Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Impossible to look away....

It's all my own fault. I like to hoik my heaving bulk up onto my hobby High Horse and pontificate to Love Chunks about the crass and clueless celebrities of today.

He always manages to prick my pomposity to a whirring, rapidly deflating balloon when he counters with, "Well you READ the stuff, so they're making money because of you."
"Oh no they're not - I read it online, I don't buy those ~ pause to add a snobby-but-dramatic shudder ~ magazines."
His look of contempt was withering enough to singe my eyebrows. "Haven't you noticed the advertising and pop-ups on every page? They love faux intellectuals like you!"

Humph. Yeah, well.... Take yesterday for example. Richard - I still wear those stupid chunky jumpers from airport souvenir shops - Branson has obviously felt the need to show off more than he usually does. His normal modus operandi is throw around millions of dollars that would be better spent providing malaria tablets and AIDS education to needy communities, to instead ponce about in hot air balloons trying to break records that generate about as much excitement as scum build-up on bathroom tiles.

So very clearly a bloke trapped in a mid-life crisis, he revealed yesterday that he was definitely NOT a Mile High Club virgin and had left his finger prints on a toilet mirror or two. He then 'treated' us to an anecdote about his first experience with Viagra, concluding that "I had to tie something around my trousers the next day to make sure nothing showed." Rest assured, Dicky dear, no-one was looking.

And why oh why did I happen to come across an old Oprah repeat where the clearly deranged Janet Jackson (in a thin phase, so it must have been Michael was still white) tell Oprah that her numerous below the neck piercings left her feeling aroused. All the time. If I'm not mistaken, her current Rump-pumpy partner is a dead ringer for a fresh stack of camel crap, so maybe she needs all the metallic help she can get.

Despite my horror, I remain fascinated. And ashamed of my fascination. I have a book to write, a family to care for, a child to inspire, washing to fold! ...........To read recently that Geri Slapper Spice Halliwell had dated Little Britain's David Walliams....! She had confided to one of those slippery little close insiders that it was the ~*cough*~ size of his wand as well as the magic he could wring from it that made him the Geri-jammin' stud muffin of her dreams. I'm still struggling to work out what is more repulsive: he being attracted to Geri or she deciding that his love muscle was the best thing about him. Pity her daugher, poor little BlueBell Clueless Prancy Unicorny kiddie whatshername thingy.

There are some good sides to being a secret celebrity vomit voyeur however - their pathetic escapades, Brazilian-exposes and faulty fashion choices make me - slightly less sylph-like and moneyed - feel rather good about myself. As such, it's time for some more Self Esteem Boosters!
Kirsten Dunst. She may be only 25, earn millions for her 'acting skills' in Spiderman but even a size zero needs a bra to re-lift and rectify the 'ol rack droop. What's her shirt made out of - my grandma's bathroom curtain?

Steve Martin, 61, married Anne Whatsit, 35 on the weekend. I'm not sure which one to pity the most. (They make *me* look addicted to permatan and people don't call me Fluoro Legs without good reason.)
Poor old boofhead Britney is really just saving reality TV companies a fortune by living out her own trash tube show, isn't she? Not a day goes past that she's not wearing a G-string to the kindergym or driving back from a nightclub with a newly-bought baby harp seal shoved in her naval ring and her two sons occy-strapped to the SUV's bullbar...

This shot is apparently from her latest single and reveals her continued determination to remain a powerful role model to the tweens and has-beens. It's such a comfort to know she was awarded dual custody when her divorce to Devon Spermline was finalised yesterday.

Could this be the face and fate of our dear, sweet, sensitive Britney in 20 years' time? Thanks to drugs, surgery and botox, Courtney now has a mummified mouth that could suck the seeds of a lemon a mile away and has to pluck her bikini line which has moved up under her chin.
When the research laboratory runs out of beagles for experiments, they call on Clinically-Dead Courtney instead. She doesn't feel a thing: she thinks it's Frances looking for the keys to the liquor cabinet.

I'll conclude this post with a picture of horror that is still allowed to roam freely and relatively undisturbed. That's right, Madonna's arms. Do they even have skin covering them any more or does she directly spray paint the sinews and muscles white before she goes out? And is it just me, but is she getting face lifts downwards instead of sideways like Courtney? Is a horse the look she's going for?
* thanks to the Superficial, eonline and go fug yourself for the photos


franzy said...

I've got to say: I'm on LC's side. As a fellow Perez Widower (and don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, I identify entirely with the utter confusion with which we view our female companions' lust for looking at ugly pictures of celebrities who are so over-exposed and pitifully damaged that they are grotesqueries in themselves.
I haven't seen an attractive photo of Madonna in 15 years (and I would say that her arm in that photo tells the story of a woman to whom age is thinning the skin, but who still goes to the gym a lot and lifts heavy objects, only to have those objects cropped out to make her look like a zombie.

deepkickgirl said...

I am so with you MM. I am both attracted and repulsed by these creatures but, like you, I just can't look away. I need my daily dose of the Fuggers, et al.

You really had me spluttering and almost syphoning my morning cuppa through my nose today. Good work.

Anonymous said...

sorry, I am totally on LC's side. Love your blog except the "celebrities" trashing ones. I am the odd ball who never stare at a car crash site.
Usually the flagging of the grotesque photo will warn me away but this one was hidden behind the cute kitten and interesting dialogue with LC...
Next time will scroll down the page first before reading.

Kath Lockett said...

Hey hey HEY, Dr B - I don't get my jollies by looking at car crashes etc - celebrities in bad fashion shouldn't really be compared to blood'n'gutz on the road, surely?

Franzy, yes (hangs head in shame, but then looks up in order to continue typing) Perez is on my 'favourites' list, but I do wish he'd put that childish white pen of his away

Anonymous said...

Hey Kath, You are a very hard woman to please.

Go Slow on Madonna, she used to rock...hahaha


Cinema Minima said...

A wonderful summary of the slow-motion car crash called celebrity trash culture. But what's with the cute spotty kitten at the top? Is it one of those designer cats that you can't let outside or they will be immediately stolen?

Kath Lockett said...

Nah, 'Pub', the cat's a cracker from the CuteOverload blog. I'd rather go the way of No Cat than one that's stuck inside not being able to do what it wants to do - ie kill of the native birds, tease rats and infest the kiddies' sandpit with little Kit-e-Kat rissoles

River said...

Looking at those poor girls makes me want to send them care packages filled with mars bars etc. On a totally unrelated theme, my subconcious has brought forth a poem for you.
Milly the Moo was that rarest of things
A cow who could not only dance, but could sing
In fields full of sunshine, a wonderful sight
Milly danced and she sang from morning till night.
(Please don't be offended, I am in NO way inferring that you are a cow)

franzy said...

Don't be ashamed - it's all entertainment. I've wanted to write about celebrity culture for ages (and religion for that matter), but I don't know how to do it without offending most of the women I know.
And besides,
we all have our little lusts for entertainment

Kath Lockett said...

Franzy I can understand your car love as well - I may not know the techno details of what happens under the hood (similar to my computer knowledge actually) but I can recognise a make, model and engine size of pretty well anything on the road. Must be the hidden RainMan I keep hidden inside me - he only comes out if I hitch my trousers up under my armpits

redcap said...

Oh my GOD! What did Madonna do to her arm?! Quick - get a conical metallic bra over it before we all lose our collective breakfast!

Kirsten Dunst and Britney, The Queen of Pantslessness, are both proving that if you can hold it up, put a pencil under it and let it go and the pencil stays put, then you're in trouble, baby.

Fizzgig said...

I really enjoyed this. I love to see the train wrecked celebs, it makes me feel better about my own life.

I do however, STILL love Madonna. *sigh*

River said...

Unrelated, but I'm really, really curious. Why the irrational fear of cardigans?

tomshideaway said...

I don't know which picture is most disturbing, but Madonna's arm and Britney's slut pose are both pretty gross...Kirsten's boobs certainly haven't got any support!

Oh and, Milly, I don't buy those crappy magazines either...I just read it online for FREE

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