Ohmigod is she pointing at me?!
This is kind of old news, but if you haven’t heard about it – Hey! Hot off the press!
I heard the screeching mess that is Beyonce – er, I mean Sasha Fierce, grrrr – on the radio today, and it trudged up my Capra-esque rage on behalf of the little man. The screeching mess in question: “If I Were a Boy.” The little man in question: cutie BC Jean (pic from Crazed Hits).
SIDENOTE: You can hear her (original, better) version of the song on that site, or on her site which has a pretty cool piano interface (hee hee, interface… I don’t know what that’s means).
The source of my fury stems from a conspiracy that goes like this: producer Toby Gad co-wrote the song with BC, then he went behind BC’s back and sold it to Beyonce (I originally wrote Bitchonce, but you could see the flop it would have been… perhaps Bitchyonce? Buttyonce?) And since no one involved has mentioned anything further in the press, I assume BC was either fiscally compensated or fiscally threatened (see how I did that?) by tubby’s hubby, H.O.V.A.
The thing that I think makes me maddest is it doesn’t work! (You seriously have to listen to both versions to understand my upset) Beyonce is not a twenty-something MySpace girl! Some might say the lyrics apply to women from all walks of life. Others might say I just hate Beyonce. Mostly everybody would be right… mostly.
Now with more granite!
Okay… I feel like I’m at full steam again. It’s not like I haven’t drank ten pounds of beer before, but at age 33, I might as well be drinking Quikrete. Actually, I don’t even think it’s so much of an age thing, or an amount of food eaten thing. It comes down to a timetable.
In Chicago – 12 lbs. beer / 8 hrs = ah, who cares… I was going to make a big math post about drinking and yada yada… Since it’s already boring me, I’ll shift gears and chat about dead people jewelry.
Did you know you can turn the ashes of a loved one (already deceased preferable) into a diamond? How crazy is that? I mean, I guess it make more sense than keeping an urn on the fireplace mantle, but still.
It may seem insensitive (probably because it is), but I wonder what other kinds of memorabilia could fashioned out of cremated remains:
Maybe a Japanese Zen Garden. How about a fingerprinting kit (human carbon has to be a lot safer than asbestos). Then there’s always an idea like Litter Critters…
I’m nursing a bit of a ‘gover right now (y’know… shorthand for hangover), so I’m going to roll these out as best as I can.
First order up – Chris Elliott has a daughter, Abby. Now it’s not weird that this guy has daughter:
And it’s not weird that I’m very attracted to her (her impersonation of Kirsten Dunst):
What is weird is there is a family resemblance… Maybe that explains why I’ve been dreaming about Chris Elliott for all these years…
Anywhopper, the point of this post is that Abby is joining the cast of Saturday Night Live, as well as Michaela Watkins. If any of Chris Elliott’s knack for oddball comedy has rubbed off on her (wait, that sounds gross), then SNL will be that much better for having her (and much easier on the eyes… goodbye crush on Kristen Wiig!)
The only good thing to come out of five “Scary Movies”: