Itâ€™s finally here. After approximately 400 features on Terrell Owensâ€™ hamstring, 511 spotlight pieces on the essence of the Manning brothers, and 3.5 million advertisements extolling the virtues of Monday Night Football on ESPN, the NFL season has arrived.
Clearly, this is good news. And with Unsolved Mysteries being cancelled by Lifetime this fall, God knows I needed some good news. Letâ€™s take a look at three of the more interesting happenings this week; Week 1 of the 2006 NFL season.
Maimed quarterbacks make their return with emotional scars as big as their physical ones
Carson Palmerâ€™s knee didnâ€™t explode, Chad Penningtonâ€™s shoulder didnâ€™t take a hit and shoot into orbit, and Duante Culpepperâ€™s ligaments didnâ€™t spontaneously burst into flames â€¦ yet. All good news for the millions out there who own these guys in fantasy football leagues. The most frustrating thing about fantasy football is that marquee names like the ones listed above will go down every year, and all you can do is grit your teeth and hope that some clearly inferior player is on the waiver wire to fill the gaping wound in your starting lineup. This is akin to getting dumped by Jessica and then being forced to date Ashlee (before the plastic surgery.) What I’m trying to get at is, it ain’t pretty.
As we’ve already established, the untimely death of Anna Nicole Smith’s son Daniel is a terrible tragedy, and our sympathy goes out to all those who knew and loved him. But now that those sensationalists over at TMZ are reporting that his death was actually of “unnatural causes”, before anyone rushes to any sort of judgement, just remember one thing: if Anna Nicole was your mom, you’d probably wanna get high now and then, too.
While you guys are in a head-to-head debate over whether LiLo’s Stitch is real or not, this picture of Kate Hudson lands in our inbox. Ye GADS, please tell us this is doctored. It kind of reminds us of the Seinfeld episode where Jerry’s girlfriend walks around the house naked… and all is fine until she tries to open a pickle jar. Two words: One piece. LA Translation: Tumtum Tucky Time.
After reading The Sports Guy’s and Patton Oswalt’s spot-on comments about The Wire (best show currently on televsion, and I dare you to argue otherwise), I realized that we don’t mention this amazing piece of TV around here much, and few others really seem to be talking about it, which is a shame because it will change your life like you’re Zach Braff listening to “New Slang” for the very first time. As I don’t usually care about “cop shows”, I was late to “The Wire” party myself, jumping in late last year – and man how I wish I would have given it an earlier shot. But to atone for my own sins against awesomeness, I am going to bring the gospel of good TV to you people today. Season 4 premiered last Sunday night on HBO, and here’s an Emergency Action Plan for those of you who haven’t been watching, but don’t want to miss anymore of the amazingness:
(a) Set your TiVo to record ALL episodes of Season 4 (the premiere is still re-running all week), then set them to be kept permanently until you delete them (indicated by the little green dot next to them). If you do not personally own a TiVo or other DVR device, find someone who does and pay them to do it for you.
(b) Clear out your schedule.
(c) Buy or rent every single disc of the first three seasons (go to every video store in town if you must) and blow through them as fast as you can. Do not be afraid about the impact this behavior could be having on your social life as I assure you there’s nothing about it even nearly as interesting as Detective Jimmy McNulty.
(d) Refer back to step A and catch the f*ck up.
Strict adherence to these instructions will result in enormous joy in your life, and a slew of e-mails thanking me for generously providing you with such essential living guidance. Class dismissed.
With Paris Hilton getting turned away from Bungalow 8, shut out by Ian Schrager and dissed by Richard Branson, this 1950’s movie spoof dropped by reidlevin has never been more timely. Watch it now, and make sure you stay tuned for the double feature “Tom Cruise: The Wolf-Boy”.
Got something you want us to see? Drop it now!
The sun rises. The tides change. A caterpillar is reborn as a butterfly. And Lindsay Lohan‘s vagina is caught on camera. Must be part of nature’s wild and crazy agenda. Because just when we thought we’d poured enough vinegar into our eyes to erase the memories of last week’s ham-hocky vag-flashing, Lohan decides enough isn’t enough, and lets her lips fly in the breeze one more time. (Need we say NSFW?) It’s clear Linds is not shy about letting her parts out into the wild. But why stop at some measly paparazzi photos? Why not get your vagina the exposure it has earned and deserves! Some ideas:
- A gigantic shorn Lohan Vagina balloon floating down Broadway during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
- France replaces their trademark “berets” with hot-pink felted molds of Lindsay’s labes.
- Stadiums across the country have “Lohan Vah-Jay-Day”, where each attendee receives an oddly arousing gigantic leather baseball mitt shaped like Lindsay Lohan’s Vagina.
- Santa Clause decides against using his usual gigantic cloth sack to hold toys, instead placing the oodles of freshly made presents inside Lindsay Lohan’s Vagina.
- Lindsay Lohan stars in a movie with her Vagina in kind of a good cop/bad cop scenario. It would be called LiLo and Stitch 2: Plan B, and would co-star James Rebhorn and Kathleen Turner.
Wait — can we at least agree on this? Please start calling Lindsay Lohan’s ladyhole “Stitch.” It’s short, it’s cute, and it makes a nice reference to the eventual vaginal rejuvenation she’ll need in about 3 years.
UPDATE: This photo is real, as was her first flashing. Sorry doubters!
Reader nthdegree dropped us this Star Trek/Nine Inch Nails mash-up video that somehow manages to be even freakier than the original music vid for “Closer”. I’ll never look at Leonard Nimoy the same way again.
We’re really lucky that The Hoff so enjoys sharing of himself with the press, constantly tossing out random and previously unknown delicious little facts about himself, in that we all might come ever so slightly closer to unraveling the enigma of his Hoffitude. Here are the latest clues on the treasure map of Hoff:
- The Hoff told People Magazine that if he died (were he not immortal), he would like to be buried beneath his Hoffywood star on the Walk of Fame, under clear glass so people could see him decompose, with “Hoff and Running” written on his gravestone. That might be the most Hofflike thing I’ve ever read.
- The Hoff’s daughters do not approve of the incessant attention their father receives from younger women. I think it might be time for someone to tell them about the birds and the bees and The Hoff.
- The Hoff says that when he first met the late Princess Di, she was immediately smitten with him. How positively Hoffish of him to respectfully honor her memory so.
- And as a bonus to all the ladies out there, click the picture above to learn the “Do’s and Don’ts” of winning The Hoff’s Heart!
Dakota Fanning has yet to hit her “awkward” teen years, and already she’s channeling the cokey creeptown stylings of Chloe Sevigny. Dakota posed for a fashion spread in the October 2006 issue of Teen Vogue, wearing Marc Jacobs boots, a pillbox hat, and the flat, hollowed out stare of a feral child. Seriously, give the Grim Reaper a paternity test, Maury. This kid does not look OK. Could it perchance be that years of being in the spotlight have left her a shadow of her own childhood self? Get this girl a Slip N’ Slide and some Fruit by the Foot already. She’s got t-minus-2 years until she “sprouts”, and it’s basically all frownhill from there.
Although, on second thought, how much fun is it going to be when Dakota Fanning snaps? I mean really loses it. She’s either going to be a slut of epic proportions or a unabomber-stizz recluse. But seriously nowhere in between.