A Black Day
I hate to even type this.
But I must.
I'm over George Clooney.
Yes, it's time for the backlash to commence, Pretty Boy. I know, I never thought I would be the one to start it. Never in a million years. Yet here we are.
Maybe I could take the self-congratulatory Oscar speeches about how brave Hollywood is and his belief that he is single-handedly saving the liberal movement in the USA if he didn't keep matching blandly hot fuck-buddies who each think she's the girlfriend on either side of the pond, tell the same "oh aren't I raffishly lovable" bits EVERYWHERE, the Teri Hatcher business, and most of all, if he weren't a part of this Vanity Fair cover:
Oh George. It didn't have to end like this.
That said, if what is going on to your left came about because you and Matt Damon were out drinking the night before and you mentioned that you had to get up wicked early for this effing Vanity Fair shoot (weird how strangely silent Matt was as you complained about another magazine cover) and you two started brainstorming about what you could possibly do to that buzzkill to make up for the way she ruined the Boys' Club Summer of '04 until FINALLY Steven agreed to put in a plodding unfunny bit in the movie (remember? the movie? that thing you did in between yacht runs) that runs about 35 minutes because she thought it would be ssoooooo funny and everyone would go back to believing she was a fun person once again, and as you laughed that she was only doing the Green Issue because she thought she looked good in moss green (which, if she had her pretty red hair back would be very true) and you told him how one night she got really drunk and tried to seduce you by insisting on wandering through the grounds of the Lake Como pad trying to have a picnic at midnight in an effort to prove she was just as sexy in that goofy spontaneous way as Vivian Ward but when she rolled around in the grass seductive-like it just reminded you of that scene in Young Frankenstein plus she got all these twigs in her hair and suddenly Matt's eyes lit up and he told you he would give you five hundred dollars if you convinced her to dress up like Titania, and you laughed and asked how much if Gore did too and you almost had him but then dumb old Tipper had to ruin everything and she will totally not be invited on the Boys' Club Motorcycle Ride of '07 -- if that's the story? -- then, George, we might just be back on.
But I must.
I'm over George Clooney.
Yes, it's time for the backlash to commence, Pretty Boy. I know, I never thought I would be the one to start it. Never in a million years. Yet here we are.
Maybe I could take the self-congratulatory Oscar speeches about how brave Hollywood is and his belief that he is single-handedly saving the liberal movement in the USA if he didn't keep matching blandly hot fuck-buddies who each think she's the girlfriend on either side of the pond, tell the same "oh aren't I raffishly lovable" bits EVERYWHERE, the Teri Hatcher business, and most of all, if he weren't a part of this Vanity Fair cover:
Oh George. It didn't have to end like this.
That said, if what is going on to your left came about because you and Matt Damon were out drinking the night before and you mentioned that you had to get up wicked early for this effing Vanity Fair shoot (weird how strangely silent Matt was as you complained about another magazine cover) and you two started brainstorming about what you could possibly do to that buzzkill to make up for the way she ruined the Boys' Club Summer of '04 until FINALLY Steven agreed to put in a plodding unfunny bit in the movie (remember? the movie? that thing you did in between yacht runs) that runs about 35 minutes because she thought it would be ssoooooo funny and everyone would go back to believing she was a fun person once again, and as you laughed that she was only doing the Green Issue because she thought she looked good in moss green (which, if she had her pretty red hair back would be very true) and you told him how one night she got really drunk and tried to seduce you by insisting on wandering through the grounds of the Lake Como pad trying to have a picnic at midnight in an effort to prove she was just as sexy in that goofy spontaneous way as Vivian Ward but when she rolled around in the grass seductive-like it just reminded you of that scene in Young Frankenstein plus she got all these twigs in her hair and suddenly Matt's eyes lit up and he told you he would give you five hundred dollars if you convinced her to dress up like Titania, and you laughed and asked how much if Gore did too and you almost had him but then dumb old Tipper had to ruin everything and she will totally not be invited on the Boys' Club Motorcycle Ride of '07 -- if that's the story? -- then, George, we might just be back on.
posted by Diana Dare @ 10:40 AM
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