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Posted by Jess McGuire at 9:21 PM on June 4, 2008
You know, even though it's pretty much a one note joke, this clip made me laugh. A lot.
Summit loving, indeed.
Posted by Jess McGuire at 9:06 PM on June 4, 2008
Lily Allen, never one to hold out on her MySpazz chums when it comes to delivering the emotional goods, has just posted a new entry on her blog where she urges fans not to binge drink lest they behave, well, like her.
From the entry titled "Oh dear" -
Last time i wrote here , I was defending my honor and dignity , explaining my innocence and also outrage at the press for insinuating my behaviour was embarrassing. This time i'm putting my hands up , i got very drunk last night , too drunk.
It's not cool getting that drunk , i feel awful and I have to thank my little brother alf for getting me home safely.
Kids , drink responsibly or you'll end up looking like this , not pretty ! Was quite fun though , from what i can remember. need fry up now .
before
after
Despite Lily cheekily finishing the post by stating she was listening to Girls Just Want To Have Fun, her attempt to warn teens of the dangers of binge drinking is to be congratulated. If only she were an Australian pop star, she could have been Kevin Rudd's music loving lady sidekick, perfectly complimenting his thespian civic-minded bestie Cate Blanchett.
Posted by Clem Bastow at 3:04 PM on June 4, 2008
After yesterday's terrible news that the boys from the Thunder From Down Under male strip troupe had their van (and thus, costumes, equipment, and approximately 15 tonnes of baby oil) stolen, it looked as though the news had fallen on the deaf and uncaring ears of a world that doesn't realise true tragedy when it sees it.
Fortunately, the good people at the Baltimore Sun have seen this for what it truly is: a tale of heartache, sorrow and human suffering.
Some highlights from their Pulitzer-baiting coverage follow:
Friday night began like others on the Thunder From Down Under tour, with six beefcake Aussies gyrating and flexing in front of two sold-out shows' worth of screaming women. But it ended with the performers' scouring the streets of Annapolis in search of a stolen tour van - and thousands of dollars worth of breakaway pants, thongs and cowboy costumes.Bummer, mate.
Posted by Clem Bastow at 2:42 PM on June 4, 2008
Not having listened to much commercial radio since overexposure to it had me saying "come back after the break for your chance to win a Hyuuuundaaaaii" in my sleep, I was unaware that Australian reject expat Sam Sparro was doing quite well in the charts, both here and in the UK.
So well, in fact, that his track Black & Gold, possibly a tribute to his favourite budget supermarket brand food, was being whispered as a giant-killer that could hold Madonna off the top spot. Alas, poor Sam, it wasn't to be, and he's done what any electro-popper in his situation would do: started ranting bloody murder about Madge.
"Madonna is wretched at the moment - absolutely vulgar. Put it away," the young artist told UK magazine Attitude.Wow, awesomely diplomatic there, Sam! I bet no one thinks you're a bad loser at all! No way in hell!Despite topping the local charts, Sparro's spray got personal, claiming the superstar had resorted to desperate measures to maintain her career stronghold.
"You're not young and sexy any more," he railed, telling the interviewer Madonna had been "thoughtful and mature for a while and now she's chucked it away in a desperate attempt at being hot again. It's a bit vile."
The 25-year-old also let fly at Madge's looks, saying: "I definitely think she's had some work done - like a recent facelift."
Actually, I did hear Black & Gold in the car today - or at least, I heard approximately 23 seconds of it before my ears started bleeding. She may be "vile", Mr Sparro, but at least her song is better than yours. See you on VH1's One Hit Wonders Of The '00s - Where Are They Now? in thirty years!
· In today's installment of Rambling Anecdote Theatre, Captain Kirk answers a call to Playmate-snapping duty. [Tonight Show]
· Elizabeth Berkley has launched a website where teenage girls can write in for advice. Finally, a place that collects such nuggets of wisdom as this: "Just as Nomi, my character in Showgirls, gets turned on by things that challenge her or obstacles or other hurdles to overcome, those are things that I welcome and I love that." [ask-elizabeth.com]
· Hey, MTV Films: Could we interest you in our spec, The Two Davids: America's Idols? We already have some casting ideas. [Popwatch]
· Come on, Chandler Tempe, AZ voters: If you want change, choose Schmuck! This message approved by Team Schmuck. (Thanks, Dave.) [Defamer]
· Here's the good news: The Larchmont Crumbs opens Friday. Here's the better news: 1000 FREE CUPCAKES. Oh. Ma. Ga. [Eater LA]
· Run for your lives! The British Bachelor Giant will devour us all! [JustJared]
Over the last few days, we have touched on many aspects of the fire that ravaged this town over the weekend: the lost prints, the mystery of the 3am blowtorching, the things we wish would've burned and the destruction of the King Kong attraction. But there is one crucial aspect to the blaze that the media continues to ignore, likely due to the power and influence wielded by a certain member of local government. That man is Mayor "Goldie" Wilson. And while most cower in fear of him, our Intrepid Defamer Videographer Molly McAleer is just the type of woman to stand up to his reprehensible actions. Fight the power!
