Starf*cker

Stars I'd Like to F*ck: Part II

Clive Owen: To me he is ugly/sexy. Soooo, very masculine, which to me equals YUM.

Morena Baccarin:  Luscious.  I'm not sure if it is her curvy lips or her cat eyes, but I think she was perfectly cast as the Ultimate Courtesan in Joss Whedon's Firefly/Serenity...

Last but definitely not least...Colin Farrell:  He's been on my list a long time.  I know, I know...he is probably a stinky bugger who reeks of cigarettes and old liquor...but he looks like he'd be FUN in bed.  A good one-off, I'd think.

The "Fitness" Myth

Los Angeles has always been a trend-setter for health and fitness.  Yoga, pilates, aerobics...these practices, now found in fitness centers across America, found their way into the mainstream from the headwaters of L.A.

It used to be that fitness was an indicator of health.  Yet, I've noticed a disturbing trend among personal trainers and fitness professionals / models in Los Angeles.  They look amazing...but have very unhealthy lifestyles.  The girls are bingers and purgers, who take diuretics and laxatives before magazine shoots, so that their skin is taut and they have better muscle definition.  They subsist on "thermogenics" (speed/diet pills) for days and then freak out and eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's, a box of cookies, and a jar of peanut butter in one sitting.  The guys live for their speed driven, e-fueled weekends. 

Both use tanning beds, bleach their teeth, consider cosmetic surgery a professional requirement, and pump themselves full of steroid-type "enhancers" to get through the day.  (Oddly, the gender-neutral cosmetic dependency is a weird kind of male/female equalizer that is interesting, in an evolutionary sense, to me.)

It's a bit of a mind-fuck, really.  These rotten interiors wrapped in glamorous packages--all in an effort to visually present the physical "ideal".  This is what average American is told they should be striving to look like?  At what cost?  Scary.

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, Yum Yum!

Yay!  Another great movie for 2005.  There may be hope for the industry yet.

And of course, a wonderful welcome back to my darling Robert Downey Jr.  I love him.  I really do.

Even looking so damaged, after his years of self-abuse, my heart melts every time he bats his big brown eyes.  And watching the emotions melt across his face when he acts is so fucking satisfying.

OK--enough of my gushing--the movie is very good.  Lots of great insider commentary on Hollywood and all it's damaged dollies, and a story that folds in and upon itself like a juicy salt-water taffy pull.  Action, romance, comedy, irony.  All the stuff that satiates me, and gives me just enough hope to get back into a theater seat, in spite of my jaded and critical eye.

(Note to the editors:  Helloooo?  How could you have missed the three big license plate goofs, not to mention the amazing disappearing blood spot on the upper lip of the "Pink Haired Girl"?  Sloppy work, guys...)

UPDATE: I just read this (thanks Newsday.com) "A $15-million film with a 35-day shoot, two stars with reputations for uncertainty (Downey and Val Kilmer), an unknown leading lady (Michelle Monaghan) and the only producer in Hollywood willing to make the movie (Joel Silver), it sounds like a project with the potential for epic disaster - without the epic budget. What it will likely do is return Downey to the stardom that he has periodically ejected, like evidence from a speeding car."  Ok, Editors/Shane Black, I apologize for the editing snark.  You did an amazing job with that $15 million.

Casting Director / Pimp

DEVILS DEN - STRIPPERS - NO NUDITY-EXTRA WORK
Feature Film
SAG

Casting Director: Sande Alessi Casting - Kristan Berona
Shoot/Start Date: Thursday, October 20, 05
Pay Rate: 175/8
Location: Los Angeles, CA

[NO NUDITY STRIPPERS] Age 18-30, All ethnicities, gorgeous bodies!

Don't Waste Your Hard-Earned Cash on "Domino"

What a piece of crap/waste of time. My friend's boyfriend fell asleep during the film.  Halfway through I asked my date if he wanted to leave.  Bad, bad, bad.

The only redeeming quality is that Kiera is pretty.  Seriously.  Oh--and the soundtrack is good.

