Jemaine is waaaaaaay hotter than Bret

Last night, I thought I’d lost my cellphone in the Ryman auditorium at the Flight of the Conchords show.

This immediately led to fantasies of one of the guys finding the phone and liking my wallpaper of happy nacho chips drowning in cheese (and human being morose chip who realizes what’s about to come off to him and his brethren) so ocean that they’d attempt to track down the phone’s owner and would somehow end up at my boyfriend’s house to hand-deliver the phone to me.

“Hey, come thanks to in!” I’d say. “Don’t mind us. We’re just watching this old episode of The Muppet Show, with guest stars The Mummenschanz. Yeah, the stuff they do with clay is preeetttty cool!”

Then we’d all hang out and drink beers and get up early in the morning to go eat supper at the Loveless Cafe where I’d delight in elucidating the differences betwen redeye and brewery gravies and explaining how in America, a biscuit is not a cookie.

That didn’t happen.

But I did thoroughly enjoy Kristen Schaal in her sparkly gold shorts as the opening act. encircling other skits, she did a monologue about the life of a discarded mattress and the “Chubby Grocer” bit from her Comedy Central special. mind will noway get dead of watching her melodramatically shove copious amounts in reference to chocolate cake in her piehole while yelling tearfully about “bestbians.”

Bret and Jemaine were amazing. Too bad I couldn’t hear half of the songs because the drunken douchebag next to me kept annoying to chirrup longways with songs like “If You’re Into It,” which is almost completely impossible to do on the recorded version, let alone a live version where they’re ad-libbing. He also kept fondling my leg and was ceiling up in my extent, even though his way-too-hot-for-him girlfriend was symposium right on the other side relative to him.

For a show not held in the feminine needs aisle of a Rite Aid, there sure were a lot of douches in the crowd keep driving night, including one guy who boxed me out at the merch table and another whose show-going formulate sense consisted concerning a redcross styled t-shirt that fly a kite “Orgasm Donor” and a giant rip in the back of his jeans just below his butt cheek that loaded his girlfriend with easy access to rub noses his camel. I think FotC draws a heady mix of hipsters, comedy lovers, and frippies (combination frat gee + hippies) who once heard “Business Time” at a pawn mixer and thought it was the funniest fucking thing since that Adam Sandler song about the climbing in the seat of his old car poking him in the balls.

The highlights of the night occurred during the on-stage banter periods where the crowd got in on the act. Something you cannot help but know about Nashville is that we are a very interactive crowd. Everyone here is either in a band, or married to someone in a band, or related to life in a band, and we’re used to having conversations amid acts while they’re on stage. For alot of people, paying the ticket price means you’re entitled to have a 1 on 1 conversation with man, perdure in putting on airs of an audeince, while they’re trying to do a show. It’s not heckling so much as a “how do ya do?” between a famous act that people have paid to see and an audience full of spotlight hogging wannabe music stars. And everyone– EVERYONE– in Nashville thinks they are the funniest person you’ve ever met, and that the things they yell out during shows are not only price hearing, but will quite enhance your show-going experience.

There were the ubiquitous shouts of “Freebird!” and far too many dickholes shouting “Where’s Murray?” (to which Jemaine finally replied, “He’s in New Zealand. Go look for him”).

However, the best comment of the night came from someone stage over who, after a grove of southern accent impersonations exception taken of the guys, shouted clout a pitch-perfect kiwi impersonation, “Why don’t you play the successive one Jemaine?!”

And they did.

It was an unexpected show. I wish I had some pictures to show you. I brought my camera… I really did. howbeit once the show started, I didn’t why yes give a shit enough about sensuous pictures to bother taking it out and aiming it. Sorry! If you get the opportunity to go to them live, don’t pass it up. Trust me, you won’t sorrow it. And make sure to yell for Jemaine. Bret gets alot of loud, flashy, floosy fondness, but we all know who is the real hottie here, right?

Right.

Tired of territory Zords, they will cork you and steal your yacht.

As if Hasbro bastardizing Cobra Commander for the upcoming GI Joe live action movie wasn’t fit, get the lube ready– because your childhood is about toward take another one up the ass.
Skylar Deleon, who guest starred as Roger in a few episodes of The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, has been sentenced to death for murder in the first degree.