While most of you are no doubt well-acquainted with the Hollywood Walk of Fame—that urine-glazed tribute to some of the most beloved celebrities of the modern era, and Ryan Seacrest—you might not be aware that America's maple-shingled roof has a Walk of Fame of its very own. Established in Toronto a decade ago as a place where tourists and proud Canadians alike could gather to marvel at how tiny Rich Little's hands and feet are, Canada's Walk of Fame is, quite characteristically, much tidier and far less impressive than its inspiration. Still, none could deny that is has grown in the ensuing years into the definitive monument to Canadians Who Left Canada To Achieve Actual Success in the United States.
Ah yes, we fondly recall the halycon days of the summer of 1999, when a fresh-faced batch of no-names captured the zeitgeist by bringing the carnal pleasures of beating off to webcam porn and fucking pastry items to the big screen. Yes, that's right, American Pie was a surprise hit that summer, grossing over $100 million back in the days when that threshold still meant something. It went on to launch the careers of a whole handful of marginally talented actors and even managed to spin off not one, not two but FIVE sequels. The intervening years, however, have not been kind to the cast. Some ended up in rehab (Tara Reid, Natasha Lyonne), some were exposed as having no talent (Jason Biggs, Chris Klein), and some found themselves twirling around dancefloors in silly costumes on utterly banal reality television programs (Shannon Elizabeth). Of the lot, only Alyson Hannigan and Seann William Scott are still in a position where people actually return their phone calls. At least that's what we thought until we saw Stifler out himself on last night's Late Night With Conan O'Brien by confessing that his Q Rating with the millenial set is somewhere south of Carrot Top's. Good luck, Alyson — now you're the last counselor left at Band Camp with any cred. [Late Night With Conan O'Brien]
Posted by Clem Bastow at 9:12 AM on June 4, 2008
The Hotly Anticipated™ cinematic version of Sex & The City had its Sydney premiere earlier in the week, with the usual gaggle of A-to-D-listers out in force, plus a brace of fashion designers, no doubt to give the gig some fash cred in lieu of any of the film's stars making an appearance (they didn't).
The coverage is pretty blah blah celebrity blah (you can check out the arrivals here, including... Jessica Rowe!), but this little gem in the middle of all the dross was particularly wonderful:
TV host Larry Emdur was a trailblazer for the guys.Do you see what they did there? Good one, Larry!"Happy wife, happy life," said Emdur, who was unable to name any of the show's main characters.
Can't you just imagine Guy Smiley Larry saying "Happy wife, happy life" with his mile-wide grin and slightly plasticky features? I'm beginning to wonder if Larry Emdur is some sort of advanced AI experiment in entertainment hosting. Haven't you noticed he's not aged in approximately 15 years? He's a robot!
Posted by Clem Bastow at 9:00 AM on June 4, 2008
Despite the most intense network cross-promotion this side of that episode of Ally McBeal when The Practice dudes turned up in the unisex toilets, it seems Andrew O'Keefe's latest star vehicle for Channel Seven, The Rich List, has failed to attract enough viewers to keep the Seven bosses happy.
Despite holding his own with Deal Or No Deal weeknights at 5.30pm, O'Keefe will disappear from view on Saturday nights after the show was thumped in its 7.30pm time slot - then dumped yesterday.Poor Andrew - at least he gets to keep Deal Or No Deal, and hopefully they'll still greenlight his proposed nighttime chat show, the brilliantly named The Late Andrew O'Keefe.
Still, he's a sensitive man, and no doubt disappointed to see that his energetic efforts in publicising The Rich List didn't pay off, so I've taken the liberty of creating an artist's impression of what his reaction might have been when they told him the news:
I think you'll find that's quite true to life.
