Viva Tivo Nuevo?

Fellow Connoisseurs Vapid Culture:

I realize it’s been quite some time since my last post. Allow me to explain.

There has been a fracture in the fabric of my world; a crack in the cornerstone of my cosmos.

‘Twas once filled with the sunny days and fake tans seen on The Real Housewives of Orange County.

But today, my universe is gray.

No, I wasn’t forced to move from Huntington Beach, California to Flyover Statesville, USA.

Of course that would suck and everything, but one can always recover from a move by moving back, no?

Sadly, the predicament in which I find myself comes with no such easy answers.

It is, in a word, dire.

Ladies and Gentlemen, my tivo has fallen ill.

[Cue Ave Maria]

And his chances for recovery don’t look so good.

If memory lapses are any indicator, his hard drive’s days are surely numbered.

In fact– and forgive me if I sound contrite– I’ve taken to calling him Teddy Tivo.

He’s not warm and fuzzy, just named for another key societal figurehead who also recently learned he has a dire illness of the hard drive.

Still not sure who I’m referring to?

OK, so Teddy Tivo is named for an Edward. Or Ted.

Last initial K.

Sometimes followed by the letters “D-Mass.”

And despite the problems with his memory, let me assure you that this illness was not in any way caused by alcohol!

How dare you even think such a thing!!

And I know he’s only going to get worse, but I’m having a hard time pulling the plug on him, no pun intended.

Seriously. I loathe puns. Tasteless analogies regarding beloved senators with terminal illnesses are one thing, but puns? Well I never…!

If nothing else, you’d think that wanting to keep an old relic alive would give me some of that righteous indignation that the fundamentalist Kool-aid drinkers walk around with, right? Wrong. It feels bad.

On many levels.

For one thing, I feel like a greedy bitch who wants to keep her not-at-all-warm-and-fuzzy-Teddy alive for selfish reasons.

Think of all of those younger tivos out there that need vital organ transplants- as a donor, Teddy could give them new life! Picture the young tivos that surely would be spared the indignity of a premature burial in a landfill grave!

Ack-now I feel like a bad eco-citizen to boot!

And speaking of dignity, it does seem wrong of me to keep Teddy alive for my own selfish reasons when he can’t function at a decent level.

I suppose I was hoping for a kind of spontaneous recovery-miracle, but then the tivo doctor rained on that parade… all the way from India, mind you. I grilled him like a lamb kabob, and the upshot is this: Teddy’s problem is intractible and severe. And and no, he has never seen this type of problem spontaneously resolve itself.

Maybe that’s because there’s no Hindi tivo god? Food for thought.

You must be wondering why I’m so attached to the un-cuddly old bloated lug with the bad memory from the non-drinking problem then, huh?

Well, let me tell you, I’ve got reasons ’o’ plenty. And not just the usual crap about the good times we’ve shared, the stuff he introduced me to and the dreams we built together. Nosiree.

See, like most men who are post-prime, Tivo Ted is ill-equipped to function in today’s world, but full of amazing, one-of-a-kind stories from back in the day.

Indeed, he has lived to see some of the best stuff imaginable, much of which he has yet to share with the world. He can tell stories nobody else can! Like the entire marathon of Make Me A Supermodel (UK Edition)!

Have you ever tried to find that show on youtube? The only stuff that shows up are vanity clips from the one [uncloseted] gay contestant!

And these old shows, having been recorded at a time when Ted was young and spritely, playback perfectly. And it seems wrong to take him from this world before he has had a chance to tell those stories, as it were, you know?

The problem, however, is with Ted’s ability to remember new stuff.

Things will seem fine– we’ll get through minute 48 of 60 in the finale of America’s Next Top Model– and then Teddy will freeze. And start skipping.

Forcing me to reboot. And delete the poisoned recording.

**On the plus side: I have discovered a whole host of television offerings available online!

Besides the usual suspects (youtube.com, dailymotion.com) there is hulu.com, which has two distinct advantages over the others: (1) full-length shows/no more clip-hunting! (2) in decent quality.

And of course, good ol’ itunes is a lifesaver: my iphone has rescued me from boredom with an HBO offering more times than I care to recall.

Another thing I hate to recall? How many times I’ve missed out on hearing the high-and-mighty, I’m-so-smart Tyra Banks utter the grammatically incorrect phrase “Congratulations, you are still in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Model.”

As if there is this monster named “Becoming America’s Next Top Model”, and [you] are running towards it?

But seriously, fellow vapid culturists, putting Tyra Banks aside, ’tis one thing I know.

At the end of the day, as attached as I may be to Tivo Ted, nothing can make up for the loss I felt upon missing another ending of Viva Hollywood: Vh1’s search for America’s Numero Uno Telenovela Star.

Especially because it meant missing another installment of the show-in-show cheesefest El Masacre de la Mascara.

Behold:

I missed the finale because of you, Ted!!

I dunno, kids. Methinks Ted’s days are numero’ed.

¡Viva Tivo Nuevo!

What the faux-bridesmaids were really thinking at the Katherine Heigl premiere for 27 Dresses

Spotted: this shot from the premiere of Katie H’s new movie. I think the only reason they made the faux-bridesmaids wear these heinous dresses was to visually separate them from the actual bridesmaids in Heigl’s recent wedding. Tell me these chicks don’t look like they’re straight out of the Mormon Church in Utah, where the real deal was held?

As the editors at the fabulous on-line magazine Jezebel know, a shot like this cries out for judgment. I’m going further in saying it deserves a full-on caption. So here, courtesy of commenter GOLDHOOPS and myself, is what I consider the best one:

Faux Bridesmaid 1: I’m going to kill my agent.

FBM2: Suck it up and remember you’re getting paid 250 bucks for this.

FBM3: I went to Yale Drama for this?!

FBM4: After the hours I spent selecting the right shade of lipstick, I hope it photographs well!

FBM5: My first gig! And they said I’d never make it in Hollywood– HA!

FBM6: I wonder if anyone will ask me for an autograph?

FBM 7: Can I put “Played Bridesmaid in 27 Dresses” on my acting resume after this?

FBM 8: Beats porn.

FBM 9: Wait, this isn’t The Wedding Slammer? I thought Jenna Jameson looked odd in that silver dress!

It’s NOT Bad Plastic Surgery! New Disease Offers Explanation for Jackson Oddities

A new type of Vitiligo?

Yesterday my eyes were assaulted while reading jezebel,  the virtual equivalent of  Jane Magazine [R.I.P.] (+) US Weekly (-) Glamour.  Jezebel’s tag-line is “Celebrity, sex, fashion. Without airbrushing.“ 

Given the context, you can imagine how unsettling it was to stumble upon the (presumably non-airbrushed) image of Janet Jackson on the left.

Apparently, when your last name is Jackson, every day is Halloween [cue Ministry song of the same name].

It’s one thing to catch a bad case of Madamism at the Plastic Surgeon’s office, but the Jacksons seem to be subject to a disease that makes Madamism seem entirely benevolent: Trans-col-o-sex-us (TCS).

On the upside, we now have a perfectly rational explanation for the Jacksons’ spontaneously mutating bodies, lily-white offspring, inappropriate bed-sharing, and devastatingly inappropriate fashion choices!

Check out the presentation below and become enlightened:

WARNING: Do not fall asleep within 30 minutes of viewing; this is high-octane nightmare fuel.

Vapidly,

Jenna