X-it

Paula Abdul, Steve Jones AND legal hooker Nicole Scherzinger are all leaving X Factor. Who who WHO the hell is going to off-set Simon Cowell's endless supply of black t-shirts and 1993 haircuts now?

Cowell pretending it was him instead of Keanu in the Rush, Rush video

Turn to the Left

 

The smoky eyes, glossed lips, science fiction hairpieces and rigidly immaculate couture of Fashion Week are fast approaching. Fortunate enough to be covering several events for The Dirty Durty Diary, my calendar is peppered with a healthy helping of invitation-only shows.

Always excited to witness the creations of the fashion elite (and to take a nonchalant peek at the people they’ve invited), I’m biting my nails at the impending age-old “What the hell am I going to wear?” question.

Regardless of the threads I choose, I’m certain each event will be incredible in its own right. However, I have recurring daymares reminiscent of that Simpsons episode where Marge finds a Chanel suit and has such a fabulous time wearing it that she has to keep slicing, dicing and altering it into a new outfit before she goes out so she won’t be seen in it twice and eventually ends up with a butchered rag that symbolizes her lost battle with materialism.

Marge before she slaughters the suit in attempt to stay socially relevant

One For the Incinerator

When I learned that Katherine Heigl's One For the Money grossed $11.5 million last weekend, I was shocked. Well, let's back up. Frankly I was shocked that it was an actual movie and not just a series of hoaxy trailers and posters from Hollywood saying "Ha ha! See! We can be funny! Even WE wouldn't make a movie this crappy."

Heigl contemplates using one of 8,900 obvious dick jokes

But 11.5 million. Man. Even though Heigl is definitely showcasing her versatility with a brown rinse and and an accent (?), I'm baffled that millions of people pointedly bought tickets to see it. My only solace is that hopefully it was a bunch of teenagers who just wanted to make out in a dark place far from the reaches of their parents' power-wielding clutches. But then that would mean the younger generation thinks it's okay to make out to a movie this awful—which says nothing optimistic for our future.

Oh Land Gets It

FINALLY. Someone has been able to visually capture the inner turmoil I feel when having to decide on an outfit before a party.

OSCAR NOMINATIONS 2012: The Gold Rush Begins

I used to be the guy who spent almost as much on movie tickets as I did on monthly rent just to see every Oscar-nominated film pre-Academy Awards. Of course, that was when movies were slightly less expensive and I was living in Chicago where my studio apartment cost 500 bucks a month. Man, that still hurts…

My fervor for filmgoing based on nominations began to wane when sweet and talented Reese Witherspoon, playing sweet and talented June Carter Cash, beat out fellow Best Actress nominee Felicity Huffman who was playing a pre-op transsexual. Now I rely on my own taste, research, and instinct when it comes to choosing a movie rather than relying on those served up to me by people who will probably never invite me to their house for dinner.

Sure, I still eagerly watch the nominations, map out some movies I need to see and gather with a group of friends as we watch the awards but the naivete of thinking the best man or woman will win, has been replaced with the stark reality that the Academy tends to make some pretty dismaying blasphemous choices amongst their delightfully spot-on good ones. This morning was no exception.

I’ve decided my delight and dismay at the nominations can be best expressed by imagining how writers, actors, directors and other glitterati reacted to their names being announced by sort-of-sweaty Tom Sherak and hot-as-glowing-embers Jennifer Lawrence earlier today.

And the select nominees are:

Melissa McCarthy (Actress in a Supporting Role, Bridesmaids) and

Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig (Best Original Screenplay, Bridesmaids):

After a chardonnay and cupcake-infused slumber party with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler at Maya Rudolph’s beach house, the ladies are all calmly encircling a coffee table, heads bowed, fingers crossed and looking like they’re either about to have a séance or try Stiff as a Board, Light as a Feather. Then…squeals, high-five-ing, genuine gasps of disbelief, hugging, more squealing, nostril-flaring, Whitney Houston impersonations, and comments in Wiig’s signature nervous sing-songy voice like “Whaaat’s happening!?” and “It’s Oscar time and I’m readaaay ta parrrrrtaaaay!”

Brad Pitt (Actor in a Leading Role, Moneyball)

In the slightly macho, slightly I’m-covering-up-a-lishp-by-shaying-my-s’s-like-thishhh way of speaking over which millions of women and misguided gay men still inexplicably swoon, says “I shtill think my besht work wush in True Romance. Shtill, I’ll take it. What do you think, Angie? Not talking to me right now? Come on, don’t be like that. You have to actually be in shomething besides a dress or constant state of well-managed anorexia in order be nominated, honey.”

Bérénice Bejo (Actress in a Leading Role, The Artist)

In keeping with her character, she says nothing. Now THIS is dedication. Or cultured European nonchalance. I can’t tell.

