This post. This one right here. The one you’re reading right now. It is the 2ooth post on PCV! We’ve been through ups (major hit days), downs (losing a writer to his own ego), and everything in between (the people we write about actually READING our ramblings) – but through it all, we’ve stayed true. It doesn’t matter if you love us or hate us, think we’re funny or wish we’d shut up – we keep speaking our very opinionated minds and YOU KEEP COMING BACK; that’s all that matters. From the bottom of our hearts we want to thank each and every one of our readers – even the ones who leave us nasty comments about how stupid/mean/offensive we are. We do it all for YOU.
Team Shanna ...
Shanna Moakler is at it again, folks. Everyone knows she holds a lot of hostility towards Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, and Lindsay Lohan, but what no one can seem to understand is why she thinks she’s any better. Yesterday on the Wendy Williams show (apparently, people still watch that pathetic excuse for entertainment), Shanna referred to Khloe Kardashian as a “donkey” – the same thing she called Khloe’s sister, Kim, at a barbeque last summer. I’m still unclear about the reasoning behind the name-calling, but it’s obviously stupid at best to pick on the biggest, meanest Kardashian; Khloe wouldn’t think twice about snapping Shanna’s bones and sucking out the marrow. Soon after the comment, Shanna apologized via Twitter, but the damage has been done – last year’s fiasco has once again been brought to our forebrain.
... or Team Travis? *By the way, the oldest girl isn't even his daughter - but he still takes care of her. At least she has HIM!*
After the tragic plane crash last summer, Shanna flew to Travis Barker’s bedside, proclaiming her undying love for him. Soon after, the on-again off-again couple re-split after she supposedly found evidence of him straying from their oh-so-sanctimonious union. This revelation just happened to occur as the press from the crash was fading. I’m not saying Shanna’s a media whore, but if the collective press had a dick, I’m sure she’d suck it. One catfight and a few bitchy blog posts later, the whole world knew of Travis’ supposed trysts with Hilton, Lohan, and The Booty. Lindsay responded by taking jabs at Shanna’s washed-up career and calling her haggard, while I sat at my desk and laughed hysterically.
I’ll go ahead and give y’all a few seconds to guess who’s side I’m on: Team Shanna or Team Travis.
We know from Meet The Barkers, Miss California pageants and press, Twitter, and nearly a decade of media that Shanna is self-absorbed, desperate for attention, and about as sharp as a bowl of Jello. Even when I agree with her on something (the Prejean nazi), I can’t bring myself to feel anything but disgust for her. Her white trash antics are nothing short of nauseating and her parenting-for-press is near Jon and Kate levels (with one-third of the children, of course).
Did Travis cheat on Shanna? Maybe. Should she have taken it out on the girls? No. Especially in Hollywood, no one ever knows what the status of relationships are – all he had to do was lie. Bottom line: Travis Barker is an amazing artist, an awesome father, an ample provider, and an all-around good person. Shanna Moakler is a wannabe, turned has-been, who cares more about de-flabbing her ass, partying with other hangers-on, and getting her kids out of the house (even when it allegedly means sending them to spend the summer with a child molester) than her real life. GO TEAM TRAVIS!
I wrote this post exactly one week ago and thought I put it up here. Apparently, I failed. Hunker down in your Snuggie and pretend it’s the 4th – I’ve got something to say.
11/4/09 “Over a week a go, I saw the first commercial for Kathy Griffin’s new comedy special, ‘Balls of Steel’. I set my DVR and waited rather impatiently, my mind racing with possibilities for her act. What would my beloved redhead gossip meanie say next?
Unfortunately, nothing of note. That’s right, the ginger bitch let me down. She had two mildly amusing stories, but even they were only superficially entertaining. Her Barbara Walters impression was funny as always, but the story that went with it was mediocre at best. Similarly, her Levi Johnston spiel gave me a solid seven minutes to think about his cute little face, but the story wasn’t even worth relaying. The rest of her material was a smelly bomb. Taylor Swift verses Kanye West? Boring. Whitney on Oprah? How did she make THAT uninteresting?!? Jon and Kate? Nothing we haven’t heard a million times before. Then she did something I NEVER thought she’d do: she brought up The Jacksons.
I adore Kathy and read her book the first week it came out. In it, she mentions her reaction to Anna Nicole Smith’s death and how she wasn’t going to “go after” her anymore. Apparently, The King – one of the most charitable, talented, adored men who ever lived – doesn’t deserve the same respect. She started off talking about how crazy the family is and how Michael was the “normal” one. For a minute, I thought we were out of the woods. WRONG. Next, she started commenting on his use of anesthesia and how he overdosed. Kathy prides herself on being intelligent, but seems to be missing a logical connection: if someone administers you medication, you can’t take an overdose - you are GIVEN an overdose … and that is MURDER. After that whole babble was over, she started in on the unthinkable – his CHILDREN. Where does she get off thinking it’s appropriate to give her opinion on those children? They are going through the most difficult time of their young lives and they don’t need a middle-aged woman composed of plastic and silicone commenting on things she doesn’t know anything about.
I love Kathy dearly and I have enjoyed every one of her comedy routines I’ve ever seen … until now. Last night, she was completely devoid of wit and sass – what we’ve come to love her for. I was amped for sixty minutes of raucous laughter, but left with comedy blue balls. I sincerely hope this slip is a one-time thing because that’s one hour of my life that I’ll never get back and one amazing female comedian that I’m not ready to give up on.”
Journalism is dead and Perez Hilton makes millions.
