Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Let's Play Pretend Today
Suppose for a minute that you're a short, skinny actress with squinty eyes. A lot of people hate you, but I think you're adorable and, really, that's all that matters. You played a beloved chicklit character to rave reviews and an Oscar nom. You follow that up with an...okay turn as a merry murderess and, again, Oscar nom (damn it, that bitch Nicole Kidman just beat you out!). You then ham it up in a period piece and finally win that Oscar! Granted, you accept that offer in a white dress with a ginormous bow in the back but still, it was a rare misstep for you, who often dresses rather splendidly.
Life is good, yes?
Well, sort of. Everyone is OBSESSED with how much you weigh and you get grief when you're on the curvier side and when you're stick skinny. There are rumors that your creepy undead boyfriend lost interest in you when you had the Bridget Jones weight on...ouch.
And, okay, you're sort of annoying. I mean, I like you, but damn, that "Ohmigod, y'all! I'm just a little gal from Texas, I can't believe y'all gave me an award!" shtick that you do at every single award ceremony is so stale. And honey, what's with the shine? You can get really cheap foundation at CVS.
But in spite of this, you've had a pretty good record in the dating department. I mean, I, personally, would sooner kick Jim Carrey in his elastic face than date him, but you know, he was the biggest star at the time, so I can see it. And then you made approximately forty billion women jealous by dating the criminally hot George Clooney. George Clooney! If I may pretend it's 1997 again-you go, girl.
Then you dated the aforementioned undead Jack White. But I guess The White Stripes are, like, popular, or whatever? I'm not the one to ask, as I listen to little other than Mos Def and Madonna. But yes, I've heard that Jack White is way talented or whatever, so good on you. And then when you broke up with him (thank god, because, really, the man is forty shades of creepy) and dated Damien Rice, who I am similarly ignorant about.
And then, a mere four months after dumping the creeptastic vampire, you decide to get married. Which is a weird decision in and of itself, but the man you married is Kenny Chesney.
Now, first, can I ask you something? What's with the dating musicians? Are you trying to be like Winona Ryder? Because Winona Ryder, like Charles Barkley, is no role model.
And, okay, Kenny Chesney? I don't know much about him except that:
Could it be that tensions are brewing in the camp of that less-than-contented crooner? So say sources close to the follicly impaired fella, who tell me that his desire to come out is being thwarted. Although he'd like to come up for air, his management cites "career suicide" if the diminutive doll's fan base (known for being ever-so-slightly conservative) learned he had been in a long-term relationship with his guy Friday. I guess the cheeky chap will have to take out his frustration in the gym and continue focusing on his fine-tuned physique--to say nothing of his unique flair for fashion.
Oh, Renee. Why did you do this? I mean, I don't judge (often) (okay, fine, I do, but I don't judge to people's faces), but really, who thought this was a good idea? And why did you two, who are both as pale as Casper the Ghost's albino cousin, get married on a beach, where you blend in with the sand?
You confuse me. From George Clooney to this? You have some explaining to do!
Now let's pretend you're a Hollywood bad boy. You drink and smoke your way across the world and have sex with anyone (really...anyone. You're not picky) you meet.
You used to be really hot. And you had a promising career, before you pissed it away with fine fare like SWAT and The Recruit.
Is it because you're depressed? Is the syphillis hurting your head? Is that why you've decided to become bloated, rip off David Beckham's hairstyle and wear dollar store jewelry? It is, isn't it? That must be it.
You hurt me.
Mallory at 5/11/2005 02:36:00 PM
6 Comments
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at 4:49 PM
CLC said... The Zellwegger-Chesney union feels very much like the Lopez-Anthony nuptuals. As you so appropriately put it, they both leave me confused. If only because I didn't think it was possible to make J. White and B. Affleck seem like catches.
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at 5:03 PM
Rayanne Graff said...
I adore Renee, but damn, she makes it hard, with her shiny, and her permanently red face, and the emaciation, and the squint.
And now...she marries a bald gay cowboy person? Huh?
But still, adorable. Also, for the record, I loved her Oscar dress. Not to everyone's tastes but it suited her figure and was quintessentially her, which is more than can be said for a lot of A-listers.
One last thing: George Clooney...? Damn.-
at 5:31 PM
said... I am so repulsed by Jack White (undead, creepy, skeevy, ugly, scary, GAH!) that I pretty much consider anyone a step up from him. And so I, reluctantly, applaud Renee for marrying this little gay cowboy named Kenny Chesney.
Sigh. Renee, sometimes you make it so difficult to like you.-
at 5:40 PM
said...
Ha, I was just about to post that pink tank top picture in my journal. Great minds and so forth...
I wish I hadn't clicked on that picture of Colin Farrell. Jesus. Ow.-
at 1:02 AM
said...
I think Kenny is kinda cute...and kinda gay. It'd be cool if he came out but that'd mean goodbye Nashville, hello gay rodeos.
Colin Farrell should only be allowed to date women in their 70s.-
at 9:50 PM
said...
But Mallory dear... "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" is my favorite song of all time. Well... not really, but that song is hilarious!
The way Colin Farrell looks now makes me cry. I used to totally think he was hot.. but a dirty manwhore. Now he's not even a hot manwhore, he's just a washed up manwhore. It's a tragedy...