The Weirdness of Being an Unknown, Hangin' with the Super-Famous

A good friend of mine went to the Chateau Marmont on Saturday, and had a very odd experience.  She was going to meet an actor she knows from the gym--but when she got there, she found he was also hosting a handful of extremely famous young women.  My friend turned out to be the only non-famous person there (aside from one personal assistant).

The way she described the experience didn't make it sound like much fun.  In fact, she felt awkward the whole time--and didn't get to know the boy any better (which was the only reason she was there.)  She described the relentless stares of all the other people in the lounge, the weirdness of being in a bar with a group of girls too young to drink (despite the fact that my friend and the boy she was visiting are closer to 30), and the awareness that everybody was wondering who the hell she was to be with all of them.

Overall, it sounded exhausting and boring.  Anti-climactic to say the least.  So much for the glamorous life.

Blondes Have More Fun...?

So it's 8:30 on a Saturday night and my boy-toy has to work all night so I'm suddenly without plans (you gotta love the film-industry work ethic).  I decide to make the most of my free time and go to the gym.

Joining me on the cardio machines are 6 beautiful women.  Five of those six are blondes...

Who says blondes have more fun?

Perez Hilton...One of Our Favorite Starf*ckers

Perez Hilton, in the flesh (in his PJ's) with tools of the trade...a gossip rag, and his laptop.

Today is a landmark day.  I finally got to meet one of the fabulous people who inspired me to start this blog, Perez Hilton.

He is darling, and sweet. (In the best nasty-smartypants-cool-kid kind of way.)  He also has gorgeously white teeth.  The best news is that he is going to be BI soon!  Bi-Coastal, that is.  Living the dream--in Hollywood and NYC---two fabulous cities embracing one fabulous boy.

So we're sitting here, blogging side-by-side, at the Sunset / Fairfax Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.  I'm going to ask him for his photo in a moment (super-geeky but who cares.)

We've already had a number of fun celeb sightings (CB&T is a target-rich environment).

More soon...

The Homogenization of the Hollywood Wife

Have you noticed how Priscilla Presley and Gretchen Bonaduce resemble one-another?

Not because of an odd genetic similarity, of course, but due to a love affair with the knife, and the needle, and the microderm...(not to mention the glowing red hair dye).

I find this part of a disturbing trend--one you might not notice, if you don't live in LA, but one that is influencing countless Hollywood wives, and the legions of ladies who lunch in this town.  Beverly Hills dames are particularly guilty of adopting "The Face" (as my friends and I call it).  You know, the weirdly over inflated lips and Joker smile, the immobile forehead, overly-prominent cheekbones, nearly transparent, waxy overly-derma-whatevered skin.  It's turning into the uniform of the overprivileged woman with too much time on her hands--most of it spent staring in the mirror.  It's creepy.  And sad.  They are obsessed with aging, so spend their precious time (and we all know, time is all we have) cutting themselves up to fit into some freaky ideal.

Gross.

The Martyrdom of Kate Moss

This is shocking?

This is the thing dissolving Kate's career in front of our very (titillated/fascinated/horrified) eyes?

Who are they F*cking Kidding?

Try doing a Google search on "Heroin Chic."  Guess who's photo pops up.  Yep--our druggie darling Kate--the woman of the hour, who, at a very tender age, was lauded for her vacant gaze and malnourished drug abuser looks. 

She's the girl whose popularity probably contributed to countless other young girls' unhealthy self-images and eating disorders.  But somehow NOW, the industry who CREATED her and rewarded her for (being) looking like a drug addict, has the nerve to condemn her, and fire her?  Let's be honest here, people.  Nobody is that skinny naturally.  We know that.  Fashion Editors know that.  Cosmetic and clothing companies know that.  Yet they still demand these bony girls represent them.

The day H & M requires it's models to pass drug tests I will eat my keyboard.  The day they hire a woman as their spokesmodel who is not medically underweight I may faint in shock.

In the mean-time, Shame on all of them.  F*ck the fashion industry.  Really.  Hypocritical A**holes.