I had almost forgotten about “Shit Girls Say” meme craze, which is fine, because it’s not 2012, and I try to rely upon more than trite gendered observations and casual misogyny for humor. I rely upon innumerable Showgirls references instead, because I dine on sophistication. (And Doggie Chow.)
Speaking of sophistication, here’s an 8-minute montage of Alexis Carrington quotes, because even the most exhausted meme is revitalized by Joan Collins, Dynasty clips, and a glamorous yet sensible appreciation of shoulder pads.
Even if every generation gets the dress controversy that it deserves, this dress ain’t from Versayce (you know, in the Forum?), so I fail to see what all the fuss is about.
I’d bother offering some context for this clip from last week’s Glee, but then I’d have to admit I’ve been watching the never-ending bath salt nightmare of a South Florida theater kid, so shhhhh. All that matters is that Gina Gershon showed up to play Blaine’s mother, and–more importantly–she was joined by Jennifer Coolidge (!!!), Gloria Estefan (!?!), and a Suze Orman’s Midwestern dopplegänger (…) to sing the Pointer Sisters classic “I’m So Excited” (.gif.gif.gif):
Last night, Christina Aguilera went onto The Tonight Show to promote her return to The Voice, and she and Jimmy Fallon played a game of Wheel of Musical Impressions. Her Britney Spears impression is on-point, and her Cher is pretty awesome, too. Christina Aguilera isn’t just the divacamp deserves, but the iconit needs right now.
I’m not sure there’s anything to be said about last night’s Oscars that can’t be said by this picture of Joan Crawford asleep with her Oscar, which is to say: Zzzz.
It wasn’t that the Oscars were terrible. Patricia Arquette won, and she spoke about how to make the world a more just place. Julianne Moore won, and the world became a more just place. Neil Patrick Harris dutifully tried to keep some awfully regrettable material afloat. At least it wasn’t James Franco, part don’t. Lady Gaga’s Sound of Music melody was really great, even if it wasn’t performed in a bratwurst dirndl. And then there was John Travolta, who was killing it last night…possibly literally. Seriously, if John Travolta asks you to help him move some furniture into a van, just tell him you’ve got a hunky masseuse appointment to attend and run, girl, run! He’ll totally understand.
While the rest of last night’s Oscars might be described as safe, here is a GIF of the one moment that felt anything but: Idina Menzel and John Travolta, together onstage to revisit 2014’s “Adele Dazeem” gaffe. Idina, you in danger, girl!
Much like the tale of Athena as writ for an issue of Twink Fancy, here are two German muscle daddies and their bulldog singing along to U2’s “With or Without You”, a video sprung forth from the imagination of aging queen quietly approaching his twilight appreciation for silken caftans and aged spaetzle.
I spotted this pithy critique en graffiti (a graffitique, if you will?) at the 23rd Street subway station, in the heart of the Chelsea gayborhood. It’s the end result of someone literally can’t even with Fifty Shades of Grey, but definitely can with a Sharpie. Guess they aren’t hot for contract law, either.
Oh, Chelsea: the library is closed, but the David Barton Gym is always open.
Like many fair-weather Catholics, I only observe the major holidays: Christmas presents, Easter chocolates, year-round guilt and shame, and the 40 days of Lent Facebook status updates. Since I don’t have any more vices to give up this year (except for coffee and meat, which ha ha and NO), this Ash Wednesday I’ve decided to give in to forty days of daily exercise and daily blog posts. Also, since I still haven’t seen Ash Wednesday, I’m giving in to bootleg DVDs and finally ordering this most tantalizing cinemystery. I mean, I get that this is the Elizabeth Taylor plastic surgery melodrama, but this movie looks f**king bonkers, y’all:
The following is a binding review between Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner (heretofore referred to as The Blog) and Fifty Shades of Grey (heretofore referred to as The “Movie”):
1. Let it first be put to record that The Blog didn’t want to do this, but several of The Blog’s friends were drunk on Strawberry Andre when we saw the movie and insisted upon a review. Said friends owe The Blog. A lot.
BDSM is so hot right now, so in honor of Valentine’s Day and other less than conventional sexual power dynamics, here’s a brief scene from Liliana Cavani’s The Night Porter, which was the Fifty Shades of Grey of mid-seventies art house cinema:
The “problem” with being a pathological Showgirls obsessive with a blog (such as myself) is that you don’t get very many legitimate reasons to write about Showgirls. We don’t live in a world that finds new ways on the daily to celebrate Paul Verhoeven’s timeless gesamtkunstwerk (I know, UNFORTUNATELY), so mostly you’re left making Showgirls references. Lots…and lots…of Showgirls references. It’s a charmed life, for sure, but one perhaps grasping (if not gasping) for relevance.
So it’s definitely a day for celebration when the good folks at CinemaSins make an “Everything Wrong With” video about the greatest thing to happen to the cinema since Mary Pickford sliced bread! Hooray, Showgirls is relevant again! (“Manage your expectations, queen” – Everybody else.)
Seeing as I was basically on blog hiatus the past few years, I never got to check in and take the pop culture temperature when things got Way Too Hot to Handle, which is clearly what happened when E.L. James’s Fifty Shades of Grey was unleashed upon us all. From the subways of New York City to the one time I flew to Davenport, Iowa for and saw a group of middle-aged women on the flight all pull out their copies with the choreographed synchronicity of a Busby Berkeley number, that book was inescapable. In 2012.
Does Fifty Shades of Grey still have any zeitgeist-y momentum these days, or was it but a flash in the contempo-pop pan? Judging by this LEGO remake of the Fifty Shades of Grey trailer made by Antonio Toscano, Fifty Shades has still got it (for now). This trailer is Safe for Work, but keep your fainting chaise close and your clutching pearls handy. You know, just in case:
Here is a clip from a circa-2000 sitcom called Opposite Sex, which features a young Chris Evans doing some very bad drag. The outfits are tacky even by late-90s standards, the contour lines appear to nonexistent, and nobody is lipsyncing for their life, let alone 2-for-1 drink tickets during happy hour. Sashay away, Captain America. Sashay away.
That said, the helium balloon t*ts are a nice touch, and there’s no point reading Milo Ventimiglia. He was in Heroes, so he has already had it enough.
You know, Jimmy Fallon has been trying to make this Saved by the Bell reunion happen since 2009, so I sincerely tip my hat to him for pulling this off. But, like I’ve been saying since 2009, what we really need is a Showgirls reunion, and this Saved by the Bell reunion is definitely not a Showgirls reunion. This is like The Worst Cat of Showgirls reunions. (Actually, Where’s Cristal? Where’s Molly? Where’s Hope/Penny?!?
Whatever. At least there’s a Showgirls reference, which is great. And then there’s Elizabeth Berkley’s reaction to said Showgirls reference, which is better than a ten-inch d*** and you know it:
Words are meaningless when it comes to something like this Magic Mike XXL teaser trailer. Channing Tatum has clearly learned from the poet laureate of ridiculous stripper movies, Joe Eszterhas: when all else fails, THRUST IT! As a result, ladies and gentlemen of a certain persuasion are already clutching their pearls and clicking their way to Fandango, and I don’t even have to be bothered with a pithy title. Thrust it, indeed.
Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner 
