A Sam-ster Update
Kids.
They grow up so fast!
And this little fellow has been nothing but T-R-O-U-B-L-E. 
Month: July 2008
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Crap Television—How Do I Love Thee? Part Deuxokay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay...so gojeannie was absolutely RIGHT...dangitBurn Notice turns out to be an awesome show. Been trying to avoid getting sucked into Yet Another Series but USA Network had a 4th of July marathon, the scrubs. Our frackin' TiVO managed to NOT save the premiere ep (boo) but Himself and I watched enough to get roped into a well-done series with decent character development, storylines, répartée and a refresh of a great premise = covert operative gets shafted by his own agency and must clear his name...after figuring out who actually burned him. You know: pretty much the same premise as The Prisoner except BN is set in Miami and not some wacky Welsh village called Portmeirion which must've been architected by someone on LSD. Seriously.
Ooops. I digressed.
Anyhoo, here's our hero Michael Westen (played by Jeffrey Donovan) and OMGs, that's Caprica Six/Natalie (Trish Helfer) of Battlestar Galactica sitting next to him...yikes! Michael is ably aided and abetted by his sizzling ex-IRA ex-girlfriend, Fiona (Gabrielle Anwar). She is refreshingly—how do we put this?—brutal and unsentimental, showing an almost knee-jerk response to violence with greater violence; the perfect foil to Michael's cool control. In fact, she can pretty much kick the ass ofanyevery male even though she's no bigger than this <holds up baby finger>. Michael's faithful sidekick is Sam, a former Navy SEAL who is played by none other than Bruce Campbell. You know: THE Bruce Campbell.Trapped in time. Surrounded by evil. Low on gas.
1 Man, 1 Million dead, The odds are just about even.
They move. They breathe. They suck.
Sound the trumpets, raise the drawbridge, and drop the Oldsmobile
In an age of darkness. At a time of evil. When the world needed a hero. What it got was him.You HAFTA know this one:Shop smart. Shop S-Mart.Yo DO know what I'm talking about....right? Right? Sheesh.Short SegueMust share a couple of the E! Online gems they are so infamously known for:
Tilda's Ta-Da!Somewhere in Reno, a magician is looking for his dove cage cover. Tilda Swinton's sequined jacket at the L'Uomo Vogue 40th anniversary party is fantastically hideous, even by her standards. Worse yet, the coat gives way to high-water pants and stiltlike sandals—making us wonder if she knew we'd drown her outfit in criticism. Make it disappear!So is just it me or do you agree that Tilda was a superlative choice for the White Witch? Well okay, for purists (and I be's one), she doesn't quite resemble the Pauline Baynes illustrations. But to find someone with such an austere, almost androgynous and intensely feral demeanor in today's thespian-wannabe stable of fou-fou girly-girls is quite refreshing!