 

Martin Scorcese (Best Picture, Best Director, Hugo)

“Honey, you’re gonna need to get another dress! And no, you can’t sit this one out. You ask that every year.” Examining his prolific eyebrows in magnifying mirror, “Looks like we’re gonna have to go in for a trim, boys.”

War Horse (Best Picture—Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, Producers)

STEVEN: I still don’t get why E.T. didn’t win.

KATE CAPSHAW: Get over it honey.

STEVEN: Right, just as soon as you get over whatever treatments have made you somehow morph into a 38 year-old plastic fem-bot version of Julie Christie.

Gary Oldman (Actor in a Leading Role, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy)

“Hmmm. I didn’t think anyone recognized me in that one. I mean, I’m such a genius chameleon and make even crappy movies like Batman Begins good. And trust me, it’s not an easy feat to make a movie with Katie Holmes’s fat cheeks and Christian Bale’s ridiculous gravelly voice decent.”

Jonah Hill (Actor in a Supporting Role, Moneyball):

INSERT: Weight reference / joke

Christopher Plummer (Actor in a Supporting Role, Beginners):

To his wife as they lounge on the yacht of a foreign dignitary in the South of France: “Well, now. That’s nice.” With a sly raising of the eyebrow, “I just hope I’m more remembered for this than not wanting to have my picture taken with that little terrier from The Artist. More champagne?”

Meryl Streep (Actress in a Leading Role, The Iron Lady):

On the terrace of an Italian villa, soaking in the unseasonably warm sun as she sips some pinot greege and straightens the many layers of bohemian blouses and scarves in which she is ensconced: “Awww, that’s so sweet. Well, I guess this old gal from New Jersey’s still got it.” She takes a generous sip of the wine and continues reading the script for WORKING TITLE: OSCAR VEHICLE FOR MERYL WHEREIN SHE’LL PLAY THE CARICATURE OF A YET TO BE IDENTIFIED ICONIC WOMAN FROM THE 70s OR 80s.

Nick Nolte (Actor in a Supporting Role, Warrior):

As he finishes his early morning yoga session and contemplates combining protein powder with Miller High Life: “What? Man. Shit. Maybe they’ll finally lose that fucking mugshot picture now. I’m just glad people didn’t say, ‘Aw fuck I thought that was Gary Busey in Warrior.’ Shit. Ohhh…oh!” Remembering what he was doing earlier, bows head and says, “Namaste.”

Enough of This Shit

There's an epidemic out there. Not the kind that kills Gwyneth Paltrow in a movie none of us saw, but the kind that makes you want to punch your computer screen or de-friend someone on Facebook for posting 73,000 versions of the same thing on your Wall. I speak of the Shit [Insert stereotype, race or sexual preference] Say epidemic quickly devouring bandwidth on YouTube.

From Shit Girls Say to Shit Liza Minnelli Says these video montages don't seem to leave a stone left unturned in the realm of people we want to make fun of/pay homage to. Now I enjoy a comedic montage of cliched phrases and expletives as much as the next person, but I grow weary of being told of a new video under the veil of Shit X Says every 18 minutes.

To help nudge this trend out of center stage, I'd like to suggest a few topics YouTubers can cover so we can just be done with it and go back to watching pandas sneeze, Icelandic singers attack reporters, weathermen scream at roaches, and music videos from the era of Kurt Loder and Kennedy.

a talented Joyce DeWitt lookalike gives birth to Shit Liza Minnelli Says

In no particular order:

Shit White Girls Say When they watch Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls

Shit Julia Roberts Says to Herself in the Morning When She Feels Irrelevant

Shit You Hope No One Heard You Say About Them at a Party

Shit You Say To Pull Your Foot Out of Your Mouth at a Party When You Realize Everyone Heard You Say That the Host is A Neurotic Slut With Crappy Furniture

Shit You Say While You're Shitting

Shit Carol Channing Says

Shit Carol Channing and Tatum O'Neal Might Say to Each Other if they Were Both Dropping Acid

Shit Julia Sugarbaker Might Say to the Conservative Party 

Shit Nancy Grace's Twins Say 

Shit Nancy Grace's Twins Say in 15 years

Shit Andy Cohen Says to Get Laid

Shit People Who Slept With Andy Cohen Say

Shit Selma Hayek and Penelope Cruz Used To Say When Their English Was Indiscernible

Shit Facebook Says to Friendster

Shit Gay Guys Say...Oh shit. Have we come full circle? Oh. Okay. Good. Now stop this madness.

Jan Hooks Is My Hero

 

How I’ve never seen or heard this genius parody of I Am Woman is beyond me. But I’d like to file this song under Jan Hooks: Prophet of Wisdom and cross-reference it with How the Kardashian’s Got Their Grotesques Asses Handed to Them [30 years ago].

Blue: The Sequel

Goooosh JZ. You’re so behind. Eiffel 65 already wrote a song about your daughter even way before Beyoncé had escaped the clutches of Destiny’s Child. Get with it. Or name your daughter Green.

