Hot Child in the City -

Friday, December 08, 2006

Dear Santa ...

It’s that time of year again and I think I’ve been a very well-behaved pop culture whore. I only have a few requests for my Christmas stocking!

1) If I have to hear about Eva Longoria’s engagement for the next year, I’m going to eat some Taco Bell green onions. Please encourage her to shut her yap trap.

2) If the ill-conceived e-mails floating around town are in fact the musings of Ms. Lindsay Lohan, it appears that our young darling might want to pick up a grammar book instead of the latest Louis Vuitton purse. Please direct her to the spell check function on her BlackBerry or use her as bait in the hunt for Osama. Whatever you think is best. Also, fruit basket for Lindsay Ratowsky.

3) The thrill of Britney’s comeback is fading fast and no one is more devastated than me. First of all, please tell her that a star of her stature can at least afford La Perla undies instead of Victoria’s Secret. Then purchase two inflatable bubbles for Sean P and Jayden James so they can not get their hands on the copious amounts of pills their Mommy is reportedly harboring.

4) Paris Hilton is running around town with Stavros and a big ‘ole diamond on the ring finger. Yes! Marry her off; ship her to the Greek isles where she can’t assault our senses or our pop stars.

5) I’m going to need some sort of spectacular celebrity break up next year. My first choice is going to be Brad and Angelina. I know there’s a kid involved, but how is Shiloh going to become the next LA club kid if her parents don’t split up? A UK tabloid reports that the duo will make some sort of nebulous commitment in an African ceremony quite soon. Don’t bother! TomKat would be the second choice, of course, but we’re going to need to give this a little time. Katie needs a few years to develop some sort of depressive illness that might require drugs – a battle that would make a nice Lifetime movie to keep me occupied.

6) Tyra Banks needs to get the vagina arms under control.

7) BoomKat needs to mold the lives of more aspiring pop stars and I need some more dish on the personal lives of the Danity Kane trannies.

8) If the Pussycat Dolls win a Grammy, I will take Rudolph hostage.

And if all else fails, you’ve proven yourself quite capable of taking over R. Kelly’s reign as king of oddly intriguing hip hop with this little ditty:


That’s Retarded, Yo
By PopCultureWhore

MTV’s new reality show Twenty-Four Seven has helped control the population of Los Angeles at least by one, because after watching the living, breathing brain farts that make up the show’s cast, I certainly never want to live there.

The show is basically Laguna Beach: The Later Years with the words “seriously” and “random” replaced with “dude” and “retarded”. Much like Jason and his posse from “The Hills”, I spent most of the time wondering how these frosty locked men about town could afford to eat in restaurants with real silverware when it did not appear that any of them had any consistent income.

The exception might be Greg, a nightclub entrepreneur who was seen opening his second club in the series premiere. It probably doesn’t hurt that he is dating Hilary Duff’s sister. His business savvy might need a little work, however, seeing as how he bumbled efforts to get a skeptical investor to offer an open bar on the club’s opening night and ended a fight with brother Chris by sputtering, “You’re retarded.”

That spirited older brother, whose band was the featured performer on the club’s opening night, left LA for a hunting trip in the Deep South just two days before the event. Greg worried that Chris would somehow fuck things up and, indeed, Chris wound up getting himself arrested and missed the gig.

The rest of Greg’s entourage includes the flaky Cipes, a musician reminiscent of former MTV veejay Jesse Camp who encourages his friends to tell their water that they love it so that it will nourish their bodies in a more effective manner. Frankie, the self-proclaimed Mexican Hugh Hefner, spends his days chatting up the ladies who will fill Greg’s clubs. Maybe I’m just getting older but the “hot girls” these guys rounded up throughout the show looked as though they could barely get into a rated R movie and had about as much sexual appeal as a box of raisins.

There are a few more pretty boys and a pampered Chihuahua in the mix. Blah Blah. I think next time around, MTV should put those featured on their “True Life” series into a house together. Perhaps a Staten Island girl, someone with Tourette’s, one of the meth addicts, that chubby Jersey girl from the “I’m Jealous” show, the party hearty gay guy who moved to Vegas and the pampered chick who ran up a $500 electric bill on the “I’m Moving to NYC” episode. Oh and definitely the kid who got the calf implants.

Luke the calf implant boy, by the way, later went on to do gay porn under the name Tony Cage. He reportedly appeared on the Tyra show with his wife (...), where he claimed to no longer be gay. I guess Luke and his calves are no longer single.