Old-School?Nick, Joe and Kevin Jonas attend the Camp Rock premiere in New York looking like they’re auditioning for a Tears for Fears biopic (ask your parents). Skinny ties?! Shiny suits?! White shoes?! It’s a good thing they travel en masse, or these kids would get their skinny asses handed to them by some hesher freak (ask your parents).I have to confess that I looked up "hesher freak" due to lingo ignorance (and the search results were somewhat nebulous). I think it might've been more fitting to work in a snarky reference to Tiger Beat Magazine but.....OMDG, its still in publication! AND the frackin' Jonas Bros appear as #2 for their site links:
BTW, the same comment about fou-fou girly-girls applies to them. I don't claim to know much about the Jonas Bros; just seen their name(s) bandied about in relation to Miley Montana/Hanna Cyrus/Billy Ray Living-Vicariously-Thru-His-Daughter (that's his tribal name, FYI).More Crap Television candidates in the next installment... -
Crap Television—How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways...Earlier this year, LaurenKaz was recovering from—get this—NOT the previously referred-to car accident but a frackin' MRSA, the antibiotic-resistent Strep infection. This was a by-product of a knee laceration caused, yes, by the accident but 3 months afterwards? Seriously WTF?!? Here's what I recommend about physical therapy to aid injury recovery: FGI (Fergit It). Two things can happen to you by hanging around a place that rehabs high school and college athletes:- You end up suffering way more than necessary due to the exertion needed to look like you're effortlessly working out. Surrounded by (primarily) males of the species who are in the prime—PRIME, I tell ya—shape of their lives. one feels compelled to suck in anything possible, try not to huff&puff or otherwise appear like you're not really as flabby as you feel. Still haven't figured out how to reduce the shiny, dripping red-faced look to cool nonchalance. Also think I pulled at least a couple of muscles sucking the gut in.- These rehab centers are actually Ground Zero for bacteria and other infectious agents: a warm, moist (jacuzzi in the adjoining torture chamber--er, room) environment with no wiping down of equipment and treatment tables. My nurse mentioned that MRSA incidents are up for athletes, especially in contact sports like wrestling.....eeewwwwww. Go figure.Hence, my theory: I was made sick by the very treatment that was supposed to help me. And if you consider I got the MRSA after only 2 measly visits, it translates to a neon sign that should be posted above the door pronto: Abandon every hope, who enter here.Seriously.Anyways, the month of recovery meant fried brains du jour. Unable to concentrate on any of the gadzillion books I've purchased over the years, I turned to....yes.....Crap Television. Nothing eats up the hours quite like mind-numbing brain candy. Here's a recap of some of my favs (some are way old):Randy Jackson Presents: America's Best Dance Crew (Season 1): introduced me to the amazing talent that is the JabbaWockeeZ.
Precise, intricate movements; concise group choreography with incredible individual talent shining through—even past their trademark white face masks. They deserved to win as they kept raising the bar each week, executing more difficult routines and offering unmatched showmanship.Was also blown away by Kaba Modern, an all-Asian crew from UC Irvine (yes, IRVINE) of 3 guys and 3 gals (I can hear Tommy hollering, "REPRESENT!") (yep...Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Korean):
Last but not least, hafta mention BreakSk8 who can pop and lock like the best of them while on frackin' ROLLER SKATES...completely mind-boggling!
But here's the real reason this show was near and dear to my heart: Shane Sparks and his verdicts. After awhile, Lil Mama sounded like she'd just taken a huge toke and diarrhea'd something out of her mouth (space cadet!). JC Chasez must've got his ass kicked by SS and LM after each and every show for being a total dumbass. Shane? Oh he just kept getting better and better:- Y'all SICK- Y'all ILL- Y'all REPRESENT- Y'all SMASHED itMore Crap Television candidates in the next installment...
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Aye-Aye Caramba!
That would be an aye-aye, as in lemur, to us common folk. Yes indeedy, there was a baby aye-aye born at the SF Zoo on June 20 or 21 or thereabouts. The exact date is not the only mystery surrounding this little bundle of joy:- the sex is unknown- they didn't even know the female was preggers until baby arrived- this is only the second time an aye-aye has been born in captivity to parents also captive-bred- it takes 2-3 hours for aye-ayes to copulate...the chances for a hit&miss are astronomical!Gotta say that Baby Aye-Aye does closely resemble an extra from the Mos Eisley bar scene in "Star Wars." The original, of course, silly—in fact, the one and only especially since they subjected us to Hayden Christensen, the "lake on Naboo" plus Jar-Jar Binks in the so-called prequels. Which are actually travesties...travesties, I tell you.But I digress.Anyways, here's a shot of Baby Opie who is a whole helluva lot cuter than the unfortunate prosimian above:
Himself was quite the Marsupial Hunter, bravely catching snaps of our guest as Baby Opie settled into the shower room.Of course, Himself just couldn't leave well enough alone so we will close with the next shot:
And no—I don't believe Baby Opie was saying, "Goodnight, John-Boy" at this particular moment. But that's just a guess on my part.
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