martin Luther King, Jr. and Susan B. Anthony as a true pioneer for human rights. I look forward to the day when my kids come home to me and say, “Dad, I have to right a report of gay rights activist Kim Kardashian.” I also look forward to taking my kids to her fabulously leopard-printed and diamond-encrusted grave at Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum and paying homage to such a brave and fearless trailblazer.
Love ya, babe.