Three quotes from a morning e-mail that made me smile:
”CW catching up on MP. Who writes this crap? I have had bad scripts to work with, but this? Thank God my sister is amazing and got you some press.” ~ Jessica Simpson
“They hired her because they needed a good name to help create buzz, but she was embarrassingly bad. Producers cut her down as much as possible.” ~ crew member
“She’s the worst actress, but nobody will tell her.” ~ anonymous (I believe the last two quotes are via US Weekly, the first – Twitter.)
Let’s break it down quickly:
- The script IS bad; Ashlee’s acting is worse. The only press that the little scarecrow ever got the show was BAD press, mocking her crazy-eyed approach at “acting“.
- She DID succeed in creating buzz around the show. Hell, even I tuned in for one episode just to see how bad she was at her job. Fortunately for viewers, that’s not really the kind of “buzz” producers look for.
- Are you kidding me?!? If she really wants to know how anyone feels about her acting, all she has to do is READ. Of course, judging by her painful, monotone, syllable-by-syllable delivery of her lines, there’s no guarantee that reading is in her skill set.
Fine, fine, fine. SOMEONE has to do it – it might as well be me.
Dear Ashlee: I guess no one wants to tell you this, so I have volunteered. You suck. At life. Please stop assaulting my television with your pathetic cries for attention. Now, run along and throw up the two Skittles you just ate before the calories sink in. Love, Me.
I, for one, can’t wait for her last episode. I imagine the ratings will be sky-high when everyone tunes in to watch Violet die. I also can’t wait for the episode right after she kicks the bucket. I have no intentions of actually watching the show, but I’ll turn it on and leave the room to help their ratings. Anything I can do to reward them for canning her will be done.
Pete + Mark??
One of us spends entirely too much time talking about bodily functions and lists giving the finger as a natural reflex; the other has swoopy bangs and high levels of anxiety …
… we’ll let YOU figure out who’s who.
I know, I know … but it’s my blog and I can write about whatever I want, dammit!
Nice drunk face. "I was buzzed lightyear"
Honoring a bet with Gabe Saporta regarding “Good Girls Go Bad“, Pete Wentz got a new tattoo last night. And yes, that’s LA Ink’s Dan Smith – hello, dream come true!
In other PDub news, the new Band Hero commercial will feature Taylor Swift, Rivers Cuomo, Travis Barker, and the (bat)man himself rocking out, Tom Cruise-style. Finally, a commercial I can enjoy. I was sick of seeing Heidi Klum’s tired uterus wielding the plastic guitar.
After spending nearly a week stitching up two sparkly white socks, a matching glove, and the perfect little Thriller top, the night finally arrived. I bought my tickets for the premiere of THIS IS IT a month ago (seven minutes after they went on sale 
) and I anxiously awaited the day when I could see The King on the big screen.
As you know from my previous posts, I am an avid Michael Jackson fan. Two of the biggest influences on my life have been Johnny Cash and MJ. “The Way You Make Me Feel” is my all-time favorite song. My wardrobe is a mish-mash of black Western gear and sequined and bedazzled apparel. Those two artists have affected every aspect of my life. When Michael passed this summer, my world came to a screeching halt. I sat at home and cried for days. I never got the chance to see Johnny perform before he passed and now I would never get to see The King.
In the weeks leading up to last night’s premiere, the commercials ran on a continuous loop. It didn’t matter what I was doing or what mood I was in; every time one played, I found myself tearing up. I was nervous to go to the theatre – I’m not big on letting people see me cry and I’m very defensive about the comments people make regarding Michael.
I had nothing to worry about. The film is phenomenal. Raw glimpses into his interactions with his crew, his love for his fans, and the perfectionist passion for his art made it the perfect tribute. I held strong for the first few minutes of the movie, but when one of the auditioning dancers teared up and spoke of how Michael “gave him something to believe in“, I cried like a baby. “Believe” is a big word in my life; everyone needs something to believe in, something to get them through. That was a constant theme throughout the film and made me connect with it even more than I had anticipated.
The most striking thing about the show was MJ’s demeanor. After his passing, the media led everyone to believe that he was sick and struggling with rehearsals, but you can tell from the footage that it was an outright lie, most likely concocted by the very man who took his life. He was happy, he was healthy, and he was alive with passion and excitement. This is not the picture of a man near death. Even more than before, this solidified for me that the scheming monster, Conrad Murray, murdered my King. He had so much left to give us and he needed to see our love for him; he was taken far before he was ready.
The movie runs 121 minutes and is jam-packed with live singing and dancing. I managed to suck it up and only cry through about 90 minutes, but you should definitely take tissues with you. If nothing else, spend the ten dollars to have Michael Jackson back for two hours – it’s more than worth it.
**As always, any derogatory comments about the late great King of Pop will be immediately deleted. Furthermore, you will be banned from ever posting on this site again. Show respect for those who mourn.**
Theresa Giudice, the table-flipping, Italian-conversing, meatball-of-a-man-loving Jersey girl from Bravo’s Real Housewives of New Jersey has been in the news this week with allegations that her and her aforementioned meatball man Joe’s McMansion on the hill has been foreclosed on. New reports indicate that the foreclosed property is an additional property owned by the couple, not the mansion that was the focus of their plotline in the show during the first season.
Regardless of which house they’re losing, I feel the question must be asked:
Isn’t having the bank foreclose on your home schkeeve-y?
I’m sure you’re all wondering where our beloved Haley has disappeared to. Rumors have been swirling that she jumped ship and drowned in the sea of self-importance with KDot, but only PCV got the exclusive scoop on where she’s REALLY been.
A week ago, my dear co-blogger took up a new place of residence and has yet to reconnect to the world-wide web. It’s that simple. No Iranian mafia abductions, no California rehabilitation facilities, no inner-PCV dramz … she’s just waiting on the interwebs hookup.
We miss you, lady; come home soon!