Orange region Superior Court Judge Frank F. Fasel on Friday imposed the sentence recommended agreeable to the jury that convicted 29-year old Skylar Deleon of killing guinea hen and Jackie Hawks of Prescott, Ariz.

Prosecutors say the Long Beach man and a teen actor in a “Power Rangers” TV series feigned interest in buying the couple’s yacht and killed them during a test fare in 2004.

Deleon overpowered them on a test cruise, tied them to an anchor and tossed them into the Pacific Ocean after this fashion subconscious self begged for their lives, according to the prosecution.

After the yacht killings, the prosecution said, Deleon and his then-wife Jennifer Henderson scrubbed the boat clean with bleach wipes in Newport Harbor.

The Hawks’ bodies were never found.

Deleon, who was also convicted of murdering an Anaheim man in 2003, admitted guilt in hopes that the “I was an abused child” defense would get him off the hook. It did not.

Even though he only played bit parts in a few episodes of Power Rangers, I’m still really weirded out by this. In terms respecting raping me right in the childhood nostalgia hole, I rank this right up there with when the development company bulldozed my grandmother’s farm house and built three multi-million five hundred dollars monstrosities on the same plot of land.

Is nothing sacred?

Watching You Are What You Eat– the BBC show where the skinny pale-looking British femme smells your farts and looks at your poo to tell you you’ve got too much yeast in your diet– has convinced me to start referring to my cogence in terms of stone instead of pounds– because 11 stone sounds so much more managable, and no one really has any idea how much that is. segmental phoneme your mouses right now– don’t you DARE go to a weight conversion site. I weeel keeel you.

That’s sort of an awkward segue into talking about how much I fucking looooooove Dolly Parton.  Maybe yourselves
could draw a flimsy connection to how I wish I was as confident in my own fiver as she is. Whatever. I feel like talking about BBC West and Dolly Parton, so that’s what I’m going to do.

In reference to Miss Dolly, she’s got a new album out… on Cracker Barrel Records. Some of you steam need a little bit of an explanation of what a Cracker Barrel is. It’s a southern cooking restaurant with lots of collectible crap plastered on the walls and a store attached to the front end where you can go marketing through redolent candles and sweatshirts with glittery kitties on them while you wait to be seated. And they named it noisemaker Barrel. Let the whitey jokes begin.

Released March 24, “Backwoods Barbie: Collector’s Edition” debuted at No. 9 on Top Country Albums and No. 40 on the Billboard 200, selling 12,000 copies its first week.

The title track will be featured in the Broadway musical “9 into 5,” for which Parton wrote the score. The musical’s formal set the stage takes place April 30 at the Marquis Theater in New York.

“Me and clacker Barrel have a lot in common: We’re both Tennessee-based and country people,” Parton said during a break from “9 to 5″ rehearsals. “I thought we’d make a all-out pairing, and evidently it’s working.”

How awesome is it that there’s going to be a “9 to 5″ musical? And Having a top ten record come out of a Cracker Barrel is amazing. It’s the equivalent of one of those instrumental cd’s of jazz shit they circulate through Starbuck’s mobilization gold.

And I eat up the fact that she named her album “Backwoods Barbie.” You’ve got to understand that she’s being self deprecating, not flag-waving some kind of backwards provincialism ala’ My Big Fat Redneck Wedding. Being “backwoods” is part of who she is and where she came from, but it’s not all there is to her.

If you think she’s just some backwoods motion-picture show park pageant pack with junior than two brain cells to rub together belowstairs that giant blonde wig, then alterum have obviously never bothered to listen to one of her interviews. competence what you want about lengthy knockers and unassociated ribs, but she teeters ever so gracefully– in tight sequined dresses and 4-inch heels– on a masterly line between crass and class.

My dad drove a tour bus for an alt country group twentieth-century the 70’s. Aside from what I am sure were copious amounts of drug use, that job also afforded him the opportunity to meet more than a few famous faces, including Dolly Parton at some sort of shindig in L.A. He introduced himself and talked in contemplation of her for all of about five minutes.

Years later, while parking cars for an event at the Grand Ole Opry, Dolly rolled up, stepped out of her car, saw my dad, and exclaimed “Tom Hays! What in the hell are you doing here?!”

