p-rude.
Oh my.
Y’all know I have a love/hate relationship with art done simply with an eye for controversy. But seeing as pure talent isn’t enough to take the world by storm, I respect a controversial project, especially one that requires a lot of dedication. Justine Lai has undertaken the task of painting 44 portraits of her having sex. One portrait of her with each President of the United States. Thought provoking or weird? There’s something seemingly wrong about having sexual thoughts about anyone dead – whether it be George Washington or the recently passed Bettie Page, so at first I thought my prudish reaction was based on dead people taboos. And then I saw the portrait of Abe Lincoln and some felatio. And I knew it was more about him being Mr. Lincoln than him being dead.
Oh It’s Times Like These I Regret
Never having learned how to dance or carry a tune.
This video from Girls Aloud’s “The Loving Kind”. It’s been out for over two months now, but I still can’t stop watching it. I want their dresses and their shoes and all the fun they have. (Note : I found out that they were supposed to do the song “My Love is Better” with Annie but after hearing it, they declined to be associated with it. It sounds amazing and I love Annie, so this made GA lose about ten points in my book.)
And of course, Lady Gaga who I will be seeing in eight days. Britney Spears is currently in the District and I couldn’t bring myself to drop $40 and skip nightclass for that. But Lady Gaga? You bet I spent $20 and 10 minutes online crossing my fingers to get ticket before they sold out. Here’s her latest video for “Love Game”. While the Christina Aguilera comparison went on for awhile a few months back, the Michael Jackson inspired dance moves take over at the end when she even wears pants in the last thirty seconds! But girl can only wear one complete article of clothing at a time so she only wears a suspenders and a bandeau top which is a bit reminiscent of past Gwen Stefanie with hair that also draws a comparison. She even gets naked, save for some sparkles a la Britney Spears “Toxic”, in clips. Anyways, it’s good fun.
Let’s not count how many times I said the word love in this post compared to my real life. K, thanks? “It always starts the same, with a boy and a girl and a hook and a game.”
Make Me a Match.
Bravo’s “Millionaire Matchmaker” won me over long ago. But Vh1’s “Tough Love” may just give it a run for it’s money.
Not only is it entertaining, I find it to be a great insight on dating and the money and attractiveness issues that come with it. MM follows a fug-faced, skinny legged woman tell it how it is to rich men who have no idea how to score hot young blondes as wives. TL teaches women ranging from young-twenties to early-forties how to shape themselves to find men. Apparently telling men on your first how you have already purchased a wedding dress is a no-no. Who would’ve known? Anyway, these shows make wonderful weekend pleasures and I whole-heartedly recommend.
Getting Tested
Not much longer after I wrote my latest post, I am in CVS and see a photo of LeAnn Rimes with the word “AFFAIR” smacked across her face. At first, I thought she was the victim of the affair as any person with any sense of gaydar would be getting massive signals from her husband (see here). But instead, it looks as though the singer is the cheating one. I can’t find it on legitimate websites yet, but if you’re interested head over to UsWeekly’s website and feel free to fill me in. K? Thanx.
I Promised Myself
So I’ve got only three more weeks in Lent, and I’m doing pretty good about not visiting the gossip sites. The urge to type in the addresses is even gone now. And while I have moved on to wasting time on other sites (ie – why you’ve seen me on Facebook’s “available now” more than ever before), and although I don’t have as much to write about on here (sorry), I feel as though this has been a great experiment in both self-discipline and um, finding a personality. I no longer drop comments about Beyonce casually as though she were my cousin or something. I no longer give two hoots about Lindsay Lohan. I pretty much forgot the stars of “The Hills” existed. It’s been great and although I have not decided whether I am going to keep up the abstinence or try to work in some moderation, I hope I never go back to how it was. Xo.
Don’t worry, I’m not that good of a Catholic. I totally forgot I couldn’t eat meat on Fridays. Whoops.
Hey, Everybody, Come See How Cool I Am!
So every environmentalist in DC is gushing about the Obama’s new organic garden like it’s some special thing.
Question: (please correct me if I’m wrong) Doesn’t organic just mean food grown absent the use of pesticide and insecticide? So then isn’t any outdoor garden made by you, me, and even the Obama’s pretty much organic? Yawn.
Random Gripe
So I really haven’t said much about the Chris Brown – Rihanna – beatdown because, well, there’s enough angry feminists out there doing the dance between outrage that they’ve reconciled and empathy towards those who suffer battered women’s syndrome. I really don’t have anything to add to that conversation since everyone and their mother has an opinion on that one. But, I will say I am pissed since I can’t listen to Rihanna songs without getting angry!
“Hate that I Love You” – refers back to the battered women’s syndrome above.
“Breakin’ Dishes” – what she needs to do.
“Umbrella” – what she should have been carrying. Men never attack a woman holding an umbrella.
“Shut Up and Drive” – what she should have told him when he started hitting her while he was in the driver’s seat.
Le sigh.
smARTy pants
Mark Jamieson, a gallery owner in Australia, when putting together a new show included the work of an amateur artist named Aelita Andre, after photographer Nikka Kalashnikov showed him two of her paintings. A few weeks later after promotion began on this new show, Jamieson learns that this amateur artist is actually the 22 month-old daughter of Kalashnikov.
While the technique is something a two year-old likely could do, how much credit do we give to an artist of that age? Her parents likely have more choice in the color scheme than she does, and there’s no way young Aelita is picking out the names of these paintings either (“Sunflares and Pegasus’ Flight”, you ain’t fooling anyone). And while an extra suspicion is mounted since both of Aelita’s parents are artists, it is all too tempting to jump to the conclusion that this, if not a scam, is about as much of parents living vicariously though their children as those infamous ones in middle America.
Nevertheless, the paintings are good and there are very few publicity stints that I dissaprove of, so I’m a fan. And I’m definitely never going to critize parents who give their kids that much free reign with paint, cause I’m so secretly envious.
