Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say it. I’m really going to say it. I hope god doesn’t strike me down with a thousand lightening bolts…he might. I can’t be sure. But I’ll say it anyway:
I’m so over Brad and Angie.
What?! I know. Am I a horrible spawn of Satan? Some kind of weird robot without the capacity to love? Maybe a Russian spy…
Or maybe, just maybe, I have the good sense to call it like I see it. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are over-exposed. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are humans who have fabulous, expensive publicists to make them sound like badass, ordaned angels. They’re adopting a lot of kids really fast — but they have fabulous, expensive nannies to help them every waking moment of the day. Their acting abilities waver from pretty good (Girl, Interrupted and Fight Club) to snore-inducing unbelievable (Taking Lives and Troy). And lastly…no one in the media has any balls when it comes time to interview them. Read More »
In a recent interview, the very-pregnant-due-any-day Angelina Jolie made it clear that she wouldn’t hesitate to pick up a gun to protect her fam from an intruder.
The mother of four (soon to be six), along with her live-in boytoy Brad Pitt, is currently residing in a palatial French mansion, and preparing to give birth to twins. Despite rumors that Ms. Jolie will not be giving birth until August, word is out that a team of nurses from L.A. have already hopped over the pond to France.
Her protective “instincts” are obviously on high alert, and Angie is definately ready to kick the ass of anyone who tries to tangle with her (seems to be an odd admittance, given her stature as a goodwill ambassador to the UN, don’t you think?). Read More »
As the soccer boys stomped over to us, I felt myself pushing against my hard, black chair, wishing I could use it as camouflage. Everything about them was loud; the way the walked, shoving wayward chairs and tables out of their way, the heaviness of their boots on the linoleum, the shouts they threw back and forth at each other, even their energy made too much noise, the small atrium cafe seeming suddenly much too tight and airless.
“You missed the meeting, man!” Pulling a chair over to our table and sitting on it backwards, the loudest and biggest of the soccer boys pushed Sasha’s shoulder playfully, but hard enough to almost throw him off his chair. “It was a shit show. A total shit show.”
The two other soccer boys, dressed in almost identical blue sweatpants, white shirts, and blue baseball caps, stood on either side of Sasha. Their eyes slid over to me. I looked down, staring at the bobbing teabag in my cup.
“Coach was there. He told the student life people to calm down. But not before they put the whole f*cking house on probation.” Still ignoring me, the head soccer guy pulled his own baseball cap over his face. “No parties for a while, man. At least none that they hear about.”
“So they didn’t…did they ever find out if anything really happened?” Read More »
Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say it. I’m really going to say it. I hope god doesn’t strike me down with a thousand lightening bolts…he might. I can’t be sure. But I’ll say it anyway:
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