The Innkeepers Wants to Say Boo

After a couple of holiday weeks of inventing as many adult beverages as possible with St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur and making meals out of leftover party dips, chips and prosciutto, there's nothing better than settling down with a bar of chocolate and Ti West's latest horror film.

He who beautifully brought us the supernatural flashback to 80s era horror in The House of the Devil, has returned with a ghost story, The Innkeepers, that will make you never want to stay in a small town hotel again...if you're actually prone to doing that.

Healy and Paxton try to convince themselves they aren't about to shit their pants

On their last weekend as desk clerks at the infamous Yankee Pedlar Inn before it closes [insert foreboding tone] FOREVER, Claire (Sara Paxton) and Luke (Pat Healy) decide to drink some beer, take long naps, and uncover the secret behind the hotel's angry ghost, Madeline O'Malley.

Luckily they won't be too busy working since there are only four guests: There's the verbally abusive and temperamental woman with her young son. There's the dusty old man from the Wilford Brimley school of creepy old dudes who looks like he has no eyes. And there's the former TV star turned new agey psychic, Leanne, played by Chico's-clad Amazon Lesbian Queen, Kelly McGillis. What starts as an optimistic adventure eventually takes a turn towards a holy-shit-balls-Pandora-why'd-you-open-that-fucking-box nightmare.

This story is more than fun and thrilling to watch. The players are quirky, drunk, sexy and silly and...GASP!...talented. Healy nails the nonchalance of a slacker unsure of himself and McGillis grabs you with the saucy claws of a practiced thespian (you'll seriously want to watch her drink and smoke and drink and quip over and over again).

But Paxton is unequivocally the true star. Her genuine eagerness, soapy scrubbed naivete and all around adorkable curiosity make her clumsy, clever and incredibly scrumptious, a beacon of blonde light in hotel full of dark, deadly secrets—with nary a happy ending in sight.

See this movie right this second and support other talented moviemakers like West. I don't just say this because we both have the same last name and are most likely related. Unless it will get me a job on his next project. In which case, that's exactly why I'm saying it.

Multiple Bore-gasm

 

Being a Texan means being at the ready to either defend my people or be the first one to say what the fuck were those scary ass trailer park twats thinking when they decided to breed?

So when I heard that WeTV was introducing a series called Texas Multi Mamas I 1) wondered if this was some sort of sy-fy movie wherein a Southwestern Hydra breeds with a  barefoot hillbilly in Crapshoot, TX, and wreaks havoc on the small town before being taken down by a buxom local woman clad in cutoffs and carrying a sawed-off shotgun 2) decided I should cancel any creative productivity I was in the midst of and totally watch 4 episodes in a row.

Texas Multi Mamas, it turns out, is a Real Housewives type of reality show except, instead of having several shoes / cars / dogs / cosmetic procedures, the ladies have twin, triplet or quadruplet litters of children. 

They drink wine, they compliment each other, they castrate their dogs. What WILL happen next?!!

Sadly, my enthusiasm for the show immediately waned when I discovered that these ladies were mostly…gulp…NICE to each other. And…the horror!…HELPED each other with their problems. And…shiver…lived in BORING, understated, bland homes that cost less than the touch-up surgery Adrienne Maloof’s husband gave to her yesterday while they were sitting in traffic.

Such banal “plot lines” as getting a dog fixed, picking out a trendy shirt for a husband, buying a bikini in a strip mall, and the scandalous Hooters background of one of the Multi Mamas (grab a bible and save her already!) made this the television equivalent of watching an avocado seed sprout in a glass of water. The only drama to speak of was when several of the Mamas thought one of the other Mamas was talking too much. Hmm.

I still watched the 4 episodes, but I think what kept me in front of the TV was the stories I was inventing for these boring as fuck women (lesbian affairs, homosexual husbands, sweatshops where their multiple children knit scarves and help keep the family afloat). I refuse to watch this show again. Unless it happens to be on. And I happen to be in front of the TV. 

Deep Blue Science

Only three days into the year and already we're off to a promising start...in the realm of crazy Australians and their f'd up shark encounters anyway. Australian researchers have just discovered nearly 60 hybrid sharks roaming waters off the eastern coast of Australia. The sharks are the progeny of two sharks from different climates. Researchers say that, since sharks are basically bigots and only mate with their own kind, such a great number of hybrids indicates that sharks are joining bloodlines to create a breed more suited to climate changes.

Thomas Jane is ready to defend you from science

What researchers didn't say was that Saffron Burrows is behind all of this hybrid business and that the sharks will soon wreak havoc on the world, eating Samuel L. Jackson in the midst of one of his preachy speeches, and just begging Thomas Jane to wrangle their asses (sassy black chef commentary from LL Cool J is also a strong possibility).