Posted by Clem Bastow at 8:44 AM on June 4, 2008
After Channel Seven's "exciting" medical drama All Saints decided to take medicine into its own hands and insist that Down syndrome babies, like, totally always come from incestuous relationships, understandably they were howled down across the country.
However, the station's apology was deemed inadequate by Down Syndrome Australia, who are now demanding an on-air retraction, otherwise they will pursue legal action against the station.
"Without reservation, to any members of the audience who have found an element of a recent story offensive, Channel Seven apologises," the network said in a statement to The Age.Fair enough, really. You can never overestimate the intelligence of viewers of shows like All Saints; last time they did a Census it found 83% of All Saints viewers thought they were watching a hospital documentary.However, Down Syndrome Australia said Seven had not contacted the organisation and blasted their apology as insufficient.
"We're not going to accept a wishy-washy attempt at an apology that's come second-hand through a newspaper," Down Syndrome Victoria's Catherine McAlpine told ninemsn.
"They must say once and for all that there is categorically no link between Down syndrome and incest.
"We'll give them the opportunity to make a retraction during tonight's episode before we formally pursue legal advice and write official letters of complaint to the show's advertisers."
Next thing you know, All Saints will be featuring storylines about how this woman who lived down the street got a scratch on her arm, and it swelled up, and it was really itchy, and it got bigger and bigger, and she went to the doctor and said "Look at this scratch on my arm", and the doctor said "Let me have a look at it", and then he put a scalpel on it, and then all these baby spiders came out, and then she died The End.
When word broke yesterday that Oscar winner Tatum "My Career Peaked Before I Had Pubes" O'Neal was pinched by the NYPD for buying crack off a vagrant, we found her initial explanation that she was simply doing research for a role just a bit far-fetched. After all, colour us jaded, but we found it out of the realm of believability that late night trips through alleyways in search of crack rock would help her prep for her role as a mother in the sure-to-be-classic made-for-TV movie Fab Five: The Texas Cheerleading Scandal. So we were less than surprised to find no mention of this blatant falsehood when we saw the cover story in this morning's NY Post. We were, however, surprised to find a scad of other statements in the piece that sounded even less believable than her original "it was research" claim. After the jump, please play along as we help to decide which of her lies is the most egregious.
Welcome to Day 5 of Jolie WombWatch: We join you live as the world's downtrodden and miracle-needy—still frustrated over the lack of any measurable improvement since the last Chosen One graced our midst—sit glued to their ham radios, anxiously awaiting any verifiable updates on the official birth-status of Jolie-Pitt Chosen Children Numbers Two through Three. (The latest theory is that ET was right all along, and that the couple is covering up the delivery in order to score an exclusive payday with another publication. Conspiracy! Building 7! Runner 6074! Hill: Ego Only!) Meanwhile, Baby Truth is wheezing its tiny lungs out behind a full-on media-assault smokescreen. Most notably, Jolie graces the cover of the current Vanity Fair, where she describes all the dilletanteish qualities in Pitt that inspired her to break up his marriage:
After my last divorce, I said I was absolutely going to marry somebody in another field, an aid worker or something. Then I met Brad, everything I wasn't looking for, but the best man, the best father I could possibly wish for, you know? I don't see him as an actor. I see him very much as a dad, as somebody who loves travel and architecture more than being in movies.
Even though she spent nearly a year silently standing by George Clooney's side at movie premieres and on jaunts to the United Nations, it seems that Sarah Larson forgot the first rule about Being George Clooney's Girlfriend. Namely, you do not talk about Being George Clooney's Girlfriend. Just days after her extensive interview with Harper's Bazaar hit the stands — one in which she confessed that "I don't think [George] has any trouble getting anything he wants" — she suddenly and quickly found herself on the receiving end of that maxim. Unfortunately for her, she learned that what Clooney wanted was for her to give back his garage door opener and hitchhike her way back to Vegas. Now, details have begun to emerge from the Larson camp about their breakup, ones that predictably cast a sympathetic light on the comely sandworm emulator. Serving as part of a vast right-wing conspiracy against noted lefty Clooney, Fox News reports:
"She thought they were getting married. Instead, she got dumped," a friend said. "She's really upset. Devastated."
