Bad Behaviour

Hugh Jackman seems like a nice guy. He an all-singing, all-dancing, Wolverine-playing extravaganza of a human being – a proper cutie. So I guess  could understand the compulsion to bite his ass. Wait… no I couldn’t because that’s a weird thing to want to do to someone you’ve never met. But that is something that poor Hugh Jackman has had to deal with from his fan base. According to the article, while Jackman was playing Peter Allen in the Broadway production The Boy from Oz, he heard a voice from the back saying “Peter, I want to bite your bum.” After a little joking around the fan followed through with her desire and gave his pert backside an almighty chomp.



That’s a great butt – a really great butt – but there are some impulses you should keep to yourself. The desire to bite an attractive celebrity’s ass is one of them. There is a line between being a big fan of someone and being a big, creepy fan of someone. In light of this I have compiled a list of impulses that I have definitely had things that you should probably avoid doing (to anyone, ever…but especially not to famous people you’ve never met.)

  1. Kneeling down behind your favourite celebrity, gently placing your cheek on their ass and whispering “thank you for exisiting” whilst lovingly patting each pert globe.
  2. Sliding your hands around their waist and muttering, “Your jawline is so deep and well-structured. I just want to build a nest in it and hibernate for the winter. Would you let me do that? Please let me do that” in their ear.
  3. Getting several tattoos of varying quality depicting their face and the names of their movies or albums. Showing those tattoos to your favourie celebrity. Showing those tattoos to the media. Showing those tattoos to people, generally.

    Not weird at all. (Google "man with Miley Cyrus tattoos" for further info.)

    Not weird at all. (Google “man with Miley Cyrus tattoos” for further info.)

  4. On being introduced to your favourite celebrity, referring to them only by the name of your favourite character portrayed by them.
  5. Maintaining intense eye contact while graphically describing every single sexual fantasy you’ve ever had about them. Bonus creepy points if you only refer to them by their character’s name.
  6. Flinging yourself at their feet as they walk past…licking their shoes while you’re down there. Occasionally yelling “I’m not worthy!” before returning to licking their shoes.
  7. Screaming. Following them everywhere, screaming.  Just non-stop, incoherent screaming.
  8. Subtly cutting a lock of their gair every time you see them. (Increasing the chances of seeing them by following them everywhere.)
  9. Writing letters of devotion in blood. If female, writing letters of devotion in menstrual blood. (Actually, any bodily fluid is pretty bad.)

    This is a letter to a member of a Korean boy band called 2PM, written in menstrual blood and scattered with pubic hair for added intensity. Click through for more weirdness (and a translation).



I know it sounds like I’m exaggerating with a lot of these, but I’ve provided you with some hard and fast examples of some genuinely weird shit people have done, so what’s to say that next time someone is confronted with the embodiment of fame/general hottness they won’t bend over and gentle whisper sweet nothings at their ass. Stranger things have happened.

I suppose to balance this post out I should probably provide a list of good behavioUr to display around someone you’re a big fan of. Here we go:


That’s it. That’s the list.


Well That’s Weird

A couple of years ago, Victoria Beckham had another baby. It was a little girl. She called it Harper.  As far as I know, the child has never worn the same outfit twice and is frequently colour co-ordinated with her mother. Much like a designer handbag. Except more loved. Or something. Anyway. All was right with the world. Until shit got super-weird and now I’m uncomfortable. Harper Beckham has a professional impersonator. That’s right. A UK mother by the name of Lisa Clutten is at this very second, hiring out her two year old daughter, Freya, to pretend to be Harper Beckham at parties.

Harper vs Freya – all babies look the same to me.

I don’t know if you’ve ever looked into it before, but the world of celebrity impersonators is a very strange thing. It’s one thing to pretend to be Elvis at parties. We all know Elvis is dead (except for the 7% of Americans who don’t believe he is, but that’s a whole other blog post), so having him loiter around at parties isn’t all that strange and old white dudes seem to get a kick out of putting on rhinestone capes so whatever. (There’s another blog post that could be dedicated to the fact that people only ever dress up as fat, depressed Elvis, but I digress.) However, paying for someone who looks vaguely like Brad Pitt to stand around your party and make small talk with the guests is just really odd. It takes a certain type of person to be a celebrity impersoantor and it takes a certain type of person to hire a celebrity impersonator and I’m not sure I want to be either of those people.