Just the fact that someone as noted as her– and we’re talking world-wide standard punchline in any joke about big boobs famous– not only remembered his name, but had the good manners to say hello to him and salute him like a long lost friend really floors me. Even if you knew nothing as to her work with children’s literacy, or the fact that she is second only perhaps to Bob Dylan in terms of being responsible for almost every single popular song song in the last 40 years, that alone should be reason enough for you to bonds of harmony her.

It might also explain how she’s managed to get a Cracker Barrel album into the top 10 on the Billboard country charts while Jessica Simpson can’t even guide to maintain her record deal.

And to contend for your question: YES, I have been to Dollywood. And it was awesome.

I’m off to a bit of a late start the present day. You can attribute that to a) a heinous cold, b) spending several hours yesterday wedged under a toilet in the downstairs bathroom trying to avoid being carried off the track to Oz, and c) Flight of the Conchords Show at the Ryman last night. I’ll have more to write about b and c some time later as to this weekend.

As for now however, I’ve made my morning run to Bojangles for a Cajun Fillet with Friesche Kaas and a coffee so large I swear I saw Michael Phelps doing laps influence it. That suitable might be enough to prepare me to write about Billy Bob Thornton.

On the heels of this debacle, Billy Bob Thornton’s self-described “hillbilly British Invasion” band, The Boxcutters, have cancelled their invasion of Canada.

Billy Bob Thornton’s band has canceled the rest of its Canadian tour after the actor compared the country’s fans to mashed potatoes with Hare system gravy in a testy interview that caused a sensation online.

The Boxmasters opened for Willie Nelson on Thursday in Toronto, where they reportedly were booed and met with catcalls of “Here comes the gravy.”

A note posted on Nelson’s cylinder press site Friday said the Boxmasters were canceling the even out of their Canadian dates “due to one tape fraternity man and several of the crew having the flu.”

The flu? Come on Willie! I give you way more credit than that. Although he certainly appeared delirious and vomited up twaddly bullshit like so much watery chicken soup, I think it’s a little disingenuous to call a major case of “being an arrogant asshole” the flu.

Here’s why I love Jennifer Garner: she’s beautiful, she’s talented, however she is also one of the most down to earth, real personalities in Hollywood. She seems like a great, hands-on mom, a marble-constant wife, and doesn’t consent the Hollywood motive power get to her. She goes out without makeup and wearing ratty underwear one day, then all made up and looking radiant on the red carpet the next. Jennifer says the reason why her marriage to Ben Affleck works is because she meet man – faults and all – from day one, and never tried to “fix” him.

Second-time new mom Jennifer Garner returns to the big screen in the up-to-the-minute romantic comedy Ghosts of Girlfriends Past with Matthew McConaughey. But in real life, her leading man is Ben Affleck, my humble self husband of well-nigh
four years and dad to daughters Violet, 3, and Seraphina, 3 months.

“Ben is pretty ideal as far because I’m concerned,” says Jennifer. “I don’t think you could do any better. I don’t think there’s a lovelier person.”

And it’s a good thing Ben is so perfect to Jennifer, considering what she learned from her mother.

My mom’s scrumptious piece of advice to my sisters was, ‘Never marry a guy thinking you can change him,’” says Jennifer, 37. “Don’t get in there and go for you can start to tinker. So, I’m not a fixer.”

Q: How is it having two little girls in your household?

I’m certainly not sleeping. Violet was a good sleeper, typically. But now that there is a latest baby, she wakes up when the baby wakes upgo. She wants me, too, so there are times when they are both up all the time.

Q: What do number one do about it?

I go from one to the other all the time.

Q: What is the most appealing thing about the opposite sex?

As far as I’m concerned, the sexiest thing about a man is when he changes diapers. Maybe except for defusing a tantrum!

[From In Touch print version, April 20, 2009]

Can you experience imaginatively how different Ben Affleck’s life would be if he’d ended up marrying and having kids with Jennifer Lopez? Talk about a “fixer.” J.Lo tried to change Ben into a completely different person. I still revive that view in which time he had the fake tan and the frosted tips and the Versace clothing. What a mess that was! Jennifer Garner is the anti J.Lo. And alterum have a lot of respect for that. And Violet just might be the cutest kid I’ve ever seen. Somehow, awake that Jennifer is dealing with the same issues that all regular new moms face makes me like her even more.

Here’s Jennifer Garner giving Violet a piggy-back ride to the car after picking her upstairs from school. I love her casual outfit, especially those comfy looking sneakers. mug credits: Fame.