Gripes? We got ’em!

Once again, we are expected to believe that a woman would knowingly, wittingly and WILLINGLY leave Christopher Meloni and all his foreheaded goodness for Richard. Gere. Where…am I? Is this the merry old land of Oz? Who keeps casting these men in the same movie with RICHARD. GERE. as the lead? Can someone lose a job, if not more? For verily I say unto thee. Nay. *shakes head* Nay. Needless to say, if you wanna get a new agent, Christopher Darling, I’m…radically incompetent. BUT. Very pretty.

Now seems like a good time to mention the two-night-long-dream of Vincent D’onofrio. To be fair, the first night, the dream was actually about Robert Goren. The next night it was about the real Vincent. If you don’t see the connection between this paragraph and the first, get. out. Get off my page. Now. And how lame am I that I really had to look up his imdb page to make sure he really is married. ‘Cause, you know, my being married and not knowing him now or in the future have little to do with it.

Can I stab the “men” of NKOTB, only one of whom seems to demonstrate the necessary shame (and probably only because his last name is Wahlberg) … is it weird that the dude who looked like a monkey when I was ten still looks like a monkey? Or proof that I was never cruel, just daringly accurate? You decide.

Can I be plenty mad that Britney Spears and MTV think they’re funny. Stop me – WAIT. I just saw a picture of Dj-ji-ji-mon with the thing. Gawd, she looks boring next to him. … Clearly I’d rather internet surf than write. TOODLES.


I have a couple of questions for this picture. Beaucoup des questions. Um, does the one in white look like a retarded kid who is about to “throw down” with an inanimate object? And… Joe, is it? In the middle… who did NOT tell you that Superman 7 is already cast? And finally, you there… on the slow boat to Vegas lounge-singing? Yes, you. Please dial back on the smirk that shows you just might think you’re sexier than the mirror would attest. In conclusion… I like that Burnin Up song.


11 thoughts on “Gripes? We got ’em!

  1. Whenever you talk about celebs you’re all over the place. First, what movie/show is Richard Gere and Stabler competing love interests? And I don’t get the Jonas brothers either. To prove themselves to me I want to see a Disney death match. But if they had a brawl with the Cheetah girls they would probably loose.


  2. I DO NOT get the Jonas brothers. Especially the one that straightens his hair. Are they supposed to be cute? Because…no. Speaking of hair, Corbin Bleu is yummy. Have you seen the preview for High School Musical 3? Hilarity.


  3. Have I seen the preview for High School Musical 3 which I will see on opening day? Yes, Jennifer. Yes, I have. And duh Corbin Bleu is yummy albeit the absolute walking definition of Disney buckness. But, that’s his job, alas. I prefer his friend’s near-crying vocal expression though…if they had the good sense to dub the retarded Katie Holmes-lipped Vanessa Whattheheck’s “singing” a la Westside Story, it coulda been a good time. Le sigh.


  4. Push it push it to the limit limit cuz we’re in to win it in it to win OH YEAH.
    Okay when I read this: “I prefer his friend’s near-crying vocal expression though”…I could NOT STOP LAUGHING and Andy kept asking “What? WHAT? TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE LAUGHING AT?!” because here’s the thing my friend. I thought the exact SAME THING WHEN WATCHING THE PREVIEW. Mainly, why is bro on the verge of tears? And why is it on the verge of SEXY? When he grabs his jersey? Yeeeeah. So is this basketball game the end all be all? Oh. I guess so. And Vanessa can’t sing/act/anything for shit. Kills me.


  5. I will have all the sexual fantasies about that boy. Singing. Crying. Clenching his jaw. Grabbing jerseys. Dang. His scrawny frame does really overshadow Corbin for me because of the emotionalitiness. ification. It’s good tasting. Get into my mouth.

    Um, I did tell you about the dream I had where I was his girlfriend, right? *Licks lips* Oh, Zack Efron. When acting, you gives me grown woman feelings.


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