The idea of the celebrity impersonator is a relatively simple one: you make yourself and your event looking important by having “celebrities” loiter around looking ritzy. The fact that you’ve hired someone means that it just looks like you and your party weren’t important or interesting enough to have actual famous people there and you had a chunk of budget left over, but we will disregard that fact for a second… BECAUSE SOME WOMAN IS USING HER TWO YEAR OLD FOR THIS PURPOSE.

For starters, why would anyone need a Harper Beckham look-alike? Does she go around with the Posh and Becks impersonators so that they enhance their “tired and cranky parent routine”? According to the articles, Freya Clutten has been offered a modelling contract with an online retailer called My1stYears. The brand offered personalised baby clothes which, from what I can gather, is all  a bunch of gear with the baby’s name printed on it in Comic Sans. Originally the website offered the contract to the actual Harper Beckham, but shockingly enough, the Beckhams refused. Enter Freya. Apparently the company saw her and just knew they had to have her. The company’s director, Daniel Price says, “We believe that celebrity babies are changing the baby fashion industry and we want to stay at the forefront of the industry. What better way than having a Harper Beckham lookalike to represent our brand?” I can think of a few better ways, Daniel.

Apparently the comparisons between the two have gotten to the point where Freya points at pictures of baby Harper in a magazine and says “Harper, me.” WHICH IS TERRIBLE. What happens when they grow up and all of Freya’s hopes and dreams rest on the fact that she was once Harper Beckham, but now they look less and less alike and is actually kind of failing at life and isn’t particularly pretty or successful, and meanwhile the actual Harper Beckham is sidling around with billions of dollars behind her and being wealthy and successful just by the accident of birth? That’s how downward spirals into alcoholism start, people!

I Don’t Know How I Feel? Someone Tell Me.

James Franco is a weird guy. I’m totally cool with it because most of the time he uses those powers for good. He volunteers with the Art of Elysium charity, which gets actors, musicians and artists to donate their time and talent to providing workshops for seriously ill kids. He’s in a really varied bunch of films, from stoner flicks like Pineapple Express, to things that make me weep tears of blood like Milk, to really harrowing things that I want to never have to watch again, like 127 Hours. He was in Spiderman. He has a recurring role in General Hospital (seriously… look it up). He’s a PhD student at Yale. Sometimes he is in drag (I am well into it). But perhaps his most special ability is the fact that he can go from being pretty cool and kind of amazing to making you think “oh good Lord, why are you…? No… stop…” in about 30 seconds flat. And that’s what happened here. Check out this video of Franco and his Spring Breakers co-star Ashley Benson (who you may recognise from Pretty Little Liars) lip-syncing to Justin Bieber’s Boyfriend.

In theory, I love this. I like goofy celebrity parody videos. Most of the time I think I like James Franco. But there’s just something kind of weird about this video and now I’m not sure how I feel. For a start, there’s a lot of really bad wigs in this video. But I think what really throws me is that it starts out as  bit of harmless fun, with Franco busting out some serious dad moves.

Tell me you didn't laugh really hard at Franco doing Hokey Pokey thumbs to the tune of "swag, swag, swag".

Tell me you didn’t laugh really hard at Franco doing Hokey Pokey thumbs to the tune of “swag, swag, swag”.

But then Ashley Benson appears and everything gets a little… uncomfortable. It goes from goofy, to Benson pulling sexy faces at the camera. Which would be fine, but then this happens:

Ashley Benson

It’s hard to get a good screencap of, given the low quality of the video, but God save us all from awkward white girls humping the ground in an attempt to look sexy. Again, this would be forgiveable given that it then goes back to Franco doing some awkward dad dancing in the style of Bieber, but then it gets really weird again at around 2.20 when another female companion appears and it starts looking a little bit like an amateur porn video.

Insert your own terrible soundtrack of "Yeah baby, you like that?" here.

Insert your own terrible soundtrack of “Yeah baby, you like that?” here.

Then it all gets a bit stranger when you realise that the “female” companion was probably not female but actually just a guy in drag.



Anyway, by the time I got to the end of the video I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about the whole affair. I think I liked it. But did I? Who knows?  The video description reads: “He deleted it, but it was too late.” Which is probably an accurate state of affairs considering the video only reappeared on Franco’s channel after everyone had picked up on the ripped copy on another account. But I think the whole thing can be summed up by YouTube comments.


Remember Aaron Carter?

I have roused myself from a food coma specifically to get on the computer and tell you that today is going to be a particularly lazy blog because if I stay upright for too long I start to feel sick (my mother always over caters Christmas). Anyway, this would be a review of The Hobbit, which came out today in Australia, but I am stuck in rural New South Wales and the cinema here closed while I was still in high school. As such, I don’t even really know what I’m going to be writing about today. I seriously spent the last 20 minutes trying to find something to write about, but all I found was the UK Female Allstars and breakfast. But I checked my social networks and decided I’m just going to make you a recommendation: go and check out Aaron Carter’s Twitter feed.

Those of you who are around my age may remember Aaron Carter. He was the younger brother of Nick Carter, of the Backstreet Boys (obviously). He was a little closer in age to the younger portion of the BSB’s fan base and thus very quickly found an audience of screaming tweenies ready to get down and party to his glorious covers of I Want Candy and originals like Aaron’s Party (Come Get It). Let’s take the opportunity to enjoy that last little gem there.

Anyway, he was also renowned for being for being so disgustingly adorable that he actually started a fight between Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff at some Disney awards show. (Lindsay before the drug problem and Hilary before the baby.)


The 90s were a poor time for everyone.

But then he kind of just dropped off the radar for ages. But thanks to the power of Twitter, we can now know what he’s doing at all times. I’ve seen some fairly wonderful Twitter accounts, but Aaron is just really dishing out some gold, particularly to people who accuse him of being “washed up”. As if Aaron Carter is washed up. He has a Twitter account. It is verified. Beat that. Haters. I’m just going to let Aaron take over from here, because he can defend himself infinitely better than I can.

First of all, Aaron would just like to clarify that the reason you hate him is cos you can’t handle him.

ACTweetSecondly, he does still have fans. Sometimes they even ask for photographs. It’s funny, if a little inconvenient at times.

ACtweet2Lolz. Oh Aaron. (For those of you who had forgotten about Aaron Carter, that was a Carter related pun because he released an album called Oh Aaron. The joke is even less funny when I have to explain it.) Either way, he totally doesn’t have to respond to your stupidity.



This last one is my favourite. Fame gets lonely y’all. Sometimes you just need the Twitter machine to get some babes to chat to your sexy face.

ACTweet4No word on how that panned out. You can find the rest of it here. I would highly recommend checking it out. Apparently he also released a single with Flo Rida. It’s pretty awful. Check it out here. I’m off to keep stuffing my face because it’s Christmas and that’s what we do. See you on Friday.

Twitter Wars: Battle of the Boy Bands

Is there anything scary about boy bands? Aside from their chart-crushing popularity, not really. They’re specifically designed and marketed to be sexually non-threatening, but with just a hint of cheekiness so that the tweens get hot under the collar and a little bit giggly whenever they come around. They’re an excellent product. Problematically, a lot of them take themselves a little too seriously, which is why you end up with scenarios like the following. Last week, One Direction member Zayn Malik got into a little Twitter tiff with rival boy band member Max George, of The Wanted.

Malik was obviously having a bad hair day (or whatever it is that makes boy band members grumpy) and called George a ‘geek’. Oh…snap? I guess? Whatever. What followed was the Twitter equivalent of a pair of 12 year olds battling to be the biggest, baddest boy in the playground. Take a look:




Things stepped up a knotch when Max George’s band mate, Thomas Parker decided to insult Malik’s hair. In the world of boy bands, hair is serious business. One need look no further than the luscious, early-2000s stylings of NSync’s JC Chasez to know that a lot of time, effort and mousse goes into having the perfect quoiffe. It is not something to be trifled with. So being compared to a skunk is like, so uncool man. 4


Finally, after accusations of sexually transmitted disease and (gasp) weed-smoking, like the pre-pubescent boys they are, the pair then threatened each other to a fight (minus the burly security men who protect them round the clock).


In short, it was all a bit of a fart in a bath and neither party came away looking half as tough as they had originally intended.

I pay a lot of attention to boy bands because a significant part of my brain never really grew out of enjoying appallingly cheesy pop music, and because their existence represents a really interesting marker on the pop cultural landscape in terms of teen girls, their sexual identities and their buying power as a target market. (Hi, my name is Alex and I minored in Gender and Cultural Studies. Can you tell?) Having said that, I still had no idea who The Wanted were until I started writing this post. Apparently they’re an English/ Irish band who were big in Canada before hitting the big time by being big in both Canada AND the US and having a UK #1 single or something. I went forth and watched a video. It was pretty bad. I thought I’d share.

I wasn’t really sure where to start with the visuals of that clip, but I think that the main reason that I haven’t paid any attention to this band before is that they’re the wrong set of stereotypes for a boy band. Boy bands are all about stereotypes, to give the consumer something to latch onto. You’ve got your bad boy, your nice guy, the funny one, the handsome/charming one (may also randomly be really into Jesus) and the one whose name no one can remember because his only real purpose is round the band number out to five because everyone knows that looks more aesthetically pleasing on stage and maybe he can dance or something, I don’t know. The Wanted has the ratios all wrong. I sat down and worked it out and this is what I came up with:


As you can see, they clearly have too many potential knife fighters and not enough charming/funny guys. Don’t get me wrong. I am not defending One Direction in this scenario (or any scenario, really). What I am actually doing is setting the scene for One Direction and The Wanted to the Sharks and the Jets in my revamped version of Westside Story. I figure, since they’re clearly not good at being macho over the internet, they should be macho in a way that will accentuate their talents – by performing a highly choregraphed song and dance routine about gang committments, rivallry and ultimately, love. I am having a little trouble deciding which band corresponds best with which gang but picture following scene with say, 1D as the Jets and The Wanted as the Sharks.

Imagine if, instead of insulting each other’s hair over the internet, Zayn Malik and Max George resolved their conflicts as all true men should – via the magic of musical theatre. That’s a world I want to live in people. A world I want to live in. Well… that post certainly took an unexpected turn.

IMPORTANT NOTES ABOUT THIS BLOG: I am taking a much deserved holiday to a music festival down South. To save myself scrambling around the Australian bush trying to find a non-existent wifi connection the next two posts will be cancelled. Regular blogging will resume on Friday Dec 14th. In the mean time, put on some Celine Dion or something to ease the pain. You’ll be fine.

Chris Brown is a Dickhead

Another day, another story of Chris Brown being a monumental dickhead. This time around the rapper got into a Twitter fight with comedy writer, Jenny Johnson, eventually releasing a tirade of misogynistic abuse and then deleting his Twitter account. Again. I’ve lost count of the number of times that’s happened, but whatever. The fight started when Brown tweeted a photo of himself saying he looked old and Johnson responded with “I know! Being a worthless piece of shit can really age a person.” Brown exploded with a bunch of vulgarities, Johnson lectured him on the difference between calling someone a “hoe” and calling someone a “ho” (tips for young players: one is a garden tool) and linked him to an article about how he beat the ever-loving Christ out of Rihanna, Brown responded with more sexist vulgarities and the words “Just ask Rihanna if she mad???”, until eventually someone had the good sense to shut it down. (On a side note: do you think his PR team just want to throw themselves off a bridge every time he talks?)

What a charmer.

So, in case you needed any more confirmation, Chris Brown clearly has some serious issues regarding his attitude toward women and on top of all that, might just be a gigantic asshole. But the part about Rihanna brings to what I actually want to talk about in this blog. You may or may not have heard that they got back together. This has put a lot of people in a bit of a tizz because we all remember the reason they broke up in the first place. For those of you who need a refresher, you can look at the photos of Rihanna’s face after the attack here cos I don’t really want them on the blog.

But the thing I always find surprising whenever this story comes up (and it comes up a lot) is that most people seem to be somehow disappointed or angry at Rihanna for going back to Chris Brown. “She’s a role model, she should know better” comes up a lot. Now, while I can’t say I’m on board with her taste in men, holy shit guys! In this scenario, where a famous woman was brutally beaten by her equally famous boyfriend, had to deal with going to the hospital and filing a police report with absolutely zero anonymity, had to deal publically with the aftermath of the attack by going on talk shows and explaining herself and reliving the events and STILL managed to channel all of that into an album, you’re choosing to get angry at the lady for being a bad role model?

Shall we talk about bad role models for a second? Chris Brown beat the bejesus out of Rihanna. The court details were released back in February and they’re horrific. Have an excerpt:

Robyn F. turned to face Brown and he punched her in the left eye with his right hand. He then drove away in the vehicle and continued to punch her in the face with his right hand while steering the vehicle with his left hand. The assault caused Robyn F.’s mouth to fill with blood and blood to splatter all over her clothing and the interior of the vehicle.

Brown looked at Robyn F. and stated, ‘I’m going to beat the sh– out of you when we get home! You wait and see!’

You can read the whole awful transcript here. He then gave a stunted apology which involved him saying he didn’t really remember the incident and that he was “in shock, because that’s not who I am, and not who I promise I want to be as a person.” Then came a year of domestic violence counselling and some community service.

Despite there being some initial backlash against Brown, in the long term, the incident hasn’t hurt his career particularly much. He still manages to collaborate with big name artists, tours, his records still sell and, despite saying that they wouldn’t have him back to the Grammy’s (which he inadvertantly ruined by beating up his girlfriend), the Grammy’s have had him back. And no one really seems to mind that he displayed exactly zero remorse since his first apology, even going so far as to get annoyed when the media “keeps bringing it up” and storming out of interviews.

On top of that, if his tweet history is anything to go by, his attitude towards women really hasn’t changed that much. Whether or not you agree with Jenny Johnson’s pot shots at celebrities (personally, I find them a bit hit and miss), there is absolutely no excuse for responding  the way he did. Threatening anyone with bodily harm and humiliation is not an acceptable response to anything (I feel like I shouldn’t even have to write that, it seems so obvious), let alone combining such threats with a tirade of misogyny.

Now, I can hear the gears whirring in your head and you’re thinking “Surely, no one takes that kind of thing seriously. He’s just a jerk. A sexist jerk. He’s not influencing anyone, though. We all know he’s wrong.” Sit down, I’ma lay some knowledge on ya. He’s having a huge impact. Take a stroll through the TeamBreezy hashtag on Twitter and see for yourself. You’ll find a mountain of impressionable young girls and women, all fans of Brown (or Breezy…or whatever) who have had their way of thinking seriously warped by Brown’s actions and the media portrayal of them.

After Brown deleted his Twitter, TeamBreezy united to send death threats to Jenny Johnson. I’m not kidding. Death threats. Including some gems such as “come on Breezy! let’s kill this bitch out! #Breezywantsthisbitchdead”, “kill yourself bitch! #EATADICK” and perhaps most charmingly, “I’M GONNA FUCKING RAPE & KILL YOU OLD WHORE FUCK”. Aside from a few notable occasions (the last tweet, for example), all of the threats were sent by women. These are the same women who, earlier in the year, managed to get my attention by starting a hashtag about how they would be happy to be beat up by Chris Brown. These people are super impressionable, and the constant brushing over of Chris Brown’s indiscretions in order to promote his music and make a quick buck means that the girls and women that listen to the music think it’s OK to be treated like a punching bag because it’s not that big of a deal, and the boys think that it’s OK to treat their girlfriends like punching bags because there aren’t any serious repercussions.

If you want to talk about bad role models, Chris Brown is one. He has displayed no remorse for his actions, he continues to be be horribly misogynistic and is just generally a short-tempered, brattish asshole. The system that lets him remain a public figure in spite of the fact that he’s a violent prick is also something that seriously needs to be addressed. Rihanna is not the person that you should be directing blame at in this scenario. So how about switching it up and talking about the real problem, yeah?

Channing Tatum is a Giant Slab of Beef

Every year People magazine runs its ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ thing. Which is cool, because we all know that these things are subjective and while you may not find the official ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ to be the actual Sexiest Man Alive there’s like 50 dudes on the list so you’re bound to find something that gets you a little hot under the collar (or like… lukewarm, or something). This year Channing Tatum is People‘s Sexiest Man Alive. Which, like I said, is fine… except that I feel like I might be the only woman in the world who is not even remotely attracted to Channing Tatum.

That goatee is really doing things for me.

Ever since Magic Mike came out I’ve had this problem where perfectly sane, nice women I know, who generally have good taste in stuff, have totally lost their marbles for Channing Tatum and I just don’t get it. I’ve seen People‘s list of past man candy and even the ones that don’t make me go weak at the knees have a certain somethin’ somethin’. Jude Law has sparkly eyes that cancel out his receding hairline, Hugh Jackman was Wolverine, Sean Connery sounds like he gargled gravel and is just kind of a badass. These are all things I could go for. Channing Tatum has none of these things. Aside from the fact that someone, somewhere decided to name him Channing, thus spawning a whole generation of unfortunately named children, Channing Tatum is a bland man. He is the plain chips of the silver screen.

In an attempt to enlighten myself to the sexiness and potentially jump on the bandwagon (I love a good bandwagon), I took to Facebook to ask the female (and male) population what they thought was so sexy about Mr. Tatum. The overwhelming response was something to the effect of “UMPH OMG I WANT TO LICK HIS STOMACH SO SEXY ABS ABS ABS AHHHH!” So I guess they’re a focal point or something.

No one taught Channing how to wear the sunglasses.

I’m not really an abs lady and, like I said, he was a boring head, so I went to the second choice. The other response I got was “Channing Tatum is a god. It’s the dancing.” So I thought I would look at the dancing, because I remembered that he had been in Step Up and then got his stripper on in Magic Mike and I appreciate a good dance sequence in any film (the more out of context, the better). This is the scene that came up first on YouTube:

There were several things that stood out for me during that little shebang… none of them involved good dancing. First of all, while I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be turned on by that weird little ground-hump-backwards-butt-wobble thing he did, I’m mostly just impressed by the fact that he managed to take off his tank top without knocking his baseball cap off. How many takes do you think had to happen for that go as planned? Is that a skill that can be taught? Do the same set of skills apply to getting your pants off without shoe removal? Because that’s a skill I can get behind. Second of all, HE RUBS HIS TANK TOP ON HIS CROTCH AND THROWS IT AT SOMEONE. Is crotch sweat sexy now? Did I miss something? The only thing that was going through my head when I watched that bit was “ew ew ew I be that smells AWFUL.” The only other thought I had about this scenario was the fact that he does a lot of booty rockin’ everywhere in this clip and throughout the rest of the film. He does all of the aforementioned booty rockin’ in a thong, which I just don’t feel would provide an adequate amount of support for his junk. Which means that his junk is probably bouncing everywhere in a way that is probably really uncomfortable and definitely makes me feel a little nauseous.

Look, I tried, OK? I tried to get on board but from what I can gather, Channing Tatum is enjoyable becuase he is a wiggly slab of beef and no one is really looking at his head. Am I right? …I dunno. I’m probably the wrong person to be thinking about this. I’m beginning to think my idea of sexy is probably a little different to everyone else’s.

Tiny Girl, Big Sunglasses, Old Boyfriend

I don’t often think about Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I never think about Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. They tend not to occupy much of my time because, from memory, they made their bajillions at a tiny age and have since ceased to do anything of note. Except make overpriced clothes. And stand around looking vaguely disgruntled/a bit smug at events. Or something. I don’t know. Whatever.

Creepy twin pose, ok… go!

So recently, one of the twins, Mary-Kate (don’t ask me which one that is because they look exactly the same to me – apparently one of them is supposed to be more fashionable, but I don’t know how we’re supposed to tell) started dating Olivier Sarkozy, who is a 43 year old banker and half-brother of Nicholas Sarkozy, the former French President. Normally the 17 year age gap wouldn’t really bother me. Partially because I don’t think that sort of thing should be a barrier to love (provided that everyone involved is well above the age of consent), but mostly because there is no way that, after beginning their career at 9 months old and growing up in the spotlight, that the Olsens don’t have some daddy issues.

But then I started seeing paparazzi photos everywhere and they genuininely kind of creep me out because IT LOOKS LIKE HE HAS KIDNAPPED A 14 YEAR OLD!

The sunglasses are to hide the fact that her eyes are pleading “send help.”

On one side, we have Sarkozy’s child from a previous marriage, and on the other we have Mary-Kate Olsen. Spot the difference. Aside from the fact that one looks like a grumpy teenager while the other looks relatively happy, they look about the same age. I can’t tell if that’s because Sarkozy’s child is ahead of herself or because Mary-Kate Olsen never hit puberty. I’m thinking it might be the latter. Anyway, adding further proof to my “kidnapped a schoolgirl” theory, there is this photo:

Oh… oh God.

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MORE UNCOMFORTABLE COUPLE PHOTO? It looks like he has her trapped in an airport. Mary-Kate Olsen looks like a terrified 8 year old, which is more facial expression than she ever managed to muster during her career as an actress. Seriously though, did she ever hit puberty? Because it doesn’t look like she did and that worries me somewhat. The whole scenario makes me cringe just looking at it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be actually involved. Olivier Sarkozy, unhand that Olsen! You’re making us all feel a little bit ill. (On the upside, my new tag-line may now be “Unhand that Olsen!” I think it has potential.)