Reports circulated yesterday claiming that OK! magazine was prepared to pay Lindsay Lohan the tidy sum of $US1 million in exchange for the lesbian-starlet-romp world exclusive, "How A Tomboy DJ Named Samantha Ronson Opened Me Up to the Pleasures of Girl-On-Girl Eroticism and the Catchy Rhythms of LeTigre"— an offer the noted actress and furnapper was reported to have turned down. Now, an anonymous "source close to the [Lohan] family" suggests to The Scoop that Lohan may be second-guessing her decision:
According to a source close to the family, Lohan is afraid this news might jeopardise future exclusives, which is bad news because she needs the cash. [...]
With the exception of Iron Man, the quality of the '08 summer movie vintage has been more than a little underwhelming. While we await salvation (we hope) in the form of July entries The Dark Knight and Tropic Thunder, a glance at the latest downbeat buzz on a few other key offerings has us thinking it might be a long June.
· The Happening: We don't know how much more there is to say about Manoj's Folly, but the accompanying photo suggests the troubled film's marketing campaign may have its own climactic twist ending in mind. Follow the jump for a larger version and the rest of our glimpse at cinema's June swoon.
What started out as a blaze that claimed a misshapen animatronic ape and a city pseudo-block on the Universal backlot is growing almost by the hour into something a lot costlier than the studio originally let on. First there were the Universal Music Group masters lost to fiery eternity (but they were already "transferred digitally," so, you know, whatever), and as alluded to by an astute Defamer commenter earlier today, a whole archive of film prints were rumoured to be lost as well.
And while they're not quite as bad as they sound at first, an e-mail sent Monday to repertory bookers around the country (and forwarded our way) indicates they're definitely true:
One day and about 1 million interpretations after Vanity Fair dared to suggest Bill Clinton sometimes thinks with his dick, Gina Gershon has launched a crusade to scrub her name off the list of the ex-president's rumoured paramours. Or, more specifically, Gershon's pit-bull counsel at Hollywood firm Lavely & Singer has launched a crusade on her behalf, and they all seem a bit peeved:
Through the innuendo-laden assertion that Ms. Gershon has been "visiting" with President Clinton in California, the Article outrageously insinuates that Ms. Gershon has had an inappropriate sexual relationship with President Clinton. This is absolutely false, My client has the utmost admiration and respect for both President and Senator Clinton, and she is extremely offended by the false and defamatory inference that she engaged in an adulterous relationship with the President. ... We demand publication of a retraction and correction.
After the jump, learn the three times Gershon did hang out with Bill Clinton — not surprisingly, none of them include private jets dubbed "Air Fuck One."
On last night's installment of The Bachelorette—ABC's envelope-pushing social experiment in which a houseful of horny male actors split their evenings between discovering each other's bodies and convincing a deeply deluded young woman that they are actually there to woo her—the remaining suitors were treated to a surprise field trip to The Ellen DeGeneres Show studio. There, they were grilled by the talk show host on what, exactly, they found so alluring about designated trophy-object DeAnna Pappas. (This proves especially challenging, as Pappas quite noticeably suffers from a congenital personality-deficiency that prevents her from doing or saying anything of interest beyond recalling the death of her mother.)
So it looks like we have a couple of "workers" to thank for the sooty, soaring plumes rising from last weekend's Universal Studios fire, which apparently began when said Universal employees got a little careless while "using a blowtorch to heat asphalt roofing shingles" in the wee hours of Sunday morning:
It took a few days, but Mel Brooks finally emerged from his Broadway bailiwick to stamp out that Page Six report that Brooksfilms is shutting its doors. "I'm not quitting," the filmmaker told The Hollywood Reporter's Leslie Simmons. "Brooksfilms is still here and will be going on for a while. I'm not at all slowing down, and nobody has told me to stop." OK, well, stop — please: Brooks also vaguely told Simmons about his forthcoming project Pizzaman, a "serious horror film" Brooksfilms is developing with longtime collaborators Rudy De Luca and Steve Haberman. Surely he must have alternatives; after all, isn't Silent Movie: The Musical an idea whose time has come? And must we really have mashed The Elephant Man up with Dracula: Dead and Loving It in vain? [THR]
· In today's installment of Rambling Anecdote Theatre, Captain Kirk answers a call to Playmate-snapping duty. [
Over the last few days, we have touched on many aspects of the fire that ravaged this town over the weekend: the 
Ah yes, we fondly recall the halycon days of the summer of 1999, when a fresh-faced batch of no-names captured the zeitgeist by bringing the carnal pleasures of beating off to webcam porn and fucking pastry items to the big screen. Yes, that's right, American Pie was a surprise hit that summer, 
