Tag Archives: Johnny Depp

The Tale of the Invisible Lady

EFOZe0n

I’ve been gone from the Bloglands for a month for a number of reasons, have you even noticed? I have been kind cheating on you with Yelp, I’ve been getting my rocks off there because there is a live audience. Last week I got a “Review of the Week” which is like getting an Oscar in the context of mass internet drivel. When this happens, you get messages all day from total strangers who send you accolades in the form of virtual “badges.” For this honour, you are chosen based upon your “FUC” rating. Unbeknownst to me, because until last week I didn’t understand Yelp and its convoluted game plan, my FUC rating (Funny Useful Cool) was high in relation to having only 12 reviews, which are just shorter versions of this blog because it’s all about ME, ME, ME and that $3 donut I just ate and yelped was just a collateral subject. So anyway, I’ve been yelping rather than blogging because like a lab rat, I work for rewards, even if they are full of shit.

Also something has been happening that I wasn’t going to tell you about because it is so awful and I hate it so much and I am full turmoil and shame and misdirected anger and general rage. It’s actually not funny at all.

I am drying up.

The last time I had hosted my tender lady time, Santa was in town. That’s 4 months ago! There is no upside to this, if you’re thinking that at least my underwear is stain-free. They aren’t. I go through at least 3 pairs a day in urinary seepage. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

At first I thought I was having a lot of drunk sweats. You know that hangover feel when your body wants to sweat out the poisons and replenish with grease? Well it was happening all the time. I went “on the wagon” whatever that means, just to be sure, and yes, okay some of these episodes were probably drunk sweats but some of them were not. THEY ARE MOTHERFUCKING HOT FLASHES! Fuck my life. I thought escape this fate and I would be invincible and now I have to deal with the harrowing disappointment that I am not. And by the way, being on the wagon is really boring and I still have insomnia and I’m more bloated than ever, what the fuck?

Here is what is bullshit: I can deal with the hot flashes. In fact, they amuse me. You’re out there in the world, minding your business and suddenly, from deep inside, your core starts to heat up, like from zero to inferno in one second. THIS IS HOW I SURVIVED THE POLAR VORTEX, BITCHES. I can deal with this, just breathe and it will pass. Even though I feel like running out into traffic, it’s okay. But what kind of evolutionary joke is going on when you feel like your innards are having a caloric pig roast, and yet nothing is actually burning? In fact, you are gaining weight, right through where all the heat is happening, comes the dreaded middle-pudge menopausal swell. Gone is that precise waist-hip ratio that when men look at you, they overtly want to plant their magical seeds inside you because subliminally they think that somehow you will be a good mother. I don’t really get it either, but it’s a fertility law that we must respect. Your waist is supposed to be smaller than your hips but these trolling hot flashes are making your waist explode like a tin of Jiffy Pop Popcorn. I’M ON FIRE, I SHOULD ACTUALLY BE MELTING! It’s fucked up is what it is. Nature is an asshole.

Breathe.

AND THEN THERE IS THIS DICK:
johnny-depp-300What the ever loving fuck is this? Am I the only one around here who sees this fool for the pathetic loser he is? “Oh, Johnny Depp, can you believe he’s 50? He’s so hot!” YOU ARE DELUDED! He looks every bit 50 and then some. He looks like he’s been rotting in the bottom of the ocean and then slapped on pancake and a costume from “Death in Venice” with Indiana Jones’ hat (WTF?)  to take his bovine trophy snatch to some function so everyone will see he has a hole with a proper waist-hip ratio where he can plant his creepy seeds. Fuck him.

Breathe.

 

I had an epiphany about the phenomenon of middle aged men and their tendency to dump you for a younger woman just when you think you have it all going on: The kids are in college and you can do some traveling, maybe buy condo in Florida, take up golf. But that goes all tits up because he “has a right to change his mind!” When it happens, you think it’s your fault because you’ve succumbed to the aging process and he wants someone younger and hotter. And then after a while and thousands of dollars in therapy, you run into them at Starbucks one day and you are shocked to see a) she might be young but she’s actually not that hot (Telly Savales in a wig!) and b) she’s pregnant, what the fuck? He had a vasectomy 20 years ago right after you gave birth to Spencer or whatever name was popular back then and he vowed he didn’t want any more kids, no way, no how, even though you could have squeezed out another despite the fact your waist hip ratio was already showing serious signs of inversion.

It’s not that he want a younger woman PER SE, it’s that he wants another breeder. Biology wins. It’s menopause for men! I wish it had an ugly name of its own because it deserves one. Dickopause or something. Men AGE and they go through hormonal changes as they AGE because they AGE and get all estrogeny and soft and pillowy and girly and feminine and slopey shouldered and the moobs! Why, they are ripe for lactation!  Probably some primal signal in their AGING brains gets all desperate and maternal, like a 35 year old woman does with her achey breaky ovaries. Old fucking men don’t even think of the consequences, oh no:  Quick! Spread the rancid spunk around before death comes, who cares if the teachers call you grandpa in the schoolyard and you’ll be in a walker at your precious loin spawn’s high school graduation: TIME IS A FLAT CIRCLE and you got to keep on splooging. Ugh, fucking gross.

Breathe.

