Filed under: ...and he's rich | Tags: anthony bourdain, chef, expose, host, memoir, no reservations, roni lynn deutch, supervillian, television, time warner, travel channel, writer
you need to start watching ‘anthony bourdain: no reservations’ on the travel channel, stat. to be perfectly honest, i don’t honestly believe that there is a single cable-having, digital switch-anticipating (time warner-cursing) soul out there that intentionally misses this show. or maybe my standards for people are set too high. whatever.
i just dig this guy in an esoteric, middle school-crush sort of way. sigh.
having wanted to be a writer ever since i received my first print-related compliment, i am a sucker for anyone who can write like they speak and speak like they think. anthony bourdain’s narrative is so fluid, it doesn’t require transition words. my (respect? appreciation? obsession?) respect for his existence is too much for words. it’s not just his writing, it’s not just his global free fall, it’s not just his smugness. it’s him.
anthony bourdain has the polite apathy of the cool uncle, the life experience of a homeless vet, and the charm and arrogance of a supervillian. and oh-my-gawd does it work [for me]. he is regal, yet unrefined; profound, yet relatable (“what can I say, I happen to be an aficionado of the dive bar”). by george, anthony bourdain could narrate the ‘roni lynn deutch, the tax lady’ commercial and i’d stiff the IRS just so i could qualify.
even if you don’t like ”food shows”–this is not a friggen “food show”–his on-going metaphor for all that is ingested is borderline tantric; he likens food, in all of its masochistic decadence, to deliriously mind-blowing sex. hand check.
and what better way to familiarize oneself with a complete stranger than to read their witty catchphrases- one-liners that have better timing than other sentences and are too bold to be considered a punchline:
“when tony gets hungry, things die.”
“my house is run, essentially, by an adopted, fully clawed cat with a mean nature.”
“i’ll make fun of the french, thank you very much.”
“it’s not as much an expose as it is a memoir, with some things that seem to have shocked and horrified some of the civilian population.”
“it’s beer o’clock.”
“while strangely uncomfortable with the term ‘man’s man,’ I am honored to be included.”
“i was a rotten kid with a big vocabulary.”
ugh. insert “three” “greater than symbol” here.
Filed under: and... judged., celebrity look-alike, what's going on here | Tags: 14 kids, angelina jolie, california, collagen injections, davinci, eonline, invitro fertilization, IVF, mona lisa, nadya suleman, octo-mom, octuplets
um, false, eonline.
you know who octo-bag looks like? mona lisa. boom.
Filed under: it's not a lohan., what's going on here | Tags: 21, asian, avenue q, february 2, gino, hannah montana, mai lee, miley cyrus, pacific, perez hilton, photo, picture, racist, she's just being miley, tmz
miley cyrus pissed of the asian community, having posed for a picture while pulling her eyes into slants. big deal, asian community. everyone’s a little bit racist.
in unrelated news, my brother turned 21 this week. cheers!
Filed under: domestical, sporty spice | Tags: 24-20, 43, arizona cardinals, baby, bud light, budweiser, channing tatum, chris farley, commercial, doritos, e-trade, ftizgerald, g.i joe, gatorade G, get out of jail free, hinds ward, jack black, jason mcelwain, john belushi, kurt warner, land of the lost, matt leinart, meeting, michael cera, mike tomlin, monopoly, pittsburg steelers, polamalu, rochester, roethlisberger, santonio holmes, super bowl, superbowl, type-cast, what G means to me, will ferrell, XLIII, year one, youtube
being from the capital of north america, buffalo ny, my love of all things underdog meant i had an obligation to cheer for the cardinals. in other words, i watched the super bowl to vicariously live my football dreams through kurt warner. (side note: maybe next century, matt leinart. you should probably go home and play with your kid.)
as a female, i watched the super bowl for
1. kurt warner, the rags-to-riches story that is so decadent, oprah keeps it in her nightstand next to the lube and…
2. the commercials. you can talk during the game all you want, but prepare yourself for core meltdown if you so much as chew with your mouth open during a media time out.
now everytime i see a snow globe barrel through a vending machine, i’ll crave doritos. nice.
will ferrell’s movie doesn’t impress me.
but the g.i. joe movie? omigaw yes. (tan, stoic, backwards hat-wearing channing tatum will be my get-out-of-jail-free card when i’m married–purely because he is not my type. duh).
and how about michael cera, starring as the small spoon in ‘year one.’ he’s is so adorable with his awkward, “it’s not illegal to picture me naked– you’ll just feel guilty” naivite. other than being the clinically obese, perpetually drunk best friend (chris farley, john belushi), cera has the ultimate type-cast.
budweiser, the silly ho of super bowl commercial history, had me unimpressed with the absurdity of booze-fueled corporate meetings. then, it redeemed itself. (but it almost didn’t.)
gatorade G made my mom’s eyes water:
e-trade made my mom angry that there are no e-trade grandchildren in the near future (if everything goes as planned):
and here is golf baby. i mean, shameless. who doesn’t love babies sporting bite-sized hats.
