There’s a part of me that loves that this video is an actual news story that aired on television. It’s safe to say that the vampires will sparkle a little brighter in New Moon this weekend because we live in a world that understands the newsworthiness of one tranny stealing another tranny’s wig:
Most of me, though, loves how she gives such great bitchface even when she’s using her ninja focus and lighting-fast thief mittens to get that wig. Miss Brazil 2009 most certainly does NOT want to get in front of that queen while going down a flight of stairs. It can only end with a Nomi Malone.
You can toast DListed for this little slice of fabulous.
Well, New Moon is out today, and a great schism has erupted all over the interwebs:
This is an important discussion to have because you’re choosing between a wang that’s pale and ice cold and a wang that’s underage and could spontaneously sprout hair. Hrmmm, DECISIONS.
Anyways, I’ve personally arrived at the conclusion that I’m neither Team Edward nor Team Jacob. It’s not that I’m deliberately trying to be a finicky bitch by not answering the most important question of the new millenium, it’s just that someone else has taken my Twibreath away:
Oh girl, I know two posts about a single Lady Gaga song in less than 24 hours might define excessive, but I just can’t. Stop. LISTENING:
So color me predictable when I tell you I’ve been doing a lot of deep thinking about this whole “Alejandro”-sounds-like-Ace-of-Base situation because it’s an important situation (the most important!) that demands plenty of contemplation. And because I’m in serious need of a more productive hobby, like knitting. Or human organ trafficking . Whatever. Tomato, Clamato, moving right along.
Anyways, I’ve come to the realization that “Alejandro” doesn’t just remind me of “Don’t Turn Around.” No no. It’s also reminiscent of Ace of Base’s own anthem to stone-cold bitchfacedness:
See what I’m talking about? It’s uncanny how reminiscent “Alejandro” is of “Don’t Turn Around.” This is, of course, a very good thing, but I’m nevertheless starting to suspect that “Alejandro” is the Brundlefly-esque merging of Lady Gaga’s camp/pop sensibilities a cassette tape of Ace of Base’s The Sign:
Even though it’s not coming out ’til the 23rd, that hasn’t stopped Lady Gaga’s The Fame Monster from spilling forth onto the ever impatient interwebs, and let’s all just be honest with ourselves, y’all:
Sure, it’s only 8 songs long, and it’s like Gaga’s gone and reinvented the discostick, but The Fame Monster has some really great songs that definitely earn it a “BUY” come next Tuesday. Songs, for example, like “Alejandro,” which is the Lady’s catchy dance anthem ode to tossing Latin lovers aside like they’re used tissues at a sperm bank:
I mean, sooo good, but I can’t help but feel like there’s a glitch in the homo matrix because I feel like I’ve heard this song. Oh, wait, I have:
I’m not telling you a damn thing about this video other than it’s branded its nightmarish imagery of melted-faced hell spawn deep in my brain, and I’m not about to suffer this one alone:
GAAAAAAH!
I don’t know what this video is for, but I can definitely tell you I don’t want it, and I will do absolutely everything in my power to make sure I don’t get it. Music lessons? Whoops, I just cut off all my fingers! Funk bands? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the scalding pokers in my ears! World Peace? It’s like Miranda July said:
Admittedly, there are certain differences between Clint Eastwood’s Changeling, starring Angelina Jolie, and the following YouTube video I stumbled upon. For example, Angelina Jolie didn’t have a long-haired fright wig in the movie. No no, she sported a fashionable 1930s bob:
Added to that, given that Changeling was a period piece, Angelina Jolie never wore hoodies or Billabong shirts, though sometimes she did wear this hat that I want:
Everything else about this video, however, is spot on:
Don’t get me wrong. This poster is perfectly fine, and I’ll no doubt be seeing Salt next summer. Angelina Jolie has a curious hold on me like that. I saw Changeling just to see her bring the classic-Hollywood-esque hysterics. Hell, I even subjected myself to Wanted, which says loads about how appealing I find her as an actress and how I have no self-respect. Still, as much as I guess there’s a certain newsworthiness in the unveiling of a teaser poster for a movie that many of us will waste $12.50 because the magnetic draw of an Angelina Jolie action movie overrides one’s ability to make good life choices, it seems to me that there are bigger teaser poster fish for us to be frying, namely this one:
Firstly, it’s so bad it’s brilliant. Oh, and there’s epic amounts of Enrique Iglesias’s perky moobs and enough thrilling stripper pole acrobatics that would have Nomi Malone contemplating whether or not she’s gonna have to shove a bitch down the stairs. NSFW? Most likely. Not to be missed? Indubitably:
Sweet mercy, there is so much of him compulsively engaging in the act of self love. That’s basically all there is to this video: Enrique Iglesias touching himself like he’s just hit puberty, and then some Nomi-pool-sex lite in a bathtub. So basically it’s Showgirls with a Dude.
All it needs is a moment where he and Ricky Martin, in the midst of their roaring success from pop music’s Latin Explosion, decide to take lunch at Spago. They wax nostalgic about eating Puppy Chow, trade thoughts on having nice moobs, and then toast. With chips. Now that would push it into perfección.
Also, as a final thought, if this is meme be true:
Oh, dammit! Amy Adams’s undeniably perky charm and Matthew Goode’s dreamboatalicious combination of scruff and blue eyes, WHY MUST YOU EXPLOIT ME SO?!?
Even in poster format, me and my inner teenage girl don’t stand a chance to your magnetic appeal. Even in poster form, I can see Leap Year for exactly the sort of rote, cliched romantic comedy filled with the same easy jokes and formulaic twists years and years and years of movies just like you have supplied eager audiences like me. You may be entirely lacking the holy screwball trinity of Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and a leopard named Baby; but I’m pretty certain that you and me and a pint of Häagen-Dazs vanilla swiss almond would make a perfectly suitable trifecta on a Saturday night.
And your trailer, Leap Year? I’ve got freakin’ second sight with this:
In case you’ve yet to witness the combustible magic of Sara Carlson, the Al Paradise sensation who’s inimitable song and dance stylings have won hearts and blown minds over here at Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner, then you’d best correct that terrible life choice. Immediately. Seriously, it couldn’t be easier. Just click here and here, and make sure you’ve a box full of Kleenex ready for all those tears of joy. All done? Great! Then moving right along.
So this weekend, Skynet YouTube Recommendations once again read my mind and suggested this little number below, “Circo Circo” by Bonnie Bianco. It may not be Sara Carlson, I thought, but Al Paradise’s own brand of early-80s carnivalesque psychedelic tranny insanity is enough to make any performer a star, mais oui?
Mais non.
Maybe it’s that Bonnie Bianco’s moves are like something out of the beginner’s course at the Sara Carlson Academy of Batshit Fabulous Ridicudancing, but I also place a lot of the blame on the clowns. They’re never anything but a recipe for nightmares, so let’s all blame the clowns. And the fact that every great star needs a great a director.
It seems to me that Italian variety television just doesn’t know how to make Bonnie Bianco shine. Fortunately enough, much like von Sternberg made Dietrich, so too has the sauerkraut-and-bratwurst touch of German’s Rotkreuz-Gala transformed Bonnie Bianco into a sensation:
Benjamin
Archer
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