This theory does explain whatever is happening with George Clooney. He has been okay by me until recent news, I like the way he’s aged gracefully and even the way he had serial beards (no judgement) or whatever and said he would never get married because it kept hope alive, that you or me might be the game changer, assuming he isn’t gay. AND THEN he gets engaged after dating some smug lawyer for two minutes whose name looks like “Anal” in the tabloid headlines and we, as a collective force, are never going to remember it. She’s supposed to be some kind of star lawyer (eye roll) who represented Julian Assange. How do you have time lawyering celebrities when it looks like you spend all your waking hours managing your uni-brow and then somehow get to “date” and lube George Clooney up for marriage in the time it takes most people to scroll through a day’s worth of Dlisted? I hate her, I don’t care what you say, and already I told you I’m filled with irrational rage. Suddenly this Anal is the game changer?  She is the 36 year-old with a ticking time clock and he is the 53 year-old spawn bomb. This isn’t love, it’s biology and disaster. Fuck him and Johnny Depp.

Breathe.

I have high hopes for Zac Efron. He’s soooo cute! *sucks self into a pair of Spanks*

That lady on the left looks much better from the back. That makes me sad that I just said that, I AM SUCH A BITCH.

N0UVRUm

 

 

 

Smoke and Mirrors: The Only True Hollywood Couple

When my friends and I were kids, before the interwebs fed us knowledge, we had to fork over our hard-earned allowance for magazines.  We were obsessed with the goings on in Hollywood and we would walk a mile in the snow to the depanneur to get the latest Tiger Beat or Rona Barrett’s Gossip just to find out who Leif Garrett was boning.  I will never forget the utter disgust and disappointment when he was “romantically tied” to Kristy McNichol.  On what planet would that ever happen?  She wore overalls and looked like a boy! How could such a magnificent male specimen date Kristy McNichol when I was available?  Then when she hooked up with Matt Dillon, I began to suspect that Hollywood was trying to scam us. But when Leif and Nicolette Sheridan became an item, I gave up hope for myself but started to believe again if just for this one photo.  This made more sense, when this first appeared in Tiger Beat, I think I cried.  Now, I’m convinced there is actual penetration going on here:

In any given couple from the perspective of an outsider, there is usually someone who seems like the one who got lucky. In Hollywood, any discrepancy seems monumental. There is one who is better looking, richer, smarter, more charismatic, or more famous.  This is why Hollywood types stick together, not because they “understand each other”, it’s because when a big movie star marries a mere mortal, his or her stock goes down significantly.  They need each other to keep up the illusion.  Inevitably, a marriage of egos will implode because it’s exhausting putting on a show. I’ve watched the glitteratti crash and burn for decades and one thing I know for sure, nothing lasts forever.  And it’s better that way.  Keep it moving, spread the love, and the bodily fluids.

But they seemed so happy!  Don’t be fooled again, here are 3 current case studies analyzed by moi:

Seal and Heidi, Hollywood Breakup Case Study #1.  There was a major red flag right from the start. Seal proposed to Heidi when she was pregnant with Italian douche-a-bagga Flavio Briatore’s baby.  Some men actually fetishize pregnant women which makes sense why she had so many back-to-back Seal pups.  More likely Seal, like all modern men, has a Victoria Secret model fetish.  Let’s face it, if Heidi Klum was slinging pints of Heineken in a beer garden, dude wouldn’t have looked twice at her. I’ve seen her without makeup and she’s not all that. The fact that she was pregnant made her vulnerable enough to overlook the fact that dude is super scary looking.  And what if Seal didn’t sing sexy songs, instead he was Randy Newman?  There is no way she would put out for him. The biggest red flag of all was that they renewed their vows every year.  How tedious it must be for their friends and family, one wedding to endure is bad enough. And who over the age of 20 can handle a Halloween party?  Their elaborate annual costume parties was just another disguise or diversion, what were they really trying to hide?

Conclusion:  They say he has a “bad temper” and if that’s the case, who wouldn’t if you had all those children and all those weddings to parade around?  LOOK AT US AND HOW HAPPY AND FABULOUS WE ARE!  Smoke and mirrors.  Truly happy people don’t like to throw parties and wear makeup. They like to stay home and argue in their sweat pants. You know I’m right.

Case Study #2:  Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis.  I know what everyone is saying:  “But they are such a cute couple, and they don’t live in Hollywood, how could they not stay together?”  And my answer here is a brutally honest no, there is nothing “cute” about these two.  They both look shockingly homeless and without le Photoshop, this woman is just not good.  Especially naked and unshowered on a farm in France. That “jolie-laide” thing doesn’t translate in Hollywood.  Le smoke et le miroir crackay.  There’s the inequality of  all the elements of the glitteratti at odds here:  Looks, money, charisma, and fame.  Duh. Don’t make me say it.

Conclusion: Johnny, call me.

And then there’s these two:

Dear Hollywood:  Stop the fawning. Remember if something seems to good to be true, it usually is. “Mirror, mirror on the wall” and a bunch of pot smoke is what we have here.  Case Study #3:  Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.  You don’t need me to tell you that The Brangelina is a ticking time bomb.  I can envision some time in the near future, she gathers enough strength from eating a breath mint and with her spindly, chicken-scrawl tattooed arms, she picks up a cast iron frying pan and whacks him over his dumb head.  His greasy hair makes the pan slide and creates only enough impact for him to come to his senses and have an Aha! moment:  Juliette Lewis!  She was the one that got away!

Conclusion:  Don’t get me started.

On on that note, I leave you with a clip of the ultimate Hollywood rebel, Jessica Lange as Frances Farmer, and a cautionary tale of what can happen if you don’t comply with rules of Hollywood: