Sunday, February 26, 2006
Crooning on my STEREO: Rainsong by the MOSQUITOS
When you're in the industry, every Tom Dick and Harry talks cock about Oscar nominees. Exactly a year ago a girl from my drama class scored a leading role in a short film which eventually led her to her (or rather her director's) first Oscar win. I thought that was so cool that she did it. And I didnt. WTF.
Anyway, check this. DID I HEAR IT RIGHT?
KEIRA KNIGHTLEY IS NOMINATED FOR AN OSCAR
Oscar for WHAT?
OSCAR FOR BEST ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE
Time to question the world. Nominating Keira for an Oscars is equivalent to nominating Josh Groban a Grammy fot Best HipHop artiste of the year. But then again Scarlett Johansson had won a BAFTA in the Best Actress Category in her excruciatingly deadpan i- am- so- impoverished- and- I- need- a- fuck role of a servant girl in The Girl With A Pearl Earring last year. (or the year before. whatever.) That same unoriginal deadfish performance was then emulated in Lost in Translation.
Suddenly an ocean full of male spectators lusted over her constipated portrayal of a tortured flawless beauty.
Nevermind that. I thought Scarlett's case was a tragic definition of amateur screen acting. One fine summer's day, several footie blokes spotted a particular dumb blonde fiddling with a football in Bend It Like Beckham. GOAL. Say hello to KEIRA KNIGHTLEY.
LOOK. THIS "QUEEN OF POUT" CANNOT ACT.
She just bloody CANT, okay? I aint going to explain further.
You know the natural order is fucked up when some dingbat decides to nominate
KEIRA KNIGHTLEY alongside JUDI DENCH.
What the crap were the Academy dudes thinking? This is purely an execution of a vile sin.
JUDI DENCH IS THE EPITOME OF SCREEN PERFORMANCE IN ALL ITS GREATNESS.
KEIRA KNIGHTLEY DOES NOT ACT. SHE POUTS.
Get it? If the Academy dumbasses had included ZHANG ZIYI into the Best Actresses' Category, I WILL FLIP.
We are actively embracing a whole new generation of useless actresses who do nothing but BROOD, SULK and POUT
Apparently they call that sexy.
Stupid or what?
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Crooning on my STEREO: Por Que Te Vas by JAVIER ALVAREZ
You see, I AM A GOOD PERSON. I don't plot murders. I don't nick your lunch. I don't spike my enemy's drinks. I don't commit adultery. I don't sniff cocaine. And I don't run animals down on the road.
EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT.
I KNOW THAT TOO. The point is, karma NEVER reciprocates the slightest bit of my good will to granting me some GOOD LUCK with MEN. (and my acting career, too.)
THAT SUCKS. AND I AM COMPLAINING BIG TIME.
MAN CASE #1
Hot bloke asked me to meet him for lunch. I gleefully agree. So the date's set at 2pm. I set out at 1:30pm. Waited for the bus. There was a SNOWSTORM. My new dress was endorned with mud splashes. My hair was reduced to strangly bits of over-boiled pasta. And I got there at half two. Hot bloke wasn't impressed.
MAN CASE #2
Nice Boy set a date to meet me on HOLY GROUNDS (aka. Church) on a sunny and chirpy Sunday morning. Happily strolling out of my student home to the bus stop, I saw a sign. BUS SERVICES ON STRIKE. Nice Boy did not have a mobile. And I didn't make it to the holy mass.
MAN CASE #3
Met Cute Boy at the local chipper. Had a nice chat on Arsenal's Glory Days while waiting for our kebabs. As I took my mayonaise- drenched- chicken donor- delight from the chipper counter.... by all means of supernatural intervention, it SLIPPED out of my hands onto his workbag.
MAN CASE #4
I was walking with Sexy Boy across Tottenham Court Road. Happy Happy Joy Joy. Until my kitten heels decided to part with my soles as we took the pedestrian crossing. I limped back to my flat without a shoe. Pret A Manger patrons watched me in absolute delight. Sexy Boy never asked me out again.
MAN CASE #5
Recently I had the greatest blessing of sharing the lift with the ULTIMATE MAN OF MY DREAMS. We chatted. We parted. My hormones raged in teenage ecstasy. Shortly I met my reflection on the mirror. A massive blood-red lipstick stain was, all that while, engraved on my front tooth.
Fate can be such a total bitch.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Crooning on my STEREO: Attention by ROUGE ROUGE
My mobile rang. I picked it up.
Idiot: Hi... its me. *beep*
Me: Oh hello. How are you?
Idiot: Good good. I hope I am not disturbing you with all the missed calls...
Me: Oh no no, I have been busy with work and all....
(me thinks: I detest people who disguise calls under 'Withhold ID.' I smell a fish.)
Idiot: So, I don't want you to get the wrong idea but I wanna date you.
Me: Uh huh...
(me thinks: stupid cow. Wrong idea of WHAT? you've only known me for 2 days. )
Idiot: Yeah, but dont get the wrong idea. We should go out sometime.
Me: Erm... You have not even asked me if I was single.
(me thinks: QUICK... QUICK... think of SOMETHING!!!!)
Idiot: Oh yeahh... are you single?
(me thinks: GET THE DRIFT??)
Idiot: Oh I see. I am NOT either.
(me thinks: WTF???)
Idiot: You see, i have a girlfriend but she's really quiet and all.....I don't really want to be seen with her ..
Me: Look dude. I'd love to take down your girlfriend's number and have a girly chat with her.
(me thinks: You stinking cow of a chav you should just burn in HELL)
Idiot: But you see... this whole thing is complicated. But I will sort it out with her and THEN I CAN DATE YOU.
Me: Yo shitback, WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? Some random girl on loan to deprived boyfriends?
(me thinks: COMPLICATED? Why draw ME into your screwedup pile of sith )
Idiot: Like I said, dont get the wrong idea... I am sure your boyfriend is away from this country and my girlfriend wouldn't know......
Me: Listen townie I have fantastic news for you. My phone is on SPEAKER MODE and my fiancee is seated right NEXT TO ME.
Me: Ciao bugger. I am going to pee.
Note: I figured out that I've lost a fair number of stalkers due to the lack of updates. Well, i apologise for this growing inconsistency. Blame it on my job.
Pimpin' aint easy, y'know.
I suppose that a single post every week should suffice. Now, run to the corner and CRY.