Showing posts with label Stolen Content. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stolen Content. Show all posts

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Sex and the Shitty...

I think I must be one of a very few gay men who has thus far refused to go and see the Sex and the City movie. I just do not care for a bunch of old hags running around talking about their vadges and getting peens put up said vadges (that's what the TV show was about, yah?).

So I absolutely loved this piss-take blog post from a chick called Audrey I randomly found on the inter-web.

Here are the first couple of acts - (there are 8 in total, but definitely worth the read)


SEX AND THE CITY
A morality tale, in eight acts.
SPOILER ALERT! ENTIRE PLOT LIES AHEAD!


ACT ONE:
Carrie: I live with Big now. We are in love. I finally snared my man, which is the entire purpose of life obvs. Also, despite being 40 it appears I still haven't learnt to dress my age.

Miranda: I still live in Brooklyn. I hate my life. Sometimes I hate Steve, my husband but he redeems himself by doing cute things like pointing out the cappuccino froth on my nose. Isn't married life funny?

Charlotte: To be honest, I don't even know why they brought me back into this film. Did I even read the script? It appears not. Not unless my character is actually SUPPOSED to be a squealing banshee with no discernible interests or purpose. Was I always like that? Probably.

Samantha: I live in Hollywood. With my lover, Smith Jerrod. I'm his manager now. We live in a really fucking ugly house on the beach. He has aged about 150 years since the series ended. Unfortunately, he still cannot act.

ACT TWO:
Carrie: Big and I are getting married! I made him propose when he bought me a beautiful penthouse. I asserted my independence by deciding to sell the beautiful apartment I impossibly rented for a number of years despite being only a measly columnist in a two bit local rag. Life's funny that way. Gee, I wonder if this will all blow up in my face?

Miranda: Fucking Steve fucking cheated on me and I can't forgive him, even though I'm a total bitch in the bedroom and make it feel like a transaction. A half yearly transaction. Also, I'm STILL complaining about living in Brooklyn. I have to leave Steve and live in the Ukranian part of town. Guess what? None of my friends care about my torment. What a surprise. I bet they'd care if I was Carrie.

Charlotte: Life is still pretty good for me. Hey, don't talk about sex in front of the kid! Let's call it 'colouring'. By injecting humour into this scene, we can pretend I'm still important to the storyline. Also, SQUEEEAAAAALLL!!!! Samantha's here! Again! For the 50 billionth time in the last five minutes! IT IS SO MUCH A SURPRISE THAT I HAVE TO SQUEAL AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS!

Samantha: Fuck's sake, do you have to squeal ALL the time Charlotte? We know you're the princess of the series, but sheesh. Anyway, I hate my life in Hollywood and there's a hot naked guy who fucks all these different girls every night of the week. Meanwhile, sex with Smith Jerrod has become a bit vanilla. Since we all know there's nothing more to my character than being a massive horndog, this is probably going to be an issue somewhere in the next five million hours 2 hours left in this film. Why did I agree to do this? I hate SJP.

Steve: Miranda, don't leave me! I love you!

Miranda: I hate you. Fuck off. Big, don't marry Carrie! Me telling you that can in no way lead to what will dominate the rest of this film.

Carrie: I am the greatest! ME! ME! ME!

Charlotte: Squeal!

Samantha: How much longer til this film is over?

PRODUCT PLACEMENT PRODUCT PLACEMENT PRODUCT PLACEMENT


Read the whole thing here... it's funny!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

How in the name of everything that is holy did Mandy Kane get a record deal?

I went down to Subway at West End for lunch today, and was reading this weeks edition of "Time Off" magazine and found the best review of a single I have ever read.

Kudos to Chris Yates for the this master piece on the new Mandy Kane single - Far From Oblivion;

I remember being very confused as a young child. I would bore my poor mother senseless with unanswerable questions about the big issues of life. Is there a doggy heaven? Why are there so many starving people in the world? How come there are still countries fighting wars? Why did Optimus Prime have to die? And considering he's a robot why can't they just rebuild him?

Listening to Mandy Kane's new single "Far From Oblivion" sees me return to that child-like state of inquisitiveness. How in the name of everything that is holy did Mandy Kane get a record deal? Is there actually an audience for phony electro-rock devoid of hooks, substance or style? Is Mandy Kane surrounded by yes-men who tell him that he's awesome despite the glaringly obvious fact that he is not?

I asked all these same questions when Kane released his debut single some years ago entitled "Stab". Back then he was being styled as some kind of less-frightening Marilyn Manson, or more frightening Brain Moloko. A recent image change sees him with less make-up these days, but, alas, no more talent.

The lyrical approach for "Far From Oblivion" ranges from piling on as many tired rock 'n' roll-style cliches as possible, such as the embarrassing "I'm breaking the limits way out on the razor's edge/I promise myself I'm not stopping till I'm dead" to the down right ridiculous "The loners, and the stoners are wrapped up in diapers/The follow me and claim me as their p-p-p-p-pied piper".

WTF??!!

"Far from Oblivion" is a strong contender for the worst song I have ever been paid to listen to and I would gladly give the money back ten fold if it was possible to un-hear it.

Sorry, but some one had to say it.