On a side note, since it’s practically impossible to tell them apart, how do we know it’s Mary-Kate Olsen dating Olivier Sarkozy and not Ashley? How do the paparazzi tell them apart to follow around? Has someone attached a post-it note to their backs? I don’t understand.

Joking aside, I guess they must be happy or something. They’ve bought an apartment in the East Village  worth $6 million. Nothing says love like spending $6 million on an apartment together. (Maybe it has a basement to lock the Olsen in?) Anyway, I’m signing off because this whole scenario is making me feel awkward, like I’ve stumbled across something gross on the internet. I’m going to go back to not thinking about the Olsens and trying to forget I know who Olivier Sarkozy is. I swear this blog will be back to its usual standards of slightly longer and more in depth shit-talking when I’m not swamped by the 8 million things I’m avoiding doing.

Tom Hardy: I’m Embarrassed For You.

Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to have the internet. Tom Hardy is one of those people. I say this with love, because I love Tom Hardy. I think he’s very talented and his endless capacity to put on muscle and then lose muscle and then put it on again deserves some sort of Oscar category unto itself. But Tom Hardy is a man with a lot of feelings. How do I know this? Because someone gave Tom Hardy the internet long before he became famous. You can kind of guess from interviews that Hardy is kind of an embarrassingly emotional human being. Once, when asked about wearing make up by a men’s magazine he went on a 15 minute tangent about poodles that ended with the words “no one fucking asks the poodle what it wants done with its hair, do they!?” He just… he has a lot of feelings, OK? And because MySpace used to be a thing, these feelings have been immortalised on the internet, along with some truly horrendous selfies. This is kind of old news, but I’m tired and lazy, so without further ado I present: A Retrospective Tom Hardy Party! (Alternatively titled: “Oh Tom…Oh honey. No. Why? Tom. Stop. Please, Tom. Why are you a giant baby?”) Featuring photos Hardy posted of himself and some of the golden quotes from his MySpace profile (with original spelling mistakes).

If you suck you suck..If you’re good I take my hat off and I’m all over you. I’ll bend over backwards to help anyone of their word.. fuck me around I’ll let it go I’m not here for stuff I’m here to live and give whatever it is I can to nourish rather than to take and move on.

I pray I don’t get caught up “living the dream.” such a lonely place. having said that; your best like my best just isn’t good enough. ever, no scarface syndrome here, no resting on laurels, there is always work to do, I’ll clean up my side of the street promptly admitting where I am wrong, the work doesn’t stop.

(this one was original captioned “I’m cookin’ turkey, yo xx”…thank you, Tom)

I have a head like a disco ball, if I say I’ll do something, unless I absolutely can’t it gets done, I never give up on humanity, I love people. I want to see communities stand up, honest and open, flexing to the fullest of their capabilities and combined usefullness. happy.

Yes…that is a selfie of Tom Hardy touching himself. If you’re into that sort of thing, you’re welcome.

I could so easily be dead. My head is like a dangerous neighbourhood I should never be in it without an appropriate adult. left to my own devices I’ll crash the motor. Religion to me is a neccesssary device for the presence of combined faith, branded for those who want to get into heaven, I have to have faith, but I chose the path of spirituality, spirituality seems to me to be for those who’ve been to Hell. I don’t want to go back there. I am a goldfish walking through a desert.

This one is my personal favourite:

I’m course and straight, I act for a living now adopting characters for money, it is a languague I was born into, I always wanted to be someone else, it isn’t rocket science it’s easy, now that I’ve made amends for lying to myself, it is a trade craft nothing more…what a load of self satisfied smug and charmless tatter x

This shit writes itself. I don’t even feel the need to really comment, but if you take anything away from this, let it be that Tom Hardy is a goldfish walking through a desert. At least he spelled desert right. If you want to see more of Tom Hardy’s embarrassing internet history, go here.

Out of curiosity, I went  back and checked out my old MySpace profile. I didn’t think it would be fair to Tom if I didn’t share some of my own internet ridiculousness:

The phrase “emotional teenager” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

So that’s me, posing in virginal white. Apparently, I also thought some NIN lyrics were appropriate. The ‘About Me’ section isn’t that much better:

“Alex has a short attention span and a tenuous grip on reality. (To be fair to myself, that’s the tag line I use for all my social networks… even now. I probably need to learn to be less of a wanker.) Frequently makes the same mistake twice. Never regrets it though.”

What about ‘Who I’d Like To Meet’?

“Androgynous humanoids and wandering gypsies” apparently. My God. Teenage me was a dick. The point is, we all have embarrassing internet history. One can only hope that the generation of kids who grow up with the internet and go on to become famous are similarly silly. Makes my job easier.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to delete my MySpace. Before you do the same, perhaps you’d like to share some of your pretentious teenage musings?

Peaches Geldof is a Parent

I like to pay attention to what Peaches Geldof is doing. Not because I think she’s interesting or special – as far as I can tell, she’s mostly just famous for being the daughter of Sir Bob Geldof… does she do other things? I don’t know. But, being of a similar age, I feel like Peaches and I are negotiating similar obstacles, so I like to know what she’s up to. At age 23, Peaches has managed to write a dreadfully pretentious column for Nylon magazine (“The sun glows a burned orange as it sinks behind a skyscraper, a car horn screeches irritably, the wind whistles through the acres of willows in Central Park:  New York, the most offbeat and eccentric city in America, is my new home.”…oh, honey…no.. .) , get some really awful tattoos, have nude photos and stories of hard drug use hit the internet, be married twice and produce a child.

Things I have learned from Peaches: avoid getting naked and (allegedly) taking heroin.

I mean, I can’t really comment on the tattoo gambit, cos of the three that I have, two of them look like they were done in prison with a ballpoint pen and a cassette player, but other than that, what Peaches has essentially done is give me a check list of everything I don’t want to have happened to me by age 23. Especially the whole “married with children” part.

So that’s why what happened the other day is so brilliant (by ‘brilliant’, I of course mean ‘awful’). Four months ago, Peaches gave birth to a son with her current husband, Thomas Cohen (lead singer of the band, S.C.U.M… the ideal candidate for fatherhood, really). They named it Astala, which is just kind of cruel really. But I suppose when you come from a family who names their children Peaches and Pixie, you’ve got to get your revenge somehow. Anyway, the other day she dropped the baby and, thank goodness, someone was around to photograph it.

The baby ACTUALLY flips.

Look at its little legs!

I’m not posting this because I think that Peaches is terrible mother. She actually looks kind of concerned (as concerned as she can look, anyway… I’m not entirely sure she’s able to muster a full range of facial expressions). I also think, at some point, most parents lose a grip on their kid. At one stage during my early years my own mother became convinced that she’d lost me. After 15 minutes of frantic searching, turns out I’d just rolled under the chaise lounge. It doesn’t make them bad people, it makes them tired parents with a lot going on. The bit that gets me about this is that SHE MANAGES NOT TO DROP HER PHONE! No attempt is made at a two-handed effort at stopping the stroller (or pram, depending on your geographic location) from going over. And then, when she rushes round to try and pick the kid up, she doesn’t hang up. She just keeps talking.

I would have loved to be on the other end of that conversation. “Oh shit!” “What was that crash?” “Nothing, babe. Just like, dropped the baby or something.” “Oh… it’s OK, yeah?” “Yeah. Phone’s OK too.” “Oh good.” It’s just such a bizarre thing to look at I don’t even really know what to say about it. Nothing screams “not quite ready for parenthood” louder than talking on the phone whilst disentangling your child from mangled remains of his flipped over baby buggy.

So, what did I learn about my life today? I quite like my phone. It’s one of my few luxury items and it’s permanently stuck to my hand because I’m constantly using it for something/ everything. When faced with a scenario, possibly involving a baby, where I may be forced to drop the phone, I would probably try to avoid doing so. Having said that, I’ve dropped the damned thing about a million times and it has a cracked screen. At this stage in my life, I should probably not be allowed to have a baby. That is what I have learned from Peaches. (I should also learn to stop learning my major life lessons from paparazzi photos of babies on the ground.)

One last thing: has anyone else noticed that Peaches tends to date/marry men who look like her dad?

Exhibit A: With current husband Thomas Cohen and father, Sir Bob Geldof, on her wedding day.

Exhibit B: With first husband, Max Drummery.

Note: I’m only laughing at this because the baby is fine. Despite doing backflips into the cement he is unharmed.

Create a free website or blog at